Chapter 19
For his eighteenth birthday Jason got to practice shooting an assault rifle. A few months without any medications had made his brain sharper, but he still felt a strong need to smoke. The chores he performed around the farm were strengthening his body and the time he spent working for Marvel was empowering his mind. He had gone beyond making logs of files into working with internet security and hacking.
Turning eighteen felt liberating. He no longer had to worry about his parents throwing him into a psychiatric institution. He could do as he pleased now. However, the voices still persecuted him. They hadn't caused any major shocks or convulsions over the past few months, but Jason feared their continued access. It was taking longer than he expected to expel the medications from his system. What the doctor had told him about the medications leaving his system within a few weeks was a falsehood.
On his way back from the firing range, Jason overheard Matt speaking to Andrew just beyond his line of sight. “He's strange,” said Matt.
Jason frowned and stopped to hear more.
“I don't care how you feel about him.”
“I'm certain he's keeping something from us. Something dangerous.”
“If he was going to cause us trouble he would've done it by now.”
“Don't be so sure about that.”
“I've got better things to do than dealing with your petty shit.”
A voice startled Jason. “Happy birthday,” said Tracy. Before he knew it she gave him a kiss on the cheek.
He blushed, hoping Matt hadn't seen her doing it.
“Thanks,” Jason replied, concealing his resentment. He knew she enjoyed Matt's reactions to her speaking with him.
“How does it feel to be eighteen?”
“Liberating.”
“You're old enough to be tried as an adult now,” said Matt, scanning the two of them with wary eyes.
“Why would that matter?” asked Jason.
Matt put his arm around Tracy and said, “Food for thought.”
Jason lit up a cigarette and watched the couple walk away. Then he headed toward the computer lab for another night of learning internet security and hacking. He'd been trying to hack into the systems connected with that Ku Klux Klan compound for months now.
Memorizing the full plans of the compound convinced Jason that it would be an ideal base of operations. The systems were self-supporting, with a large amount of explosives at the bottom levels. If he could get a group of militants to successfully storm that place, they could cut off all outside access and live there perpetually, protected by an abundance of ammunition, guns, and explosives. However, he knew better than to voice this idea to anybody else. Performing such a feat would be suicide.
After a few more months of attempting to hack the unknown systems, Jason ran a successful SQL injection. He'd gotten a few others, which had turned out to be fruitless and expected this one would probably be no better. When he attempted to gut the database, a rush of excitement flooded his system as he opened up a host of passwords, all encrypted with a familiar algorithm. “Hell yeah!” Jason exclaimed.
Marvel looked over. “What are you excited about?”
“I penetrated those systems. I've got passwords.”
“Send me a copy of what you got.”
Jason sent copies to Marvel and proceeded to decrypt the administrators' passwords. Once he was within the system, he felt a chill, seeing a police insignia at the top of the page. All the directories were open to him. He went straight to blue prints for the underground.
As he was matching up an underground tunnel to the passage beneath the Ku Klux Klan compound, Marvel sighed and said, “This doesn't look good. Do you realize what you did?”
“I found where the passage leads to.”
“You forced open an Alabama law enforcement database.”
Wendy gasped.
“They're criminals,” declared Jason.
“That's not what the courts will be saying.”
“Their underground systems are directly connected to the Ku Klux Klan systems.”
“According to the public record those systems don't exist.”
“Well they should be disclosed to the public. That's totally inhuman what they're doing down there.”
“I'm going to tell Andrew about this.” Marvel left the room.
Jason continued searching through the administrator portions of the site, downloading everything he could find and taking screen shots along the way. Certain categories and sectors stood out more than others. The incubator systems were of primary interest and it wasn't long before Jason was looking for everything he could find about them. The incubators grew human fetuses born with microchips and predefined genetics.
Later that evening, Andrew entered the computer lab with Marvel. “I heard you found something,” said Andrew.
“I hacked into the systems supporting that Ku Klux Klan compound.”
“US government systems,” added Marvel.
“Well,” said Andrew. “The damage has been done. I'd like to see what you've found.”
Marvel shook his head in dismay as Andrew sat down at a computer.
About fifteen minutes later, Andrew said, “This is horrendous. It's even worse than I thought.”
“What can we do about it?” asked Jason.
“We need to distribute this information to other liberation groups.”
“What?” asked Marvel. “You can't be serious.”
“It's a basis for civil war,” argued Andrew.
“If you can get people to believe it,” asserted Marvel. “Any media agency worth its license is going to dismiss you as a nutcase.”
“We don't need the mainstream media. We've got all the evidence we need right here. Look at this interface.”
