1:15
Took us way longer than I thought, even with three grunts working, to find the main power cables under the floor. There’s a secondary power backup, too. Didn’t see that coming. Wasn’t in any of the diagrams. It’s encased in a lead pipe with a bunch of warning stickers on it. Shit. I scan the pipe and it’s hot. Some kind of synch pulse along the lead casing, separate from the power source inside. Could be an independent alarm, maybe something nastier. We’ll have to rig it all to blow, but that’s our last resort. Kill the power too early and the big door stays shut. The Sarge tells his men to break out the C-4, five pounds of it. When we set the stuff off, we can take cover in the stairwell or on the floor above us. That much plastic explosive will shred anything living in this room, along with all the primary and secondary circuitry. Bennett has the rig set up. I’ve almost got it wired in right. Almost, but not yet.
1:35
Sweat in my face. My heartbeat in my ears. The hum in my skull that was never there before. The plate in my head, cold and vibrating. This is taking way too long. Every time I look, there’s another circuit I need to kill, or another cluster of wires I need to clip and redirect. Dad comes over the headset and tells us the perimeter is secure. The Sarge says he’s going up to check the grounds personally and instructs the men from the roof to relieve his team down here and for Ringo to cover the stairwell. Everyone says they copy that. I solder a lead in place, and the iron slips in my grip. It burns me. I hear Axl in my ear: Goddammit, kid. Bum-rush the show here. Just twenty minutes . . .
2:00
I make it in under the gun and as soon as the clock hits two, I click the mouse and my screen flashes all clear. I’m in the system by the skin of my ass. A pre-recorded female voice comes over a speaker in the room, telling us that the code key has been activated and there is now danger and she repeats the word danger five times. Three hours now. No room for error, can’t lag behind. One wrong move and we all die. My fingers move fast over the keys. It was always this easy. It was never this hard.
2:10
The first firewall is mean. I use one of the Destroyer’s old blackware tricks—you run the program, then copy it once you’re inside, so there’s a ghost in the machine gumming up the works. The security profile gets confused and lets down its guard for just about a half-second, then it starts to get infected while I go for its throat. The first algorithm is a series of zeroes and ones I have to count manually. I read it off to Bennett, who records my voice on a handheld digital unit. I have her play it back to me a few minutes later when I break the second wall and the machine asks me for the entry code. My fingers move as fast as my voice from the recorder narrates the pattern. I see Bennett shake her head, incredulous. I don’t think she’s ever seen a hacker talk that fast in the real world before.
2:25
Two down. Next wall is a lot tougher. It wants an entry code, then a PIN and then the social security numbers of the two men with the keys. I get through that part easily. I designed the infiltrator program myself while I was in prison, based on something the Destroyer once came up with about random number generators. I run through a billion combinations in one minute while another program stalls the time limiter. You would normally only have twenty seconds to enter the code. The SS numbers are also easy. We had those ready to go, all five hundred employees on rotation in this building. I enter all of them in one fast data spike, like a doctor giving a shot of Thorazine. Then I’m inside the security protocol and its numbers are coming at me so fast I almost get dizzy for a second. Something burns in my head, the smell of rose petals haunting me, just a little. Just enough. My heartbeat speeds up. Faster now. Faster . . .
2:36
Next level. Whoever built this thing is a goddamn genius and I want to kill him. I tell Bennett to heat up the Miracle Machine, which she ports in to the rig through a custom adapter that talks to the whole system in a real sweet voice. An angel’s voice. Come on, baby, let me have it. I have big tits and a nice ass and I owe you three wishes. Nine different viruses come straight at me. I see them like toxic gas clouds on the second monitor. I send a tapeworm program after them while I crunch the numbers. It’s all math at this level. I read some equations off to Bennett. She solves them on her machine, reads them back to me. I get the last number in too late. All my work goes to hell, and the numbers change. It’s a smart little bastard. I start again, and almost get it again. Shit goddamn . . .
2:45
I feel like someone just kicked my ass, but after three tries the fourth firewall finally goes. A stinging in my heart. The ringing in my head. I tell the men in the room to heat up the drill rig and they get to work on the first three spots I drew with greasepaint. I tell them to go slow, I’m behind by about five minutes. The drill bit makes a really loud noise as it eats into the steel, but I don’t hear it much. I’m in the system deep now. Fifth level. The hardest one yet. The numbers come at me and I fight them with blood in my eyes.
3:12
The drill stops. I tell them to change to the 20-millimeter diamond bit and wait for my command before they turn it on again. I’m past the five security protocols, and I even made up for a few lost minutes on the last one. It’s the time locks now. They’re always a living hell, and these are the worst I’ve ever seen—treacherous, time-sensitive deadfalls, all interconnected by a series of complicated algorithms that have to be shut down at specific, automated moments on the clock, all in sequence, before they give way at another specific, automated moment. You can only get into this vault three times a day. It’s all worked out to the last microsecond. I have to trick the datastreams into thinking they’re moving forward in time, and I’m running every program I’ve got to do it. Blackware screaming on top of blackware. A virus gets past my firewall, and Bennett has to kill it. I’m getting shredded. Nothing I try works.
