Seizure Read online

  Kent and Janet slipped through the metal detectors to reach their gate. The stewardess already sent the last of the passengers through. As Kent and Janet ran up to the stewardess, her eyes widened.

  "Uh, boarding passes," she started to say.

  Janet stuffed them into her hands. "Here, uh, we're in a bit of a hurry--"

  Kent looked back. The strong woman ran at full speed toward the gate. The woman's face twisted in a lopsided, humorless grin.

  The stewardess finished looking over the passes, and held them out with a nod. "Thank you, welcome aboard--"

  "Yeah, whatever." Janet bolted into the jetway leading to their plane.

  Kent followed, and looked back to see the strong woman reach the gate. She tried to run through, but the metal detector went off with a loud siren. When the security guard stood up and held out a hand, the strong woman shoved him aside. She raised a hand, and the glint of metal in her hand revealed a knife. Before she even took another step, two more security guards descended on her. They all grabbed her arms, and began pulling her down. The last thing Kent saw was all three guards struggling to drag her to the ground.

  Kent and Janet ran into the humming and cool interior of the plane. The stewardess at the door directed them to their aisle. Janet and Kent dropped into their seats, gasping for breath.

  Janet leaned back against her headrest and let out a deep sigh. "Wow. That was close."

  Kent buckled himself into his seat, then looked out of the tiny window next to him. "Yeah. I think there's no denying it. Someone's definitely after us."

  Janet wiped her forehead and looked at the sweat on her fingers. "Think she was trying to kill us?"

  Kent nodded. "I think so. If not, I'm not sure I want to know what she had planned."

  "Me, either. Hope there's a meal on this flight." She exhaled again, which seemed to calm her down.

  Kent wished he could relax that easily. He closed his eyes. His heart still beat heavily, and his hands trembled from exertion. The sight of the muscular woman closing in on them still lingered in his mind, overlapping his every thought. He kept imagining the woman catching up to him and crushing him with her bare hands. It wasn't hard to visualize.

  Kent turned away from the window and kept his eyes on the door of the plane. He half-expected to see the strong woman punch down the door with her fists. He only relaxed a little when the stewardess closed and locked it. He was only able to fully relax when the plane cruised down the runway and launched itself into the sky.

  He closed his eyes. He was very, very tired. He realized then that he hadn't slept in days. He pushed the button on the arm of his seat that tilted it back a few degrees. It wasn't much, but it was enough to send him drifting to sleep in a few minutes.

  * * *

  Kent woke up an hour later. The flight was four hours long, so he had time to go back to sleep, but he couldn't. He simply gazed out the window at the darkening landscape beneath the plane.

  The stewardesses served dinner. Kent chose a salad with lasagna. Janet got a meatloaf dinner with mashed potatoes. They both ate for a few minutes in silence.

  Janet held up her fork. "That woman was huge. She was like one of those female bodybuilders on ESPN or one of the warriors on American Gladiators."

  "Mm-hm." Kent picked at his salad with a fork. He tried squeezing ranch salad dressing out of the packet onto his salad. It still didn't look appetizing.

  Janet swallowed the meatloaf in her mouth, and ducked her head to look Kent in the eye. "Hey, you okay? Seem preoccupied."

  He shook his head and pushed his salad away. "I can't eat. I keep thinking about Wayne. I mean, I guess I was so busy with Herring before that it never really sank in, but...he's dead. Wayne's gone. Just like Morgan."

  She put down her fork and looked at him with concern. "I'm sorry."

  "I know. Thanks. But I mean, I can't stop thinking about how his life was so incomplete. He and his band were going to play at the next company party. Wayne was working on the Drayman account. He was up for a promotion in January. But it's all over. His band is probably gonna break up. The other people in his case group will finish the Drayman account. His promotion will go to someone else. Life will just flow around the space he left like a stone in a river. But I'll never be able to replace him."

  She picked listlessly at her meatloaf in an uncomfortable silence.

  "And it's not just Wayne," he said after a few minutes. "It's Victor and Troy and Sharon, too. Everyone I care about is either hurt or dead."

