Fortress Farm Trilogy: Volumes 1, 2 & 3 (Fortress Farm Series)

by G. R. Carter

  Rowan lunged at Angela, never seeing the two figures behind him. He felt a sudden jolt and sharp pain in the back of his head before he could get close enough to strike. Consciousness faded as the face of the angel above him dimmed from view.

  White House

  Federal DC

  Immediately After GRAPEVINE Shutdown

  President Luis Aguilar stumbled down the dimly-lit hallway toward his new command bunker, built as a personal monument to the success of the Pullback. Service–Marines flanked him on each side, clearly confused about why their world turned upside down. Panic overwhelmed Aguilar.

  How in the world could everything just quit working?

  The night had gone so well after the State of the Union. Now just hours later the world had gone pitch black. The last report he had from Secretary Johnson at the Department of Interior concluded that they had a nationwide power outage. There were no phones or computers working, so the information was still sketchy. But everyone was pretty sure it was a cyber–attack. Maybe China, maybe the Russian Federation. Everything was speculation right now. But Johnson urged Aguilar to head for the new state-of-the-art bunker built several stories below the People’s Hall, and to take his wife and Speaker Thomas Reed with him. Johnson nodded to Aguilar, acknowledging the Continuity link the men shared. Then, Johnson disappeared into the dark with his own group of Service–Marines.

  Aguilar hustled into the bunker, heading for the living quarters. His wife entered behind him, and he could hear the sobs begin. Reed slumped into a chair in the front sitting room, rubbing his eyes to try to let more of the hand crank LED lantern light into his brain. The light cast through the room was just enough to allow the men to make out just four of the Service–Marines now with them.

  Where is my Chief of Staff? Or my Secretary of Homeland Security? There should be twenty staff in here to attend me!

  “Marine, I want to walk out in the hallway. There may be staff waiting out there and I want to get an update,” Aguilar demanded of the nearest uniform he could see.

  Aguilar watched the Service–Marine pass through the dim light and reach for the large lever used to release the bunker door. The soldier’s muscles rippled with the effort, but the handle wouldn’t budge. He tried again, straining and grunting this time.

  Thomas Reed quickly jumped from his chair, pushing the younger man out of the way and frantically searching for a switch or button to activate the door. Panic gripped Reed as he swung around to scream at Aguilar.

  “They locked us in here! We’re trapped! We’re all dead!”

  Aguilar went pale, unseen in the darkness. “Why would they do that? Johnson gave me the sign to come here. He said we would be safe until the situation was controlled.”

  A voice came out of the dark; one of the Service–Marines: “The situation is under control, Mr. President. Gatekeeper Johnson gave me the honor of helping you and Speaker Reed find the True Path. Unfortunately, neither of you were able to completely comprehend Continuity and the peace it brings knowing that a pure Profile lives on forever.”

  Now the uniformed man moved into the low light of the LED lantern. “You see, once Gatekeeper Johnson knew you were both using Continuity to achieve your own goals, instead of trying to reach true enlightenment, he had to act to help you. You must both be purified – separated from the outside world while you meditate to the True Path.”

  “This is crazy!” Reed screamed, rushing their jailer and grabbing him. “I demand you let us out! Johnson said that I’d be the one to lead after Aguilar was locked up! He said I was chosen to lead, that my Profile would be first among equals!”

  The hidden man easily threw the two hundred-pound Speaker of the House to the ground, striking his chest with an open fist. As the Speaker gasped for air, the Service–Marine turned back to a stunned Aguilar, now nearly hyperventilating.

  “People will come looking for us,” Aguilar gasped. “You can’t hide the most powerful men in the world! Especially in my own house! When the power comes back on, every reporter in the world will be combing these halls looking for me!”

  The Service–Marine calmly replied: “Mr. President, the power isn’t coming back on. GRAPEVINE commanded every computer and connected device to rest until the time for the Awakening comes. Once humanity is ready to reach the final stage of The Progressions, She will restart the Network and bring the power back. But until then, there will be no power, and no one will come to look for you. You must find your Path to Continuity here in the dark. Or none of you will ever leave this room.”

  Chapter Five – The Pullback

  Old Main College

  Five Minutes before the Great Reset

  Five minutes until the GRAPEVINE chat session, Dr. Timothy Maxwell thought, quickly stepping down the hallway towards his office. This was supposed to be a big one, with new information about the plans of the Owls. More importantly, he was going to find out what his next steps were in dealing with this Stone Age fanatic college president he was stuck serving under. She was the last obstacle to him getting out of this backwater and into one of the capitals where he belonged. His brilliance was wasted here; GRAPEVINE needed him where the action was. But supposedly the ex–senator who served as president here at Old Main College still held some important role in opposing the mission of GRAPEVINE.

  Senator Julia Ruff posed problems to the allies of GRAPEVINE during her brief stint in Washington DC. And although she willingly resigned and returned here to lead Old Main, the leaders behind the GRAPEVINE project still suspected she might pose a problem in some way to their end goal. So Maxwell had been placed here at the College on endowment in the Computer Science department. What appeared to be a public relations victory for little Old Main College provided cover for a covert spying operation.

