This is the End 3: The Post-Apocalyptic Box Set (8 Book Collection)

by J. Thorn

  With that he closed the door and left them alone—apart from the hologram guards, who now split into multiple copies of themselves until there were six standing in a ring around the computer and Gerry. Petal and Gabe made to move into the circle with Gerry, but as they moved towards the holograms, a piercing green line of laser light created a ringed barrier. Petal moved closer until the beam touched her leather jacket, burning it instantly.

  “What the hell?” Petal said.

  The holograms turned in unison. Their eyes glowed.

  “Be quick, man,” Gabe said, backing off and dragging Petal away.

  Gerry swallowed, approached what he thought was the front of the machine, and touched his hand to the warm chassis. Unsure of what to do, he turned to ask Gabe or Petal for some guidance when a stabbing pain shot through his brain, switched off his vision, and conjured an image of an old-fashioned computer screen in his mind. A pair of folder icons sat on the right-hand side of a dull blue-grey background. He mentally requested the opening of the one marked ‘logs’, and as he thought it, a pointer graphic moved across the screen, clicked the folder, and a set of files sprang open, arranged in date order. He opened the most recent and read the contents. A single line stuck out like a beacon:

  —Darkhan:SIP:800:9220:892—D-185-%SECA—

  It was a location registration with the same ID number as the file on Old Grey.

  That’s it. Seca’s location.

  Gerry committed the numbers to memory and converted them to map points. He closed the file and the folder and requested a log-out. The computer disconnected him, and he found himself on his back, looking up at the glowing eyes of the hologram guards.

  “Time’s up,” one of them said before its eyes glowed even brighter.

  How could that have been five minutes? It felt like split seconds. Where had the time gone? And more worryingly: what had he, or the server, been doing during that time? He shook his head and backed away from the guards until he rejoined Gabe and Petal.

  “Got it?” Gabe asked.

  “Yeah, I got a lead on his location.”

  Chapter 14

  The sun blazed like a beacon of hope high above them as their truck, kindly offered to them by Len, for three thousand bins, trundled across the black, scorched earth towards the city of Darkhan.

  They were heading for a small district on the outskirts: a place the Upsiders had made their own. Len had dealt with this other group a number of times and developed a solid and trustworthy relationship with them, which enabled him to trade resources and, more importantly, get information on Seca and his group’s movements and plans.

  It was from that location they would be able to infiltrate Darkhan’s tightly controlled security and gain access to a storage unit that contained the vaccines. Or at least, that was the plan. Len didn’t give them much hope of breaching Seca’s security after so many before them had failed. But Len knew Gerry was different somehow and entrusted him with a slither of hope.

  Petal snored like a kitten next to Gerry in the front of the vehicle. He sighed quietly as Gabe piloted their way around craters big enough to swallow them whole. The ground was dry and cracked. Small patches of soy plants established themselves in pockets of fertile soil.

  Nothing grew in the craters made from bombs, the various chemicals and heavy metals poisoning the land for many generations. The same poison that had mutated Len’s people and their children.

  The odd tingling sensation that first started back in Len’s hideout remained, buzzing persistently like a mosquito with the scent of blood. Gerry sighed. It was a small price to pay for the increased cognitive performance. It was like someone had taken him from a grubby alley and got him cleaned up. Washed away layers of grime so that he felt fresh and rejuvenated.

  With a slight return to his usual performance, he pondered on the nature of the hologram defence system Len had set up, and of the transcendents Enna was keen on building. It seemed that here, outside the Dome, humanity was not only struggling with the lack of resources—and the threat of a great and powerful enemy in the Family—but also the very core of what it means to be human. Did these holograms and transcendents have awareness of themselves? Did they know they were just constructs, or had their makers imbued them with a sense of self, a sense of life?

  Petal shifted against him, yawned, and went back to snoring.

