The Mind Hack Page 4

  A woman in a pale shift, watched as Tolbert climbed up the embankment to the road, before she disappeared with a gust of wind.

  The slugs continued taking pedestrians on the street. They took joggers first sticking to the park, and then they began to move into the houses and buildings. The beetles consumed any form of natural material. If it was made out of plant they consumed it, and they replicated quickly. At eight in the morning, when people were starting to go to work a slug raced out and grabbed a woman with blond hair and dressed in a business suit. She screamed as the slug dragged her into the park bushes and swallowed her.

  A man on the opposite side of the street dropped his jaw, and immediately called emergency.

  “A woman was just taken into the park by a giant slug,” he rapidly informed rapidly the operator.

  “Sir,” the operator replied in disdain, “this channel is for emergencies only.”

  “I am telling you this is a real thing,” he insisted.

  “For animal disturbances, please call a pest exterminator” the operator announced and disconnected the line.

  The lights changed, and he crossed the road, heading away from the park. He looked back at the park, and it was quiet and serene. Shaking his head, he continued to work, hoping it had just been his imagination

  Down the road a mother pushed her new born baby in a pram, cooing and laughing at the baby. She heard a ‘tap, tap, tap’ from the hedges just to her left. She stopped and looked into the hedges.

  “Hello” she called into the hedges, concern in her voice.

  Another ‘tap, tap, tap,’ came from the hedge further down the street. She pushed the pram, looking into the hedges, trying to find the source of the sound.

  “Hello,” she called. “Who is there?”

  A slug bursts out from the hedge.

  The lady screamed as she was dragged into the gaping maw of the large slug.

  The beetles swarmed over the pram enveloping and consuming the pram, baby and all. The beetles departed, leaving behind the only the ruined remains of the pram.

  A lean and trim police officer witnessed the whole incident and dropped his coffee onto the pavement. The officer got his partners attention and pointed to the remains of what had once been the pram.

  Frowning upon seeing the pram frame, they both walked to the pram, the first explaining what he had seen. The second police officer’s frown grew a little deeper.

  ‘Tap, tap, tap’ drifted out of the bushes.

  Both policemen turned looking into the bushes.

  ‘Tap, tap, tap’ echoed from three metres further down.

  “Joe go check that one out,” ordered the second officer.

  “Yeah, sure thing Bob,” Joe responded, not talking his eyes off the hedge bushes.

  Joe walked down the street looking through the bushes searching for the source of the sound.

  ‘Tap, tap, tap’ resonated again, from in front of Bob.

  Joe flicked up his eyes looking at Bob.

  “What is making that sound?” queried Joe.

  “Don’t know,” shouted Bob from the remains of the pram. “I can’t see anything”

  Joe walked back.

  A slug’s tongue shot out from the bushes where it was hiding and wrapped around Bob.

  Joe drew his firearm.

  Bob struggled against the tongue as it pulled him into the bushes. Screams came from the people around as they tried to find cover from the gun and the inevitable shoot-out that would follow a police officer in danger.

  Joe radioed control asking for back up saying that Bob was being attacked by an unknown.

  Then Joe stepped through the bushes following Bob. He spotted the slug facing him. Its mouth closed as it chewed and digested Bob.

  Sirens blared out as police came to the aid of their fellow officer. Joe pointed his gun at the slug and fired.

  The bullet impacted the slug, gouging a hole in its side. The slug shivered, and split.

  Joe watched in horror as the slug that had just eaten his partner became two.

  He reached for his radio and informed control about what had grabbed Bob. Joe rattled off its description.

  One of the slugs moved off to Joe’s left and the other remained facing Joe. It opened its mouth, and its tongue came out, grabbing Joe. He called out more information into his radio as the tongue dragged him into the huge gaping maw. Crunching sounds were transmitted over the radio as Joe was consumed.

  Chapter 6

  Dark clouds gathered over Manhattan Island, and lightning struck the ground. At each strike, stone and concrete were sent flying in all directions, through windows and crushing cars. At each strike point, a crater the size of a small house was left behind. They took down buildings, cratered the road and exposed water mains, sewerage pipes and, in the places of repeated strikes the subway below.

  People ran for cover, cowering, praying that they wouldn’t be struck or crushed. Many tried to flee the city, clogging up roads with traffic. Panic grew as people abandoned their vehicles and took flight on foot. Weather experts around the world were baffled and concocted various theories to explain the occurrence, meanwhile advising people to stay inside and pray.

  Striker arrived by plane in time to watch the strange cloud, and was unable to find his way onto Manhattan Island. The lighting attacks stopped as suddenly as they had started. The dark cloud descended from the sky, turning into mist and covering all of Manhattan Island.

  Inside the mist no one stirred. Everyone had either fled, perished under the falling debris or had been struck by lightning, leaving no trace of their remains. Slowly, people started to cross back across the few remaining bridges that hadn’t collapsed from a falling building landing onto it. The search and rescue began.