4:00
The Sarge comes over the headset and says I have less than one hour left. I tell him everything’s fine. My father comes back into the room through the stairwell. He doesn’t say a word. He’s seen me sweat before. He’s never seen me with blood in my eyes—virtual blood, I mean. This is the worst one ever. The guys on the drill ask him if they should be running away. I tell them that might be a good idea. The Sarge crackles over the headset, says nobody moves. A data spike comes at me and almost gets through when he says that and I yell at everybody to shut the hell up.
4:15
I hit a wall hard, and a row of numbers comes at me that look important. I see them and they burn in my memory, as I count off to Bennett. She records my voice and I use the numbers again, feed them back into the system. It’s not a code, as it doesn’t kill the time locks. I try a variation, start using my number scrambler to search for algorithms in the pattern. The wall keeps coming back. The row of numbers. Bennett tells me it’s a decoy, says we have to try another way in. I tell her I know what I’m doing. I’ve beaten a thousand time locks, just like this one, and the numbers never lie. She yells at me that I’m wrong. I yell back at her to shut the hell up. My head starts screaming. The smell of roses almost overwhelms me in a quick sweet stab. I hardly fight it back.
4:20
Forty minutes on the clock and the time lock’s still kicking my ass. It’s a steel wall. Still the same row of numbers, taunting me with a quick death. I try another combination to unscramble it, using the stacked number crunchers on disc drive Z. It would kill any normal protocol dead in the water. Doesn’t even make a dent in this one. I stack another attack and it brushes me aside. Bennett tells me we need to abort. There’s no way past the time locks and there’s no time to look for anything else. The numbers are some kind of decoy code. I almost scream at her, but she sees the look on my face as the machine beats me again, and it hits her hard.
4:45
The Sarge’s voice starts barking orders to his men over the headset. Five minutes and we run. I get my ass handed to me one more time. It’s solid state, but there has to be a way. Axl always said there’s a way into anyw
here, past any wall, through any lock. And when all else fails? Go for the obvious. What’s the obvious here? What am I missing? Goddammit, what the hell am I missing? What do those numbers mean? Why isn’t this working? Why can’t I get past them? Ammonia and raw metal slithers in my throat. The buzzing in my head turns the plate to ice and tries to bore a hole in my brain. The smell of roses replaces everything in the world. I fight it hard. Can’t lose it now. Goddammit . . . Toni . . . I won’t fail you . . .
4:46
I try one more run, right at the wall, and it bounces me back like a hardball. The row of numbers are the key to this whole thing, but every second I spend on it is costing me my life. I’m swimming in lakes of rose petals and the buzzing of a Skilsaw. Bennett tells me it’s a decoy again and I still don’t believe her. It can’t be that simple. The guy who built this thing wouldn’t hide it in plain view like that. Would he? Roses. Gunmetal. Buzzing . . . dammit shit FUCK . . .
4:47
The Sarge tells us to get the hell out of there. It’s useless. Mission scrubbed. This whole place is coming down. The men move for the stairwell. I stay at my console. I steel myself against the agonizing pain that shoots through my head. Bennett says we should move, but I won’t move. I’m not even in this room. I’m inside myself. Moving through the pain. Ignoring the smells. Seeing and feeling only the numbers. The code. The numbers don’t lie. But what is it trying to say? I can’t beat this machine. Yes, I can. I still have almost ten minutes. Focus up. NOW.
4:48
The Sarge says if I don’t move it, he’ll order his men to drag me out of there. You will all die if you don’t run now. The chopper is landing outside. I can hear it over the headset. Get the fuck out of there now. No, I tell him. The solution is so simple, I’m just not seeing it. We still have time, just enough time. My fingers land on the keys and I break the numbers, then they reorganize and come back at me again in the original pattern, like a demon that transforms and then finds its true face, snarling the same old snarl, taunting the same old taunt, again and again, until you’re crazy and dead . . .
4:49
The Sarge comes over the headset again and orders Bennett to shut down the console, orders his men to take command and escort me and my father to the chopper. Bennett says that’s the whole shooting match—we have to run, and we have to do it now. I see her hand drift toward her sidearm. The other men in the room go for their weapons, too, but my father quickdraws his Smith and Wesson real fast, drops both of them into his sights like he’s using his right hand. He smiles. Nobody’s going anywhere.
4:50
The air freezes. Mexican standoff. Bennett’s hand stops, halfway to the pistol on her hip. She tells me to abort. The code is a decoy. We are all gonna die if I don’t give it up now. I can’t hear her voice. The solution is right there. My fingers move fast. I ignore the buzz. It was never this hard . . . never this hard . . .
4:51
The two grunts try to reason with my father, one of them going for his shotgun. My father hisses as he cracks off a warning shot. Thunder fills my ears. The bullet smashes a hole in the metal wall, just over their shoulders. He holds them unflinchingly in the firing line, tells the Sarge over his headset that he will kill the first man who comes down after us through the stairwell. If my son says he can break this thing, he can damn well break this thing. We’re going through with it to the bitter end, so fuck you. Nobody draws on him.
