Showing posts with label chapter one. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chapter one. Show all posts

Sunday, March 18, 2018

THE DARK THRESHOLD - Chapter One

Friends, I promised a surprise and I'm here to make good on the promise. Along with the selections I'm posting as I write, I decided to release the first chapter of THE DARK THRESHOLD in its entirety. This may be subject to change in the edit process, but here is Chapter One as it currently stands.

- ONE -



Lights stabbed through winter twilight, setting the raging blizzard ablaze with twin beams of shifting white fire. The matte-black Spyder assault vehicle crushed along through the storm with an urgency born of terror. Its driver blindly felt his way through swirling snow as he struggled to put miles between him and the gory scene he had left behind.

Night was falling, yet safety was nowhere to be found.

Mr. Vickers squinted hard out of the truck’s windshield as he drove, straining to see the street ahead in the gathering darkness. The pelting snow dizzied him. It felt as though a tunnel of spacetime had engulfed him and a frantic starfield rushed towards his face, hurtling to the side at the last moment with every flick of the windshield wipers. The autodrive and mapping function hung limp from a sheaf of ripped wires dangling from the dashboard, killing any chance of using the nav computer for guidance. Not like he’d want to do that. A working nav computer meant that Central Admin could track him, and that was the very last thing he needed.

The adrenaline that had flowed in his veins only ten minutes before had begun to recede, leaving tattered exhaustion and confusion in its wake. Explosions still rang in his ears and flashed behind his eyes. Disturbing images and impressions as well: the sight of a little girl smashing a full-grown man into a door, then blowing him away with automatic gunfire; the concussion of a grenade shattering glass, the stench of blood. His mind still refused to accept what he’d seen, although he knew that it was not only possible but true. He should have known all along that Sonya was capable of such violence. Because her father was too…

Mr. Vickers spared a short glance to the back seat where the curled-up form of that same little girl was barely visible in the dingy light. Drying blood caked her clothes and hands. Her breathing came in erratic, chaotic bursts. Her eyes were fixed wide open; two barely blinking stony orbs, staring at nothing. Her teeth chattered but not with the cold. A look of profound terror gripped her features. As Mr. Vickers turned to look at her she shied away behind her hands and her entire body tightened.
“Sonya,” the old priest breathed barely above a whisper. “Talk to me. Please.”

“NO!” the little girl screamed back, a violent, shrill sound. The sound of a mind without focus, a body that obeyed other powers. “Get the voices out! Make them stop! My head hurts!”

Mr. Vickers turned back and tried to keep an eye on the road while he glanced at her in the rear-view mirror. He ached with empathy as he listened to her. “I know it does, Sonya. But we have to get away from the men who tried to hurt you before I can help you.”

“Leave me alone! Shut up!” Sonya shrieked back at him. Her breathing went ragged, causing her whole body to twitch with the effort. “They're all dead, I made them die.” She slipped a thumb into her mouth and began to suck, the other hand pulling distractedly at her hair. Dried blood flaked from her fingers onto the seat as she fidgeted.

Mr. Vickers gave up on reasoning with her for the moment. It was useless. Her mind had snapped, some synapse in her tortured brain losing a vital connection to some other corner. If the grim data Verite had captured on the reactive computer bore out, Sonya would be facing massive problems very soon. But how soon? And what sorts of problems? Every person who’d been programmed via the reactive computer responded to its electronic violations differently.

He gritted his teeth and concentrated on the road again. There were a couple places they could go, none of them ideal but at this point nothing was ideal. His mind fixed on one in particular, a home in Arlington owned by a man whom he called friend. Doctor Harold Mann, a cardiovascular surgeon too timid to join Verite outright but not so timid that he refused outright to help when called upon. At least, Mr. Vickers hoped he could call upon the man now, if only for temporary relief. Going toward Central Admin made his stomach ill, but fleeing back west was out of the question now. Sonya had heard a second assault team approaching from the back yard, and the priest was sure that if Central Admin was coming from that direction, then they knew about the service road. They would know which direction he would flee.

