Cyber Apocalypse (Book 3): As Our World Burns

by Hunt, Jack

  She ground her teeth together.

  Danielle had just about enough of his crap. She got up and went out into the hallway, leaving him inside the locked room. Outside she undid the top button on her shirt as she was overheating then proceeded to the command room where Martin and a team from the National Cybersecurity Division were working.

  “Tell me you’ve got something?” she asked, entering a room buzzing with activity.

  Martin was leaning over the shoulder of one of their decryption experts, Raymond, one hand on the table in front of him, the other on the guy’s chair. They were both staring at a screen full of code. Raymond was a quirky looking guy with spiky dark hair, and square glasses that looked a little too wide for his face. He turned in his chair. “Possibly.”

  “What do you mean, possibly?”

  “Listen, Ryan was tasked with finding the location of these sleeper cells. Of which he did, at least a few. He was able to do that because essentially they communicate with each other through code inserted into servers.”

  Martin patted him on the shoulder. “In English, Raymond.”

  He groaned. “Hackers don’t use a single programming language; they often use twenty or more and they look for flaws in existing code and then insert their own to either deface websites or control a server from a remote terminal.”

  “And?” she asked.

  “Probably best I show you.” He turned around and the six or seven windows on his monitor minimized and he pecked at a keyboard to bring up a few more screens. “Here’s an example of a website that has been hacked. Looks normal, right? Except it’s what you don’t see that is the issue. Buried inside the website’s code is specific code that is not visible to the browsing user, however, under certain conditions the hacker from their end can send a command and in turn alter the execution of the original code. It’s what leads to defacing, redirects, data theft, data loss, denial of service and so on. A favorite with small-time hackers is when someone visits a website it redirects them to a page with pharmaceutical products. Now unless you’re familiar with code or have software that can find what files have been modified and what files are vulnerable, you wouldn’t have a clue you’ve been hacked unless you were redirected and saw the message.”

  Raymond looked at Martin and Martin nodded. “Go on,” he said.

  He brought up a screen of code and highlighted it in yellow. “As requested all messages and code work completed by Ryan was saved so we could analyze it. Ryan inserted this code. On the surface it doesn’t look like much but if understood and followed it will take you to a piece of music. Once we analyzed the structure, we discovered that certain notes corresponded with letters and numbers and revealed a hidden message.” Martin turned to her. “He’s been tipping them off.”

  She lifted a hand and placed the other on her hip. “Of course he has. They’re already gone before our team shows up.”

  “No, you don’t understand. He’s not directly tipping off the location,” Martin said, clarifying by turning to the screen and getting Raymond to show her the messages. “Each of these messages was left on a server in California.”

  “His parents,” she added.

  “That’s what we believe. What the team has been able to find is this.” He tapped the screen. “This code updates. From there, his parents must be alerting the rest of the network and that’s why no one is there by the time we get there.”

  Raymond nodded, confirming it. “It was clever. He hid it well. For someone of his age, this is some higher-level shit.”

  She grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut. Although he was at fault, in many ways Ryan was just a pawn, a puppet on a string, and what a string they had — parenthood. The strongest bond. Take away everything and allow that hunger to increase and eventually a person would do anything. Here was a kid desperate for acceptance after being rejected multiple times since he was a child. He wanted to know his parents. He was craving attention. It was a perfect storm.

  “Has the fire team been dispatched to the location?” she asked.

  “Not yet. The last coded message from Ryan today was intercepted. Now, you go sending a group of armed individuals in there, you’re liable to blow what little chance there is of nailing these people. I’m sure wherever this server is in California, it’s being monitored remotely, not in person. I was speaking with the colonel today and some of the top brass from the FBI,” Martin said. “They want to send him in. Cut him loose again and hope this time he leads us directly to them.”

  Danielle bit down on her nail. “All good in theory.”

  “It’s worked before, and let’s face it, his family has used him to stay ahead of the game. The FBI just wants to do the same thing. Turn the tables. They want to make Ryan think that they’ve got his parents. They figure Ryan will want to confirm by getting in contact with them. There’s no internet out there, so the only way to confirm...”

  “Is to show up in person,” Danielle muttered as she wrapped one arm around her waist and rested her other elbow on top of that with her hand beneath her chin. “Hence the reason why he wanted to be sent to California.” She scratched the bottom of her jaw. “Nah, he won’t buy it. He’s smarter than that. After the last time, he knows we tracked and listened in on his conversations, he’ll be expecting it again.”

  Martin stood up straight. “Not if he thinks we already have them in custody.”

  She perched her ass on the edge of the table and looked around the room. Even with this discovery, the team was still hard at work to uncover cells throughout the country. “It’s not just that. It’s what I just said in my last conversation. He won’t believe me.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Danielle. Tell him you went to bat. Give him some spiel about being a juvenile. Say that they’ve considered his efforts in locating them as a form of payment. Tell him a lie. We do it all the time. Sell it to him. Do whatever it takes.”

