Until Nothing Remains: A Hybrid Post-Apocalyptic Espionage Adventure (A Gun Play Novel: Volume 1)

by C. A. Rudolph

  Jonathon and I had maintained contact and interacted over the years by utilizing a simple dark web message board. It was accessible only by way of a SoftEther multiprotocol virtual private network and the portable Tor browser executable, which provided us with both essential anonymity and 256-bit encrypted secure communication. My setup resided on a USB fob and could only be accessed and manipulated using a proprietary standalone Linux-based live operating system.

  Jon always carried a technologically advanced mobile device preprogrammed for continuous access via SATCOM, something Natalia and I had never done and would never do. Those gadgets almost always contained chipsets and transponders for the purpose of being located. Anything that permitted us to be tracked was in contradiction of our policy.

  After inserting my USB stick, I rebooted the laptop and entered my passphrase to decrypt and mount the persistent storage. I typed the hidden service URL from memory into Tor’s address bar and pressed enter. The site took a moment to load, and several seconds after logging on with my credentials, I gained access to our message board. I could feel Natalia glance over her shoulder occasionally while I typed.

  AZRAEL: ROCKY4, REQUEST IMMEDIATE SITREP. WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING? PLEASE ADVISE. BREAK.

  Natalia nudged me with her hip. “Rocky four? Really?”

  I shrugged. “It’s his favorite movie.”

  Approximately two minutes later, each going by slowly enough to feel like an hour apiece, I received the terse reply.

  ROCKY4: ALL IS WELL. CONFIRMATION OF SATISFIED CONTRACT RECEIVED. TRANSFER CONFIRMED 0800 THIS AM. BREAK.

  “What the hell is he talking about?” Natalia probed. “We haven’t made contact with Ammar yet.”

  I nodded, then typed:

  AZRAEL: PAID IN FULL? ALREADY? PLEASE CONFIRM. BREAK.

  A minute passed before the reply.

  ROCKY4: AFFIRMATIVE. HUNDO P. YOU ARE RICH. ENJOY RETIREMENT. BREAK.

  This was uncanny. If we’d gotten paid in full already, it was the first time it had ever happened before confirmation had been provided to the payer.

  “Ask him about the goddamn attacks,” Natalia hissed.

  My first thought was to pacify her in some way, but my interest was starting to pique as well.

  AZRAEL: ADVISE INFO ON TERROR ATTACKS. BREAK.

  Several minutes passed, during the final of which, I thought I’d either lost the connection or lost him. Then the reply came.

  ROCKY4: UNCERTAIN AT THIS TIME. BREAK.

  “Bullshit!” Natalia spat.

  I agreed with my wife. That answer was indeed complete bullshit. I made another attempt.

  AZRAEL: URGENT. PLEASE ADVISE INFO ON TERROR ATTACKS. BREAK.

  Five full minutes passed. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back into the chair. I could hear Natalia tapping her foot behind me while she fidgeted with her wounded arm. Finally, Jon’s reply came.

  ROCKY4: EVACUATE ASAP. CITY UNSAFE. REPEAT. EVAC TO NEAREST KNOWN SAFE LOCATION. WILL ADVISE FURTHER UPON NEXT CONTACT. BREAK.

  Natalia let out a lurid sigh. “You tell that drunk bastard to meet us face-to-face somewhere close by and, if he doesn’t know anything, to bring someone with him who does, or I’m going to find him and—”

  I hushed her with a snap of my fingers and a hand on her hip, then began nervously cracking my knuckles just as a cornucopia of shrieks and loud gasps echoed from around the corner in the lobby.

  Natalia didn’t hesitate to hurry off and investigate. I turned and hung my arm over the chair while placing my other hand on the laptop, ready to pull the USB drive and terminate the connection at a second’s notice if the need arose.

  The panicked noises in the lobby reached a crescendo. Some commotion followed and a moment after, Natalia rounded the corner with her head hung low, her eyes sunken, and her expression morose. Something else had happened—something horrible, I suspected.

