Cyber Apocalypse (Book 3): As Our World Burns

by Hunt, Jack

  “Okay, Shaun. How many are in there?”

  “Sixty-three.”

  “Huh! That many? Campers?”

  “No. Locals from the surrounding towns.”

  Jethro looked at Earl. Was he lying? Earl shrugged. “It’s possible. If Joe wasn’t lying and they broadcast an invite to a safe zone. Maybe it’s true.”

  “Men. Women. Children?” Jethro asked.

  He nodded. “Families,” Shaun replied.

  “What kind of supplies you got?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m…”

  Before he could finish, Jethro struck him on the face.

  “Okay. Okay. Food. Water. I don’t know the full extent. I’m security but I know there isn’t enough for you all.”

  “But plenty for a group of sixty-three?”

  Jethro paced for a moment, running a hand over his head. He had to do this right. They couldn’t take risks. He was already down several guys. He also didn’t want to be humiliated in front of those he had left. He had to handle this, find another way. Going to Rudy and asking him to solve his problem wouldn’t exactly redeem him, it would only confirm Rudy’s belief that he was inept. There was a chance his idea wouldn’t work, in fact, he was pretty sure it wouldn’t but he was willing to give it a try. He turned back to Shaun.

  “Is your group heavily armed?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded. “Okay, listen to me very carefully, Shaun. I’m going to do you a massive favor and believe me it’s not my way. But I like you. I’m going to let you live. But I want something from you. I want you to go back and tell the others they have until morning to be gone and they are to leave behind everything. If they are still there at dawn, or if they take anything, and I mean anything, heads will roll. Is that clear?”

  Shaun nodded.

  “Remember, this is your one shot. Your moment to shine. We could kill you now and go take care of business ourselves but as someone local to this area, I believe that’s gotta mean something. So what are you gonna do?”

  “Tell them to leave by morning.”

  “At what time?”

  “By dawn.”

  “And?”

  “Leave behind the supplies.”

  Jethro patted him on the back of the head. “That’s a good kid.” He turned to the others. “Hold him down.” Shaun’s eyes flitted among them, an expression of confusion.

  “But… you said I could go.”

  “I did… and I am a man of my word.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Sending a message.”

  Four of his guys held Shaun by his wrists and ankles. Jethro tore open his shirt revealing his bare chest. Light flickered off his blade as he withdrew it and brought it down against Shaun’s chest. “Please. No. Please.”

  He got close to him and put a finger on Shaun’s lips. “Shhh. Don’t worry, Shaun, this will only sting for a minute.”

  And with that said he began to carve into his chest.

  16

  Willits

  A little too late. News of the upcoming raid on the resort wasn’t met with skepticism. Lincoln confirmed it would happen. The Brothers of Mayhem had been pillaging up and down the coast since the attack on America. Why wouldn’t they? No law or order. Few communities had the numbers or balls to stop them. It was like taking candy from a baby.

  It wasn’t just safe zones they targeted, it was any community that had supplies.

  Like Vikings heading out in boats, they’d burned numerous communities to the ground, raped, and taken whatever they liked.

  An exhausted and bloodied Liam sat limp in a chair. His chest rising and falling as he sucked air in like a drowning man. He’d gone into town by foot and had run back, a trip that would have taken nine minutes by car but over an hour on foot. He would have driven but Alex had the truck, and Garcia hadn’t let the cruiser out of his sight without good reason. Vengeance wasn’t one of them. While he hated to admit it, Garcia had sided with Alex regarding the events that had transpired. It was reckless, the kind of thing he expected from a youngster, not Liam.

  However, he’d seen that look in a kid’s eye before.

  He’d had it in his when his friend Marco Rodriguez’s sister had died.

  Since his return, Garcia had tried to get through on the radio to alert them but they still had not gotten a response. “This is NBDS482. November Bravo Delta Sierra 482. Do you read me? Alex. Jodi. Can you hear me?” No response came back. “Shit!” He’d hoped he could warn them and they’d have enough time to get out but no one was answering.