  She chuckled. “Yeah, the FBI comes up with this bright idea but I’m the one who has to sell it to him. C’mon, Martin, this is bullshit. He’ll see right through it. We cut him loose, he’ll be watching his back, wondering if we’re listening. If he’s been in contact with his parents, he won’t put them at risk.”

  “He already has with this code,” Raymond said.

  She shook her head. “Familiar risk. Different risk.”

  “What?” Martin asked.

  “Ah, nothing. It was something Ryan said.” She sighed and ran a hand over her face.

  “You look tired,” Martin said.

  “I am. Look, just give me a moment to think.” She walked off to get some water and chew it over. Releasing him just didn’t seem like it would work. They had the technology to keep tabs on him, high-tech satellite surveillance, but he would be expecting that. And if they sent someone with him, that would only give him reason to run or tighten up. No, there had to be another way. She filled up a paper cup of water from a large upside-down bottle and guzzled it. She balled up the paper and tossed it into the garbage. Then it dawned on her.

  Danielle hurried back. “Martin.”

  “Yeah?”

  “What if we send out a message to his parents? You said this last batch of code was intercepted, right?”

  He shook his head. “Saved. There is a copy, a snapshot of his activates. The message went out. Why?”

  “I was thinking there might be a slim chance that Margot would want to meet him. What if we sent a message requesting a location to meet? Draw them out?”

  “And he would know about it?”

  “Yes. Like you said. We tell him we’ve got them and that we’re making an arrangement to have him see his parents one last time before they’re taken away. The way I see it, if he went to all this trouble for his parents, he’s not going to pass up the opportunity for a face to face.”

  Martin took a breath. “I’ll run it by the FBI but I can’t promise anything.”

  “Tell them that kid is too smart. If we set him loose he won’t go anywhere near them,
not after what we did last time… But if he thought his parents were going away, and so was he, and out of courtesy for helping, we’d set up one last meeting in California, he might go for it. It’s just an idea. Look into it.” Martin nodded and took off.

  She tapped Raymond on the shoulder. “Prepare a message. Don’t send it until we get confirmation from the feds on what they think. Let’s hope we can draw her out.”

  2

  Garberville, California

  The United States of America was no longer united.

  Losing power and communications was hard but the destruction of homes and businesses had delivered a devastating blow, and yet it was just a tip of the iceberg. The nation was on course for something far worse.

  Alex stared in utter disbelief.

  They’d been killed execution-style.

  Over twenty men and women were in a row lying face down with a gunshot wound to the back of the head. It was brutal, heartless, and uncalled for, but after what they’d witnessed on the journey back to California, violence was starting to become the norm. What had caused this was unknown, and how so many had been overpowered was a mystery, but he had an idea of what might have caused the spark.

  A few weeks ago they’d heard a message broadcast over the radio announcing safe zones throughout the state of California.

  Groups.

  Small communities.

  Pockets of survivors offering shelter, food, medical care, and protection.

  Of course, why anyone would broadcast having supplies when the nation had collapsed was a mystery. It was akin to a beautiful woman stripping naked in the worst part of a city and inviting people to come up and hug her.

  It was a recipe for a disaster.

  Although it was a positive step, a well-meaning gesture that could very well help the country, it assumed that everyone was good.

  They weren’t.

  While the vast majority were more likely to lean toward altruism, a small and growing segment of the nation would see an event like this as an opportunity to take advantage of the weak, gullible and vulnerable.

  Still, Garcia was keen to check out Garberville, Alex not so. The thought of running into another Abner was still at the forefront of his mind. In regular society, power trips were common but at least people in official positions could be held accountable — this was like the Wild West. Anyone could do whatever the hell they liked. Who would stop them?

  Garberville was but a speck on the map, an hour’s drive north of Willits just off US-101. Bordered on the west by the South Fork Eel River and heavy woodland to the east, it was perfect for folks looking to fish or hunt.

  “What do you think?” Sophie asked.

  Garcia was hunched over one of the dead. He looked up. “It’s not their style,” he replied as he straightened. He was referring to the gangs from L.A.

  They’d only been in town less than ten minutes when they came across the dead lying in a row on Church Street in front of the town square.

  Alex felt a shot of cold fear go through him as he backed up toward the cruiser, cradling his AR-15. “We should get out of here.”

  “We only arrived,” Sophie said. “Let’s at least see if there are supplies.”

  “No, he’s right,” Garcia added. “Whoever is responsible could still be here.”

  He walked over to the cruiser, as did Alex.

  Alex cast a glance over his shoulder and urged Sophie to get in the car when a single gunshot rang out, spearing a hole through the front of the cruiser’s windshield.

  “Get down,” Garcia cried out to Sophie who was still near the dead. She dropped flat, sandwiching herself between corpses while Garcia took cover behind the cruiser, beside Alex.

  Another round erupted followed by another, this time it blew off the side mirror and shattered the window on the driver’s side.

  “Twelve o’clock,” Alex yelled as he snuck a look before dropping back down. “On the roof of that apartment block between the trees.” Garcia nodded and made his way around to try and get a bead on the roof through his rifle scope. He quickly pulled back as another burst of gunfire chewed up the ground and peppered the cruiser. “Sophie,” Alex yelled out. “You okay?”

