Fools' Apocalypse

by Anderson Atlas

  Tanis believes the United States is the same way. The President is elected by popularity, not by what he’s done, can do, or how smart he is. Tanis even buys into the rumors that a secret group of people decide the winner so they have a puppet on strings to do as they say.

  To prove that point to Jimbo, Tanis’s best friend, he rigged the school’s election. He programmed a simple code into the main computer so that no matter who won the majority votes, Alexia would win. He’s kind of a computer hacker. Alexia was the nerdiest and least-known candidate, but she won by a landslide. It was too easy. He knows it happens in the real world. That’s how Bush and Obama won their elections. It’s all so stupid. The government lies to everyone, his teachers lie, his friends lie, and so on. Lies, lies, and more lies. The only people he trusts are his dad and mom.

  Tanis runs to the front door of the DOD building. It’s a tall, slate-gray skyscraper with a million shiny windows. The guard at the metal detector greets him with a high five like he’s three years old. Dork.

  Tanis sit his backpack on the conveyor belt and steps through the detector. It doesn’t beep, never does. He knows what not to carry in his pockets.

  The guards behind the lobby counter wave as Tanis heads for the elevators. A guy with long, black hair comes out of a room carrying some tools. His shirt says he’s an air-conditioning guy. Behind him is an armed guard packing a full auto M-4 snub-nose rifle. Nice. The elevator bell dings and the doors slide open. Tanis steps in followed by the other two. The AC guy with the black hair smiles and nods.

  Idiot, he thinks. He’s basically a plumber for cold and hot air. Shave that beard, cut your hair, and get a life, Alex, Tanis thinks. The A/C guy gets off on ten, but Tanis heads to the top.

  He knows everyone in the office, so it isn’t weird or anything. He makes his way past the cubicles, glass-partitioned offices, all the friendly people, and come to his father’s office door. He bursts in, looking to shock the hell outta pops.

  Dad looks really surprised, but doesn’t move. He’s behind his desk, frozen and stiff. Something is off. Tanis raises his hands to illustrate the surprise, but his dad just looks scared or something.

  “Come on! I got you.” Tanis said and approaches the desk.

  His dad pulls himself in, still looking like Tanis just flipped him the bird or something. There’s a thump under the desk and a squeal. Dad rolls back from his desk violently. A woman stands up wiping the corners of her mouth.

  Tanis finds himself staring at the huge boob hanging out of her shirt, nipple and all. His dad, as quickly as he can, pulls up his pants and zips his fly.

  “I thought you locked the door,” the lady hisses. She tucks her boob into her bra and buttons up. She’s buff lookin’ and has a nice scar on the right side of her face that runs to her jaw. She fixes her hair and stomps out of the room. Not before glancing at Tanis with a crooked smile like she isn’t mad at all.

  Dad gets up and grabs Tanis’s arm, digging in his fingers. “You just screwed our whole family!” he snaps.

  Tanis cries out in pain and is pushed into the chair in front of the desk. “Stay here. I’ll be back.” He chases after the broad with the big tits.

  Tanis doesn’t know why, but he cries. So his dad’s a liar, too. How could he do this to Ma? They’re like soul mates, so happy, and always on each other like they’ve been in love forever.

  He stands and paces. So now his parents are gonna get a divorce, and he’ll have to go back and forth between the two of them like a yoyo. He kicks the desk, hard.

  The boob lady bursts into the room and beelines it to the desk. She picks up a thin leather satchel that was sitting on the edge and turns. “Your father’s a great man,” is all she says. She sounds like a ditz.

  “Get outta here.” Tanis looks down and coincidentally sees a logo imprinted on her leather satchel. He recognizes it. It’s a simplified globe graphic with INA Global underneath it. Someone starts beating a bass drum; oh, that’s his heart. She’s still staring and smiling. She takes her hand and slowly covers the logo. “Your dad made a mistake. It won’t happen again. Don’t tear your family apart because of one mess up.” She turns and walks out of the room, intentionally swinging her ass like a pendulum.

