Firewall (Magic Born) Read Online Free
Author: Sonya Clark
of memories.
The Rangers had a saying for when they received orders to dangerous parts of the world, the places no one wanted to go because all sides would be shooting at them, the weather would be awful and the food worse, and there was no telling how long the job would take or how bad it would get before they could call it done and get the hell out. Hayes smiled as he said it to his former teammate. “Wish me luck, ’cause I’m headed for the suck.”
Chapter Two
The section of Interstate 40 between New Corinth and Memphis designated for commercial traffic was dark in the moonless night. Automated semis transporting goods glided across the road, the loudest sound their wheels over the asphalt. The trucks had no drivers or security. Tuyet wondered how much longer that would last since this would make the third hijacking in eight months. Or was it nine? Whatever. The Magic Born trapped inside FreakTown needed the food. For that matter, so did Normals in Rockenbach. They worked together when they could, using a basic plan cooked up by Vadim Bazarov and carried out by a handful of volunteers.
With the advent of self-driving semis, the old weigh stations along the interstates had either been abandoned or converted to automated refueling stations. Tuyet waited in the darkness outside of one such station as a semi full of food meant for New Corinth’s largest grocery store rolled to a slow stop.
Blue-white lines of code shimmered in her vision. Her job was to override the trailer’s programming and have it stop long enough for the cargo to be unloaded. First she’d trancehacked into the refueling station’s system and found her way through the trucking company’s intranet to the vehicle they wanted. After that, it was just a matter of changing the truck’s orders. Now she waited in one of the vans as the others cleaned out the goods.
Easy. Simple. Boring. Not like the old days. But that was a good thing. There were a couple of veterans among the Normals who had volunteered, but most members of the group were civilians with no real experience handling anything dangerous. Luckily, the forty-mile drive on deserted two-lane back roads that were no longer maintained or patrolled would be the riskiest part of this milk run. They would return to the city via the old subway and sewer tunnels formerly used by the underground railroad to move people out of the country. Tuyet knew those tunnels well from her time as a sojourner, leading people to safety. She’d traveled the old roads through the wastelands between cities too, and much preferred the underground.
The wastelands were mostly arid ruins of small towns long deserted due to devastating unemployment and the ravages of extreme weather. Tornados were common in the flat, empty stretches between cities. The damages wrought there somehow seemed worse, probably due to the lack of infrastructure and modern construction techniques. She’d seen a twister once while on a run as a sojourner. Later, she’d told Vadim she’d much rather be shot at than face that kind of nature-made wrath again.
The wastelands weren’t entirely devoid of inhabitants, and they were in general the kind who liked to shoot. Normals were not restricted in their movements and monitored on a regular basis the way Magic Born were. If they were of a mind to, Normals could theoretically walk away from their lives and disappear. The ones with money went overseas, to countries where their children would be safe no matter what was in their DNA. The ones without dropped off the grid and lived in the forgotten spaces, the empty places. That is, if they had the constitution for that kind of life. It was rough living, doing without all of the things people needed ID and background checks to get. Without all of the simple conveniences that existed in even the poorest parts of the cities, like the Rockenbach section of New Corinth.
She’d watched a classic movie once, some decades-old Australian action flick,
The Rangers had a saying for when they received orders to dangerous parts of the world, the places no one wanted to go because all sides would be shooting at them, the weather would be awful and the food worse, and there was no telling how long the job would take or how bad it would get before they could call it done and get the hell out. Hayes smiled as he said it to his former teammate. “Wish me luck, ’cause I’m headed for the suck.”
Chapter Two
The section of Interstate 40 between New Corinth and Memphis designated for commercial traffic was dark in the moonless night. Automated semis transporting goods glided across the road, the loudest sound their wheels over the asphalt. The trucks had no drivers or security. Tuyet wondered how much longer that would last since this would make the third hijacking in eight months. Or was it nine? Whatever. The Magic Born trapped inside FreakTown needed the food. For that matter, so did Normals in Rockenbach. They worked together when they could, using a basic plan cooked up by Vadim Bazarov and carried out by a handful of volunteers.
With the advent of self-driving semis, the old weigh stations along the interstates had either been abandoned or converted to automated refueling stations. Tuyet waited in the darkness outside of one such station as a semi full of food meant for New Corinth’s largest grocery store rolled to a slow stop.
Blue-white lines of code shimmered in her vision. Her job was to override the trailer’s programming and have it stop long enough for the cargo to be unloaded. First she’d trancehacked into the refueling station’s system and found her way through the trucking company’s intranet to the vehicle they wanted. After that, it was just a matter of changing the truck’s orders. Now she waited in one of the vans as the others cleaned out the goods.
Easy. Simple. Boring. Not like the old days. But that was a good thing. There were a couple of veterans among the Normals who had volunteered, but most members of the group were civilians with no real experience handling anything dangerous. Luckily, the forty-mile drive on deserted two-lane back roads that were no longer maintained or patrolled would be the riskiest part of this milk run. They would return to the city via the old subway and sewer tunnels formerly used by the underground railroad to move people out of the country. Tuyet knew those tunnels well from her time as a sojourner, leading people to safety. She’d traveled the old roads through the wastelands between cities too, and much preferred the underground.
The wastelands were mostly arid ruins of small towns long deserted due to devastating unemployment and the ravages of extreme weather. Tornados were common in the flat, empty stretches between cities. The damages wrought there somehow seemed worse, probably due to the lack of infrastructure and modern construction techniques. She’d seen a twister once while on a run as a sojourner. Later, she’d told Vadim she’d much rather be shot at than face that kind of nature-made wrath again.
The wastelands weren’t entirely devoid of inhabitants, and they were in general the kind who liked to shoot. Normals were not restricted in their movements and monitored on a regular basis the way Magic Born were. If they were of a mind to, Normals could theoretically walk away from their lives and disappear. The ones with money went overseas, to countries where their children would be safe no matter what was in their DNA. The ones without dropped off the grid and lived in the forgotten spaces, the empty places. That is, if they had the constitution for that kind of life. It was rough living, doing without all of the things people needed ID and background checks to get. Without all of the simple conveniences that existed in even the poorest parts of the cities, like the Rockenbach section of New Corinth.
She’d watched a classic movie once, some decades-old Australian action flick,
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