In fact, it sounded like Central Admin knew the whole truth now.

Mr. Vickers’ heart convulsed with grief at the thought of Annalise. Annalise, that poor troubled woman, so strong and yet so weak, grasping for goodness but recoiling like a person burned when she found it. Annalise. Verite’s eyes and ears inside Central Admin. His reluctant but persistent pupil, an earnest soul asking all the right questions. His eyes burned with tears as he remembered their last interaction that morning in her kitchen. He’d held the loaded magazine for her gun in his hands, turning it over and over as he waited for her to descend the stairs on her way to work. He knew as soon as he’d seen her that she’d been crying all night long; that look of utter desperation and despair on her beautiful face haunted him. What would become of her now he could only imagine. No, he didn’t want to imagine. It was too ugly to contemplate.

He put all of that out of his mind and returned to the task at hand. Arlington lay somewhere beyond the swirling snow in front of him, but even reading street signs in this weather proved difficult. He strained to see the signs at the next intersection and his heart leaped when the marker for George Mason Drive came into view. George Mason Drive led directly to the Virginia Hospital Center, although that wasn’t quite where he wanted to go. Walking into any hospital within a fifteen-mile radius with a psychotic little girl in tow would get them both arrested on the spot. No, three blocks past the hospital was the real destination. Dr. Mann would be getting the surprise of his life tonight at his home.

But the first rule of the day: to ditch the Spyder. That had to be done before anything else. To continue toting it around was suicide. Perhaps Sonya could be persuaded to walk? Or perhaps Dr. Mann could help there too. The good doctor stood a foot taller than Mr. Vickers and had always been the one with the stronger back, if Sonya needed carrying.

Another ten minutes passed in relative silence, the only sounds being the swish of snow against the tires of the truck and the flick-flick of the wiper blades. Of the few cars that passed him, all gave him a wide berth as he hoped they would. The falling snow intensified, limiting his vision to only about fifty feet beyond the hood of the Spyder. He saw the hospital creep by on his left and began counting houses, paranoid that he would somehow not recognize the place. One, two, three blocks passed, and a familiar faux wrought-iron lamppost came into view on the left side. Beyond lay a two-story detached home in a dismal brown color, made all the more dismal by the ice that crusted it. It hunched on the top of a little hill like a shivering homeless man trying to fit between two trash cans.
Mr. Vickers hesitated, then sped up before turning left at the following corner. Parking a Spyder in the doctor’s driveway would be stupid. There was an alleyway down the side street here, he knew, which would conceal the vehicle long enough for him to alert Dr. Mann to the situation. He pulled into the alley and turned the truck’s systems off, then turned to Sonya again.

“I will be right back, Sonya,” he whispered into the back seat, pondering the girl’s sprawled form. “Sonya? Sonya?!”

There was no answer. Sonya’s eyes were closed, but she was not asleep in any normal sense of the word. Her body kept twitching, small but disturbing uncontrolled movements of her arms and legs. Her eyes moved behind the lids, quick and persistent. Her breathing had shallowed considerably since the last time she’d spoken.

“So it’s already begun,” Mr. Vickers murmured, his heart thudding in mild panic. There wasn’t much time.

He pushed the door open into a chilling breeze and slid down to the pavement, landing in almost a foot of snow. More snow still fell all around him, rasping lightly against the world as it settled down. With one last glance into the Spyder to make sure Sonya was going nowhere, the priest shuffled down the alley and up the steps into Dr. Mann’s side yard. The snow piled even deeper up here, away from the protective walls of the alley. He pushed his way to the side door of the drab brown house and knocked three times hard.

A long tense moment passed, a moment of hesitation and doubt that Dr. Mann would show his face. Mr. Vickers heard no movement, saw nothing through the thin gauzy curtains guarding the window of the door from prying eyes. Then, when he had determined to knock once more, he saw a shadow descend on the curtain and watched as a hand from inside pushed the fabric aside. A round face framed in long graying hair appeared in the gap, a sad expression on the ample mouth. The mouth opened in a small gape, then the doorknob rattled as the doctor unlocked the bolt.