  “They won’t raid tonight,” Lincoln said. “It’s too risky. Every raid has occurred in the morning hours. Usually when folks are asleep, unaware.”

  “Yeah, well maybe they will do things differently,” Liam said. “This is Jethro we’re dealing with. He’s a loose cannon.”

  Garcia rose from in front of the ham radio and glanced at his watch. He went over to grab his jacket off the rack. “Where are you going?” Elisha asked.

  “To get help.”

  “From where?”

  “Santa Rosa.”

  She got up to stop him. “What? No. No. You heard what Marco said to you, Garcia. No, forget that.” Elisha crossed the room. “We need to warn them now.”

  “I can do that,” Lincoln said. “I’ll take the bike. How far is it?”

  Garcia crossed the room and pulled out a map and stuck his finger at where they were. He showed Liam a route that followed US-101 then headed north on 240 passing through Potters Valley and cutting through the Mendocino National Forest. “It will take roughly an hour and a half.”

  “It’s eleven at night. I’d be there sometime after midnight. That’s plenty of time. Who’s in Santa Rosa?” Lincoln asked.

  “An old friend.”

  “A new enemy,” Elisha corrected him. “Let’s not forget that.”

  “I told you, Elisha. What a guy says and what he does are two very different things.”

  “What about me?” She asked.

  “Stay here with Leo, and the girls, keep trying the radio. Liam will go with Lincoln to ensure they don’t mistake him for a threat.” With that said he opened the door and headed out. Liam was quick to follow with Lincoln in tow. Elisha returned to the radio.

  “Garcia, hold up.”

  He paused in front of his driver’s door.

  “You don’t need to do this,” Liam said.

  “Yes I do. For all we know we might be too late, or Jodi might opt to not leave. Then what? This isn’t just about saving lives, it’s about saving our future. Supplies, safety, numbers, a place we can hunt.”

  “There are other places.”

  “I’m sure there are but how many have already fallen like Garberville? You didn’t see the look in that kid’s eye before he took his last breath. Those animals killed kids like they were nothing,” he said before looking over at Lincoln who was straddling his bike getting ready to ride out. “I won’t have more blood on my hands.”

  “And what if that blood is your own?” he shot back.

  Garcia knew he was referring to the warning Marco had given him before leaving Petaluma. Garcia looked over to the spot where he’d buried Andre. He placed a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Take care.”

  And just like that he got in the cruiser and fired it up. Headlights flooded the front of the cabin as he reversed out. He brought his window down. “If you reach the resort in time and they won’t leave, at least get yourselves out.”

  “Let’s go, kid,” Lincoln said.

  Garcia peeled out of there, pushing the accelerator to the floor and gunning the engine hard. The journey into the city of Santa Rosa would take almost the same amount of time as Lincoln’s trip to the lake. The decision to go wasn’t just about hedging their bets and ensuring the survival of the resort, it was about a friendship that had fallen by the wayside. He and Marco went way back. He had to believe that it wa
s worth something. Sure, Marco’s debt to him for bringing his sister’s killer to him was paid, and he knew his resentment toward him was strong, but perhaps this was the way it was meant to end, side by side with his brother.

  He’d balanced life on both sides of the law, and yet nothing came close to his friendship with Marco. He missed the days of old, the freedom of running the neighborhood, a kid among men, a thief among many.

  If it was his time to die, then he was ready to face his maker.

  17

  Mendocino National Forest

  The motorcycle bucked beneath him as Lincoln changed gear and gave the bike more gas. Liam held on for dear life as the wind whistled in his ears and brought tears to his eyes. The towns of Mendocino County quickly receded as they pushed up in speed and wound their way through forested roads. Tall pine trees and dark emerald green hills framed the sides of Eel River Road. He’d never been on a bike, and the thought of flying off at this speed and becoming a smear on a dark backcountry road was at the forefront of his mind the whole time — that, and whether or not this was some part of a big elaborate trap. Liam had a feeling that the owners of the safe zone might not be convinced of a looming attack.

