6th Horseman, Extremist Edge Series: Part 1 (9 page)

The government didn’t do shit either, probably
couldn’t. I heard a bunch of jets in the sky two days ago followed
by a series of explosions and that was it. Oh yeah, a tank drove by
me once. There were no working radios or TVs anywhere I know now
that I launched an EMP. I wouldn’t have done that shit if I’d known
people were getting sick and the satellites were being knocked out.
No one deserves this shit.

#

I look around. My chest tightens with a wave
of sadness. I shake it off, mostly. They’re dead. I’m not. I’d just
as soon forget about my little rocket incident and instead focus on
survival.

I’m not sick and I’ll probably stay that way.
The shot I took after launching the rocket must have been a
vaccine. So this Zilla guy declared war on New York, huh? I guess
that makes me his foot soldier. Secretly, I do feel bad. Damn
fucked up.

I
get off at the
Fifty-Ninth and Lexington subway exit. It’s around noon. The city
is bustling with people, all doing their thing and going here and
there. I love this city. I live in Forest Hills and don’t get into
the city much, but when I do, I love it. I’m only fifteen, but when
I’m walking around New York I feel like an adult.

My cell rings. “Hello Ma. . . Yeah, I’m gonna
surprise Dad at his office. Don’t be a dud, Ma. I just took the
subway into town. I’ve done it by myself lots of times. I’m not a
baby anymore.”

I finally get my Ma off the phone and unwrap
a lollipop. She worries so much. I cross the street along with a
bunch of other people. It’s just like any other day, semi cloudy
and not too hot, even though it is the middle of the summer. People
are doing what they always do: eating at the cafes, taking their
lunch breaks, hopping into cabs, and whatever else adults do.

My dad is in the Air Force, but civilians
would never know it. He doesn’t have to wear his uniform anymore
because he works at a secret Department of Defense building in New
York. He mostly works with, and maintains, satellites. He is the
smartest guy I know. He’s near the top of the food chain, and he
always tells me he loves his work. He’s on the job more than he’s
at home, but that doesn’t bother me. Our whole country exists
because we have a strong military. “The only problem,” he’d told me
a thousand times, “is that the military doesn’t have enough power.”
I agree with him. Civilians run the military. Civilians that are
elected by cash donations from the biggest corporations on the
block. The whole voting thing is so stupid. People should be told
what to do because they are too stupid to think for themselves.
Most of the kids I know are as dumb as rocks, and they’ll be the
ones voting in a few years.

Our school had an election last year for
student council president and for the other leadership positions. I
say leaders ‘cause that’s what they call themselves. Truth? They’re
just the nerds that run the bake sales and organize school rallies
and stuff. Anyway, voting for the most popular person to run stuff
was so lame. We all knew who was the most popular. They should’ve
just given her the presidency and let us all carry on with our
lives. The United States is the same way. The President is elected
by popularity, not by what he’s done or can do, or how smart he is.
I might even buy into the rumors that a secret group of people
decide the winner, so they have a puppet on strings to run
everything.

I wanted to prove that point to Jimbo, my
best friend. Plus, he dared me to do it, so I rigged the school’s
election. I programmed a simple five-line code into the main
computer so that no matter who won the majority votes, Alexia would
win. I’m kind of a computer hacker. Alexia was the nerdiest and
least-known candidate, but she won by a landslide. It was too easy.
I know it happens in the real world. That’s how Bush and Obama won.
It’s all so stupid. The government lies to me, my teachers lie to
me, my friends lie to me, and so on. Lies, lies and more lies. The
only people I trust are my Dad and Ma.

I run to the front door of the DOD building.
It’s a secret post that looks like any other building entrance in
New York. The doorman greets me with a high five. He wears a stupid
hat and white gloves and treats me like I’m three years old. Dork.
Anyway, at least he knows who I am. He’s about to ring my Dad when
I stop him. “Can I surprise him?” I ask.

The doorman winks and buzzes me in. I take
the elevator to the top floor. I know everyone in the office so it
isn’t weird or anything. I make my way past the cubicles, glass
partitioned offices, and all the friendly people, and come to my
father’s door. I don’t knock. I just burst in.

My dad is behind his desk. He looks up at me
like he’s really surprised, but he doesn’t move. Something is off.
I raise my hands to illustrate the surprise, but he just looks at
me like he’s scared. I walk closer to his desk. He pulls himself
closer to his desk, still looking like I’ve just flipped him the
bird or something. I hear a thump under the desk and a squeal. I
pull the lollipop out of my mouth to speak, but I can’t say
anything. He rolls back from his desk violently. A woman stands up
wiping the corners of her mouth. I find myself staring at the huge
boob hanging out of her shirt. I can almost see her nipple. My dad,
as quickly and discreetly as he can, pulls his pants up and zips
his fly.

“I thought you locked the door,” the lady
hisses. She tucks her boob back into her shirt and buttons it up.
She’s buff lookin’, and has a nice scar on the right side of her
face that runs down to her jaw. She fixes her hair and stomps out
of the room. Not before glancing at me with a crooked smile like
she isn’t mad at all. Weird chick for sure.

