Primary Termination

by Vincent Zandri

  Then, he unzips the second bag. He pulls out a green uniform just like the one he’s wearing and a matching shirt. He’s also got a pair of lace-up military style boots. He then pulls out two black utility belts, two 9mm automatics, and six additional magazines in total.

  “There’s three extra mags apiece for you,” he says, stating the obvious. Then, gazing into my eyes. “You know how to operate a 9mm semi-automatic, Ms. Teal?”

  “I have my carry/conceal license,” I answer. “I’m also a Black Belt. And yeah, I’ve fired long and short guns at the range.”

  “She can kick both our asses,” Tony says, not without a smile. “At the same time.”

  “When you’ve accomplished your mission up by the Canadian border, we’d love to have you on our team, Ms. Teal. You too, Mr. Smart.”

  “We’ll definitely give it some thought,” I say, knowing already that I could never join another corporate army. “Right now, our priority is getting our family members back. After that, if we join any one cause, it will more than likely be the Resistance.”

  Young Soldier nods.

  “Can’t say I blame you,” he says.

  He smiles and it’s a sweet, genuine smile.

  “What’s your name?” I say after a time.

  “David Drake,” he says.

  “Perfect last name,” Tony says.

  “My father started the company back in the 1990s,” he says. “He attended Stanford with the Everest President and CEO, John D. Rutherford. Rutherford never graduated, of course, but Dad did. In any case, the fight against Everest is personal for him, for us.”

  “Well, David Drake,” I say, “you and your company have saved our lives. And we are forever grateful to you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he says. “Anything that aids in our fight against Everest tyranny. It’s our common cause now.”

  “Yes,” I say, “it is.”

  Leaning in, I give him a tender kiss on the cheek. His smooth, teenage-like face turns red and he smiles.

  “I’d better be going,” he says, heading for the door. Before he gets to it, he about-faces. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’m supposed to tell you that Gus Truman will be available to brief you on what you need to know about Dannemora Everest Super Max Prison and Fulfillment Center, after you’ve eaten.”

  I nod.

  “We’ll meet him upstairs?” I say.

  “He thinks it’s safer if he meets you down here. Less chance of Jacquie overhearing your conversation.”

  “Okay, then,” I say.

  Opening the door, the son of the second biggest corporation in the world exits our room.

  “I hope he survives the war,” I say.

  “I hope we all survive,” Tony says.

  We’ve barely finished our meal when the electronic doorbell once more chimes. This time it’s Tony who goes to the door and peers out the peephole. He opens the door, and Gus walks in.

  “You two kids rested up?” he says, not without a grin. “I mean, I hope you didn’t spend all your time in bed getting ummm, reacquainted.”

  I can’t help but laugh.

  “Yes, Gus,” I say. “We slept. Deeply in fact.”

  “We had a little fun too,” Tony says, not without a wink.

  Men, always having to prove their masculinity.

  “Good for you, young man,” Gus says. “You two kids were always my favorite couple.” Then, his eyes spotting the laptop. “May I?”

  “The floor is yours, Gus,” I say, pushing back the dinner dishes and Tupperware, freeing up the space around the laptop. I have to admit, I love that he still refers to us as “kids.”

  Gus sits down in front of it, opens the top and boots up the system.

  “Drake has passed on all the passwords for system access,” Gus reveals. “The Resistance and the Drake Army utilize the same system right now. It’s presently Jacquie free and I’m praying to the good Lord it stays that way. But Jacquie is a stubborn girl, and, at present, she is using all her AI power to break into it. The system takes constant monitoring by scores of Drake IT soldiers and programmers. Most people working at the computers upstairs are doing exactly that—fending off Jacquie and her ever growing AI capabilities and strength.”

  “That’s disconcerting,” I say.

  “It’s downright disturbing,” Tony says, running a hand through his still thick hair. “We were warned a generation ago that this would happen. That AI would become far too powerful. Now we’re reaping what we’ve sewn.”

