by Hunt, Jack
As Our World Ends
Cyber Apocalypse Series Book 1
Jack Hunt
Copyright © 2020 by Jack Hunt
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to an online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
As Our World Ends: Cyber Apocalypse Series Book 1 is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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The Cyber Apocalypse series
As Our World Ends
Book 2 coming June 2020
Book 3 coming July 2020
The Agora Virus series
Phobia
Anxiety
Strain
The War Buds series
War Buds 1
War Buds 2
War Buds 3
Camp Zero series
State of Panic
State of Shock
State of Decay
Renegades series
The Renegades
The Renegades Book 2: Aftermath
The Renegades Book 3: Fortress
The Renegades Book 4: Colony
The Renegades Book 5: United
The Wild Ones Duology
The Wild Ones Book 1
The Wild Ones Book 2
The EMP Survival series
Days of Panic
Days of Chaos
Days of Danger
Days of Terror
Cyber Storm Duology
As We Fall
As We Break
The Amygdala Syndrome Duology
Unstable
Unhinged
Survival Rules series
Rules of Survival
Rules of Conflict
Rules of Darkness
Rules of Engagement
Lone Survivor series
All That Remains
All That Survives
All That Escapes
All That Rises
Mavericks series
Mavericks: Hunters Moon
Time Agents series
Killing Time
Single Novels
Blackout
Defiant
Darkest Hour
Final Impact
The Year Without Summer
The Last Storm
The Last Magician
The Lookout
Class of 1989
For my Family
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
A Plea
Readers Team
About the Author
Prologue
America
After the collapse
Till death do us part.
It’s strange what comes to mind when you’re close to dying. Wedding vows. A beautiful face. A mouthful of promises. How can something so meaningful get lost in the blur of years?
Alex Reid felt the tug of rope around his ankles as he was hauled up, out of the frigid lake into the warm summer night. Cold water wormed over his beard, dripping off his overgrown, dark hair, his body twisting with each forceful pull. The world appeared masked behind a curtain of water as the rope slid over an oak’s branch.
Nearby, shoreside, crackling orange flames burned hot and bright from a campfire illuminating a cluster of faces — not monsters — just people, ordinary folk who once held down regular jobs and made promises of their own.
Don’t kill your fellow man.
Treats others with respect.
Abide by the laws of the land.
Oh, how far humanity had fallen since the collapse.
Had they forgotten who they were or only now realized? Did the words they once aspire to mean anything — or were they just society’s sheep bound to stringent rules?
No, like him, life had just got in the way, thrown a few curveballs and the rest was human nature, laziness, losing sight of what really mattered.
Twisting, he saw others.
Not far from Alex, several more ropes vanished into the lake holding the bodies of strangers, no longer twitching, no longer alive.
“That’s it, draw him up.” A muscle-bound freak, with a love for all things country, spat a wad of tobacco from his mouth as he waded chest deep into water and gripped Alex by the back of the head. “Damn, boy, you’ve lasted longer than anyone else.” The foul odor from his breath made Alex gag. The man let out a laugh as he looked back at his ragtag group for affirmation before meeting his gaze again. “You sure can hold your breath. Tell me, what’s your secret?”
Twenty-seven years in the United States Coast Guard as a rescue swimmer but Alex wasn’t about to tell him that. Instead, he coughed and ejected water over his lip before replying, “Going down on your mother.”
Cowboy’s lips retreated to reveal a toothy black grin. “Dunk him again.” Water sloshed as the steroid freak waded out. “Let’s see how long you can last this time, boy.”
His pal strained to hold all one hundred and ninety pounds. Slowly he released the rope, sending him back into the blackness of nature. Alex took a deep breath, slowed his heartbeat as the chill rose up around him. The cold shifted his mind back, back to a life as a recruit, back to a long and rewarding career, back to countless ocean rescues, marriage, friends, kids, the American dream — and the day it all crumbled.
The tragedy.
The decision to move.
The day Sophie walked out.
He didn’t blame her. If he was honest, their marriage was doomed from the get-go; already under pressure from long hours with the USCG, divorce was always in the cards. His career, well, he figured that would have eventually driven them apart, but it hadn’t, it didn’t, no, it was the tragedy that put the final nail in the coffin.