Jason and the others gathered around Andrew's computer. There was a 3D representation of a famous actress with her stage name displayed at the top of the view port. To the right hand side was a description along with system details.
“It lists quantity, availability, days on the market,” said Andrew.
“Like ordering a pizza,” said Wendy.
“They're called prototypes,” said Andrew. “And that's just the tip of the iceberg.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“They've got bestiality and torture systems that they throw the girls into when they're done with them. They're engaging in some sort of process called gathering inverse.”
“For what?”
“Beats me, but they've got the types of inverse included in the interface right there.” Andrew pointed to two values on the right side of the screen. The systems inverse was listed as Labrador Retriever and the surface level inverse was listed as Not Applicable. “I've gotta go make some calls.” Andrew rose and patted Jason on the shoulder. “Thanks for finding this.”
“Thank you,” replied Jason.
Marvel turned to Wendy and said, “I've got a bad feeling about this.”
“So do I.” The couple left after Andrew.
A morbid curiosity compelled Jason to sit at the computer, which Andrew had been using. The prototype of the actress in lingerie was still displayed on the screen.
He heard a helicopter and some sirens in the distance, but he dismissed it as more synthetic telepathy. “You're not allowed to look at that,” said a shrill pixy. An artificial fear irked at him as he scanned the screen.
Jason found the search text box and he entered Jessica's full name. A 3D image of Jessica dressed in white lingerie appeared on the screen. He became livid with the sight of it. There was a quantity of five clones still left for service.
The sounds of the helicopters and the sirens were getting louder.
Under systems inverse it listed rodent. The surface level inverse was electroshock therapy and seizures.
The sirens and the helicopters became too loud to be ignored. The farm was being raided. He raised from the seat, feeling pathological hatred for them. The first thought tha
t entered his mind was the automatic weapons in the armory.
Jason dashed out of the computer lab and saw the flashing lights of police vehicles arriving on the property and two helicopters above shining search lights. He ran to the armory as fast as he could. The weapons were still sitting there untouched. The farm had been taken completely by surprise.
At least one of the sentries had to be a traitor. The sound of gunfire from nearby infused him with even greater hatred. “They need to all die!” he shouted. He armed himself with two fully loaded pistols in holsters, four grenades, and an assault rifle.
As he was preparing the assault rifle for action, the door behind him burst open.
“Drop the gun!” shouted one of the pigs.
Jason dropped the assault rifle onto the table and reached for one of the pistols.
“Put your hands above your head!”
Jason turned around to face the police officers while drawing his weapon. At least he would die trying to kill the oppressors.
“Drop the gun!”
There were three police officers in the hallway, pointing guns at him. They were all shouting that same command so loud it hurt his ears. Raising the gun toward them was so surreal it was as if he'd been transported to another world. He shot their heads as readily as he'd shot bottles from a fence. All three went down. He couldn't believe his eyes.
The shock of what he'd done was over in a moment. He picked up the assault rifle and readied it as he marched toward the door. Outside, there was a group of them, all pointing their guns at him. It really had been an angel speaking to him that night. They were all out of whack.
Jason looked down the scope of his rifle and began picking them off one by one, feeling totally infused with power. When the officers realized what was happening, they ceased yelling and turned to flee. They were all speechless. He picked off as many as he could and proceeded toward the barracks.
Outside the barracks, police officers were leading his comrades away in hand cuffs. Jason aimed for their heads and shot a couple before the other three recognized what was happening. They responded by leaving their captives and running for cover behind a nearby squad car. Jason took the pin from one of his grenades and shouted, “Get in the barracks!”
The others fled into the barracks.
Jason lobbed the grenade at the squad car and ran for cover. The car exploded with a deafening boom, which left a ringing in Jason's ears. When he came out from behind cover, he saw that the squad car was now in ruins with charred human remains scattered around the area.
Jason held his breath to avoid the noxious fumes in the air as he rushed to the barracks. Inside the others were still taking cover.
“Where's Andrew?” asked Jason.
“He's dead,” replied Vinh.
The news of Andrew's death spurred Jason's blood lust. “I can't stay here after what I've done. I'm going to take that compound. Who's with me?”
A few volunteered and then others reluctantly joined in until everyone in the room was ready to go.
As they left the barracks to gather weapons and prepare vehicles for the journey, one of the fallen police officers was saying something in a weak and tattered voice. Jason took out his pistol and stood over him.
“There's no excuse for murder,” said the officer.
“White slavery,” retorted Jason. Then he shot that pig between the eyes. Walking away, Jason wished he could have had them tortured instead. Death was too good for their ilk.