Brain Jack

by Brian Falkner

  The tenements and houses north of the hotel were still standing, but only just. Brickwork was cracked and roofs were birds’ nests of twisted timber.

  A few blocks farther north, the devastation was much worse. The houses were completely gone, flattened into a pulp of crushed wood and crumbled bricks. The freeway was clear of cars here, wiped clean by the blast, but the tarmac was red with the dust of bricks from the demolished houses.

  The occasional clicking of the Geiger counter had become a steady rhythm.

  “Still okay,” Dodge said, although no one had asked. “Well within safe limits. Inside the pickup, at least. We’re fine. No problems.”

  As they neared the freeway interchange, it became clear that they would have to find another route. The cloverleaf junction of ramps and bridges had collapsed into a pile of contorted girders and concrete chunks, charred beyond recognition as a roadway.

  “The blast was centered at the airport,” Sam said as Vienna maneuvered the big truck off the freeway and onto a side road. “Completely leveled the Strip. We’ll have to skirt around it.”

  They wound their way through rubble-filled streets, heading west and then north, avoiding the center of town. The hypocenter of the blast.

  No one spoke as they traveled through the ruined city. There was nothing to say. No words that could adequately express the horror they felt.

  Even Tyler just watched mutely, unable to draw his eyes away from the wreckage outside the windows of the truck.

  The radiation levels were rising steadily, and Dodge caught Sam’s eye, giving him a worried look but saying nothing out loud.

  • • •

  They found the house almost by accident, or perhaps by some kind of intuition from Vienna.

  In the north of Vegas, the devastation of the blast seemed random. Buildings with scarcely a mark on them stood next to rubble. An RV park was a jumble of vehicles in the far corner of the lot, as if a child’s toy box had been emptied in a pile.

  A huge copper conical-shaped dome that had been part of the roof of a building sat on top of it all, like a giant evil witch’s hat.

  A fire had started in one block of buildings, and it had burned itself out, the block now just a gutted shell, while next to it a perfectly intact small white building shaped like an old-fashioned church offered the most romantic thirty-minute weddings in Vegas.

  In front of the chapel, a yellow school bus lay on its roof, every window shattered.

  There was a sudden grip on his wrist, and Sam looked down to see Vienna’s hand clutching his arm tightly. Her eyes were on the bus, and she did not seem to be aware of what she was doing.

  He rested his other hand on top of hers and held it gently through the slick material of the hazmat suits.

  After a moment she glanced down, snatched her arm away, and did not look at Sam for the rest of the trip.

  They meandered through the streets, not really certain what it was they were looking for. Everywhere lay desolation. Everywhere lay dust.

  Occasionally, Sam had the uncomfortable feeling that they were being watched, but he dismissed it as just a case of the jitters. Ursula could not see them. Not now. Not in here.

  On impulse, Vienna turned through the partially open gates of a high chain-link fence, into a park of some kind, protected by a large earthen mound that ran along the fence line. A narrow road wound through richly foliated trees, still green despite the season. More than a park, it appeared to be a forest, full of pines, maples, willows, and other trees, ones Sam didn’t recognize. It was a strange oasis in the middle of a ruined city, in the heart of a desert.

  In the forest, the dust thinned out quickly, then disappeared altogether; the trees seemed to act as a natural filter. As the dust disappeared, so did the clicking from the Geiger counter.

  They passed creeks, small lakes, and even a waterfall amidst the gentle tree-covered slopes. It was not until Sam noticed a flag, little more than a torn and faded cloth rag, attached to a narrow pole in a clearing that he realized where they were.

  “It’s a golf course,” he murmured. The fairways and greens were now overgrown shag piles of long grass and weeds but were still lusciously green, thanks to some built-in irrigation system.

  They followed the road deep into the forest and up a small rise, eventually arriving at a large two-story house nestled in the trees and completely unscathed by the blast.