  She glided to stand in place behind me and placed both her hands on the chairback to steady herself as her jaw slackened.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  She didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes narrowed. “A suicide bomber. He just detonated himself…inside an elementary school in Cleveland.”

  I felt a chill wash over me. It started at the top of my head and slid down my entire body, causing me to shiver involuntarily.

  I’d always known I was uncommon to most people in the world. I was someone who’d been born without a conscience—capable of heinous actions against other human beings while feeling no remorse for them, no guilt or shame for what I had done. But hearing those words struck my soul like a phaser set to kill. If these heathens were willing to attack and murder innocent children, there wasn’t anything they weren’t capable of.

  Breaking through my moment of self-reflection, Natalia gestured to the laptop. “Let me talk to him.”

  I nodded, not knowing anything else to say or do at this point. An elementary school. Children. For Christ’s sake.

  Natalia slid herself into the chair just as I got to my feet. She placed her hands on the keyboard and typed:

  AZRAEL: THIS IS STILETTO. FARRAGUT SQUARE. BRING INTEL. ONE HOUR. OUT.

  She then pulled the USB stick from the laptop. The screen went blank and she handed the stick to me with a resolute, sickened look on her face. “Get me the fuck out of here.”

  Fourteen

  Young residence. Winchester, Virginia

  Friday, March 28

  Nihayat al’ayam plus 11 hours, 32 minutes

  Adam rose to the feeling of warm sunlight kissing his face. He pried open his eyes, taking note of the brightness in his bedroom, and soon after, the emptiness of his bed. He reached out and patted the sheets beside him, feeling only the plushness of the pillowtop mattress underneath. Elisabeth was no longer stretched out by his side.

  Adam rolled over and yawned, then reached for his phone on the nightstand to check the time. “Eleven thirty? Great. The office is probably freaking out now.”

  He slid out of bed and into the first pair of pants he could find on the floor. The shirt he’d been wearing the previous evening was hanging at the foot of the bed. Adam slipped his arms and head through it, fluffed his hair, yawned again, then stretched as he stood. He then walked out of the bedroom and into the hallway, feeling the soggy bottoms of his feet stick to the hardwood floor with each step.

  The first thing Adam could hear was the TV blaring in the living room. He peered left as he walked by and into the kitchen, noticing both Chris and Violet were seated on the couch. He waved to them sluggishly and inched his way to the refrigerator in search of a cold caffeinated drink with which to wet his lips and alleviate the dryness in his mouth.

  “Not going to work today?” Violet called from the living room.

  “No, I suppose not,” Adam replied. “It appears I’ve overslept. Guess I’ll be doing the work-from-home thing. If I still have a job.”

  “Lucky you,” Violet replied snarkily.

  Adam uncapped a bottle of iced coffee and took a mediocre sip. “Aside from the television, the house sure is quiet. Any idea where your mother is? She wasn’t supposed to go in until two today.”

  “She got called in…about an hour after you guys went to bed,” Violet said.

  “She did?”

  “Yeah. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

  “I’m a little surprised, too. Then again, as tired as I was, I must’ve been sound asleep when she got up.”

  “Mom was tired too,” said Violet. “She wasn’t exactly thrilled when she got the call. She did say to have you call her whenever you decided to get up.”

  Adam nodded. “I suppose I’ll do that. Thanks for passing along the message.” He turned away, then halted before heading into his office, realizing it was only Friday and, as such, a school day. Because of last night’s events, he hadn’t expected Chris nor Violet to attend, but the laughing and cackling coming from Claire and Lander’s room told him he had a full house. “No school
today?”

  “Cancelled,” murmured Chris.

  “Cancelled?”

  “Because of the protests downtown.”

  Adam nodded. “It’s probably just the same. I wasn’t going to send either of you today. Now…your rambunctious sisters, on the other hand.” He paused while gazing around the house. “Vi, did your mom happen to allude as to why she got called in?”

  “No. But I’m pretty sure it’s because of that plane crash.”

  Adam rotated on his heels and moved to stand by the couch. In his exhaustion, he’d nearly forgotten.

