Cyber Apocalypse (Book 2): As Our World Falls

by Hunt, Jack

  “So?” Travis asked.

  “What?” Garcia replied, lifting up a camo jacket and seeing if it fit him.

  “You have any answers?”

  “Yeah. Stay inside like your grandfather. It’s safer.”

  Travis made his way around the silver racks of hanging clothes. “That’s it?”

  “Three of you weren’t able to deal with us, trust me, the Norteños don’t play around or tell you to lay your weapons down. You go down first, your weapon follows after.” He set the jacket down.

  “So you know who they are?”

  “Of course I do, we just dealt with them,” he replied hoping that he would drop the subject. Of course, he wouldn’t. Travis followed in his shadow.

  “That tattoo. How can you be a cop and one of them?”

  “That was my past, this is my present.”

  Garcia reached for a large machete on the wall.

  “Okay, so you had some inroad with this gang?”

  “Had is the word. Not anymore.”

  “But…”

  “Drop it, Travis. Okay?” Garcia said, turning around and speaking loud enough that he got the attention of Elisha and Liam who were browsing items across the store. “I’m telling you, these kinds of people don’t play games.”

  Harry returned to see what all the commotion was about.

  “Yeah, well neither do we.” Travis turned and jerked his head toward Tate and Joe. “Let’s go.”

  “Travis. Don’t start a war you can’t finish.”

  “I never started it but you can be damn sure if they are still here, I will finish it.” He shot Liam a look as if expecting him to follow but Liam remained.

  8

  The Denver Country Club was an exclusive private establishment at the southern boundary of a wealthy subdivision. Catering to the who’s who through amenities such as golf, racquet sports, swimming, and fitness, it had something for everyone. The oldest country club west of the Mississippi now looked a shell of its former self with one half of the two-story structure in ruins. Dark smoke rose above, some drifting their way bringing a pungent smell of toxicity. Alex turned his head toward the building as they jogged up the driveway. Was that a plane? The closer they got, the clearer it became. It looked like a jet wing and engine, charred and sticking out of concrete as if a military plane had crashed and split through the facility like a hot knife through butter. Had the military attempted to fight back? Was this the first sign of force? Beyond that was a golfer’s paradise with 18 holes spread out over a rich green landscape. It almost looked out of place amid the rubble, and disaster that had befallen the city.

  A bright red Jeep Rubicon idled out front with Star sitting on the hardtop, legs crossed with a lollipop in her mouth. She leaned back taking in the rays of sunshine. She had this grin as if she knew something they didn’t. Another female, fifteen, maybe sixteen, sat on the passenger side. She had long dark hair with a strand of green through it, and piercing dark eyes. Thomas and Ryan were in the back, beckoning them on.

  “Better speed up,” Star bellowed, drumming her fingers on the roof and gazing up at the sky as a fleet of drones zipped their way. Alex turned back; panic caught in his chest. It felt like he was in a nightmare where his legs wouldn’t move fast enough.

  Reaching the Jeep, they dived into the back, breathing heavily, expecting a barrage of gunfire or a missile to end their misery but instead the drones flew over and Star let out a hoot as she hopped off the roof and slid behind the wheel. “Strap in, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride. Meadow, you want to do the honors?”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  She cast a glance over her shoulder and Alex got a better look at her. She had smoky brown and green makeup, and one eyebrow pierced. She was also still sporting a pair of braces which she flashed as she smiled.

  Meadow took a black package from the center console and unzipped it to reveal a selection of CDs. “Nope, nope, nope, nope, ah!” Thumbing through them, she pulled out one and winked at Star and stuck it in the CD player. Star flipped down the sun visor and tossed on a pair of mirrored aviators that were too large for her. She revved the engine a little.

  Sophie was quick to ask. “Star, why are the drones not attacking you?”

  “Questions later,” she replied while adjusting her glasses in the rearview mirror.

  “Hey, maybe I should drive,” Alex suggested, leaning forward.

  She laughed. “I think not. Lucy here is very particular about who drives her, isn’t that right, Meadow?”