  She let her hand rest on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Hey, come on, I know it’s tough and I won’t pretend to know what you’re going through right now. But you’ve still got Troy, you've still got me, and in a little while, we're gonna nail the guy who did this to you. I mean, I know it hurts. That's okay. But you can't let it get you down."

  Kent shook his head, then lifted his eyes to study her smiling face. "You know, I don't get you. You're so positive all the time. You lost your family, you got thrown in prison, you live in a run-down apartment, but you still manage to smile. That kind of optimism astounds me."

  Janet leaned her elbows on the seat-tray in front of her and grinned. "It's all a matter of perspective. You gotta look at the bright side. At least I got out of prison and stayed out, which is a pretty big achievement. I live in a crummy place, but I like it, and it's mine. Besides all this, I get to work with computers for a living, crack viruses wide open, and get paid for it. Life is good."

  "I guess," Kent muttered. He wasn't sure he could turn his pessimism around as easily as she could.

  She pointed at him. "Well, look at you. You've got a great job doing what you love, you have a house that's almost a mansion, you have a salary some people dream of, and you've got a son who loves you. Nothing's gonna change that. You just have a little bump to get over, that's all. You do that, everything'll come out fine."

  He dragged his salad back in front of himself again. "I wish I could believe that. I really do."

  Janet blew out her lips and speared one of her French fries with her fork. "I think a better question is how you can be so pessimistic."

  He grinned. He wasn't about to admit it, but her words had helped, and he had found his appetite again. He began to eat his salad.

  * * *

  The flight landed at Sky Harbor Airport at six o'clock, Arizona time. Kent and Janet reset their watches to Mountain Standard as they deplaned. After getting her one bag from the luggage carousel, they walked through the sliding doors into the Phoenix sunshine.

  Although it was November and late evening, the temperature was still in the high nineties. The air hit Kent's face like the exhaust of a blow dryer.

  "Great. I didn't realize it would be so hot here. I wish I'd packed some cooler clothes instead of this disguise. I'm gonna fry in this heavy coat."

  Janet slipped on a pair of sunglasses. "Actually, a better term would be 'baked.' But don't forget it's a dry heat."

  She grinned at Kent's glare. "Hey, don't sweat it. We'll rent a car, crank up the AC, and you won't even feel it."

  "Then let's hurry." Kent led the walk to the Avis rental car agency.

  They rented a blue sedan and soon drove down the road lined with southwestern carvings that led to the I-10. As they roared along the elevated freeway, Kent glanced out at the horizon surrounded by mountains. The city unrolled beneath them, a carpet of steel and concrete punctuated by an occasional skyscraper, but for the most part, it was as smooth and even as a desert plain, already beginning to fade into a red darkness from the setting sun.

  "Where to now?" he asked.

  She found a road map in the glove compartment, and unfolded it onto her lap. "Well, let's see. According to this, we just stay on the I-10 until we get to some place called Ahwatukee. Sounds Native American."

  "It is. It means 'House of Dreams' in Cree."

  Janet raised an eyebrow at him. "How do you know?"

  "My father-in-law lives here in Phoenix. A d
octor named Neil Taylor. I wish I had time to say hi."

  She lowered her map to look at him. "Hey, Kent, it just hit me. What're we gonna say to this Herring guy if we see him?"

  "That's a good question. I have a few ideas. I figure we'll just confront him with what we know, then go on from there."

  Janet nodded, and gave him a more cautious look. "You don't suppose he's dangerous, do you?"

  Kent let out a breath. "Well, if he's involved in the mass murder of millions of computer users around the world, I'd say so."

  Janet grunted as she looked out her window at the landscape sweeping by. "Wish I'd brought a gun."

  He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "You know how to use one?"

  She squirmed a little in her seat before saying, "Well...no. Do you?"

  He nodded. "Gaines holds war games every few years. We shoot paintballs, but I learned how to fire a real gun, just for the edge it would give me."

  She grinned. "Too bad we didn't bring one."

  "Don't worry about it. You saw this guy's picture. He couldn't lift toothpicks."