  Bitch! is his first thought. Not because she was sucking off his dad but because of that logo. INA Global rumors have been all over the chat rooms lately. It was a company that didn’t exist officially, but was supposedly into building satellite weapon systems. This chick is a corporate spy. She’s got to be using his dad to get information.

  Tanis pulls out his tablet and clicks on the external keyboard. What’s her game? He logs on to Blacknet, a hacker site on the Deep Web. It’s not a place for the faint of heart, but he goes there to learn and chat with other hackers, not to browse porn, gamble, or hire a hit man. That shit is for losers.

  His contact list is flush with people available to talk, but he’s looking for Zilla.

  Two months ago he was on a chat with a few guys from Anonymous. They were discussing the hacker war between the U.S. and China. The DOD was hiring anyone with half a brain to combat all the daily security breaches from Chinese hackers. They were paying good money, too. Then this Zilla guy popped up on the board. He didn’t just have two cents to contribute, he had a thousand. He started uploading actual docs!

  Tanis had never seen classified stuff before, and it blew his mind. He was especially taken in by this company called INA Global. They’d built a kinetic bombardment system. It could launch projectiles from a satellite at any target on Earth. The speed the bullets would gain traveling from space to the ground gave it so much force it would rival the biggest bombs on the shelf.

  Space-based weapons were totally against international law. Tanis’s father didn’t even like them, saying they would be too easy to use as a weapon of mass destruction.

  Zilla had documents that proved INA Global was looking for a buyer. They were accepting bids from China and Venezuela and Russia. He also claimed that INA Global was lobbying senators and congressmen. Zilla said there were corporate spies in the state department and the DOD.

  And Tanis just found one.

  TN*8 (Tanis’s handle)

  “Zilla, I’ve got news.”

  Zilla responds instantly.

  “All eyes, bro.”

  TN*8

  “I saw this lady try to conceal an INA Global logo. She was acting weird. She’s in my dad’s pants, and I think she’s using him.”

  Zilla

  “She’s a mark. This is what we’ve been talking about. This is real. It’s happening.”

  TN*8

  “I don’t know, man. This big, too big.”

  Zilla

  “Too big for you. But not for me. Give me access to your dad’s computer, and I’ll find out if she’s been messing around in there. Then I can probably get on her box and put a bug in there so we can monitor what she does.”

  TN*8

  “I could get in trouble. I should just tell my dad.”

  Zilla

  “Dude, he’s not gonna believe you. INA doesn’t exist. We need proof. Plus, there might be more spies in that office.”

  Tanis trusts him. He’s got Einstein brains. Dad’s computer stares at him, still logged on.

  Zilla

  “Hurry, before your dad comes back. We only have one chance for this.”

  Tanis plugs a specialty USB cord into his tablet, and then pauses just before plugging in. “Will I go to jail? Is this right?”

  Zilla

  “Do it now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity!”

  Tanis slams the USB home. Both computers blink out. He wiggles the connection, but it’s in.

  “What the—?” he says.

  Dad’s monitor comes back online displaying a text box.

  Nice work little dude. Pack up and get out of New York. I’ll find and reward you. ~Zilla.

  Tanis pulls the USB cord from the computer, yanks the keyboard off the tablet and crams them
into his backpack.

  He sits and waits. There’s a quiet in the office that makes him feel uneasy. The energy in his body makes him stand and pace. Zilla said, little dude. How does he know I’m short? I’ve only told him general information. He also said get out of New York. I told him my father worked in an office in Washington, DC.

  Tanis glances at the camera on top of the monitor. It’s covered with a square piece of plastic. Zilla can’t see him now, but it’s obvious he knows who he really is. No, no, no.

  Tanis’s has got to distract himself. He pulls out the tablet and turns on a game. He plays for a half hour, but he’s dying constantly. Sweat makes his hands slippery and his thoughts distracted.

  His dad comes in the office and drops a meatball sandwich in his lap. It’s from Pizzano’s. The heat off the marinara burns. “Eat. I’ve got to handle a small crisis, but I’ll be right back. We need to discuss this little incident.” He leaves, slamming the door.

