The Trigger

by L. J. Sellers

  “What? Why do you say that?”

  “I followed her out to the bunker tonight. She was looking for Emma.” Randall pulled off her backpack and set it on the counter. “She carries a gun.”

  “Oh no. Where is she? What did you do?” Panic made Spencer’s voice sound unnatural.

  “I put her in the bunker. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “You locked a federal agent in the bunker?” Spencer rubbed his temples and made an odd moaning noise. He looked up, eyes blazing. “Why didn’t you talk to me? We could have just made her leave.”

  “She found Emma. It was too late!” Randall hesitated, then lowered his voice. “Was I supposed to kill her?”

  “No! Christ. Don’t even say that.” Spencer began to pace. “Did you restrain her?”

  “I didn’t have the chance.” Randall wondered if he’d made a mistake. “I just locked her in, like we did with Emma.”

  “So what’s the plan?” His brother’s harsh mocking tone made Randall cringe.

  “We speed up everything. Send out all the financial emails and crash the banking websites.” Randall figured it was time to ease Spencer into the whole truth. “I think Raff should target communication companies as well. We need to shut down the internet. Unless we create total chaos, this FBI agent could still make trouble for us.”

  Spencer was silent for a long moment, then a look of weary resignation settled in. “How did you know Sonja was a plant? What made you follow her?”

  Randall told him about the conversation he’d had with Sadie in the tavern. “But if you remember, I warned you the first day she was here.”

  Spencer’s eyes went wide. “Did you get her cell phone?”

  “She had two. One in an outside pocket of the backpack and one zipped inside.”

  Spencer riffled the pack for the hidden phone and began reading her messages. “I’ll send a text to her contact, telling them everything is fine.”

  “Great idea. We should keep sending them for a while. Maybe eventually, we’ll say she plans to join us and won’t be back to work.”

  “That’s brilliant.”

  Randall loved hearing it. Spencer so rarely praised him.

  His brother glanced at the clock. “I have to get back to the data center, and you’d better look in on Tate.”

  “What do you think about my idea to crash the internet?”

  “I don’t know. Does it fit our mission?”

  “Yes! Our goal is to cut carbon production so drastically that we halt global warming.” Randall was feeling more upbeat. It was about time they finally took charge. “You’re targeting oil companies with financial paralysis, so shutting down the internet just speeds everything up.”

  “But Raff is too busy with the financial attack. He doesn’t have time to hack into a bunch of tech companies with tight cyber security.”

  “Maybe I do.” The hacker’s voice came out of nowhere as he crossed the dining area. “But not right away.” Raff met Randall’s eyes. “Are you still planning to blow up internet hubs?”

  Spencer spun toward him. “What? You have explosives set?”

  “Not set. Just a few people ready to make it happen.”

  “No violence!” Spencer stomped and clenched his fists. “We agreed that no one would be directly hurt.”

  “Fucking semantics,” Raff said. “Everyone is going to suffer. You can’t create a new world without breaking the old one.”

  “No explosives!” Spencer yelled. “We’re not terrorists.”

  “You can’t stop me,” Randall argued. “All I have to do is send one group email.”

  “Listen to reason! It isn’t necessary. We’ve already got Standford Oil’s finances frozen. By Monday the company will be rationing gas, and by Friday it will shut down refineries. And that’s just one element. Don’t do it.” Spencer pleaded with him. “Just go take care of your baby. Raff and I can finish this.”

  Randall was done arguing. He needed to check on Tate, but after that he would head to his place and load the second explosive into his truck. Halfway to Sacramento, he’d send the email that would put his team into action. Even if everyone else failed in their mission, he wanted to shut down the capital city. He owed the state that for rejecting him.

  Chapter 31

  Raff was pumped to the max. He was sedentary by nature, didn’t even watch sports because it was too intense for him. But this was wild. Sonja was an FBI agent and the wacko brothers had kidnapped her. His usually methodical mind raced from one thought to another. His instinct was to bolt. Pack his shit, jump in his car, and get the hell out of this freaky little pseudo-paradise. The feds would eventually show up to find their girl, and he didn’t intend to be here.