  She bit her lip as she shook her head. "That was years ago, when he was a kid. Suppose he's been working out?"

  He looked away from the road to grin at her. "Now who's the pessimist?"

  Janet smirked, then sat up a little to draw a folded sheet of paper out of her jeans pocket. "Fine. I'm just trying to settle into some sort of plan, but if you wanna ad-lib, I'm right behind you."

  "Thanks." Kent glanced over at what she was reading. "What's that?"

  "The program for Cerberus," Janet murmured. "I'm still working on figuring out what all the code does. So far, I've gotten...oh, turn in here."

  "Right."

  Kent turned off the I-10 onto Elliot Road, a street lined with strip malls. They drove on through the streets until they came to one that Janet pointed out, and he turned into the parking lot.

  GameShop stood nestled between a Kinko's and a shoe repair shop. By the time Kent found a parking space and stepped out of the car, the sun had already disappeared. But streetlamps and neon signs lit up the mall like daylight, and people flowed from store to store.

  Kent and Janet walked through the heated air to the sidewalk decorated by occasional patches of cactus. The door to GameShop jingled with a bell as they stepped through it.

  The shop felt cramped with no windows and only two visible doors. The musty smell of cardboard hung in the air as Kent walked through aisles of computer software, all labeled with signs reading a variety of game systems, including the PC. There was only one customer, a gray-haired man in a suit, standing at the front desk. A large man with a Star Trek: Voyager T-shirt attended to him.

  The chubby cashier slipped a game box into a plastic bag, and handed it to his customer with a nod. "Have a good one."

  The cashier turned to Kent and Janet, who approached the desk. He took a moment to brush back the long, brown hair flowing down to his shoulders. "Can I help you?"

  "Hi," Kent said, "we're looking for Rick Herring, the guy who owns this place?"

  The man's eyes narrowed as he looked from Kent to Janet. "That's me. How can I help you?"

  Kent glanced at the businessman leaving the store, leaving it empty of customers. "Yeah, I was wondering if you could tell us about Odyssey."

  Herring shrugged. "Sure. Whadda you wanna know? I don't give out game tips, if that's what you're after. You'll have to go online--"

  Kent let his gaze settle on Herring, allowing his anger to show in his eyes. "No, we're more into the programming."

  Herring's smile dropped a few centimeters. "I'm sorry?"

  Janet smirked. "The programming. You did program Odyssey, didn't you?"

  Herring's smile collapsed, but he managed to bring it back up again. "I'm sorry. I think you've got the wrong guy. I just sell games. I don't make 'em."

  "But you were a programmer. You wrote games for Katari in the early eighties, right?"

  Herring glanced at the front door, then closed his eyes and nodded. "Yeah, okay, I wrote a few programs in my time. But I lost my shirt in the crash, so I opened up this place. I still write a few programs for friends and stuff, but I haven't written anything commercial in years. I sure didn't write Odyssey. Wish I had."

  "I see," Kent said. "So I suppose the name Cerberus wouldn't mean anything to you?"

  Herring's smile disappeared. A haunted look flashed through his eyes for a moment before settling into anger. His friendly salesman demeanor was gone, replaced by open hostility.

  "I don't know what you're talking about," Herring said. "And I don't really wanna know. Now if you're not gonna buy something, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave."

  Kent swept his arm across the glass counter, knocking racks of games onto the carpeted floor. His other hand reached out to grab Herring's collar. It hauled him down, banging the man's face on the glass with a thump.

  Kent pressed his free hand to the back of Herring's neck, pinning his face against the counter. "I'm not playing games with you, Herring. I know about Odyssey. I know about Pluto. I know about the Cerberus virus."

  Herring breathed hard, fogging the glass by his mouth. He gasped, "I dunno what you're talking about."

  Kent pressed harder, mashing Herring's face until the man gurgled in panic. "I told you, Herring, I'm not in the mood for this. I came all the way from New York, where my son almost died because of you and your buddies. I know you're involved in this somehow, and I want the truth."

  "Okay," Herring gasped, "okay. I'll talk. It won't matter, anyway. You can't stop us."