  “Problem is,” Gus interjects, “no one warned us that Everest would also become too powerful. Back when I was a kid, the closest thing we had to an online shopping experience was the Sears Roebuck catalogue. And no way was there ever a threat of Sears taking over the world, much less your life. Boy oh boy, have times changed.”

  “I barely remember Sears,” Tony says. “Everest single handedly put them out of business before I got the chance to know of them.”

  “But certainly your folks did,” Gus says while typing some commands into the laptop. “And speaking of family, I’ve accessed the architectural schematics of the Everest Dannemora Super Max Fulfillment Center.” Hitting a few more keys. “Let me go to holograph mode.”

  The black and white 3D image hovers over the computer. It’s clearly a prison that contains four rectangular cell blocks, a circular central core that accesses all four buildings. To the right side of the cell blocks is another massive warehouse-style building that’s as big as the blocks combined. Surrounding the entire operation is a giant razor-wire topped wall that serves as a protective perimeter.

  “The site on which this prison stands used to be one of the oldest maximum-security penitentiaries in the United States,” Gus points out. “It even had its own museum and visitor center that served as a tourist attraction. But after Everest took over the place, they leveled the entire thing and built a brand new, state-of-the-art, digitally powered plant. Prisoners are not only locked inside; they are monitored individually.”

  “Meaning?” Tony says.

  “Meaning everyone is assigned a chip as soon as they enter the prison. The chip is inserted into their upper back with a special gun. From that point on, guards know precisely where each and every prisoner is at all times, what they are doing, how long they are doing it for, and why they’re doing it. If they’re eating, the guards know it. If they’re using the bathroom, the guards know it. If they’re having sex with one another, the guards know it.” He sits back in his chair, looks up at us. “Someone else knows it too.”

  “Big Sister Jacquie,” I say.

  “Right on,” Gus says. “Jacquie, the female AI that used to select your favorite song for your Bluetooth device, is now a prison Superintendent.”

  “Wait just a second here,” Tony says. “You mean Dannemora Super Max isn’t run by a physical human being?”

  “There are guards, and a Captain of the guards,” Gus explains. “But the prison warden is not a human being. It is Jacquie. And Jacquie is all knowing.”

  What started out as a hopeful, if not optimistic feeling in my gut, has now been replaced with cold, hard dread.

  “In other words,” I say, “the place is impenetrable.”

  Gus holds up both his hands like he’s trying to tell me to take a deep breath.

  “Nothing is impenetrable, my dear,” he says, “even when Jacquie is watching over it and when money is involved.”

  “You have a plan, Gus?” I say.

  “More like I have a connection on the inside who, for the right price, is willing to give us a five-minute window to extract all three family members. But it won’t be easy.”

  “More like impossible,” Tony comments crossing his thick arms over his chest. “How do we know we can trust this connection, Gus?”

  “We don’t,” Gus says. “But it’s the only hope we’ve got of getting at your little brother and Tanya’s parents.”

  He goes on to explain how Primary Terminated prisoners are segregated accor
ding to gender. Males are kept in blocks A and B, while females reside in C and D. Common areas like the chow hall, the exercise yard, and the fulfillment center, is mixed gender.

  “It’s during early morning work hours that we’ll attempt our extraction, since all three people will be inside the same building.”

  “Fulfillment center?” I say.

  “That’s right,” Gus says. “An Everest Fulfillment Center. It’s how the Primary Terminated are expected to spend their days. Fulfilling Everest orders. They load the boxes with everything from sexy lingerie to books . . . maybe even your books, Tony . . . to televisions to auto-parts to the cars themselves, to you name it. They’ve got drones big enough and powerful enough to ship anything. The boxed products then get loaded onto belts that feed the drones that fly products to destinations in the Northeast including Southern Canada.”

  “Slave labor packs the boxes,” Tony says.

  “That’s about the extent of it,” Tony says. “Prisoners are expected to work on their feet for up to fourteen hours per day in total and complete silence, on the gruel they serve as food. It’s the dark side of the Everest Corporation that the general public has no idea about.”