  Violet pointed to the television. “There’s been a few other ones too. It’s been all over the news.”

  “Other ones? Near here?”

  “No, not near us or anything,” Violet said. “Just here and there—it’s weird. And there’s been a few other attacks.”

  Adam squinted, taking a large gulp of his coffee. “What sort of attacks?”

  Violet rattled off the list of known and purported attacks, and Adam’s interest began gaining ground at a rapid pace.

  “Chris,” Adam said, “let me see that remote.”

  Chris handed it to him and Adam began flipping through channels, stopping only seconds at each news broadcast, long enough to gather enough information to paint the picture. Each one was reporting a similar headline, that multiple incidents, possibly terror related, had occurred across the country already this morning. Some even included ongoing live feeds of the scenes.

  “Jesus Christ.”

  Violet and Chris both turned to their father. “What is it?” they asked almost concurrently.

  Adam turned and darted off in the direction of his office. Once there, he set his drink on his desk, placed his hand on his mouse and clicked from one website to another, attempting to locate as much information as he could on what had happened while he’d been asleep. The more he saw and the more info he gathered, the more his heart sank and the thicker the lump inflated in the back of his throat.

  Adam took a long, slow sip of his morning pick-me-up. He set it down and rested the side of his head in his palm as his mouth dropped open. “This can’t be happening.”

  “What can’t be happening?” Violet asked, her expression displaying marked concern as she strolled into his office and approached his desk. “Dad…you look nauseated. What’s going on?”

  Adam’s first instinct was to tell her it was nothing. The last thing he wanted to do was start a panic in his own home. But he knew as analytical as Violet was, she would not simply stand for that answer. “I’m not exactly sure. It could be nothing, but then again, it could be something substantial. Something we’ve never seen before. I haven’t felt this way since I saw those planes hit the twin towers.” A pause. “We need to keep our eyes open for what could happen next.”

  Violet’s dark eyes grew wide. “Okay. So what should we do first? You want to start calling people? Should we lock down the house?”

  Adam started to answer her, but was interrupted by his son entering the room.

  “Hey, Dad? I need a favor.”

  “What sort of favor?” Adam glanced up at him. “This isn’t exactly the best time, Chris.”

  “Yeah…well, I wanted to see if you could run me back to Barbie’s house this morning so I can check on Jessi. I’m really worried about her, and I need to see if she’s okay.”

  “I thought they were going to pick up her car today.”

  “They haven’t left yet. Jessi says Barbie hasn’t wanted to move around much this morning. Can’t say as I blame her much.”

  Adam nodded ever so slightly. “Okay, yeah. Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

  “Is that a yes or a no?” Chris asked. “Because she’s machine-gun texting me about it, and I need to tell her if I’m coming or not. Would it be easier if I just have them come over here and pick me up?”

  “Would it be easier? Yes. But will I allow it? No!”

  “Whoa, Dad. Seriously?”

  “Yes, Chris. Seriously,” Adam said. “Are you kidding me? After what you did yesterday? And after what we had to go through to find you? No, I most certainly do not want anyone coming here to pick you up.”

  Chris recoiled at his father’s response. “Wow, okay. Forget it! All I wanted to do was check on my girlfriend. But screw it! I’m sorry for even asking.” He stormed out of Adam’s office and into his room, slamming the door behind him hard enough to knock a picture from the wall.

  “Now do you see why I give him so much grief?” Violet asked after a sigh and scrutinizing her brother’s response. “He deserves it. He’s so infatuated with that bizznotty, he can’t even see when he treats his own family like crap.”

  Adam didn’t have the mental fortitude in that moment to consider Chris’s behavior or Violet’s multihued commentary. The plane crashes and these uncommon attacks, in combination with what had occurred the previous evening, were really starting to weigh on him. Something was happening here. Something big. Something terrible and beyond compare to anything that had occurred before, and Adam was starting to get a bad feeling in his gut.