  She nodded in agreement. “Yeah, she won’t let me drive.”

  Thomas gave Alex a confused expression.

  Meadow adjusted the volume on the music that was beginning to seep out of the speakers. “Um, you think you can hurry it up?” Ryan said peering out, expecting the worst to happen as another drone flashed overhead.

  “Wait for it,” Star said, holding a finger in the air as a guitar kicked in, building slowly to a rising crescendo. It was the intro to “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC. Star tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, holding a smile, while Meadow placed her bare feet on the dashboard and was tapping out the beat of the tune on the ceiling. Alex looked at Sophie and both of them raised an eyebrow. What the hell was going on? It felt like he was trapped in a surreal nightmare.

  “Thunderstruck!” both of them roared while banging their heads.

  Star jammed the gearstick into drive and the Jeep tore out, burst over a curb and veered onto First Avenue. Alex held on for dear life as they bounced in their seats, rocking back and forth as she drove like a maniac one moment then with all the precision of a professional street racer the next. “She tell you anything?” Sophie asked Thomas.

  “Only a little about El Dorado, some ranch on the outskirts of the city not far from Golden.”

  Curious onlookers taking refuge in buildings watched in amazement as they drove the streets without one drone attacking, meanwhile they continued their barrage of assaults on survivors and buildings. Star glanced up at the rearview mirror and Alex could tell she was looking at him from behind those shades. What was going through her head? Who was this girl?

  At no point throughout the thirty-five-minute journey did he think they were safe. He was waiting for a missile to drop and this girl to finally realize she wasn’t untouchable. Rock music continued blaring from the speakers as the two of them acted like the world hadn’t gone to shits. She reached over and turned it down ever so slightly as Alex leaned forward.

  “This ranch. If your parents are dead, who owns it?”

  “Abner.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “You’ll see. He’ll explain everything. I think you’ll like the ranch.”

  “We won’t stay long.”

  “That’s what they all say,” she muttered.

  They? He frowned as he leaned back in his seat.

  Meadow folded a piece of gum into her mouth. Star turned the music up again. Alex was beginning to wonder if the reason she was playing it so loud was to avoid questions more than for enjoyment.

  As the Jeep glided through the streets and the four of them shifted uncomfortably in the small space, Alex looked over his shoulder into the rear storage space. It was filled with boxes and bags of canned food, some of it had blood splatter on it. He breathed a sigh of relief as he looked at the road as it wound out of the city and into the countryside.

  Sophie leaned into him. “You okay about this?”

  “We’ll see. Maybe this Abner is her uncle or something. Perhaps he has horses or a vehicle.”

  “Horses?”

  “Whatever it takes, right?”

  She managed to summon a smile.

  They soon saw signs for Golden as they drove on Highway 6 and headed farther out. Fifteen minutes north of Golden they took in the sights of expansive mountain meadows, and green lush landscape full of pine, spruce, and aspen that blanketed the region. Off to the right were heavily timbered land, undulating topography, streams, small
lakes and rock outcroppings.

  Somewhere between Golden Gate Canyon State Park and Ralston Creek State Wildlife Area, Star veered off onto an unpaved private road. They bounced around in the back as it hit a patch of rough ground then smoothed out.

  The road seemed to go on forever, a winding path cutting through a forest full of wildflowers. Snowcapped mountains that were common in Colorado even in the summer months could be seen looming over the rolling hills. It was peaceful, remote and mesmerizing.

  Then, as they rounded a bend in the road, a vast valley opened up before them, naturally preserved, almost untouched by humans.

  Trails fissured off in every direction.

  Alex squinted as sunlight glistened off a spring-fed lake giving it a magical appearance as they were transported out of the horrors of the concrete city.

  “Wow, this is something else,” Ryan said, his eyes widening.

  Even Sophie looked captivated.

  It was like a forgotten country, God’s country.

  The way America was meant to be.

  Rugged, natural, beautiful.