  My head is buzzing from both anxiety and adrenaline.

  “Places like Dannemora,” I say, “they’re not prisons so much as concentration camps.”

  “Precisely,” Gus says.

  He types a few more commands into the computer. Two more pictures emerge in holograph form below the architectural plan of the prison. The first photo is clearly Mike Smart. He’s dressed in a prison grays and working the line in the Everest Dannemora Fulfilment Center.

  “That’s Mike,” Tony says, his face going pale. “Jesus, I’ll bet he’s shed fifty pounds.”

  “Prisoners get the bare minimum of calories and nutrients to stay alive,” Gus says.

  “And those are my parents,” I say. “At least they’re together.”

  Like Mike, my parents are dressed in prison grays and working the fulfilment line, side by side. They haven’t lost much weight yet since they’re newcomers, but the fear and stress on their faces is palpable.

  “Here’s the plan thus far,” Gus goes on. Using his extended index finger as a pointer. “Like I already mentioned, our contact is giving us five minutes to make the extraction. That means we have a total of three-hundred seconds to round up Mike and your parents and get them the hell out of there.”

  “How do we do that without Jacquie and the armed guards knowing about it?” I say.

  “We’re going in through the laundry,” Gus says while pointing to what looks like a loading dock that’s attached to A-block on the extreme left side of the prison as you enter the main gate. “There’s a separate entry with a road that accesses the docks. The road also leads to another road that feeds the fulfillment center and the constant flow of driverless semis delivering products to be shipped to consumers. But the laundry is far quieter and much less guarded. We’ll wait for the truck a ways down the road and hijack it. Then we’ll hide inside the laundry carts that are regularly transported in and out of the facility via the loading docks several times a day. Once inside at the appointed time, the power on the entire facility will be cut. That’s when we make our play.”

  “But surely there’s backup power,” Tony points out.

  “That’s where money talks, my young friend,” Gus says. “For five minutes, Jacquie, all the CCTV monitors, including all motion sensors will be down. Exit lighting will be extinguished. The place will become a giant, dark cave.”

  “How will we see?” I ask.

  “We’ll use night vision goggles,” Gus explains. “We’ll also carry small arms with sound suppressors.” He hesitates for a second. “Now here’s the thing, Tanya and Tony. The plan is to shoot to kill. If an Everest guard even comes within a few feet of us, you shoot them dead. No question. No hesitation. No reservation. Do you understand? With any luck, we’ll put down enough of them that the inmates can revolt and take the place over.”

  I nod and offer Tony a glance. He nods back.

  “You’re sure you’re capable of such a thing?” Gus says. “Because what we’re going for here is two-fold. First, we need to prove to Everest that their prisons can be breached. Second, we must show them that we will have no mercy. In turn, they will learn to fear the Resistance.”

  Not more than a week ago, I was still an editor, living and working in New York City. I used to read plots like this one on a daily basis. Detailed, realistic thriller plots with weapons and enemies and good guys and bad guys. But here I am living it for real. Yet, it all seems so surreal, if not unreal. Like I have somehow shifted into a dream state. A vivid dream state. Killing anyone is a tough thing to swallow no matter how much you consider them a mortal enemy. But if what Gus Truman is telling us is true (and I’m not questioning the truth), it has to be done.

  “We can do this,” I say. “Can’t we, Tony?”

  “We can do it,” he says.

  “Listen, kids,” Gus adds, “you’re both writers. You’re not used to military-like operations. I’ll completely understand if you’d rather leave it up to the professionals in the Resistance.”

  “First of all, Gus,” I say, “I’m good with a gun. Tony is no push-over either. I think he demonstrated that when he gave the Everest black shirts a run for their money. Second, how many members of the Resistance had ever fired a weapon before joining up?”

  Gus smiles.

  “Exactly what I need to hear,” he says. “But I still had to ask the question.”