  What was she exactly? She clearly had self-awareness and appeared human in every way…

  Gerry admonished himself for glaring at her. She was something entirely other, yet so close to him. He felt she was the only one that could possibly understand what he was, what he could do. Given how few humans there were out here, he was thankful that Gabe and Petal had found him.

  If Seca had his way, the Family, and by extension the Dome, would fall, and the world would be plunged back into a crippling war. Perhaps even the last war, and that would end the hope of those that managed to survive. A world of robots and transcendents living without humans chilled his bones.

  The sight of a rising column of black smoke brought Gerry out of his musings.

  “We got company. Best get ya weapon ready, man. Just in case,” Gabe said.

  Gerry was beginning to like the feel of the gun in his hands, the cold steel reassuring in its honesty. Pull the trigger and it goes bang. It was solid, simple, and final.

  “Crap! How long was I out?” Petal asked as she lifted her goggles and rubbed her eyes with a balled fist.

  “Coupl’a hours,” Gabe said. “Look smart, girl, we’re approaching Len’s contact.”

  As they continued to weave in and out of the craters, a number of buildings appeared on the horizon: skyscrapers and many others in all kinds of sizes and shapes stood in the fog like grey fungi. Looked like it was once a wealthy zone, though one of the towers had its head blown off. Its innards lay hanging out of the architectural wound like a person’s guts. One of the others looked similar to the buildings back at Len’s. A hotel. Though like the others, it too cut a sad image with its windows boarded up with scrap metal and fragments of wood.

  “Must have been a hard war,” Gerry said. “The destruction is immense.”

  “Why d’ya think it was called the Cataclysm, man? Sure weren’t because it was a small affair. We’re talking about a war so destructive almost the entire planet was wiped out. Notice the lack of animals yet, man? Humans—and only a handful, really—is what’s left.”

  “Was it nuclear?” Gerry asked, frustrated at everyone skirting the issue.

  “Yeah man. It was nukes, lots of other stuff. Perhaps it was the Family that fried us all from their space station. Maybe it was bugs or germs and people panicked. Lots of people guessing, but no one really knows for sure. Once the bombs dropped, it all went to shit. Apart from the Family, that is. They know everything that went on.”

  Gerry turned to see Gabe gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckle bones shone through his thinning skin. There was an intensity to his eyes too. Staring straight ahead, he didn’t blink for what seemed like minutes. Just steered at the broken buildings ahead, occasionally twitching his mouth into a sneer as he mumbled about nukes, EMPs, and other cataclysmic occurrences.

  “Are you okay, Gabe?”

  He ignored Gerry, continuing to grumble as he pressed the throttle on the truck and sped towards their destination.

  Petal tapped Gerry on the knee and then sent him a message on their VPN.

  It said: “Chill, Gez. Gabe gets funny about it all. Don’t push him. It’s a sore subject.”

  Gerry returned: “Okay.”

  But still, it played on his mind. Gabe was a strange one for sure, and now Gerry was questioning his loyalties, and not for the first time in the last couple of days. He just hoped whatever was going through his mind would stay away long enough to find Seca and put a
n end to his plans.

  They arrived at a pair of heavily armed, and hastily built, checkpoints. Nothing more than hunks of twisted metal and a stool, on which sat two humanoids—for Gerry wasn’t certain who was and wasn’t human these days. They cradled dull-black metal weapons, which looked like cannons with their massive barrels and simple construction.

  Petal leaned out the window and smiled at one of the grime-encrusted guards. He lifted a pair of sunglasses, revealing pupil-less eyes. They gleamed bright white in the sun as they swivelled in their sockets. The brute lifted the cannon, resting its barrel on the edge of the makeshift checkpoint.

  “State your purpose and ID,” it grunted.

  Petal pulled from her leather jacket the paper Len had given to them. She held it up to the guard and snatched it away as he tried to take it from her.

  “You don’t need to take it to read it. Your pal Len’s assured us you’d allow us through.” She stuck out her chin, full of defiance.

