Cyber Apocalypse (Book 3): As Our World Burns

by Hunt, Jack

  “What did we agree to last night?”

  He looked back with a confused expression then saw Elisha in the doorway. “Would you rather he went alone?” Thomas asked.

  “I would rather he never went. Next time. Tell me.”

  “All right, dad,” he said jokingly before taking a seat. “No seriously. I can’t believe you switched off the unit. That woman is our ticket out of here. And I should add she’s in a little trouble.”

  “Really? Welcome to my world,” he replied before he walked out.

  6

  Willits, California

  Out of the frying pan into the fire. The bicycle ride back into Willits that evening had him sweating bullets. His eyes shifted nervously, scanning every road, driveway, and approaching vehicle. Against his better judgment, Joe had decided to head home to check in on his parents. After the day’s events he was concerned that he’d been spotted heading away from one of the labs. He could have sworn he’d seen someone. If word reached Jethro that he was involved in the fires, it wouldn’t just be his life that was at risk. He now regretted going with Liam but he wanted to prove to him that he wasn’t like Tate. The truth was he wasn’t.

  Alex had offered him a ride that evening but with all that had happened, he didn’t want to be held responsible for anyone else if they ran into Nash’s crew. Dealing with Travis’ death was hard enough. Besides, driving a vehicle through town was like walking in the forest at the height of the hunting season without wearing an orange vest.

  It was too risky.

  It had been days since he’d been back and even then he’d only dropped in to let them know he was safe. He hadn’t told them where he was staying just in case Jethro paid them a visit. The thought had lingered in his mind but as he’d never been out to Jethro’s place and he’d given Tate strict instructions not to tell him where he lived, he figured that wouldn’t be an issue.

  The truth was, since Travis’ death he’d stayed close to Liam if only out of fear of running into Jethro. The guy was a total lunatic.

  He wished Liam hadn’t burnt those meth labs down.

  It was only inviting trouble. It was a stupid move.

  He tried to warn him. Tried to explain what Jethro was like but how could he? He hadn’t lived here in years. Locals, oh, they knew him. Police, well they had a rap sheet on him a mile long.

  Fuck!

  He groaned as he rode.

  He wasn’t lying when he told them he had nothing to do with Travis’ death. He loved that guy like his own brother, and for a while that included Tate. He shook his head as his knees pumped like pistons, the warm breeze blowing tiny insects into his face.

  He kept his chin down as the bicycle bounced up curbs and swerved around bends.

  His fears were getting the better of him.

  Travis.

  Tate.

  They were both gone now and so was this town, to hell in a handbasket.

  He tried to make sense of it. Where had it gone wrong?

  The drugs.

  Jethro dating Travis’ mother.

  Although Tate had got caught up in the whole drug scene, Joe steered clear of it.

  Beer. That was his thing but drugs were something he’d never tried. He’d seen too many good people go down that road, his older sister for instance. Everyone thinks they can handle it until they can’t. She wound up doing two rounds in rehab to get off that shit before overdosing.

  It was brutal.

  No, he’d always given Nash’s joint a wide berth and let Tate go it alone.

  As he pedaled back that evening, he stopped at Harry’s place to check in on Liam but he wasn’t there. Elisha’s concern for him was growing and with talks of heading out to meet some new group in Mendocino National Forest, she’d asked him to pass on a message to Liam. Come back to the cabin, we’re heading out.

  The place was dark and empty.

  Joe didn’t linger.

  The whole town of Willits was freaking him out.

  It was dark without street lights. Joe knew that after the previous events of the day, it was very possible that Nash would send his guys out looking for them. He wasn’t a man to lie down and let people walk over him.

  That’s why he took a different path home to Holly Heights.

  He just wished it wasn’t so damn far.

  Joe stayed off the main stretch, slaloming around the back of buildings, cutting through dark alleys full of putrid garbage and taking a shortcut across fields.