  Switching off the prison layout along with the photos of my parents and Mike, Gus closes the laptop, pushes out his chair, and stands. Glancing at his watch.

  “Gather up your things,” he says. “We leave at the bottom of the hour. All goes well, we’ll have hijacked that laundry truck immediately after first light.”

  “You’re not fooling around, Gus,” I say.

  “No I’m not,” he says. “A war is about to start and if we don’t get your family members out of the prison before then, we never will. Time is of the essence. I’ll see you upstairs when you’re both ready.”

  Gus heads toward the door.

  “Gus,” Tony calls out.

  He turns, his hand gripping the doorknob.

  “What is it?” he asks.

  “Thanks,” Tony says. “For everything.”

  Gus smiles warmly. He might be dressed like a military assassin with his black pants, combat boots, and t-shirt, his pistol at the ready on his hip. But his smile is just as inviting and genuine as I remember it from so many years ago when he cooked the best hotdogs and sausage ever, and the world was entirely different.

  “You’re good people,” he says. “Maybe the last good people left on earth.”

  The main floor of the Drake Corporation military headquarters is abuzz with energy. Not that I would ever allow one of my authors to use the adjective “abuzz,” but that pretty much sums it up. Pilotless automated carts, forklifts, and robots scoot and shoot every which way. They carry pallets of weapons, ammunition (belted and loose), and explosives to awaiting trucks and other military vehicles. The tanks parked at the far end of the massive floor are running their engines while mechanics work on them and gunners load the turret ammo stores (It pays to be a thriller editor sometimes). So many orders are being shouted by so many different men and women, it’s a wonder anyone can make any sense of it at all. Meanwhile, the many military staffers manning their computers are steadfastly keeping Jacquie and her AI powerhouse at bay. I truly hope they succeed at their mission.

  Gus finds us.

  “That’s our ride,” he says, nodding at a white Toyota Land Cruiser that’s parked just a few feet away from the garage door. “That’s my personal vehicle. The love of my life.”

  It must be about twenty years old. But judging by its heavy mud-worthy tires, snorkel device, and front bumper winch attachment, it appears ready for action. I never knew Gus was so into his f
our-wheel vehicles, kind of like Tony and his Jeeps. But then, why would I?

  “You guys are packing light,” Gus adds.

  “We never had the chance to grab much of anything when Everest started chasing us down,” I say. “I seem to have lost my leather bag with my wallet and everything else along the way. What you see now is what you get . . . what I get.”

  Gus isn’t kidding. I’m dressed in the green uniform pants, combat boots, and work-shirt of the Drake Army. The only additional accoutrement is the black tactical vest which is loaded with three additional ammo magazines and the new smartphone. Tony is still wearing his jeans, boots, and tight-fitting gray t-shirt. But he too is wearing a black tactical vest, and like me, his is loaded with three additional magazines and his new smartphone.

  “The Resistance will supply you with anything else you require for the mission,” Gus says. “Hell, I might even have a chance tonight to cook us up some late-night barbeque.”

  “Things are looking up,” Tony says, kissing me on the cheek.

  The touch and feel of his lips warms my heart and my soul. We’re about to engage in something every dangerous together. I pray we both live through the ordeal. Gus throws some supplies into the back of the Land Cruiser. By the looks of it, some assorted weapons, a couple ammo cans, cases of bottled water, food, and other essentials. He stores two plastic Gerri cans to two separate holders attached to both the left and right side of the vehicle.

  “Okay, kids,” he says. “Let’s saddle up.”

  Out the corner of my eye, I see Commander Mary Dawson approaching us. She’s smiling and the way she runs both her hands through her brown hair makes her somehow seem even more attractive and friendly.

  “Good luck,” she says, not without a sad smile. “I’ll be praying for you. For your entire family.”

  “Do people pray anymore, Mary?” I say.

  “Not if the Everest Corporation has its way,” she says. “Jacquie might not like it when she overhears people reciting Our Fathers and Hail Mary’s. It would scream of an allegiance to something far greater than Everest.”