  The closer they got, the more people they saw. Beyond that was an incredible log mansion set high up on a hill, the kind of structure that might have been used for weekend retreats.

  Meadow shut off the music and turned as they passed under a pine archway with letters carved into the wood.

  “Welcome to El Dorado.”

  9

  The fist to the side of his face blindsided him. Ken Fischer spat blood and a tooth rolled across his newly installed hardwood floor. His brain rattled in his skull as he looked up to see the living room full of tattooed Latinos. “Get him up,” a strong and confident male voice said. He turned to see who it came from when a meaty paw grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him as if he was as light as a feather. They threw him into a chair across from Colleen. Black mascara from her tears covered her face, and her eyes were red and swollen. A rag was stuffed in her mouth and her ankles and wrists bound with her arms pulled behind her.

  Ken instantly shot into survival mode. There was no courage here. Hand stretched out he began to grovel. “If this is to do with the state of the town, supplies or getting you guys a better cut, I’ll just let you know right now, I’m not the mayor anymore.”

  “Not according to your council members. I mean, dead council members.” A fearsome-looking individual, bald, tattooed, short and scruffy, the kind of man he’d seen arrested on TV shows, dragged over a chair from the dining table and flipped it around. He straddled it and blew smoke in Fischer’s face, then tapped his cigarette ash onto his knee. Ken looked down at the ash and brushed it off.

  “Dead?”

  A grin spread on the man’s face.

  Ken looked nervously around the room. “Who are you?”

  “I think you’re asking the wrong question, homie.”

  “If this is about what happened at Hopper’s Tavern, I never authorized the attack, okay? That was all Officer Garcia. And believe me I don’t even like the guy.”

  “Hopper’s Tavern?”

  Puzzled, his brow furrowed. “You’re Carlos’ men, aren’t you?”

  He chuckled and looked at his guys who stared back with blank expressions. Ken swallowed, feeling his nerves get the better of him. He needed to ratchet this up a notch, plead his case, find some way to get these men out of here. “Look, please, if it’s money you want, I’ve got plenty of it,” he said rising and pointing to the door. “It’s in the truck, I can get it for you.”

  A shove and he fell back into the chair.

  “Tell me about Garcia.”

  “Sure. What do you want to know?”

  “Background, where he is?”

  “Um.” His eyes bounced between them as he tried to make sense of this. Obviously, Garcia had brought hell down on him and if it meant throwing him under the bus he would do it. “He was hired by the police department. Apparently had connections with the gangs. They thought it was a good thing to bring in someone who could reach… your kind.”

  “My kind?”

  He cleared his throat. “I mean that most respectfully, Mr.…?” he fished for a name.

  “Lopez.”

  The guy sucked on his cigarette causing it to burn bright orange.

  “Mr. Lopez. Okay. Very good.” Fischer bounced his head from side to side. He was gaining ground, maybe even controlling this. You got this. Four years of running this town, he’d learned a thing or two about human behavior. He’d pulled the wool over the eyes of some of the smartest. This guy before him didn’t look as if he’d even graduated high school. I mean, who in their right mind would cover their face in all that ink? “Felix Garcia is his full name. He lives locally. He was behind the attack on a gang here in Petaluma. La Primera. Maybe you know them?” Every attempt at getting a response from them was met with a blank expression. The sound of the ticking grandfather clock in the room didn’t help. It only added to his stress. A bead of sweat trickled down his back. “Okay. Maybe you don’t. Well, that’s it. What else do you want to know?”

  “You missed out the part of where he is?”

  “How would I know?”

  Lopez chuckled and tapped more ash onto his leg before narrowing his gaze.

  Ken shrugged. “The last time I spoke to him he rudely interrupted one of our meetings. He made some demands. I told him where to go. He left and the attack occurred. After, the killing here in Petaluma seemed to stop. It’s not like we had a huddle every day. The few cops that are still alive have been gradually disappearing, whether that’s because someone like yourself has put a bullet in them or they have decided to bail, who knows, and really… does it matter? If you had planned on setting up here, be my guest. I’m getting the hell out and I’m sure that’s what Garcia did.” He stopped and waited for a response. The imbecile looked back at him. No smile. No scowl, just a cold hard stare that made Ken fear for his life.