  A few times he thought he saw a van tailing him but each time he looked back there was no one there. He’d seen vehicles pass him but they were just locals. Where had they been? Where were they going?

  Jobs were defunct.

  Stores had been looted.

  And entertainment amounted to reading or board games.

  So much had changed in Willits. The ever-present fear of joining his friends was beginning to torture his mind. There was still so much he hadn’t achieved in life, places he wanted to visit, women he wanted to date.

  It was strange and yet expected that the event would make him think about his life choices. The people he’d wronged, the girls he’d cheated on, and the opportunities he’d not jumped at. At twenty-three he thought he’d have his own place, be out of his parents’ and making his way in the world, but instead, he’d opted to work at his parents’ convenience store, settle for a simple and less complicated life.

  Why had he been so afraid?

  As Joe came hurtling around the corner he was pleased to see a warm glow emanating from the windows of his home. The faint flicker of candles. The door wasn’t busted in and there wasn’t a trail of blood leading out of the house.

  They were alive.

  Unharmed.

  He bounced off the seat of the bike, dropping the bicycle in the front yard before using his key to get in. “Mom. Dad. I’m home.”

  There was no response. He could hear the radio playing lightly in the background.

  He didn’t feel scared until he walked into the kitchen and found them sitting at the table, their bodies slumped over, each one with a hole in their forehead and a pool of blood around them.

  So much blood.

  Some of it had dripped off the table creating puddles at their feet.

  Joe froze.

  His mind unable to process what he was seeing.

  The word “Mom” stuck in his throat. He wanted to scream, run, dial back the hands of time but he couldn’t. He was frozen in place, held by fear.

  Not even tears rose to the surface.

  Shock had got the better of him, holding him captive as he quickly came to grips with his mistake. He backed out of the room, not even able to bring himself to get close to them. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. It was too much to bear.

  Then in a flash, like snapping out of a trance, he turned and scanned the corridor, listening intently. Were they still here? His body went cold from fear. Should he run? Check the rooms? What purpose would that serve?

  The rifle.

  His old man’s hunting rifle. It was in a cabinet.

  Joe turned and bounded up the stairs taking two at a time. At the top, he switched on a flashlight and a burst of yellow went before him.

  What was that?

  Was his mind playing tricks on him? He could have sworn he saw a dark figure move inside his parents’ room. No. Get a grip. There’s no one here. Get the gun and get out, he told himself with authority. He pressed on, easing open his parents’ door and letting the light drift around the room. No one was there. His eyes darted to the walk-in closet where his father kept his gun cabinet. Joe willed his feet to move, one foot in front of the other.

  Grow a pair! He berated himself inwardly as he inched toward the closed double doors that separated the room from the closet. His hands were sweaty and hot, they almost slipped on the round metal knob as he turned it and opened the door.

  Moving fast he felt around the top of the door frame where his father kept a spare key. He found it and
unlocked the cabinet. Inside was a bolt-action Winchester Model 70. He snatched it out, fumbled with a box of ammo and loaded it, all the while looking over his shoulder and listening.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind he kept expecting Jethro or one of his tweaker buddies to pounce.

  No one came.

  Joe hurried out, tripping on some uneven carpet. The rifle flew out of his hands.

  Tears now welled in his eyes at the realization that his parents were gone. He scrambled to his feet and scooped up the rifle and raced downstairs and out the door. He slung the rifle strap over his shoulder and got back on his mountain bike and tore away, grateful to be alive but burning with anger and fear.

  Tears blurred his vision. Joe pawed at his eyes, nearly losing control of the bike. He’d only made it four blocks when he heard an engine.

  He cast a glance over his shoulder and saw a black truck with tinted windows swerve out of a driveway. He was so focused on it that he almost ran into another truck that burst out in front of him. Fortunately, by some stroke of luck he managed to stay on the bike and swerve, pedaling away as two guys jumped out and tried to grab him.

  Panting hard, his throat and thighs burned as he pedaled for his life.