  “Hey Lincoln. Why did you take on the risk of going undercover?” Liam yelled. “I’m sure there were other assignments that were much safer.”

  The wind whipped at their clothes, making it hard to hear.

  “That’s what my boss asked,” Lincoln replied. “What can I say, I like living life on the edge.”

  As the forest began to thin, they veered off the main stretch of road onto a narrow gravel pathway that cut through the trees. Dizzy from gasoline fumes and with adrenaline pumping through his body, he didn’t see the sign for the resort until Lincoln mentioned it. “Not far now.”

  It wasn’t long before a shimmering lake beneath the light of the moon came into view, and they heard water lapping against the shore. The bike rounded a bend and up ahead a wrought iron gate blocked the way. Several men were manning the post with rifles angled toward the ground. As they got closer and Lincoln eased off the gas, they raised their rifles.

  “Give me a second,” Liam said. He climbed off the bike, hands out, approaching them with caution. They didn’t know him. He knew they could be thinking this was a trap. “Don’t shoot. The name’s Liam. I’m here because of Alex.” No response. “Alex Reid. You brought him in. He radioed us. I’m with his group,” he said pointing back to Lincoln. “So’s he.”

  “Place your weapons on the ground.”

  “All right. All right.”

  “Slowly.”

  He unslung the rifle from his back and placed it down. Lincoln did the same. They were then instructed to shut off the bike and get down on their knees. One of them got on a radio while the other two moved in on them, never taking their gun muzzles off them for even a second. “You said your name’s Liam?”

  “That’s right,” he replied, kneeling on the hard ground.

  The one guy looked at the other, raising an eyebrow.

  It didn’t take long to get confirmation.

  Satisfied, the gate was opened and they were allowed through.

  Almost immediately they saw small outbuildings and tiny cabins nestled in the forest just off the dirt road they were now traveling in on. Liam imagined at one time it would have been buzzing with adults and kids enjoying the wilderness and lake, and yet now it felt eerily empty, like entering a ghost town.

  More vehicles came into view as they rounded the final bend which brought them up to the main house, a huge log cabin at the center of the resort, a two-tier abode. He noticed someone on top of the roof walking back and forth, rifle in hand. They directed a powerful spotlight down then shifted it, sweeping the light across the darkened forest. It reminded him of a lighthouse, except they weren’t looking to warn approaching ships.

  “This way,” a bearded fella said, using the barrel of his AR-15 to direct them toward a side door on the house. A path of stone snaked up around the house. The smell of burning wood brought back fond memories of camping when he was a kid. Large solar-powered lamps were dotted throughout the premises to provide continual light.

  Alex stood in the doorway, ready to greet them as they came around the corner of the cabin. “Liam.” He stepped out, casting a glance over his shoulder.

  “Man, I’m glad to see you still alive. We tried to reach you by radio but no one picked up.”

  “Yeah, we’ve been preoccupied by something that happened tonight, look, I need to—”

  “There’s going to be an attack,” Liam spat out cutting him off.

  “We know.”

  “How?”

  Alex grimaced but didn’t explain.

  Liam jerked a hand over his shoulder at Lincoln. “Anyway, he thinks it could be sooner than the morning.”

  “That true?” Alex asked.

  “Maybe. They’ve been known to change their mind.”

  Liam continued. “We need to get these people out of here.”

  A woman appeared in the doorway. “You Liam?”

  He nodded. She didn’t look pleased to see him. “Maybe you can make sense of this. Follow me.” Liam frowned and looked at Alex before brushing past him and venturing inside. The brunette led him through a corridor and into a living room where several people were gathered around a sofa bed. The kid lay still with his eyes closed and there was a thin white sheet up to his neck. “This is my boy, Shaun. Tonight he was grabbed and dragged into the forest by a group. They sent him back with a message for us to leave by morning.”