  The guard’s eyes turned to a sickly yellow, like days-old custard. From within that gooey mess a black thing, like a marble, came to the surface and widened until the eyes were black orbs. The guard moved his lips as he read the ID document and note from Len.

  “Go a hundred metres down this road. When you see the flags for ‘The Blighty’, park up behind the building and give this to the doorman.” The guard handed Petal a DigiCard with two holes notched into its surface near the top.

  He removed the barrel from the checkpoint and waved them through.

  The Blighty turned out to be a British-themed pub, or so Gerry was informed. He’d never seen such a thing, but warmed to it instantly. It had a homely feel with its soft cushion booths and dark wood tables. The bar ran the length of the room and featured a number of beer taps with various crests and icons signifying a range of ales. Pint glasses hung above the bar, and a barman with slicked-back hair wore a pristine white apron with ‘The Blighty’ emblazoned upon its surface in red thread.

  The beer was not beer, a sign said, but a synthetic approximation. He was glad to have kept the water flask Enna had provided them. Despite the temptation, a synthetic version didn’t appeal.

  Much like The Spider’s Byte, as soon as they breached the threshold, its patrons stopped everything to regard them in a tense silence. A particular woman caught Gerry’s eye. She was leaning over the bar, sitting atop a wooden stool. She leant over to grab another refill from the optics behind the bar.

  Gerry couldn’t take his eyes off her as she slugged back a shot, slamming the glass on the bar and exhaling a loud whoop. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, savouring the drink. When she opened her eyes, she caught Gerry in a fierce gaze.

  “You. Come here.” She pointed to Gerry. Her red nail polish gleamed in the orange light of the bar’s low-level lamps. She hitched one leg over the other, stretching her leather miniskirt. She tapped the toe of a red stiletto boot against the wooden rung of the stool impatiently. Petal nudged Gerry in the ribs with an elbow.

  “Go, Gez. That’s our contact.”

  Gerry walked across the wooden floor towards her. Each step echoed with a thunderous clang, or at least it seemed that way with everyone glaring at him with a mixture of frowns and smirks.

  When he got near, she grabbed the lapels of his leather duster and pulled him close. Her green eyes, like jewels, were just a few centimetres away. Her pupils expanded as she continued to analyse him.

  “You’re human,” she said before letting him go. “I thought Len would find something… better.” She sighed, pushing a lock of auburn hair away from her forehead.

  “Are you an Upsider, like Len and his people?” Gerry asked, ignoring her obvious disappointment.

  She turned her head away, focusing on the bottle and shot glasses on the bar. She poured another drink and slammed it back. “Something like that,” she said, wiping her ruby-red lips with the back of her hand. “I’m Molly, and you, my little hacker, have work to do.”

  “How’s this going to work?” Gerry asked.

  “Simple. You come with me, do as your told, and see if you can hack Seca’s security to deliver the payload before your brain explodes.”

  “Oh, is that all? There’s me thinking it was going to be tricky.”

  “Yeah, you keep that confidence. You’ll need it. Let’s get to it, then.” Molly stood, grabbed his hand, and led him to a door at the side of the bar. The various patrons had started to talk in hushed tones as he passed them. He noticed most of them had distorted faces like Len’s. Some had stunted limbs, misshapen arms and some that resembled flippers. A glimmer of hope shone in their eyes, adding to the responsibility that he felt growing heavily on his shoulders.

  Before he let Molly take him through the door, he shot a look back at Gabe and Petal. Gabe grinned at him, urging him on. Petal’s eyebrows knitted close, and her nostrils flared. Was she pissed off about something?

  “Come,” Molly ordered. She pulled his hand, dragging him through a beaded curtain and into a dark and dingy back room that stank of mould. Shrouds of thick red light illuminated an area at the back of the room. A leather sofa sat against one wall; a chair and a full-length mirror were opposite. Probably a two-way, he thought.

  Molly pushed him roughly into the sofa and sat on the chair.