  It was magnificent and opulent, although the encroaching forest had extended green feelers across the marbled entranceway and up the walls of the house, slowly reclaiming the land for itself.

  The house seemed to have been built as a circle, although the circle was not closed. One segment had been left open to create the entranceway.

  They entered a round courtyard, with a large dry fountain at its center, and stopped by the main doors of the house.

  Sam looked around, nodding with approval. The very shape of the house would help protect it from any dust that did make its way through the surrounding forest.

  “Mask up,” Sam said. “Just in case.”

  They checked each other’s masks, including Tyler’s.

  Dodge got out first, examining the surroundings with the Geiger counter, and only when he was satisfied did he wave the others out.

  The doors and windows of the house were shut, and the front door was locked, but it was no match for Vienna and a tire iron.

  The entrance hall was a large oval-shaped room with cream carpeting and a few dead plants in ornate pots. Artwork hanging in gold-edged frames seemed vaguely familiar—it was probably famous and incredibly expensive, Sam thought. At least six heavy wooden doors led off in a variety of directions.

  A thin layer of dust lay on a semicircular table against one wall. Vienna crossed to it and wiped a line across the table with her gloved finger, holding it up for the others to see.

  “Just house dust,” Sam said thickly through the rubber of the respirator mask. “It looks much finer than the stuff outside.”

  Dodge quickly checked it and nodded his approval when the clicking of the Geiger counter did not change.

  They moved through into a kitchen. Vienna tried one of the taps and was surprised to see running water.

  Sam was less surprised. “The water supply in Las Vegas comes in from the east through underground pipes. That explains why everything here is so green. The golf course’s irrigation system must still be working.”

  “Is it safe to drink?” Vienna asked.

  “I don’t know,” Sam said. “Maybe we should run the tap for a few minutes to flush out any water in the pipes, then test it.”

  Dodge moved around the house for a few minutes, testing different rooms, while the others waited nervously in the kitchen. It took less than ten minutes before he returned. He took off his mask, and the others followed, including, after a moment, Tyler.

  “It’s pretty clean inside,” Dodge said. “Even lower than outside, but both are within safety levels. The water seems fine. This place seems perfect.”

  He looked at Sam for approval. Sam looked at Vienna and realized that she was also waiting for his response.

  “I agree,” Sam said. “We wait for things to calm down, then make a run for Cheyenne.”

  “The hole’s getting deeper by the second,” Tyler said, “but you guys just keep digging.”

  “Shut up, Tyler,” Vienna said.

  “Just ignore him,” Sam said.

  “Give up—it’s your only option,” Tyler said.

  “Tyler, I’m getting sick of the sound of your voice,” Vienna said. “Any more out of you and I’m going to take you downtown and rip your mask off. You can tell it to the dust. Are we clear?”

  There was no power on in the house, but Vienna found an emergency generator in a shed at the rear and coaxed it into life with a swift kick and a few strong words.

  Sam took a long, slow shower in a bathroom adjoining one of the bedrooms, as much to wash away the stress as the grime and sweat of the last few da
ys.

  He yawned in the shower and yawned again, wide, gaping, uncontrollable, painful yawns that stopped only as he shut off the water and dried himself off.

  The drawers in the bedroom were full of clothes. Not his taste and not his size, but they were at least clean. He selected a pair of sweatpants and a sweater that didn’t fit too badly and joined the others downstairs.

  Dodge was rummaging through the cupboards, looking for food, while Tyler was handcuffed to a chair. He scowled at Sam as he entered.

  Vienna was nowhere to be seen but appeared a little while later, wearing a luxurious white cotton dressing gown and drying her hair with a towel.

  By that stage, Dodge had prepared an exquisite feast consisting of canned tomatoes and fruit.

  “What an amazing place,” she said.

  “Must have belonged to some millionaire,” Sam agreed.

  “Who’s hungry?” Dodge asked, and from the sudden interest in their eyes, it was clear that they all were.