  But if this crazy-ass scheme the brothers had cooked up even half worked, who knew what would happen? Especially if Randall and his little group succeeded in blowing up internet hubs. That would keep the feds busy! And if thousands, or millions, of people charged into their banks on Monday demanding all their money, riots might break out when the banks ran out of cash. That would keep law enforcement busy too. If the brothers kept sending texts and emails from Sonja’s devices for a while, they might buy themselves enough time to get away with it. Crazy-smart motherfuckers!

  Raff decided to finish the job Spencer had paid him for, stir up a little more shit in the Muslim wasteland, and hang around for a day or so to see what happened. This was too fucking awesome to walk away from just yet.

  First he told Spencer he needed a break and headed back to his apartment to pack everything but his toothbrush. In the dark, he quietly carried both bags to his car. Ideally, he planned to sanitize the room of his DNA before he left, but he wanted to be ready to make a speedy exit. He put popcorn in the microwave and downed a beer while he waited for it. The stink of sweat rose from his armpits, and he regretted packing his deodorant. He used a paper towel to wipe his pits, grabbed his bag of popcorn, and started down the stairs. He remembered Sonja downing vodka shots and kicking his ass at chess. She’d been pumping him for information! He liked her even more. Too bad she was a fed—and locked in a bunker. He wondered if he should do anything about that. Nah. She could take care of herself.

  Back in the data center, he grunted at Spencer, then took his spot in front of a monitor. The only way to ensure a full-fledged war in the Middle East was to piss off the clerics who ruled Iran. The night before, with the help of a hacker friend in Tel Aviv, he’d finally found and taken over a group of proxy computers in Israel. He had hoped to access banking information through them, but he didn’t have time now. So he began an assault on one of the Iranian government’s websites. Once he modified the standard “server slowdown” bot-code to target the specific URL, the proxy computers would start sending hundreds of access requests every minute, overloading the site’s server and shutting it down. No real harm would be done, but Iran’s cyber specialists—probably former hackers—would trace the attack to the Israeli proxy servers. Combined with the theft of Syria’s money, the cyber assault from Israel might push the hard-line Iranian clerics to their limit. They could launch a first strike before the day was over. The world would soon learn whether Iran really had nuclear missile capabilities.

  Raff worked quickly to set up the code. There was so much he still wanted to manipulate. And so little time.

  * * *

  Spencer sat in front of the monitor and couldn’t see straight for a moment. Excitement, fear, and anguish made blood rush to his head and his eyes blur. The thing he kept coming back to was that Sonja was a federal agent. She had played him like a patsy and it hurt. Loneliness had made him vulnerable, and it shamed him. But he had to get past it. Right now, they had to keep pushing the system until it toppled. Someone had to be willing to think long-term. He and Randall had known for years it was the right thing to do, and circumstances had finally forced them to act.

  It was time. Spencer queued up the first batch of emails and hit send. Not letting himself stop and process
what it meant, he kept going, releasing batch after batch. Some recipients would start taking money out of ATMs immediately. Others wouldn’t even open their email until Monday morning. The effect might have been better if he had waited until Sunday night like he’d planned, but he had to act now or his head would implode.

  After a while, Raff said, “He’s right about the DNS root servers. I’m gonna see if I can get access to 60 Hudson Street’s security.”

  “No. Let’s just finish this financial assault. Maybe step it up if we can.”

  “Oh, we can.” Raff grinned, like a bully about to punch someone.

  Spencer wished he could have set the trigger without enlisting the help of someone who didn’t understand or respect their cause. “I don’t want to do any physical damage or hurt anyone. We’re just trying to shut down the social and financial engines that are driving us to extinction. We want people to get back to basics and thrive.”

  Raff laughed, a nasty sound. “You’re delusional. People will be hurt. They’ll lose their jobs and their homes. They’ll starve.”