  Now Maxwell just had to last another few months, and he was promised a research post to continue his work helping Luna mine for rare earth materials. No more idiot bourgeois kids pretending they were at college to learn instead of to master drunken debauchery. He could finally get to the city, where there was a lot more going on for a man of his tastes. Small towns weren’t particularly inviting to men like him; he smiled slightly at the thought of all those new coeds to pick from.

  Approaching his cracker box office, Maxwell noticed the hallway lights beginning to flicker intermittently. The flickering became more intense, and then, just like that, nothing. He reached around the doorway into the office and flicked the switch to turn on the overhead LED. Still nothing. He flipped again, and again, and again. Stupid old relics! Imagine this dump calling itself an institute of higher learning!

  Maxwell swiped the screen of his new Wristband to call facilities; they would get a piece of his mind. As he pressed the talk button, though, there was no response. He knew it was charged, but the screen remained blank. It was dark as night in the office, with just the faint glow from the emergency exit to keep it from being completely devoid of light.

  I’m going to be late for the meeting. What will happen to my post? I have to get out of here!

  The room was getting stuffy; the whir of the circulation system was gone with no fresh air being circulated. Maxwell thought of a solution: he would go home to that sorry excuse of an apartment he rented a few blocks from here. He seldom even stopped there, just once every few days for a change of clothes and a shower. Otherwise, he spent all of his time here. The Wi–Fi at his apartment was in a sorry state, but he had no choice, he had to get onto that chat session.

  He moved as quickly as his overweight frame would allow. Shuffling across the dark tile toward the exit door, he fumbled for his swipe badge. Maxwell led the faculty senate in pushing that all the doors be secured with coded identification. He convinced them the extra measures provided a safe zone against the rampant school shootings replayed constantly on NewsWatch. In reality, Maxwell wanted to make sure that no one was snooping through his office. His work for GRAPEVINE was too important to be discovered or interfered with. Only a select grou
p possessed badges for access to this floor.

  He located the security screen and flashed his badge in front. Nothing.

  Again. Nothing. Again. Nothing!

  Panic gripped him as he began to scream for help. More panic as he realized the time. Two a.m. and there would be no one around in the entire building. Even the cleaning and maintenance crews were instructed to stay away from this area overnight, Maxwell had insisted on that also. Almost every night found him working on something (or someone) up here and he didn’t want to be interrupted.

  What was he going to miss on the chat? Would he be kicked out if they thought he had been compromised? What would happen to his Profile?

  He was sobbing as he slid down the wall until his plump behind finally hit the cool tile. Glancing at the door that had become his prison gate, he wondered if he was going to die. He was trapped, with no food, no water, and missing the most important meeting of his life. Hyperventilating and panic-stricken, Maxwell curled into a ball on the floor and passed out just below the door’s emergency manual release switch.

  Chapter Six – The Pullback

  Renaissance Tower Building – Downtown St. Louis

  The Day after the Reset

  The day darkness fell across America, Antonio “Little Tony” Diamante knew instinctively that something irrevocably awful had occurred. Lights around the city didn’t work, traffic outside was completely dead...even the Wristbands Americans used to access everything in their lives simply sat on their arms like a piece of jewelry. Relief washed over him when the secondary power system his Nicole designed relit the interior lights of his personal apartment. But when no outside access was available, he knew quickly the city lacked its internal electric heart.

  By afternoon of the first dark day, the Chief Executive Officer of Rosenberg, Kane & Associates sent junior partners to contact all the major power players in the city. His message called for a meeting first thing in the morning to provide information on a solution to their mounting crisis. He considered requesting a night meeting, but remembered there would be no street lights to or even cars to navigate the trip. Besides, police already had their hands full keeping a lid on a bewildered citizenry going through connectivity withdrawals. They couldn’t provide night escorts for all the VIPs on the invite list.

  As city leaders approached Renaissance Tower, Tony knew they would be curious why ARK’s headquarters continued to emit light in the blackout. The warm glow spilling out to the street was the only noticeable light for blocks in any direction. None of the others were aware of the tens of millions of dollars Tony spent to create a parallel computing system, completely cut off from the artificial intelligence known as GRAPEVINE. The moment GRAPEVINE failed, ARK’s Renaissance super computer kicked in, driving vital equipment like the backup generators hidden in the basement. Huge tanks of diesel in fed the generators aided solar panels and wind turbines on the roof to provide all the electricity they needed for the near future.

  Thank you, Nicole, Tony thought. Maybe more than just an associate now, Tony thought, allowing himself a moment of happiness in a suddenly dark world.

  A void in real city leadership meant almost everyone showed up to Tony’s meeting. Some came to Renaissance Tower because of curiosity, others knew that Tony made things happen – they were all sure he must have a plan. One thing they were confident in was that they were entirely safe in Tony’s building; a forty-six-story stone and steel fortress with retail and food courts on ground level, offices in the middle, and living quarters for Tony’s most trusted executives and security personnel on top. The entire 13th floor served as conference meeting rooms – Tony loved the irony that so many powerful people believed in old superstitions. Make your own luck, or others will make it for you, Tony remembered his father teaching him.