  “Look, please, I have food, money, gold. Plenty of it. Hell, I have quite the stash, and it’s all yours.… Just… please, let myself and my wife go.”

  Lopez closed his eyes and took another hard pull on his cigarette before he stood up and removed a handgun from his waistband. He walked over to Colleen and put the barrel on her kneecap. “Garcia’s home address.”

  “Right. Uh. I can get that for you. I just need to go to…”

  Crack.

  He squeezed the trigger and Colleen let out a muffled scream.

  Ken’s hands shot out in front of him. “Please. Oh God. Please. No, no, no. I don’t know it but I can get it. I just don’t keep that kind of information at my home. And with the communication and internet down, I can’t access it without going to the police department.” Tears rolled down Colleen’s face. Ken tried to reach for her but was pushed back into his seat. “You didn’t need to do that.”

  “Let’s go,” he said nudging him toward the door with a jerk of the gun. Before leaving he turned to another guy. “Leo. You stay here. And Miguel, keep an eye on him.”

  Ken glanced back at his wife as he was strong-armed out the door. Four Latinos remained with her while the rest followed him out with Lopez. He could see the look of fear in Colleen’s eyes. What else would they do? Would she be alive when he got back? Would he ever return? He berated himself inwardly, wishing he’d left in the first few days. He'd contemplated it. It would have been easy.

  Still, these assholes were amateurs.

  If they thought he was going to hand over Garcia without protecting his own ass, they were even more stupid than they looked. The whole spiel about the cops having all but gone was a lie. They were still only seven days into this.

  Sure, in that time Petaluma had taken one hell of a beating. The bombs had destroyed the infrastructure, and half the buildings in town, and made their job hard, but this man was overlooking the resilience of the Petaluma people. With a dwindling police force and roughly ten officers left, Fischer had been smart enough to discuss with Chief Berryman recruitin
g those with a military or hunting background. The pitch went over well but the chief said the community wouldn’t go for it.

  They had already maxed out on the number of volunteers.

  And with the drive-by shooting, morale had all but vanished.

  That’s why Fischer in a last-ditch effort before getting the hell out of Dodge had told the chief he would handle it. And handle it he did, with the assistance of his council members they’d showed up at the shelter in Lucchesi Park with new supplies. Supplies that had come from arrangements he’d made with store owners in the days after the bombings. To ensure that it all went according to plan, he needed the community to believe they had this under control. Did they? Like hell, that’s why he was getting out but they didn’t need to know that.

  He'd given his best speech.

  As his truck rumbled to life and he was forced into the passenger side by Lopez’s men, he thought back to that day.

  “Yes, the situation is dire, and yes there are no guarantees that a week, a month or even a year from now you will be able to go about your lives, but this downswing offers a host of opportunities, opportunities to have your name etched in history as those who didn’t run but instead picked up the baton.”

  Oh, he laid it on thick. Hell, even William Wallace would have admired his speech as he walked before the crowd. They hung upon his every word because he had shown up with new supplies. Give. Take. The psychology worked. See, it was all a matter of control, and he was for the most part a master of that. Even now, as they drove to the police department, he was leading these tattooed fools to their death.

  His thoughts drifted back to that glorious day.

  Rallying together hunters, ex-military, anyone who knew how to fire a weapon.

  “You don’t need to know the law, you just need to follow orders. Those of you who are uncertain but have useful skills will be paired up with one of Petaluma’s finest. You will offer backup, support and assistance as we continue to search for survivors among the rubble, and rebuild this fine city.”

  After presenting before them boxes of food, he’d taken a can and stepped down into the crowd and placed it into the hands of a child clinging to her mother’s leg. “Here you go, hon. We are here for you. You understand. We won’t let you go hungry.” Would they go hungry? Of course but it’s what every politician did in times of crisis. By the time they caught on that things were getting worse he would be long gone.