  “Dad? I can tell you’re in think mode. Is there anything you need me to do?” Violet asked. “I’m being serious, by the way. I know it’s hard to tell when I am, sometimes.”

  Adam took in a deep breath and willed himself back to reality. He rotated his head and tried his best to smile at her. “No, sweetie. Not right now. The only thing I want is the only thing I’ve ever asked you to do for me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Be ready. For anything.”

  “Oh.”

  Adam gestured with his head to his computer monitor. “Of course, in light of prevailing events, I don’t think it could hurt for us to escalate our preparedness level at home. There’s no telling if these attacks are going to fade away or get worse. And I like to err on the side of caution.”

  Violet cocked her head at him. “I’ve never seen you act this way before, Dad. What do you think is going to happen?”

  Adam sat back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m expecting this whole thing to get worse. Way worse. And I think it’s judicious that we all prepare ourselves for that very thing.”

  “No problem. So are we bugging in or bugging out?” she asked.

  “In, for the time being.”

  Violet’s eyebrows drew in and a look of urgency crept across her face. She nodded slowly. “Okay. I’m on it. I’ll make sure Claire and Lander are occupied; then I’ll do a fundamental gear check. And you might want to consider making a run to Costco this morning before everyone else does.” She turned away and started out the door. “Oh, yeah…don’t forget to call Mom.”

  Adam smiled at her as she scampered out of the room. “That’s my girl.”

  Fifteen

  Farragut Square, Washington, DC

  Friday, March 28

  Nihayat al’ayam plus 13 hours, 30 minutes

  When I saw Jonathon walking across K Street dressed in full business attire complete with a full-length wool coat, I almost didn’t believe my eyes. When I noticed that he’d brought someone with him, I felt like I was hallucinating. I needed to make a mental note of this—the next time we need something from him, allow Natalia to take the helm. Her requests apparently had a much greater effect than did mine.

  The man accompanying Jon followed just feet behind him and didn’t look particularly happy to be where he was. Actually, he looked just plain nervous and damned near paranoid of being where he was. I assumed him agency by his looks, probably some pencil-pusher or an analyst geek. Someone who didn’t get much sunlight. I didn’t know who he was, but he was most definitely not an operative. He didn’t walk the walk.

  While Natalia sat quietly with her back to me on a wooden bench fifty feet away to my twelve o’clock, I leaned against a mature walnut tree, hidden from sight, keeping my eyes in tune with the scene around us. I trusted Jon, but I didn’t trust the rest of the world, and meetings like this had al
ways persuaded me to keep my guard up.

  I watched as Jon and his partner converged on Natalia, and listened to the ensuing conversation through my earpiece, never once taking my hand from the Glock under my jacket.

  “Where’s your other half?” Jon asked Natalia, his head on a constant, observant swivel.

  Her reply came tranquilly. “Not far. He’s never far. Thanks for coming.”

  Jon sneered. “Like I had a choice in the matter.”

  “That’s right. You didn’t.” Natalia tilted her head slightly to the side. “Who’s your friend?”

  The man standing beside Jon took a clumsy step backward and turned his head away bashfully. He said nothing.

  Jon pulled a cellular phone from the inside pocket of his coat. “Someone with information. Someone I trust.”

  He was lucky. For a split second, I could’ve sworn he’d pulled a gun on her. It was official—I was seeing things. I really needed to get some quality sleep, and soon.

  Jon tapped the screen on his phone a few times and then handed it to Natalia. “Don’t worry—it’s encrypted. Fully secure.”

  Natalia looked at the screen for a second and then placed it against her ear, over her earpiece so I could listen in. A few seconds later, I heard a voice carrying an Arabic accent, leaving little doubt who it was.

  “Ammar?” Natalia asked.

  “Hello, Mrs. Stiletto. I must say, I am very impressed with your work. You and your husband were well worth the disbursement for your services.”

  “I appreciate the compliment, Ammar,” Natalia said. “But would you mind explaining some things—like why the compound was occupied with American sentries? And why we were paid in full before you received confirmation? How did you know the job was complete without hearing from us?”