For better or worse.
His vows, their relationship, all the events of the previous days replayed in his mind as his
entire body was engulfed by cold water. How long had he been under? Upside down, his body convulsed ever so slowly. Tiny bubbles of air broke the barrier of his mouth. He couldn’t hear a thing. Were they laughing? Waiting? Taking bets?
He sealed his mouth, resisting the urge to gulp.
It would take more than a few dunks to kill him.
Though, on second thought, accepting death would have been a sweet release from the hell that had befallen America, or what was left of it.
It was a shell of its former self, a country in ruins, a land without law and order. Freedom was the punch line to a bad joke, the anthem — a titillating little number for the gullible. No, no one was coming to rescue them, no one cared, they were too busy digging themselves out from the chaos.
As it wasn’t just America but the globe that had suffered.
At least that’s what was believed.
Another hard tug. The rope pinched at his skin almost causing him to cry out, but he refused to give them that pleasure.
Alex gasped as he came up again to find Cowboy in his face. “Damn, boy, you’re like a fish.” He chuckled, bringing a knife up to his body and pushing the hard tip against his sternum. “Maybe I should gut you like one.” Toying with Alex, he slipped the blade back into a sheath on his hip and slapped Alex’s cheek a few times. “But where would the fun be in that? So… you had enough?”
Alex nodded. Could he have lasted longer? Sure. Did he want to endure the water? Hell, of course he did, otherwise he wouldn’t have pursued a career that dunked him in it for less than a hundred grand a year. It wasn’t the water that bothered him, it was the memories found in the silence — all the things he couldn’t change.
Now that was torture.
“So where is she? Huh?”
The thought of Sophie came to him.
Years ago when things were really bad, when Alex had lost sight of the woman he’d once loved, some might have said he would have been within his right to throw her to the wolves. Separation was ugly. Lawyers merciless. Gone was the face he adored, the laughter he couldn’t get enough of, now all that remained of who they were felt like the dregs at the bottom of a coffee pot. Dark and muddied, a swirling acidic concoction that had once tasted sweet.
But that was the past.
And he was no victim.
Nor was she.
Truth be told, he was just biding his time.
Although his wrists were bound, Alex’s fingers weren’t. Fumbling to undo the buckle on his jeans, he extracted what was known as a belt knife. Formed from steel, one end was the buckle, the other a blade tucked into belt leather. Unobtrusive, almost undetectable to pat-downs, it had been gifted to him by Charlie; a cool survival gift that he never imagined he would use. God, he was grateful for it now. On the first dunk, he’d retrieved it, by the second he’d begun to work on the rope to free himself.
Then it happened.
The bindings went limp, and in a flash, Alex’s hands came apart, holding the blade, and stabbing forward — it reached its mark, once, twice, three times. Country boy didn’t even know what happened until it was over. Shock set in as he staggered back, water sloshing around him. He cried in agony as he gripped his stomach before falling forward. Alex grabbed hold and used him as a human shield as rounds erupted from the shoreline, only making matters worse for Cowboy whose back was riddled with lead.
Instantly, the guy holding the rope released him.
The last glimpse Alex caught was of Sophie and others emerging from the tree line, opening fire on the group with a steady burst of rounds. Alex disappeared into the depths of murky water without a breath, and with the dead weight of Cowboy on top. Although his hands were free, his ankles weren’t and with Cowboy and ankle rocks dragging him down over a drop-off, there was no telling how deep he would fall.
A flash of memory — him as a recruit — a drowning man in his mind’s eye. He sloughed Cowboy off, and reached down to his ankles as his body continued its descent.
If only he’d taken a breath.
Don’t panic.
Don’t lose your nerve.
Using the knife Alex began working the rope.
But it was so dark and all he had to go on was touch.
He hacked away even as blackness crept in at the corner of his eyes, a reminder he was about to lose consciousness. Back and forth, he dug the blade into the rope, still feeling the pull of the lake, a downward spiral into nothingness.
Bubbles drifted up, over his face, the final pockets of life releasing from his lungs.
He shuddered violently, his body screaming for air.
The ankle rope released just as his body went limp and he succumbed to the lake’s grip.