  It was them.

  Jethro.

  Had they been waiting?

  Were they expecting him?

  His mind was a jumbled mess of questions and fear as the trucks gave pursuit. He called out to a few people up ahead to help but they did the opposite and ran into their homes, closing doors behind them.

  Joe pedaled like wildfire up Raymond Lane, hung a left on Harms, then took a right onto North Street. He wouldn’t be able to outrun them but he could lose them in the maze of homes. The mountain bike bounced up a curb and he shot up someone’s driveway, down the side of their home and into their backyard. He jumped off, lifted his bike, and tossed it over the fence just as one of the trucks screeched into the driveway, shining its lights on him.

  His stomach churned within.

  He was so scared he wanted to vomit.

  The men didn’t get out but instead, the truck backed out and he knew they were planning on cutting him off on the other side. He launched himself over the fence and within seconds was back on that bike.

  Unbeknownst to him, a few of Jethro’s guys had hopped out of one of the trucks and had come around to hedge him in.

  He never saw it coming.

  As his bike burst around a grove of trees, a figure darted out and shoved him. He came flying off his bike, landed, rolled, and before he could pull the rifle off his shoulder they were on him like lions.

  Fists, boots, they gave him one hell of a stomping until he stopped moving.

  They dragged him to his feet and hoisted him into the back of a truck and took off, a few guys sitting in the rear to hold him down while another kept a gun on him.

  It all happened so quickly.

  One second he was on his bike, the next bouncing up and down in the back of a truck as dust curled around the rear on their way out to Potters Valley.

  He tried to reason with them but they wouldn’t listen.

  Why would they? Jethro was like the Pied Piper, leading a rabble of tweakers who did whatever he asked in exchange for their next hit.

  The journey was brief.

  He felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter. His head and muscles ached from the beating and he could taste iron in his mouth. The truck bumped over potholes and he felt the terrain change from asphalt to dirt. He caught glimpses of trees, the silhouette of branches against a sky full of stars.

  The truck swerved to a stop and he was hauled out, his feet dragged behind him because he could barely stand. The humidity of the day was overwhelming as they brought him into a barn and tossed him down on a hay-covered floor.

  He heard one of them whisper something, then out of the corner of his eye he saw him. Jethro squatted beside him, tutting. “Joey, Joey, what are we going to do with you?” Joe looked up at him through an eye that was swelling by the second. “You know, I thought you would follow suit and work with Tate. What a pity. Good workers are hard to come by nowadays.” Jethro looked up and said something to one of the guys. He didn’t catch it. There was still a ringing in his ears where a guy had thumped him so hard he had lost his hearing for several minutes.

  “So who are they? Huh?” Jethro asked. “Who burned down my labs?”

  “Fuck you. You killed my parents.”

  Jethro chuckled. “No. You killed your parents; I simply had my guy pull the trigger.”

  He wanted to lash out but his pain and fear got the better of him.

  “C’mon now, Joe. Names. Locations. Give me something to work with. Give me a reason to keep you alive.” He paused as Joe asked him why he killed them. “Joe. Forget your parents, you should be thinking about yourself now. Who did this? Because I know you don’t have the balls. Tate painted quite a picture of you. So give me names.”

  “So you can go kill them? Fuck you.”

  “That’s some strong words from a man in your position.” Jethro got up and nodded to a couple of his guys who moved in on him and began to tear his clothes off using a knife. He fought back but it was useless. Four guys against one, even rail-thin tweakers were stronger than him after the beating they’d laid down.

  In under two minutes they had him completely naked.

  Holding him down they began to lather his body in something that stunk to high heaven. It smelled so bad. What was that? He caught sight of it and realized it was blood.

  Jethro crouched again.

  “Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. Two roads diverge in a forest, one leads to staying alive, the other to joining your parents. What’s it going to be, Joe?”