  This was a big meeting, and powerful people had big entourages. Tony requested the main conference room be seated with only the primary invitee and his or her second in command. Entourages were well taken care of in glass-walled side rooms, entertained with fresh food from Tony’s farmland connections. No ration bars were ever served in Renaissance Tower. Nobody asked how he got the illegal items; not the mayor, nor the city council, nor the District Supervisor from the Department of the Interior. They were all weekly beneficiaries of anonymous fresh food shipments appearing at their homes.

  Thirty-one different mini-empires finally settled into the room by mid–morning. Government agencies of all levels plus business leaders and the six major legal firms were present.

  As the last of his guests settled into their chairs, Tony smiled to himself. He was a first mover, and this was the first mover's advantage. Even the leaders of M&C Consultants, Tony’s biggest rival in the city, were in attendance. Any powerful person could have called this meeting, but everyone was too scared or busy trying to figure out why they couldn’t check their email. Some were probably irritated that their favorite junior partner hadn’t been able to make it in to work on the electric trolleys for two days.

  Time to tell them why.

  Tony confidently strode up to the elevated riser four feet above the floor. He was already a large man and the podium was designed to make him appear as though floating above his audience. He looked down at notes he didn’t need, and paused for dramatic effect. When he raised his eyes to look at the gathered brain trust, he seemed to lock in each one with his words.

  “My friends, the world changed when the first Solar Storms started to appear in our sky just a few years ago. Doing what Americans do best, we came together and figured out a solution to the problems, a solution that actually created a better world for our fellow man. With our ingenuity and hard work, our investors and our families secured prosperity for generations. Or so we thought.”

  I’ve got them right now, I can feel it, Tony thought. They’re scared, and don’t understand what’s happening to them. None of them are used to that powerless feeling. More importantly, they’re desperate to hang on to their power and privilege. That’s pathetic, but useful.

  Tony continued, “I’ve been up all night talking to our technical experts. I needed answers about what happened and what can be done to reverse it. We haven’t been able to contact GRAPEVINE, and to our knowledge, no one else has, either. Even if we could get reconnected right now, our programmers believe a significant amount of damage has already occurred.

  “In short, if the shut–down can be reversed immediately, they believe things can be back to normal within…” Tony paused for effect, “eight months to a year.”

  Tony could hear the gasps from the most intelligent of the group. Others nodded their heads, as though it was good to hear that someone discovered a solution for them. The smarter ones knew that without power and internet signal, food rations would be hoarded and supply warehouses would be empty in a week. A desperate populace would set off a cascade of anarchy, turning the city into a burning wreck. That was the best-case scenario. The chaos might actually start any time as police and fire departments began to desert their posts and protect their own families.

  Citizens whose life revolved around staying in touch through devices, accessing food rations with Wristbands, occupied by constant digital streaming entertainment, now sat in the dark, waiting for the lights to flicker back on. Before long, those millions of citizens' confusion would turn to fear, then to desperation. In short, the smartest in the room realized they were sitting on a powder keg.

  Time to set the hook.

  “My friends, please! If I could have your attention! We can work through this together,” Tony shouted over the murmuring crowd.

  Amid the confused chatter, Tony noticed both directors of M&C Consultants get up and motion to their entourage to leave. The smartest want to get started right now, because every moment will count. M&C and a few others would be ruthless enough to seize the opportunity, already formulating how best to take advantage of the situation. Survive...it’s what our Families have always done.

  Tony suddenly considered so
mething: I wonder if they knew this was coming ahead of time. Did they help orchestrate it or were they just pawns that got used? Maybe they just realized their new religion shut down along with GRAPEVINE. Either way, they’ll be thinking of a way to capitalize.

  Tony had expected M&C to make their move. He gave an imperceptible nod to Bobby Costello, head of the ARK security forces known as the Peacekeepers. Dressed in the duty uniform of all black shirt, trousers and lace up army boots, Bobby smiled to the group leaving and walked with them. He motioned to a small group of his Peacekeepers to help escort them through the fortress-style layers of protection surrounding ARK. Everyone who attended the meeting knew that ARK assured the safety of even their most bitter of rivals on occasions like this. That’s how business was done when a city-wide meeting was called.

  Not today. Tony knew the world had changed overnight, though he would never know exactly what happened to the men from M&C or the others who left with them. That was Bobby’s side of the family business.

  That took care of rooting out the smart and brave ones. Next, the smart and scared ones.

  “I do have some good news. I have instructed the Peacekeepers to make sure all food warehouses are well secured, and to make preparations to move the rations and medical supplies to a more defensible location. I understand some will object, but please understand, high-profile government facilities will be the first to be looted. It could happen any moment. Fortunately, some of our city police have agreed to escort my men to the new locations. Their help is most welcome, and I would like to thank Chief Bert Thomas for his help in arranging all this,” Tony said as he nodded to the fat uniform in the front row.