“Edmund Vickers,” Dr. Mann exclaimed under his breath, looking the priest up and down with a sad appraising glance. “As I live and breathe. Although you tend to bring trouble my way. Will I be allowed to live and breathe for much longer, I wonder?”

“You gloomy old fool,” Mr. Vickers retorted, cracking a small smile and clasping hands with his friend. The smile faded in the next instant. “I need your help, and I need it now. I have no one else I can ask right now. Please tell me you can help.”

Dr. Mann withdrew his hand and cracked his knuckles nervously. “What sort of help?”

“A girl under my charge, no more than about eight years old. She’s slipping into a coma and she needs treatment.” Mr. Vickers stopped, then added with reluctance, “We’ve been found out, Harold. Central Admin is looking for us. I won’t lie to you about how much danger this puts you in.”

Dr. Mann rubbed his hands together, his breath steaming nervously into the frigid air. “Shit. I wish you had lied to me.”

Mr. Vickers shrugged as the smile returned for a moment. “I’m a priest, Harry. It wouldn’t be right.”

Dr. Mann snorted. “Sometimes I regret the day I met you, Ed.” He thrust his head out the door, glancing around. “Where is this girl?”

“Her name is Sonya. She’s immobile in the back of my vehicle. I wondered if you could carry her inside while I ditch the truck.”

The surgeon’s eyebrows shot up. “Whose car did you use?”

“Long story.” Mr. Vickers hesitated again. “And … don’t mind the blood. It’s not hers, although she’s covered in it.”

“Fuck this,” Dr. Mann grumbled, snatching his coat off a hook by the door and following Mr. Vickers outside. “Next time this happens you fucking lie to me, Ed. I don’t want to know why or what you’re doing.”


“If there even is a next time,” Mr. Vickers shot back ruefully.


Sunday, January 19, 2014

The SubVersion Complex, Chapter One Revised

I had a short but intriguing conversation with my sister-in-law this past week concerning the first chapter of my book that I had published. She suggested that she liked the chapter and that she realized that I was not planning on giving much away in the first four pages, but that she would have preferred to have a bit more emotional involvement in the fate of the prisoner than was originally portrayed. I thought about that one long and hard, and realized that the character of Captain James could be used in place of another character I had been planning for later on. I revised Chapter 1 to reflect this change. It should be subtle but sufficient to suggest the new status of the characters. Hopefully the connection between the characters I have included now lends more involvement to the scene. Enjoy the changes, and thank you Caitlin for the suggestions!

╗ ONE ╚

BREACH



“Perimeter control to Central, come in please...”

“Go ahead, perimeter control, you're on vox. The room can hear you.”

“Central, we think we have a problem.”

A ripple of professional consternation murmured around the Central Control room as each man at his post began to check monitors and stats. The tension dripped off faces, dampened palms, raised vocal pitches. Above the heads of the troubled crowd, a wide digital timer silently and ominously marked off the time. The current decimals displayed 05:57:37, and slowly but steadily ticked away the seconds.

“What seems to be the problem, perimeter control?” The Central Control officer in charge paced in front of his desk in short bursts, his temper as jerky as his movements. He nervously rubbed his close-cropped military-style haircut with his palm and clutched his headset mic with his other hand. Reddened eyes stared out of his head with a harried feverishness.

“We think we have a loop on Cell Block 3-2 camera, Central. We'd like you to check the video timecode on your end to be sure.”

The harried Central Control officer abruptly stopped pacing, frowned and leaned over to tap his console. “Perimeter control, the external digital filters didn't catch it. It's probably a negative.”

A long silence from the other end, then the voice again. “Captain James, it's worth a double check.”

The large screen at the front of the room showed what it had already shown for the past ten minutes, and the Central Control officer squinted at it with growing frustration. “Perimeter control, what evidence do you have of a loop in the system?” he inquired into his microphone. “Just because the prisoner hasn't moved in ten minutes doesn't mean there's been a breach. It's edgy enough over here without another false alarm. We've been plagued all day by that crap.”