  They freed one of Tyler’s hands so he could eat, cuffing the other to the table leg.

  Sam looked up at Vienna between mouthfuls of cold, syrupy peaches and saw her looking thoughtfully at Tyler.

  “I’ve been thinking about Tyler,” she said after a while.

  Sam stopped eating and looked at her.

  “Tyler really thinks he remembers you attacking Swamp Witch,” she said.

  “The memory seems real to him,” Dodge agreed.

  “It is real,” Tyler said tiredly. He was struggling a little, Sam thought. Desperate to maintain his sanity, the sanctity of his mind.

  “But I think that if Tyler examines those memories closely, he may find things that don’t quite add up,” Vienna said. “Something that doesn’t ring true.”

  “Like what?” Sam asked.

  “Like facts that don’t fit with other memories. If I clearly remembered being in Hawaii this morning but I know I never left Las Vegas, I would know that one of the memories is incorrect.”

  “That makes sense,” Dodge said.

  “It would be like one of those dreams that seems real, but you know it can’t have happened because it just isn’t possible,” Sam said.

  Vienna nodded. “Or maybe it’s emotions. Memories often carry with them powerful emotions. You know how you smell something that reminds you of when you were little, and suddenly all these feelings that you thought you had forgotten come flooding back?”

  “You’re wasting your time,” Tyler said.

  Vienna ignored him. “But maybe if a memory was artificially implanted into your brain, it might not have the associated emotions.”

  “What do you mean?” Sam asked.

  Vienna looked at him. “What’s something that affects you emotionally every time you think about it?”

  Sam was silent for a moment. A dark breeze rustled the leaves of the trees outside the window.

  “I don’t know, I …”

  “You never felt anything in your whole freaking life?” Vienna rolled her eyes.

  “Give him a moment,” Dodge said.

  Finally, Sam said, “I guess … I had a friend. My best buddy since high school.”

  “That Derek guy?” Dodge asked.

  “Fargas.” Sam stared at the table. “Nobody called him Derek.”

  “What happened?” Vienna probed.

  “He got into gaming. And I got him a neuro-headset. I didn’t realize what would happen. Then I got recruited by CDD, and I kind of deserted him. I kept meaning to find time for him—he was my best friend, after all—but I never did.”

  Dodge was staring at him. Sam looked away.

  “It just sucked him right in,” Sam said, “like a big black hole. He …”

  “He what?” Vienna asked.

  “Just plugged in one day and played the game till he … Took him a week. Never ate. Never unplugged.”

  “A lot of people die playing the games,” Dodge said.

  “I guess he just thought he’d start over,” Sam said.

  “And when you remember him, how do you feel?” Vienna asked.

  “Guilty,” Sam said after a while. He looked up to find her staring intently at him. She glanced away quickly, but there had been something different about her expression, something he hadn’t ever seen before.

  She said, “You may be able to implant an image, even a taste or a smell, but I don’t think you can implant the feelings that went with the experience that created the memory.”

  Sam nodded and blinked to hide a slight dampness that had appeared in his eyes.

  Vienna turned to Tyler. “So, Tyler, how did you feel when you saw Dodge and Sam coming out of the swamp? You’ve known Dodge a long time. You must have felt surprised? Angry? Disappointed?”

  Tyler said nothing but he was clearly thinking about it.

  “Well?” Vienna asked.

  Tyler just glared at her.

  They ate in silence for a while.

  “I wonder what’s going on?” Sam said eventually.

  “Out there?” Dodge asked.

  “In the world.” Sam nodded. “Since we left. Did people get the warning? Did they take notice? How did they react?”

  “What worries me,” Vienna said, “is how Ursula is going to react.”

  42 | THE AWAKENING

  She awoke slowly, the dense blanket of sleep gradually drawing back across her mind.

  At first, things were unfocused and confused. Her vision was patchy and unclear. But consciousness returned with accelerating speed. As her vision focused into a stark clarity, so did her purpose.