  Tanis tries to eat, but can’t. More time passes, and he’s ready to bolt when an alarm goes off and someone yells. He backs away from the desk, pressing his back against the window. His heart jumps around in his rib cage like a monkey on speed. Crap, I’m goin’ to jail.

  Dad throws open the door. His face is as intense as he’s ever seen it. “Big trouble. Do not leave!” he orders, then slams and locks the door.

  Tanis looks out the window and down to the street, which is over fifty stories below. “Please, God. I don’t want to go to jail,” he whimpers.

  Suddenly, the lights turn off and are replaced by emergency lights, flinging red over everything.

  I need to get out of here. I’d rather go on the run than to jail. Maybe Zilla can give him a place to stay until this thing blows over. Shit. He should’ve thought about this.

  Tanis runs to the door but can’t unlock it. He puts his ear to the door and listens to some guy yelling at the top of his lungs.

  “The Constellation is down, sir. Every satellite! Not just the North American workgroup, but the European one as well. A computer virus has taken over the bios wiping out our onboard memory and erasing our protocols. I can’t communicate at all. Internet servers are going down all over. We’re sitting ducks.”

  Someone else yells, “Level ten has shut down the building, sir. Our contamination alarms have gone off. There’s a virus in the building.”

  “What are you talking about?” yells some other dude. “A computer virus or a biological one?”

  “Biological, sir. An unknown substance is setting off alarms on level ten. APS ventilation system has taken over initiating anti-contamination protocols.”

  “What substance?”

  “Not sure, but the system didn’t like something in our ducts!”

  Tanis is a caged rat. Was this my fault? I’m only fifteen. Can they try me as an adult? Hell yeah, they can. There’s nowhere to go. Then he notices the vent. It’s big enough and his only option. He grabs his backpack, pull out his Swiss Army knife, then runs to the vent by the desk. He unscrews the plate and worms his way inside. The next office door over shouldn’t be locked. If he can crawl a few feet to that vent he’ll be able to get to the stairwell.

  Tanis squirms down the shaft. He’s getting close to the next office.

  Two metal doors slide closed, one in front, the other behind. Shit! Tanis screams in his head. His asthma kicks in full gear and he can’t breathe! He reaches behind, pulls his inhaler from the backpack, and sucks on it twice, three times, but it doesn’t help. I need out!

  Tanis passes out like someone pulled his power cord.

  Chapter 1.9

  Ben

  Adjusting to the Darkness

  Ben doesn’t have a Ferrari to drive anymore. Sucks. He thinks about walking home but changes his mind. He must be having a moment of clarity because he realizes that the guard can identify him. There’s no doubt he will be popped for this stunt. Maybe the judge will be lenient and only give him twenty years for poisoning millions of people.

  Ben decides to turn himself in instead of running. Get it over with. Three squares a day doesn’t sound too bad.

  Ben stumbles past the offices and runs his badge to gain access the mixing room. The alarms still blare, but he doesn’t mind. As he descends down the metal stairs, he sings at the top of his lungs to drown out the racket. Two steps down and he slips, falls all the way to the bottom and nails his head on the concrete floor.

  He wakes up lying next to the tap-water circulation tank with a headache the size of the Chrysler Building. Dried blood saturates his hair. What the fuck time is it? It’s so dark, he can’t see his watch so he hits the light button. It’s stiff and hurts his thumb and fails to light up. He shakes the watch, but it’s dead. He surprised the cops haven’t found him yet. The alarms were going off for hours, but they’re quiet now. Where are the workers?

  Ben feels his way back to the stairs. They guide him out of the tank farm. I guess I’ll go home. The cops can pick me up there. The door to the offices are wide open, and there isn’t a light on in there either. The entire building is dark. That should never happen. He stumbles down the hall, feeling the wall for guidance.

  He finds and opens the closet he’d stuffed Stanford in. “Don’t hate me, dude!” Ben yells. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry I knocked you out. I’m goin’ to the cops, I swear. I don’t know why I did it. I’m an asshole.” It felt good to say that out loud. Huh, Ben thinks. He doesn’t feel good, ever.