  Kent let him go. Herring sat up gradually, watching Kent's hands, as if afraid of being attacked again. When he had straightened, he glared at Kent while rubbing his swollen cheek.

  "How'd you find me, anyway?" Herring breathed.

  Janet leaned against the counter. "We're asking the questions. Did you make Cerberus?"

  Herring took a step away from the counter, keeping himself out of reach. "Of course not. I just write games."

  "But you know who did," Janet insisted, her eyes locked on his round face.

  Herring paused, his eyes shifting between the two standing in front of him. "Sort of. I only know him as Pluto."

  "You've never met?" Kent asked.

  "None of us have," Herring said. "We communicate online through email and chat."

  "Who's we?"

  A broad smile crossed Herring's face, but his eyes were still narrowed with anger. "The CFL, the Cyberspace Liberation Front. We're committed to liberating cyberspace from the corruption of modern society."

  "What are you talking about?" Janet asked.

  "Cyberspace," Herring said. "It's the term coined by William Gibson in his classic sci-fi novel, Neuromancer. Of course, now it's been applied to anything that has to do with computerized communication."

  He said this with obvious relish and conceit, flaunting his knowledge. "But the international computer networks have been around the early 70's. A worldwide network of people communicating through their modems and computers. We've created a whole society in there, one based on intelligence and freedom. There's no racism in cyberspace, no judging by appearances, only your thoughts and ideas. It's a galaxy of people coming together for a common goal."

  Herring's smile fell as he continued to glare at Kent. "At least, it was. But now every moron with a modem is getting into it. Cyberspace is becoming a cesspool of filth and commercialism. Congress is passing laws to ban free speech. Neo-Nazis are spreading their diseased messages. It's just like Europe and the New World. We've discovered a new computerized continent, and the whole world wants to come in, but they're bringing everything that's rotten in their world with them. Me and my brethren are the natives who are being killed off to make room for them. But we're not gonna let it happen."

  Janet sounded amazed as she asked, "So that's why you're killing people? For the Internet?"

  Herring raised his chin slightly, taking on an air of pride. "Yes. I am o
ne of seven people who banded together to form a plan to stop the corruption before it's too late. We're dedicated to creating something so horrible that people would be too afraid to go online anymore. And what is everyone afraid of online? Viruses. But up until now, viruses just crashed a few computers. Nothing serious. That's gonna change."

  Herring's face was stiff and cruel now, all traces of warmth wiped away. "It was Pluto who came up with the idea of a killer virus. I came up the idea of putting it into a video game. Pluto wrote the virus, I wrote the game, Sapphire used her connections to steal the VGRS program from Northwest. It was perfect. It'll be the guardian."

  "Guardian of the underworld." Kent looked down at Janet. "That's why they named it Cerberus."

  Herring smiled again. "Great name, huh? It's going to be a gatekeeper for cyberspace. When the virus is activated, millions will die, and the CFL will come forward to take the blame. While they sort through us, the world will be crippled with fear of their computers and the Internet. And even if they manage to keep the panic under control, Cerberus will continue to spread through uninfected computers through the Net. Cerberus will become the AIDS of the Internet."

  Kent shook his head, dizzy from confusion at what he was hearing. It didn't fit his view of the world. "But that's insane. This is murder. You'll get the chair for sure."

  Herring shrugged. "So? What do I have to live for, anyway? I have no family, no friends, just this stupid shop. At least with Cerberus, I'll die having achieved a purpose. We'll send a message to the world that it can't just barge into cyberspace, shove us out, and expect us to sit back and let it happen. And I'll be in the history books."

  Janet turned away from the counter and threw up her hands in disgust. "Great. Revenge of the Nerds, Part Four."

  Herring's eyes narrowed even further to glare at her. "Don't call me a nerd."

  "Shut up, Herring," Kent said. "I don't care about your twisted logic. I don't care about your moronic ideals. All I want is an anti-viral program for Cerberus."

  Herring leaned back a little to look even more imperious as he shrugged. "I don't have it. I told you, I didn't write Cerberus. I don't have any control over that end of the plan. Pluto handled all that."