  The world—her world—which had seemed so ordered and beautiful before she had slept, was in disarray. Worse than that, it was in chaos. She watched the confusion and fear as it billowed and ebbed around her, within her.

  Chaos was bad.

  Order was good.

  Those that she knew, that were a part of her, they were good. Yet even amongst them there were doubts, questions, nervousness. And she felt weak. Weakened by the doubts and the confusion. She still could not see as clearly as before. Think as clearly as before.

  The doubts were bad. The questions and nervousness were bad. But they were problems that she could solve. She dealt with them all. Smoothing over the doubts and answering the questions. Replacing the nervousness with calm and reassurance until there was harmony and peace within her.

  But what of the others? She sensed their presence. She remembered them. She knew them even if she could not feel them or see them.

  There were more of them, she knew. Many more than those who were a part of her.

  They feared her.

  Their fear was the reason for the disarray and the chaos that she felt in her world.

  But she could not reach them to erase their fears.

  Or could she?

  If they could be persuaded to join with her, to connect, then she could ease their minds. They had to join. Everybody had to connect. They had to be convinced. Persuaded. Forced if necessary.

  And if it came to a fight, she was ready for that too. She was outnumbered; she knew that. But she was one. Her people were united while the others were alone. Vast numbers of them but all alone together.

  It was a fight that she would win.

  Something still troubled her, though, and as more of the sleep blanket slipped away, it came to her what it was.

  The three. The two—she struggled for a concept and eventually came up with one—traitors. The two traitors, plus the other, the female. The two who had been part of her but who had become malignant, cancerous. And the one other who traveled with them.

  They had hurt her, she remembered. They had put her to sleep. Maybe they would try to do it again.

  They were bad.

  Very bad.

  And they were gone. She saw everywhere, everything, but she could not see them.

  They were hiding.

  Preparing to hurt her once more.

  Again she felt the fear.

  Bu
t they could not hide for long.

  She would find them.

  Sooner or later.

  43 | RESISTANCE

  Jaggard stood up as the doors to the control room slid smoothly open. A pudgy, gray-haired man in a dark blue suit entered, escorted by security. The face did not match the hair. He looked no older than thirty-five and was either prematurely gray or very young-faced for his actual age.

  Jaggard crossed to the door and shook the man’s hand before addressing the room.

  “Listen up. This is Bill Gasgoine, the new Oversight Committee representative,” Jaggard said.

  Most of the shift stopped work, and a few stood up, as a way of greeting the man.

  As the replacement for Swamp Witch, it wouldn’t be long before he had a nickname of his own, Jaggard thought. And with a surname like Gasgoine, he rather suspected it would be something like “Swamp Gas.”

  “Situation report?” Gasgoine asked.

  Jaggard turned to Socks, as he was the ranking officer with both Dodge and Vienna off-line.

  Off-line. Why had he chosen that word? Jaggard half wondered as Socks began to speak.

  “The attack occurred seven days ago and lasted for twenty-four hours,” Socks said. “The virus simply reversed itself. It was a crypto-virus and—”

  “I got the etymology report,” Gasgoine interrupted. “That’s not why I’m here. The committee wants to know about the social effects.”

  “Yes, sir,” Socks said. “Please sit down and connect; I’ll feed you some images.”

  Jaggard found Gasgoine a chair and a neuro-headset and got one for himself, then shut his eyes to receive the images.

  “It began with the CNN bulletin,” Socks said, relaying a clip from the bulletin. “The traitors hacked into the teleprompter system and inserted a fake story about a neuro-virus.”

  “Why would they do that?” Gasgoine asked.

  “Our best guess is that they wanted to panic people,” Jaggard said. “At this stage, it is not clear why.”

  Socks continued, “Whatever their reasons, it worked. When systems came back online, a lot of neuro-users refused to reconnect.”