4:52
Still no answer from the console. I start clicking keys again and get my ass kicked again. The soft female voice says there is danger, danger, danger.
4:53
The Sarge screams at us over the headset. Get the hell out of there. At least send my men out. Do it now. You are all going to die.
4:54
My father nods and sends the two grunts through the stairwell. He’s not a monster—not like me. Bennett doesn’t move. She stays with us. Her face is filled with red determination. My eyes are filled with the future, not this room, not the roses, not the ice-cold metal lodged in my head . . . I’m going to see your face again, Toni . . . one way or another . . .
4:55
My screen shows a red flag. A circuit just tripped inside the system. A really bad one. I talk to the machine, tell it not to kill us. It doesn’t listen. This is the final countdown. In five minutes, the second circuit will tell the vault to explode. I won’t give up. I tell Bennett and my father to hit the stairwell.
4:56
The machine beeps at me. It knows I’m doomed. Bennett still stays with me. I tell the girl there’s no need for her to get killed, too. Run. Get out while you can. My father motions her to the door. Bennett won’t move. She says there’s no way to beat the machine, not the way I’m doing it now . . . and finally . . . the buzzing in my head begins to recede . . . the smell of roses backs off, just a little . . . and I start to hear her. But it’s already too late.
4:57
Three minutes. The most obvious solution has eluded me. It’s been right in front of me the whole time. The code is a decoy, just like Bennett said. There’s simply no way on earth to trick this time lock. I would have found it by now. It’s not even on the computer. It has nothing to do with numbers and algorithms. It has to be old school. I tell my father we have to blow the C-4 on the lead pipe. He tells me if we blow it while the time locks are still up, the door won’t open, and I tell him that’s exactly what we’re supposed to think. Because they knew I was coming. Do it now or we’re all dead. He doesn’t hesitate when he hears me say that. Nods and moves like a robot. Hits the switch on the thirty-second timer and it doesn’t work.
4:58
Jammed out. The detonator, screwed up by the hot pulse inside the lead casing. We can’t blow the pipe. I see my father’s face drain white. He starts reworking the sequence on the keypad but it’s useless. Hartman, you poisonous snake. Your people designed this death trap just for us, didn’t they? The female voice slices the air like a laser—danger, danger, danger—and I half expect to hear that awful fat bastard laughing at us over the speaker system. My father backs away, quickly loading an incendiary round into his Smith and Wesson, aiming right at the big clump of plastic explosive, yelling at us to get in the stairwell. Bennett runs for it. I’m right behind her, pulling my father with me. He stands fast, telling me to run . . .
4:59
. . . telling me he’s sorry.
For everything.
He tells me to kiss Toni for him when I see her.
No.
No, goddammit.
You’re not gonna die for me.
Not here, not like this.
I won’t let you die because of my mistake.
I grab him again and it’s desperate, as I scream the words—but he spins with the butt of his gun, and something like a rock in a fast wheeze of wind smashes me in the forehead.
Bam.
The world goes almost black as the pain thunders above everything.
I drop to the floor in slow motion.
Seconds pound like hours.
Someone is pulling me back across the floor.
Toward the stairwell.
My breath leaves my body all at once.
I hear his voice shout back at me as I begin to lose consciousness . . . but it’s clear as day in my head . . . the last words of my father . . . the man who made me . . . the man who failed me . . . the man who brought us all to this final moment . . .
“I’m sorry, son . . .”
. . . and the whole room behind us explodes.
• • •
5:01
I hear the C-4 go off just at the edge of being awake. It’s still ringing in my ears as I struggle up from blackness. My forehead swells where he hit me, to save my life. It was me or him.
Dad . . .
I’m in the stairwell with Bennett and we’re still alive. The vault didn’t blow. Only the power to the vault, and the time lock with it. The door of the stairwell is ripped halfway off its hinges from the conc
ussion of the explosion, jammed into the wall at a weird angle. Bennett has to use her shotgun to clear the way. I don’t even hear the blast of the 12-gauge round, my ears are ringing so bad. The door falls into the room and lands with a ten-ton crunch. I struggle to my feet and follow her back in.
Dad . . .
Nearly the whole inside of the room has been obliterated, scorched. Peeled back in layers that expose the circuitry and wire and cables. There’s no body.
Not even a corpse for a casket.
Never a coffin for a Coffin, you always said.
I always knew it would be this way, too.
I thought the same thing back in jail, when they told me you were gone and I would never see you again. Now, it’s for real.
Forever.
Dad . . .
Goddamn.
And it’s my fault. If I had listened to the girl. If I had run when they told us to. If I had never let them talk me into this crazy shit. If our lives had been normal, the way you always said they should be. But everything always goes away. It’s all temporary. Family is disposable . . . love cannot stay . . .
The rage thunders in me.
I want to kill everyone. I want revenge.
No.
Calm down.
Let it go . . .
But I can’t.
I killed my father.
She sees me about to blow, sees the redness in my face and eyes, my teeth grinding in the awful burn of the moment, everything bad surrounding me in a sizzle. And she puts her hands on my shoulders, her voice eerily serene:
Resurrection Express Page 11
