Doomsday is on Wednesday: A Psychological Thriller by Sean Bela

Author:Sean Bela [Bela, Sean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-05-15T18:30:00+00:00

EPISODE SEVEN

The Sanctuary State of California

BACK AT THE COMMAND Center, which now had anything but command, Pinkerton was losing his mind. He paced back and forth, helpless as the ancient footage continued to roll on. Now it was showing the two agents wrestling with the captured fugitive.

There was no good news for Pinkerton. He didn’t even have a chair to throw. All the techs wrestled to decode the intricate algorithm that had infiltrated the most sophisticated network in the world. A system of which the PPO had extolled its power for decades, was now helpless before a primitive virus that Julian Mercy had cooked up decades ago. How, the brains of the PPO wanted to know, could such a virus take down a system that didn’t even exist when it had been created?

Pinkerton fidgeted with his fingers. “You know what they did to him… They’re about to show that damn thing. We can’t allow it. We mustn’t!”

“We know that,” said Clinton, the deputy commander. He was a slender white male in his forties who wore a black suit, black shoes, and white tie. They all wore the same thing; there was no use describing them as individuals when they were at work. The workplace was a sea of black. Finding a person in that place was like finding an individual water molecule. Faceless and monochromatic they were. Their hair was cut the same; even the women had their hair cut like the men.

“Now shut the fucking thing down,” he shouted at Clinton. “Right now!”

Clinton blanched. “I’ll need Omega authorization for that.”

“Then how do we get it?” he screamed, pulling the remaining hair from his face.

“The Main Office.”

“The call the firkin main office, Clint,” he shouted.” Why are you still standing here?”

“Right. I’ll call the Main Office right now!” Clinton ran to his office, which was next to Pinkerton’s. He sealed the door, tapped his console, and a dark figure appeared on the wall.

“Sir, we need a system-wide shut down. Omega One.”

The dark figure twisted his lips. “What’d you think we’ve been doing over here, you nitwit? Playing with our cocks? You idiots think we haven’t tried that shit up here already?”

Clinton lowered his head. “I didn’t know. I had no….”

The dark figure flipped a hand as if to shoo him. “Don’t call back until you’ve either solved the problem or found the goddamn R.A.T.S. who are seeking permission to commit suicide. Good day!” The screen shut off, the dark figure disappeared, but Clinton still responded.

“Yes sir,” he said in a muted voice. He ran out his office and let out his breath. They couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it; all they could do was watch what was about to go down. The old footage rolled on, showing the false FBI agents take Earl Swinger into the white painted warehouse and close the door behind them.

The view switched to a New York State highway where a caravan of FBI vehicles with flashing were heading north in the same direction where Earl Swinger was taken.

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