  The argument unnerved him because he knew it was true. “But not for long. People will regroup and farm the land. They’ll build collectives and start sustainable businesses.”

  “What about the takers, the crazies, and the jihadists?” Raff shook his head. “In a suddenly chaotic world, evildoers will take advantage.”

  “There are more good people than bad. Society will rebuild.”

  “You’re not worried about Islamic extremists taking advantage of the chaos and lax security in the United States?”

  Oh shit. They hadn’t even thought about that. “The airlines will shut down for lack of fuel. The terrorists won’t be able to come here.”

  “They’re already here.” Raff rolled his chair over and clapped Spencer on the shoulder. “But don’t worry, the sleeper cells will be distracted by the war in the Middle East.”

  At first Spencer didn’t react to the common phrase, but Raff’s tone was so confident and sly, he began to fill with dread. “What war in the Middle East? Are you talking about the conflict in Syria?”

  “I’m talking about the mother of all holy wars. As long as we’re starting over and determining a new future, I’d like a world with fewer Islamic assholes blowing things up.”

  Panic ripped through Spencer. “What are you saying?”

  Raff grinned again. “I shifted some money around and may have started a war between Israel and Syria.”

  For a moment, Spencer was too stunned to speak, then outrage enveloped him. “Put the money back! Right fucking now. You have to undo this.”

  “I couldn’t put it back even if I wanted to. They tightened their security—but a little too late.”

  “Then we have to contact them. You have to stop this.”

  “Good luck with that.” Raff turned back to his computer. “I have more buttons to push.”

  Oh dear god. He’d unleashed a monster. Spencer’s mind went blank as rage took over. He lunged forward, grabbed Raff by the shirt, and yanked him out of his chair. “Get out of my sight! And off my property!”

  Raff straightened his glasses and chuckled. “It won’t change anything. I can hack portals from anywhere.” He pointed a finger. “You started this. I’m just making it a real transformation instead of your half-assed effort.”

  Spencer wanted to pound his smug face with a fist. But Raff would just hit him back, and a fistfight wouldn’t stop the hacker from doing whatever else he had planned. Was it already too late?

  “Excuse me.” Spencer walked out of the room, then ran down the hall to get his handgun. He had to stop Raff from doing more damage. Iran and Israel had nuclear weapons, and millions of innocents could die in a single blast.

  He grabbed his Glock and ran into the hallway, then heard Lisa call to him from her bedroom. He didn’t have time for her right now. He stuck his head in and said, “I’ll be right back, sweetheart.”

  Spencer strode across the living room and into the data center.

  Raff glanced up as he came in. “Whoa! Don’t shoot me. We can talk about this.”

  They were beyond negotiation. He pointed the weapon at Raff’s head. “Put both hands on the desk. Now!”

  The hacker did as instructed. Spencer turned the gun around in his hand and stepped forward. With Raff watching him intently, he smashed the butt down on the hacker’s right fingers.

  Raff shrieked in pain. “What the fuck!” He pulled his crippled hand to his chest.

  “Put out your other hand.”

  “No!”

  Spencer pressed the gun to Raff’s head, surprised at how calm he felt. “Your hands or your life. Choose.”

  Whimpering, Raff put his other hand on the desk. Spencer smashed those fingers too.

  “When I’m finished with my work here, I’ll set your broken fingers and give you some pain meds. For right now, get out of my sight.”

  “You’re crazy!” Raff called over his shoulder as he shuffled from the room.

  Spencer tucked the gun into the back of his pants and went to see Lisa. He wasn’t worried about Raff. Even if he left Destiny, he wasn’t likely to tell the authorities anything.

  He stepped into her room, smiling and trying to seem calm. Every conversation could be her last, and he wanted her death to be peaceful. Spencer glanced at little Tate. He was sleeping easily, but Lisa looked troubled.

  “Spencer, you have to stop this.” Her voice was weak, but he sensed her intensity.