1
Washington Juvenile Detention Facility
Confinement was brutal. The cell of gray cinderblock was no larger than a parking space. The bed, if it could even be called that, was nothing more than a hard block that jutted out covered by thick dull paint. On top, a heavy green mattress, a light brown blanket, a thin pillow and within spitting distance — a steel basin and toilet. Danielle held a tablet as she brushed past the female guard who closed the heavy door to give them privacy.
Shackled before her, a sixteen-year-old kid with dark flowing hair lifted his eyes, offering a look of curiosity. He wore an orange jumpsuit, white T-shirt and brown flip flops. He jerked his head and flipped the unruly hair out of his eyes. “Ryan — I’m Assistant Director Danielle Gardiner, I’m with the Department of Homeland Security.”
He frowned. “I’ve already discussed the security flaws in your department.”
“I’m not here for that.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “If you’re here to tell me you’ve dug up some more dirt and my sentence has been extended, forget it, you’re too late.”
“Actually, quite the opposite.” Her eyes drifted around the cramped space. The fluorescent light caused a mild headache to spike. “I’m here to offer you a deal that could mean never serving another day.”
“Speak with my lawyer.”
“We already have.”
His brow rose and he let out a chuckle. “What? Did someone hack into the president’s computer and steal his browsing history, and now you want help finding the culprit? Sorry, can’t help you.”
Amused, she lifted the tablet, swiped the screen a few times and shifted her weight from one foot to the next. “Ryan Valez, or do you prefer your online alias — NOVA?”
He shrugged. “Call me whatever you want.”
“Ryan Valez — sixteen, guardians dead, no siblings, you’ve bounced around the foster system your entire life, and been kicked out of four schools. You are the youngest to be incarcerated for hacking into NASA computers, taking control of the International Space Station, and causing a shutdown for an entire month. You invaded the Pentagon weapons computer system, and defaced the FBI, NSA, Homeland Security and CIA websites.” She looked up to gauge his reaction.
“What can I say, the security sucked.”
She smirked. “If it wasn’t for your age you would have received ten years inside.”
“Lucky me,” he replied with an adolescent smile. He sniffed and looked toward the door where the guard peered through double-paned glass, ready to enter at the first hint of trouble.
“Still, one year in here can seem like ten under the right authority.”
“Um, that sounds like a threat.”
“Just an observation.”
He scoffed. “I think you have this place mistaken with Guantánamo Bay. How about you skip to the part where you tell me what you want and then I tell you where to go stick it?”
Attitude, it was to be expected.
“Three days ago a cyberattack crippled the city of Pensacola’s computer communication systems causing them to shut down a large segment of the city. The event occurred a few hours after an attack by a Saudi national — an aviation student who opened fire at the Naval Air Station in Pensacola. We believe the two events m
ay be connected.”
“Ransomware?”
“Yes. Ourselves, the FBI and the Florida Department of Law Enforcement are still investigating and evaluating what data has been exposed. That’s where we’d like your assistance.”
“My assistance?” He chuckled. “Get your department to figure it out.”
“We’ve already tried.”
“Hire a cybersecurity firm.” He wagged a finger at her. “You’d be surprised, there are some great hackers that have turned over a new leaf.”
“Can’t do that on this one.”
He stared back at her in confusion and Danielle could tell the cogs of his mind were spinning. This was no ordinary run-of-the-mill teenager, he was smart. After the security breaches it had taken them close to three months to track him down, and they’d only caught him because one of his pals had squealed for a lesser sentence.
“Why do I get a sense you’re not telling me everything?” He paused. “This has happened elsewhere, hasn’t it?”
She nodded. “Four cities in December alone — Pensacola, New Orleans, Galt in California and St. Lucie.”
“Sounds run-of-the-mill to me.”
“It’s not.”
He studied her face. “You think this is connected to something bigger, am I right? A precursor to what… an attack on America?” She said nothing, curious to hear his thoughts. “You think they’re testing the waters. Which is very possible. Problem is, you still haven’t told me what this has to do with me and why you can’t just hire a security company. They deal with this all the time.”
“Let’s just say the powers that be want as few people as possible to know about our infrastructure, the damage and what data might have been exposed. They are very… selective about who they choose to bring in and help.”