  “Yeah, that’s true. Another guy in Willits confirmed that tonight.”

  “So you know them?”

  He frowned. “I know of them.”

  “Well, they know you.”

  She pulled back the sheet and revealed the guy’s chest which was now covered in bandages. “Carved into his skin is your name.”

  18

  Santa Rosa, California

  Gangs despised cops. Even though he hadn’t worn his uniform in weeks, it wouldn’t matter to the Norteños. There was only one thing worse than a snitch and that was a cop.

  Few understood his reasons for joining the police, hell, even he questioned his own decision a few times. Truth be told, it wasn’t just his mother’s desire to see him have a better life. Instead, it was an encounter with a police officer at the age of fourteen. Like anyone at that age, when he wasn’t working the streets selling drugs, he was up to no good.

  Garcia could still recall that hot summer’s day.

  He and Marco had got high and were with a large group hanging outside a local school that was out for the summer. They sat on a wall watching friends of his climb onto the school building, graffiti the walls and smash a few windows. Minor stuff but a nuisance. Had it been any other day he would have got involved but that day he was minding his own business, chatting with Marco about a girl he’d met at a party when it happened.

  A loud pop startled them.

  Someone had fired a gun.

  Gunshots weren’t uncommon but they attracted attention and could mean a one-way ticket to jail regardless of whether you were innocent or not. Most of those he ran with had warrants outstanding for one thing or another, and if the cops caught you they wouldn’t think twice to pull you in and try to get you to snitch.

  Usually if a gun went off, all of them would flee in different directions, disappearing into the network of alleys and apartments. That day they remained there, too damn high to give a shit about a gun going off. Within ten minutes someone yelled, “Cops!” He’d just lit a joint when he saw the strobe lights. Tossing it on the ground, they all took off, except what they didn’t know was multiple vehicles were in the area, and some of the cops were already on foot moving in on the school.

  He recalled the fear as he ran through a passage, climbed over a fence, and scaled up a fire escape with a cop on his ass. In an attempt to lose him, Marco split off east while he went west, leaping over wide gaps be
tween alleys.

  Eventually it was an unfortunate slip on a ledge that changed the course of his future. Had it not been for the officer’s quick actions, he wouldn’t have lived to see another day.

  Garcia knew it the second it happened.

  A sinking feeling in his gut.

  A moment when time seemed to slow as his body soared through the air and he came up short.

  The brutal collision with the wall.

  His fingernails scraping brick.

  A desperate attempt to hold on and then…

  A hand around his wrist and the officer hoisted him to safety.

  Finally a moment where neither of them said anything to one another. They simply looked up at the sky, out of breath, exhausted.

  Seconds later he was in cuffs, and being led down a stairwell to what he imagined would be a waiting cruiser. It was only then he got a real look at the cop. He was Latino, like him, however, minus all the tattoos.

  “Why did you run?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” he’d shot back.

  “Dumb move.”

  “Whatever, man.”

  “You’re Dahlia’s boy, aren’t you?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  His attitude back then was appalling. How that officer managed to keep his cool was a miracle in itself. Three floors down in that apartment block the cop stopped and pushed him up against the wall. Garcia expected a beating or to feel a gun pressed against the back of his head. He’d seen it happen before, a shakedown, a power trip. Except that never occurred.

  The cuffs came off.

  He was turned.

  Then a finger was jabbed in his face. “You can do better than this. Do you want to go down the road of your old man? Huh? Do you want to wind up in jail or dead on the sidewalk, or do you want something better?”

  For five minutes he tore into him not with fists but with words, and not all of them were negative, they were positive, the kind of words few guys his age heard from parents, the kind of words that seemed foreign to him. When he was done, he let him go. “Say hello to your mother.”