Another silence from the disembodied voice from Perimeter. Then: “The video timecode is out of sync. We think we may have had a hardware security breach.”

The Central officer startled but still appeared skeptical. He attempted to rub the fatigue out of his eyes before staring back up at the main monitor. He hoped his mind was not playing some nasty trick on him.“Perimeter, the prisoner has not moved from his bed for almost a quarter hour. Steady breathing pattern, and the bio-sensors in the room are all registering normal. I say again, the video does not appear to be looped. Check the damn thing again from your end.”

The man on the other end of the line grunted, peeved. “Can you check it from your end, Captain James? Just to be sure? Someone might be trying to tamper with the feed from the outside.”

Captain James sighed into his mic. “This system has never been breached before. And besides, the prisoner will be dead in less than six hours and off our hands.”

A nearby controller snorted in agreement. Captain James' eyes flicked over to his colleague but he could not share in the mirth, no matter how wry. The entire situation bordered on the ridiculous, mixed with the tragic: diverting a significant portion of already scarce security complex personnel in order to watch one man. Captain James stared closer at the inert digital form of the prisoner on the screen, and the longer he stared the more he could feel guilt rising in his throat. It wasn't right, to kill a friend. But he shook his head; the prisoner's file was marked Blackout 1 Solitary. One was not awarded that level of incarceration without a serious cause.

“Please check the video feeds from your end, Central, that's all we ask.” The voice from perimeter control was resigned.

Sighing, the man in Central Control complied. In a flash of rebelliousness he almost hoped that someone would be decent enough to break the prisoner out. He gestured to his console and the thin glass omni-monitor reacted, spitting out a stream of visual data for his perusal. He frowned as he watched the data flow past on the screen; something didn't look right at all. He hesitated, then typed in a command. The computer failed to respond. Typing again more frantically, he again entered the same command. Still, nothing changed. He tapped his headset.

“Perimeter? I can't switch over my video feeds. Can you?”

Tapping from the other end, then a low growl. “Dammit, I can't either. Check the bio-sensor switches?”

Captain James had broken out in a cold sweat as his fingers flew over the keyboard, and his stomach sank as the computer again failed to respond. “No bio-sensor control either from this end,” he croaked.

The Perimeter officer could be heard pounding his desk in anger. “Has the command line been hacked? Can you trace the source?”

Captain James typed away madly on his console, but before he could pull any meaningful data the main monitor suddenly changed. The video feed of the sleeping prisoner flickered, pixelated, then abruptly morphed to an image of an empty cot in the same cell. In another split second, words appeared superimposed over the video feed. They said: LET THERE BE LIFE.

The earpiece in the captain's ear exploded in a violent string of curses, and he could hear the main alarm beginning to bellow over the radio. “Do you see this, Central?!” the Perimeter man shouted at Captain James. “Do you see this? The system has been breached!”

“I see it,” Central replied, fear palpable in his voice. “Run a full system rescan and lock everything down now!”

“We just did that!” Perimeter said furiously. “Whoever breached the feed is gone, though.”

“Get some of your men down there,” Captain James said through gritted teeth, “and do a physical assessment on the status of the prisoner. He couldn't have gone very far.”

No voice answered but he could hear the sirens wailing and the trampling of feet in the background. It was obvious they were already doing just that. He waited a tense thirty seconds, a minute, two minutes. He pushed his mic nearer his mouth. “Perimeter control, what is the status of the prisoner?” Another thirty seconds elapsed, and he repeated the request. No answer. Then the sound of the headset being reinstalled on someone's head and the familiar voice returned.

“He's gone.”

The Central officer's jaw fell. “What?”

“He's gone. It's like he was never here. I'm not even sure how long he's been gone.”

The captain began to tremble. This was awful. He tapped his screen in a silly and futile attempt to bring back the image of the sleeping man on the monitor. However, the bed on the screen remained empty, and the ominous text persisted. He looked closer and his jaw began to work in realization.

“Perimeter, this wasn't just a breach.”

The distant voice was puzzled as well as angry. “What do you mean?”