  He heard a mumbled reply.

  “I’ll get her,” Garcia said. “You cover me.”

  “No, I’ll do it.”

  There was an awkward pause.

  He wasn’t dumb. He’d seen the way the two of them had been since his return. While Sophie hadn’t confirmed it, Elisha had in a roundabout way. Not that it mattered. He’d signed off on their divorce and as soon as those papers were filed, it would be official.

  Fortunately neither of them had to risk their lives as Sophie quickly slid over the front of the hood and landed hard on the other side almost on top of Garcia. She shuffled, back pressing up against the cruiser. “You hurt?” Garcia asked.

  “No. I’m fine.”

  Her eyes bounced between them as if sensing she’d interrupted something.

  “Keep an eye on her,” Alex said. He darted out across the street, escaping near death as another barrage of gunfire unloaded.

  “Son of a bitch! Has to be the hero,” Alex heard Garcia say. He grinned. It wasn’t as much about being a hero as it was about staying alive. Even if they could have got in the cruiser, the chances were they would have died in a hail of bullets before Garcia had managed to start the engine. But it wasn’t just that. It was curiosity. What had happened to this safe zone? Who were all these people lying face down and why was this shooter targeting them?

  Moving quickly, he zigzagged his way up 2nd Street, approaching the apartments from the west. The two-story apartment block was covered in thick white paint. He circled into a dividing area between garages. There was a red and white truck nearby, and multiple sedans blocking the way. Several rounds punched through the metal of the vehicles as he tried to get close. Once again he saw the shooter, his head bobbing above the rim of the roof.

  Alex surveyed the building.

  There was a black metal staircase that went up to the second level of the apartment block, and an overhang in front of the door. Without knowing if there was a fire escape somewhere else on the side of the building, he figured that would be his best bet.

  He crouched at the edge of the garage and peered through his scope trying to see if there was more than one shooter. It didn’t appear so. Garcia was engaging on the other side of the building, drawing the shooter away from his side. If he could just distract him a little longer, he could scale up. It was dangerous and he would have taken the guy out from the ground if he could get a bead on him, but he kept ducking behind the lip and appearing in another area.

  Alex knew if he made it to the staircase the shooter would have to lean over the edge if he wanted to shoot him, that was too risky. He lifted his rifle, hoping for one last chance to take the guy out, but he never showed.

  A moment of decision and he sprinted out from cover, bounded up onto a car, and launched himself off the roof before racing toward the staircase. Panting hard he pressed his back to the wall and looked up, directing his rifle upward, preparing for a face to emerge. “C’mon. C’mon,” he said quietly. Seeing no one, he darted up the stairs, his boots pounding each step. It echoed loudly and he expected at any minute to feel the searing heat of a bullet, but it never came.

  At the top, under the cover of the overhang, Alex tried the door to the building but it was locked. By now the shooter was probably expecting him to climb over the overhang. Maybe that was why he couldn’t hear the assailant or maybe Garcia had got lucky and taken him out. His heart was pounding in his chest. He dared to look out from beneath the overhang. No sound. No movement. No face.

  Where are you?

  It had occurred to him that the shooter might have leapt off the roof from the other side and was now on his way around to finish Alex off.

  “Alex,” Garcia called out.

  Garcia appeared at the corner of the garage. He pointed to an a
rea of the roof. The apartment block was structured in a horseshoe shape. Garcia waved for him to come back down but it was too late. A round pinged off the metal near him. He had no choice. He either jumped, which was liable to break his legs, or climbed. Alex slung the rifle over his shoulder, secured the strap, and then scaled up, knowing the chances of being shot in the back were high.

  The silence was shattered as more gunfire erupted.

  He couldn’t tell if it was Garcia covering him or the shooter.

  All he could do was focus on climbing.

  He’d never climbed so fast in his life. Once on top of the overhang, Alex jumped and pulled himself upward and over the lip, falling hard on a flat roof.

  That’s when the shock set in.

  On top of the roof were bodies everywhere.

  There had to have been at least nine.

  Alex’s eyes darted to the shooter.

  He’d pulled down a bandanna covering the lower half of his face, revealing a kid no older than fifteen, maybe sixteen?

  Alex’s eyes widened, expecting him to shoot, but he didn’t. It was as if all the fight had gone out of him. He was clearly injured from one look at his blood-soaked clothes.

  Instinctually, because of being fired upon and after everything they’d been through crossing the country, Alex brought up his rifle to protect himself. The thought of taking him out only lasted a few seconds though. Moving closer, Alex realized why he hadn’t tried to shoot him. He was out of ammo. The empty magazine lay beside the rifle.

  Alex looked down at the young boy, his hair ruffled, skin blackened by smoke.

  He was wearing a plaid shirt, a dark black jacket, jeans, and yellow work boots that were covered in blood.

  “Go ahead. Finish me.”

  Alex slowly lowered his rifle and dropped to a knee beside him, shaking his head.