  Did she know? “What do you mean?”

  “The trigger. Don’t do it. It’s not right.” Her breath was so ragged, each word came in a little puff.

  She must have overheard him and Randall talking. “You know we have to shut down the industrial complex. Humans won’t survive global warming.”

  “Some people will. It doesn’t have to be you… and your brother.”

  But he wanted it to be him and Randall. They had prepared for it. They deserved to survive. “Why shouldn’t it be us?”

  “Because you’re a good man, and the suffering you cause will haunt you.”

  She was right, and for a second he hated her for it. “Everything is already in motion.”

  “You can stop it. I beg you.”

  Lisa grabbed his hand and squeezed. Crushing guilt and grief overwhelmed him. For a moment he couldn’t think. If not for Emma and Sonja’s captivity, couldn’t they just go back to the way it was? Or start over somewhere else?

  Lisa’s dying eyes locked onto him, and Spencer tried to weigh his options… and obligations. He had to talk to Randall. Hopefully his brother would be rational. He’d gone to Sonja’s apartment to gather up her things and eliminate any evidence that she’d been there. Spencer would confront him when he came back.

  “It’s probably too late,” he finally said, “but I’ll try.

  Chapter 32

  Dallas ran along the back of the fields, glancing down the rows of corn, watching for movement on the road in the distance. Behind her, Emma struggled to keep up. Dallas was torn. She wanted to stay with Emma because that was her original mission, to find and rescue the kidnap victim. But so much more was at stake now, and the sooner she notified the bureau the better. She might also be better off without Emma in tow if she encountered someone.

  She turned to Emma, who was breathing hard. “I’m going ahead. I need to contact the bureau right away. When you get close to the community, just sit down and wait for me to come back.”

  “What’s going to happen to Randall?”

  Why did she still care? “I don’t know.” Dallas adopted a more commanding tone. “Get close to the houses, but stay out of sight and wait for me. Or another agent.”

  Dallas took off, running at full pace. She had to get to her apartment and access a phone or a computer. She would try the computer first, because the satellite internet was more reliable than the phone service. She also needed a weapon, feeling naked without her gun. She knew where Spencer kept his weapo
ns and could probably access one. Should she grab a rifle on the way or make contact first? She couldn’t decide. She wished she knew where Randall was. He’d probably gone straight to Spencer to tell him she was an agent. They were either on their way out to the bunker to kill her or working feverishly to put their plans in place. Which meant Spencer was likely in the data center with Raff. But where would Randall be? She couldn’t predict.

  Contact first, she decided. She was too outnumbered and outgunned in the community to stop this doomsday plot on her own. She glanced toward the road again. She hadn’t seen or heard any movement in the dark. At least they didn’t know she’d escaped yet.

  The field ended, and she started down a path toward the main storage lockers. Were there weapons in there? Dallas shut off the light still strapped to her head and slowed her pace. She didn’t want to attract any attention. Jogging up to the first building, she groaned in disappointment. It had a keypad like the one in the bunker. Shit. She tried the pushdown handle anyway. Locked.

  A smaller storage building nearby was also locked. From here, she might be visible to anyone looking out their window or wandering around the community. In the middle of the night, most of the members were likely asleep, but the ones she feared were not. Dallas stopped in her tracks. Were other Destiny people involved in the plot? Not knowing, she couldn’t trust anyone. To get to her apartment, she had to cross the open space behind the brothers’ homes. She considered crawling to keep out of sight, then rejected it. She was in a hurry—and dressed in black.

  Dallas ran like the wind toward the safety of the community center, then pressed herself against the side while she caught her breath. She was almost there. She rounded the corner and took off down the path, glancing left to see if Randall’s vehicle was still in his driveway. The sight of his truck gave her mixed emotions. He hadn’t left yet to blow up something, and that was good, but his continued presence was a risk to her life. The footpath to the apartment complex ran behind several houses, but their interior lights were off. Unless Randall had notified everyone to watch out for her, she would make it.