The Darkest Night (Surviving the Fall 7)

“Yes, please!” Dr. Evans spoke up from the back seat. “Anything to break up the monotony of this dreadful ride!”

Rick pointed at the display which was showing an overhead image of the car on the top half and a black and white command-line window and keyboard in the bottom half. “Trying to access the root administrative systems. Some of our internal developers found backdoors into Edison’s software a year or so ago when they first went to market. If I can access that then I might be able to figure out how to get more drive time out of the gasoline engine and maybe even the solar panels.”

“Do you think some of the features were artificially locked away?” Dr. Evans leaned up, suddenly intrigued by what Rick was doing.

“That’s something Edison and a few other manufacturers were doing with their hybrid and full electric vehicles, yes. General Black strikes me as the type who would rather spend the money on the full feature set versus skimping but you never know.” Rick shrugged. “Not that it really matters. None of the old backdoors I remember still work so I can’t get into the computer and muck around with things.”

Dr. Evans slouched back in his seat and sighed. “Pity. Still, if what you say is true about what’ll happen when we run out of gas then I suppose I can continue suffering through the complete lack of suspension and cushioning back here.”

“Boys,” Jane said, “I hate to change the subject, but we should really discuss what we’re going to do now that we’re away from the complex and aren’t being chased. Speaking of which, I still can’t believe we’re not being chased.”

Rick instinctively looked in the side mirror, seeing nothing but empty fields and road stretching out to the pale Rocky Mountains. “Whatever their reason for buttoning-up was, it must have been serious.” He turned in his seat as much as possible to look at Dr. Evans in the back. “Jane’s right, though. We haven’t talked much about what you found in that database. Where exactly are we going?”

“We still need an authentication key to tell Damocles to shut itself off. I think, based on what I found in the database given to you by that soldier, our best chance is going to be heading to Washington and locating someone with access to it.”

Rick stared at Dr. Evans for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. “Seriously? What do you want to do, just walk up to the NSA’s front door and knock? I doubt anyone’s still home there and even if there was someone left they wouldn’t listen to us.”

“Be that as it may, this is the only path forward I see for us. You said you’d do whatever it takes, right?”

Rick’s smile slowly vanished and he nodded. “Yes. We have to stop this before it gets any worse. If nuclear options are coming soon on Damocles’s list then we have to act fast.”

“Then I don’t know what else to do. The only way to tell Damocles to stop is by communicating with it directly. That’s easy enough to do. But we need that encryption key. Without it we won’t be able to do anything.”

Rick sighed. “Okay. Washington it is. What if nobody’s around who can help us?”

“I spent a little bit of time at the complex the NSA used when they were working on the project. I can probably remember where to go and from there we’ll have to search individual servers—assuming we can even access them—until we find what we’re looking for.”

“How do you know the NSA was in charge?” Rick furrowed his brow. “I don’t doubt that they were but that seems like the kind of information they’d want to keep secret.”

Dr. Evans snorted. “You work with spooks long enough and you start to be able to tell them apart at a glance. The code monkeys they brought in had fresh NSA recruit written all over their faces, plus a couple of higher-ups were clearly working there too.”

“You think the facility will still have power?”

“Undoubtedly. Maybe not active but they have several different backup power mechanisms at their high-security locations. Damocles might have shut down one or two of them but not all. The quickest way we’ll be able to resolve this is by finding someone to help, so let’s hope for that.”

“Or maybe we’ll find a yellow sticky note on a monitor somewhere with the password we need.”

“Ha!” Dr. Evans laughed. “I doubt it. We should find all of the equipment we need to connect to enough Damocles systems to make the propagation of the shutdown command fairly fast.” He shrugged apologetically. “I know it sounds bleak but it’s the best we’ve got to go on.”

Rick turned back around in his seat and nodded. “Sounds like a plan. A terrible, rudimentary, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants plan. But still a plan.”

Chapter 3

Dallas, TX

The orange and yellow hues of a seemingly neverending firestorm blot out all other colors. The hellish glow is made all the more real by the addition of an intense heat that radiates through the streets, swept along by the wind and the buildings themselves.

The fires started a short time ago on the western edge of the city as gas mains cracked and burst, sending explosions rippling beneath three blocks’ worth of commercial buildings before automatic safeties kicked in. The safeties stopped the explosions from spreading to other sections of the city but did nothing to contain the fires that began to jump from building to building. Years worth of strategic dismemberment of building safety codes, as government and business colluded to make legal and illegal profits their number one priority, have resulted in a fire of unimaginable proportions.

As the fires spread people begin to panic. A few find temporary shelter underground but the lack of oxygen—all that is available is consumed by the fires—quickly leads to their demise. Most flee on the surface, running along streets, alleys and sidewalks as they leave everything but the clothes on their back to try and save themselves.

Mothers and fathers carry young children in their arms, cradling them and pushing their faces against their chests to try and protect them from the smoke, ash and violence. People shout at each other as they discover new routes they believe will save them. Some cross through a shopping mall, hoping that it proves to be a shortcut. Others descend into the sewers to try and find protection from the flames. Many try to cross a pedestrian bridge over an artificial canal, overloading it in the process and sending it—and themselves—crashing down onto the concrete below.

It is impossible to get out of the city with a vehicle. Most of them were destroyed in primary or secondary explosions before the gas fires began. The few vehicles that are left are unable to get out because there is no room for them to drive. The streets are clogged with the smoldering wreckage of all manner of cars, trucks and more.

A few who have bicycles, skateboards and even roller skates use them to great effect, at least initially. They are quickly overpowered by those without and their faster modes of transport are stolen and re-stolen again and again. Those who move too slowly in choke points are shot without hesitation, their broken and dying bodies acting as nothing more than an inconvenience to be trampled upon by those who are trying to escape.

For all of the fighting, screaming, crying, begging and pleading that goes on there is no salvation for most of the one million people who try to escape the flames. Driven by the winds and moving at speeds that cannot be matched by sheer force of will the intense heat and lack of oxygen kills all in its path. Those who survive are at the edges of the city, far from the explosions and left with escape routes both on foot and by vehicle. They flee before the approaching firestorm, seeking shelter beyond the city as they try to understand what is happening and what, if anything, they did to deserve such a torment.