My dad gets up and grabs my arm, digging his
fingers in. I cry out in pain. He pushes me into the chair in front
of his desk. “You just screwed our whole family!” he snaps. “Stay
here. I’ll be back.” He chases after the broad with the big
tits.

I don’t know why, but I start crying. So my
dad’s a liar too. How could he do this to Ma? They’re like soul
mates, so happy, and always on each other like they’ve been in love
forever. I stand up and pace. So now my parents are gonna get a
divorce, and I’ll have to go back and forth between the two of them
like James has to. I kick the desk as hard as I can.

The boob lady bursts into the room and
beelines it to the desk. She picks up a thin leather bag that was
sitting on the edge of the desk and turns to me. “Your father’s a
great man,” is all she says. She sounds like a ditz.

“Get outta here.” I look down.
Coincidentally, I see a logo imprinted on her leather pouch. I
recognize it. It’s a simplified globe graphic with INA Global
underneath it. Someone starts beating a bass drum, oh nope, that’s
my heart.

She’s still staring at me and smiling. Then
the smile fades. She takes her hand and slowly covers the logo.
“You’re dad made a mistake. It won’t happen again. Don’t tear your
family apart because of one mess up.” That’s all she says. She
turns and walks out of the room.

Bitch! is my first thought. Not because she
was lollipopping my dad but because of that logo. INA Global has
been all over the chat rooms lately. It was a company that didn’t
exist officially, but were into building satellite weaponry
systems. This chick is a corporate spy. She’s got to be using my
dad to get information.

I pull out my tablet and clip on the
keyboard. I log onto Blacknet. The Blacknet is a hacker site on the
Deep Web, which is a part of the underground Internet. It’s not a
place for the faint of heart but, I go there to learn and chat with
other hackers, not to browse porn, gamble, or hire a hit man. My
contact list is flush with people available to talk, but I’m
looking for Zilla.

Two months ago I was on a web chat with a few
hackers from all over the world. We were discussing the hacker war
between the U.S. and China. The DOD was hiring anyone with half a
brain to combat all the daily security breaches from Chinese
hackers. They were paying good money, too. Then this Zilla guy
popped up on the board. He didn’t just have two cents to
contribute, he had a thousand. He started uploading actual docs!
I’d never seen classified stuff before and it blew my mind.

I was especially taken in by this company
called INA Global. They’d built a kinetic bombardment system and
sold it to the U.S.! It would basically launch projectiles from a
satellite to any target on Earth, and the speed it would gain from
space gave it so much power it would rival our biggest bombs.

Space-based weapons were totally against
international law. My father didn’t even like them. He said they
would be too easy to use as a weapon of mass destruction.

Zilla had all these docs that proved INA
Global was looking for a buyer. They were accepting bids from China
and Venezuela. He also said that INA Global was lobbying senators
and congressmen. Zilla told me there were corporate spies in our
state department and DOD.

And now I’ve just found one.

“Zilla, I’ve got news.” I type into my chat
box.

Zilla responds instantly. “All eyes,
bro.”

“I saw this lady try to conceal an INA Global
logo. She was acting weird. She’s in my dad’s pants and I think
she’s using him.”

“She’s a mark,” Zilla types. “This is what
we’ve been talking about. This is real. It’s happening.”

“I don’t know for sure.”

“Give me access to your dad’s computer, and
I’ll find out if she’s been messing around in there. Then I can
probably get on her box and put a bug in there so we can monitor
what she does.”

“I don’t know. I could get in trouble.” I
respond. “I should just tell my dad.”

“Dude,” Zilla types. “He’s not gonna believe
you. INA doesn’t even exist. We need proof. Plus, there might be
more spies in that office.”

I trust him. He doesn’t seem much older than
me, and he’s got Einstein brains. There’s my dad’s computer, still
logged on.

“Hurry, before your dad comes back. We only
have one chance for this,” Zilla urges.

I plug a specialty USB cord into my tablet
and then I pause just before plugging into my dad’s computer. “Will
I go to jail? Is this right?”

“Do it now. This is a once in a lifetime
opportunity!”

I slam the USB home. Both computers blink
out. I wiggle the connection, but it’s in.

“What the — ?” I say out loud.

Then my dad’s monitor comes back online.
There’s a text box on the screen.

‘
Nice work little dude. Pack up. I’ll find
and reward you. ~Zilla.’

As I pull the USB cord from my dad’s computer
an alarm goes off. I yank my keyboard from my tablet and cram it
all into my backpack. There’s yelling outside the office door. I
step away from the desk. I’m trapped against the window. My heart
jumps around in my rib cage like a monkey on speed.
Crap, I’m
goin’ to jail.

My Dad throws open the door. His face is as
intense as I’ve ever seen it. “You stay in this office. Do not
leave!” he orders, then slams and locks the door.