  “Well?” Gerry asked, leaning forward. “What now?”

  “Slip it in and drop your payload, Mr Techxorcist man,” she said with a wicked smile. From inside her jacket, she took a beat-up HackSlate. An earlier model of the one Petal used. Its holographic display was partially broken, and the frame was dented and scratched.

  “What happened to this?”

  “It’s the secure node,” Molly said. “It got dropped a few times over the years as others tried to break Seca’s security.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “Better you don’t know.” She leant forward. Her face relaxed and became serious. “You have to remain focused. Don’t let it get to you. If you get confused and let the fear get into your mind, you won’t be able to crack the security.”

  “So this security that Seca has is an intelligent one? An AI?”

  “Yeah… but it’s messed up. It’s not passive. It’ll attack you as soon as you log in. Don’t let it overwhelm you. You have to find a weakness, and when you do, drop Len’s payload. The virus can only work from the inside. You understand?”

  He gripped the HackSlate, took a deep breath, and tried to ignore the growing anxiety that was building within. He tried to calm his mind. Think back to all the jobs he’d completed at Cemprom when a rogue hacker had tried to get in. He took the DigiCard with Len’s virus on it and installed it into the slot in the side of the slate. The software loaded within seconds, waiting for Gerry to download it into the right place.

  A tingle of anxiety crawled up the back of his neck, making him shiver. Molly leant forward, resting her elbows on her knees. He caught himself distracted by her bare thighs beneath her miniskirt that had stretched upward.

  “Eyes on the prize,” Molly said with a smirk.

  Gerry wasn’t sure which prize she was referring to, but the bloom of embarrassment warmed his cheeks, and he looked away, trying to refocus. “What if the AI doesn’t come to me?” Gerry asked. “How else can I deliver the payload if it doesn’t make itself known?”

  “Download it to the server node responsible for the security of the vaccine unit. But trust me. I doubt you’ll have a free run of it. Although the slate will get you so far, all data on Seca’s network is closely monitored.”

  Molly leaned back, crossed her legs, and lit a cigarette. The smoke filled the room, making the place hazy. It had a sweet aroma to it. Gerry’s nostrils twitched as he breathed in the smoke. “What’s that?” All cigarettes had been banned from the Dome. In fact, all non-medicinal drugs we
re banned. Which was no real problem as there wasn’t anyone with the resources to manufacture recreational drugs.

  “Just a little relaxant,” Molly said, holding the cigarette between her forefinger and index finger so that it pointed away from her. She cut a cool figure sitting there shrouded in smoke. “I find it helps with these kind of things. Helps focus the mind.”

  A tickling cough played at the back of Gerry’s throat, but he could feel himself become numb. His heart rate slowed, and his mind stopped whirling with anxiety.

  “Just let it take you away,” Molly said. Her voice was low and seductive. He wasn’t sure if that was just her or the effects of the drugs, but he nodded, listened to her voice, and concentrated on his breathing. Once in the mindset, he connected to the HackSlate with his dermal implant.

  “Are you ready?” Molly said.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Once you log in, the HackSlate has a directory with the network address of the vaccine storage unit. The AI, however, is stored somewhere else. Don’t worry about that. It’ll come to you. Just get past it and locate the security node’s exact address. The payload needs to know that to be fully functional. You’ll see how it works when you activate it. It’s super simple. The trick is surviving the AI.”

  Molly’s form dissolved as the interface from the slate took over his optical nerve. A familiar sense of connection came in the form of a series of buzzes. His vision and perception went dark. A second later a gridlike interface filled his vision. Each square of the grid represented a program.

  Following Molly’s advice, he activated a directory on the interface and read the file within. It gave him the rough network address of the vaccine storage unit. The physical grid location showed it was situated within the centre of Darkhan city, some twenty kilometres from his current position. That physical distance, however, was of little consequence. The network allowed him to reach the node that managed the security of the vaccine unit with a few thoughts of his mind.