  “Fuck you, you piece of shit. You think you can do whatever the hell you like and get away with it but…”

  Before he could spit the words, Jethro drove a knife through his hand, impaling it in the ground. Joe let out a gut-wrenching scream as it was removed.

  “You were saying?” Jethro asked, wiping the bloody blade on his back. Joe continued to curse at him. “You know, Joe, I thought you were smarter than this. Travis. He was a loser. Tate, a little better but his weakness was the meth. It made him stupid. You, however, I thought you had potential. Untapped but potential. You know it really hurts me to do this but let me show you something. Get him up,” he said. He was dragged to his feet and carried out to the middle of the barn, through a small doorway in a waist-high fence. On the wooden floor, he saw blood, it was everywhere. Dry but it was blood.

  “You know what this place is called?” Jethro said waving an arm. “It’s called the pit. It made me a lot of money back in the day. I have to say I miss it at times. It wasn’t the thrill of seeing two dogs tear each other apart as much as it was the look in the eyes of people as all their dreams and hope hung in the balance.” He chuckled. “And their hard-earned money.” He tapped Joe on the leg with his knife. “I like you, Joe. I really do. That’s why I’m going to give you the same chance that I gave dogs.” He let out a whistle and Joe heard the sound of dog nails tapping, scraping on wood near the doorway of the barn. Jethro placed a hand on his back then brought his hand to his nose. “This blood. It’s raccoon blood. It’s strange but…” he sucked air between his teeth, “these dogs love it.”

  Four angry pit bulls were brought into the arena, one guy holding all of them by chains. They were frothing at the mouth, rabid, their gums flapping, barking loudly and gnashing teeth. The hulk of a man was having a hard time controlling them. “You see when two dogs go at it, you can’t tell what blood is what. A little secret. We used to have our guys rub some of this on the opposing dog in between rounds. You know, if they were winning. I couldn’t have that happen. You’d be surprised at how well it works. Well, that’s if they made it to the second round. These beauties have a hard time letting go once they sink their teeth into something. And they fucking love this!” he said before slapping his ass. “You f
eel me?”

  His hands began shaking, teeth chattering.

  “Now, this is your last chance. Give me names and a location and I’ll have you up, washed and out of here in the next ten minutes, or… my charming little boys over there are just chomping at the bit. Do I make myself clear?”

  He wasn’t one to throw anyone under the bus but pain, the thought of pain was too much to bear. A beating was one thing but to be torn apart by dogs... “Liam, Elisha, Leo, and Thomas. They were the ones. Liam killed your guys and the others helped him set the labs on fire.”

  He patted him on the shoulder. “Very good, Joe. And where can I find them?”

  “It’s a cabin up near Lake Ada Rose.”

  “Which one, Joe? There are a lot of cabins up there.”

  “I don’t know, it’s at the end of a road to the west very close to the lake.”

  Jethro whistled and the guy with the dogs moved forward, the animals snapping their jaws ferociously. Tears streamed down his face; panic climbed his chest.

  “Wait. Wait!” Joe bellowed. “By tomorrow they’ll probably be gone. They’re going to meet some group in the Mendocino Forest. A safe zone. They said they have supplies. I can give you the location for the meet. I don’t know the cabin address.”

  “Fair enough. Let’s have it.”

  “How do I know you’ll let me go?”

  “Because I just said so.”

  “How do I know you won’t change your mind?”

  “Joe. Joe! What do you think I am? A monster?” He burst out laughing. “Come on now, give me the location and the time of when they’re meeting.”

  Joe reeled it off and when he was done, Jethro slapped him on the back. “Good job.” He got up and walked away but not before someone clamped an iron bracket around Joe’s ankle. A long thick steel chain snaked away to a wall. He yanked on it. It clanged.

  “What the fuck! Jethro! You promised.”

  “I did.” He turned. “But you were right, Joe. I’m a monster.” He winked and walked away just as the guy with the four dogs released the beasts from their restraints. Joe tugged on the chain, one final desperate attempt to escape, but it was no use.