  Stanford was still crammed on the floor of the closet. “Wake up, dude. And whatever you do, don’t turn on your tap for a few weeks.”

  Stanford isn’t moving. Ben leans closer and shakes his shoulder. “Get up. Go home.” He was cool to Ben, so the least he could do is get him outta this closet. Hell, he did him a favor knocking him out. He won’t get sick. “Stanford, buddy?”

  The guard isn’t breathing.

  “Hey, what the fuck, dude.” Ben slaps him across the face and then leans close. He’s dead.

  Ben sits and stares into the dark of the hallway. A lump fills his throat like he’d swallowed a snake.

  Now he’s done it. I’m a fucking retard.

  Ben leans over and throws up bile and goo. His body convulses so he lays next to Stanford, wanting to die. The pain and the fear and the sadness wracks his brain, and the darkness becomes a kaleidoscope of color.

  After who-knows-how-long, Ben stands reluctantly and leaves.

  There isn’t a single light on in the city. It’s like the fucking dark side of the moon. The tall shadows don’t look like buildings but the walls of towering cliffs. Oh, but there are stars out, lots of stars.

  Ben walks to Broadway and turn south. Sweat bursts from his pores and he’s instantly drenched. Why is the summer air so fucking hot? Jesus, I must have descended into hell.

  Through the dark of night, the city literally looks like hell. Car wrecks are all over the place and dead people cluster in the shadows like scattered dolls.

  Ben lives on the edge of East Harlem, which is seven blocks away. He jogs one block before he’s out of breath.

  A fire rages in the upper floors of an apartment building. There are people up there. He thinks for a moment about seeing who they are, and if they need help, but decides against it. They’re probably fucked. He’s not about to get killed helping strangers.

  Farther down 126th Street, he feels panic rising. It occurs to him that this might be his handiwork. Did the bacteria Zilla gave me kill everyone? How is that even possible? It was supposed to get everyone sick. No one was supposed to die. Ben races all the way home. He needs a few hits from his bong and some shots of tequila.

  The front door of his building is wide open. A scrawny dude is sprawled out in the doorway. Ben steps over his motionless body. The hallway is so dark. Someone upstairs screams. Ben just wants to get to his apartment, crawl into his bed, and wake from this horror. It seems like a dream, a really bad dream, a nightmare of biblical proportions.

  He stumbles to the stai
rway and starts to climb. A few floors up he feels like one of the Ghostbusters climbing to the top of Central Park West. Ben keeps one hand on the railing, trying to keep his feet from missing a step. Three more flights up and he has to step over another body.

  Ben pulls his shirt collar over his nose, trying to resist the rank smell that fills the stairwell. That fails because all he smells is piss. I must have pissed myself. Ben finds his apartment and locks himself inside.

  #

  The morning finally comes. He leaves the apartment only because he needs food. He’d eaten everything in the house and smoked all his weed. He’s also going stir crazy because the there’s no Streamflix or a TV for that matter, running water, or lights. He’s got a flask full of whiskey that’s just not enough.

  Outside his door there’s a package he hadn’t noticed in the pitch black. It has a bright red label on the front and the words ‘URGENT’ stamped all over the box. Ben rips the tape off and opens it. Inside is a red syringe suspended in a plastic package. High tech looking, straight from the corporate machine. He picks up the note tucked beside the syringe.

  Thank you for helping me take down the wicked city. Now, as your reward, inject the shot into your arm. Or maybe you’d rather die with the rest of them.

  ~Zilla.

  Ben plunges the syringe into his arm. Helped take down the city? So the bug in the water was part of a much larger plan. Fuck. He dropped the ultimate bomb on millions of people. He didn’t just make people sick, he killed them. No, man. He’s frozen for a minute, then chucks the empty syringe down the stairwell. It flies down the first flight, careens off the railing, and shatters on the opposite wall. The sound is oddly beautiful. It holds him in its echo for a moment. He’s safe, right? That was his get-out-of-death-free card.