“This was a taunt.”

“A taunt?”

“'Let There Be Life'...that's the Verité hacker group's MO. They spray paint that everywhere. Verité is taking responsibility for the jailbreak.” Captain James didn't sound as if he himself entirely believed what he was saying. His hand shook. “And if they hacked the system as far as Level Three, then they must know about the Complex too.”

The Perimeter Control man audibly gulped. His voice emerged almost in a stutter. “They-how-how could they possibly know? Nobody knows about the Complex!”

“I think someone does now.” The Central officer clenched his fist hard until the knuckles turned white; equal parts relief and terror gripped him. “This was supposed to be all over within five hours or so. We gave our assurances to the Secretary himself.” He paused, then added: “I think we need to call the Secretary's office.”

The Perimeter man failed to respond. Only heavy breathing came over the headset. Captain James continued. “I will make the call. He needs to know. Now.”

“Yes,” Perimeter croaked back. “He ought to know. Although, what do you think he'll do?”

The Central officer sweated as he punched up the Secretary's office on his console. “I don't know,” he said, “but it had better be damn good.”

₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪


The aide's knees were close to buckling underneath him as he placed the tablet on the heavy oak desk. “The prisoner in Cell Block 3-2 has escaped, Mr. Secretary, and we have no idea how.” His voice emerged half-baked and tremulous.

The man sitting behind the desk regarded the aide with curiosity, then slowly picked up the tablet and looked intently at the image on the screen. He brushed long brown hair back from his eyes and squinted up at the terrified aide standing before him. “No idea?” he inquired mildly. “You have no idea?”

The aide shifted uncomfortably, sweat beading on his forehead. “The security system was breached, to be more accurate. And the prisoner escaped. We have no idea where the breach happened or how. Two guards are also dead.”

The Secretary blinked and leaned back in his huge leather chair, his expression thoughtful and his large green eyes darting about. He put his fingers together and sat for several seconds in silent thought. Finally he stirred.

“This is most unfortunate,” he remarked almost offhandedly, standing slowly and walking to the window in a deliberate fashion, his metal cane creaking on the floor. In the darkened office the tall window let in a dramatic shaft of afternoon sunlight that sliced through the dust and threw the oak furniture into sharp relief. It also illuminated his aging face and piercing eyes, and he stood and frowned down at the urban world through the glass.

“Verité is growing bolder.” He turned to the aide and handed the tablet back. “How far did they penetrate our security protocols?”

“Level Three, Mr. Secretary.”

“Hmm. And the Complex is right next door.”

“Yes, Mr. Secretary.” Sweat rolled into the aide's eyes.

“So Verité must be aware of its existence by now, perhaps?”

“We're ninety-nine percent certain they are, yes.”

The Secretary's gaze was once again captured by the view from the window. His eyes twitched but otherwise nothing else moved. He heaved a long burdened sigh. “The plan will continue to proceed, albeit on an accelerated timetable. Verité will be emboldened to act quickly in the wake of their success. What is the status of the woman?”

The aide looked confused. “Miss McLean, you mean?”

“Who else?” The Secretary smiled. “How has the vetting process gone?”

The aide cleared his throat and buried his face in his tablet. He tapped the screen several times until the correct personnel file popped into view, then turned the device around so the older man could see. “She is clean. Thoroughly vetted, no skeletons in her closet other than a misdemeanor in vocational school involving a hacking prank. Solid party credentials. The only small point of concern is her parents...”

The Secretary breathed slowly and nodded, pressing his weight onto his cane. “I knew her parents,” he said softly, almost intimately. Shaking himself, his voice reverted to a more business-like tone as he continued, “But they will not be a point of concern. Have Holloway make the pitch to her as soon as he can. We need her. I...need her.”

The aide bowed slightly and ran from the room.

The Secretary cocked his head at the windowpanes; they were covered in a thin layer of dust. He put out his index finger and wrote “ Verité” on the glass in the dust. Then, with a sudden slash of the same finger, he cut a line through the word. He smiled and returned to his desk.

Reach Chapter 2 here!