  Crossing the bridge, people entered the mist. The mist blocked out sunlight and absorbed all light from torches and street lights. People began to feel uncomfortable, complaining of an itch on any exposed flesh. The itch quickly developed into a rash spreading along the body. As the rash grew, people began to change, first, skin colour changed, then body parts started to grow rapidly. Some people grew extra arms, some new heads, some extra legs and hands. Hazmat teams set up a check zone stopping people from entering the city. The world watched as the citizens of Manhattan turned into horrible monstrosities.

  Striker had completed an exhaustive search of the records from all the evacuated hospitals. Patients were missing when there were records, and there were patients without records. Still, no Tolbert or any record of his death.

  Striker checked into a local hotel, Mott Haven, and sat on the bed. The décor was drab, in browns and whites; it smelled of fresh linen and too much bleach. The power socket, however, was functional. Striker opened up his laptop to divert himself from the bleak surroundings.

  Tolbert is dead, but I can’t find his body or any record of his death. Where is he? Striker felt the thrill of a mystery, a good challenge to chew on. It was just what he needed now after putting antigovernment slogans on huge neon signs. So work this through Striker. What do you know for certain?

  An image of his old mentor came back to him, asking him to work through the problems in a prescribed order. I know that Tolbert was playing Dragon Hunt.

  How do you know? asked his mental image of his mentor.

  I acquired that information from the game server.

  Good, responded his mentor. What else?

  I know that he has died in the game and in real life.

  How do you know that? his mentor dutifully asked.

  The police report that I obtained.

  Okay, the mentor asked, sceptical, any proof?

  No, no death certificate.

  Why? his mentor asked.

  Maybe because they don’t have a body?

  Then is he really dead?

  He might not be. As a gamer, he might be playing another game. Which one then?

  Striker ran a search on Tolbert’s online account and found that it was active. What
is he doing? What is he playing? Medieval Knight? Hmmm let’s see if the same effect that happened in Dragon hunt happens in Medieval Knight?

  Striker traced the game and installed it onto his laptop, running a simple hack to ensure that he started in the same location as Tolbert. Entering the game, Striker found himself sitting on a knight’s charger wearing plate mail; it covered him from head to toe. He had chain mail between and under the plates.

  “Wow,” Striker muttered. Its heavier than I thought. He lifted his gauntleted hand, bringing it up to his face.

  Riding at the head of a column of twenty knights, Striker swept his head, looking for Tolbert. The column rounded a bend in the road ahead, and he spotted a man in full armour, a broad sword on his belt. He stood facing away with his hands up in surrender.

  An arrow flew out from down the road and took the man in armour full in the chest.

  “Archer,” alerted someone from the column.

  The whole column surged forward to find a single archer on the road dressed in English livery.

  The knights lowered their lances and charged the distance to the lone archer.

  The archer let loose.

  Arrows flew into the air, a knight took an arrow to the chest and fell off his horse, dead. Another arrow flew past Striker’s head, narrowly missing him. His stomach roiled as the arrow whizzed past his head the sound of the wind echoing in his helmet.

  A knight behind him took the arrow right in the eye piece, dead before he fell to the ground.

  The knights ran the archer down, hitting him at full gallop. They rode over his body, grinding him to a messy pulp.

  Striker called a stop to the charge and wheeled his horse, leading it back to the man pinned to a tree with an arrow in his chest. Striker compared the image of the dead man to one he had of Tolbert in his mind; they were a match. Why is it when he is playing, the game seems to become real? Is he doing it or it someone else?

  A woman in a pale white shift with a smile on her lips watched Striker inspecting the body of Tolbert before faded into the shrubbery.

  Perfect. The detective is now in range of the test parameters. Beginning phase two.

  Tolbert clambered up the embankment, looking around in the predawn light. Walking in a straight line, Tolbert found himself looking at another river. Frowning he turned back the way he had come. He wandered around town, looking at signs and scratching his head. This part of town had only a few houses and a large park. Tolbert was unsure of where he was. At least it is a different bridge. But why move the spawn point? Unless I did something that advanced my progress… but what?

  ‘Tap, tap, tap’ came from the park.

  He froze in place, his ears straining for the next sound. That sounds like the bugs of Space Trader.

  ‘Tap, tap, tap.’ The repeated sound was closer.

  Crap. They are coming for me. What are they doing in … what game is this? Last thing I remember was playing Medieval Knight, not Space Traders, but this looks like a town in America. I can smell smog. so I believe that I am in New York or at least nearby. At least I hope I am not in Long Island. That would just be the end, the absolute end.

  He turned and faced the park. The tapping came again to his right. Tolbert turned to face it but couldn’t see the source. Sweat trickled down Tolbert’s back and beaded on his forehead.

  ‘Tap, tap, tap’ from his left. The sound came from the left and to the right.

  With a wall of buildings behind him, he had nowhere to go. A rustling from the bushes drew his attention. He turned facing the moving leaves as sweat trickled down his face.

  A large slug propelled out of the bushes towards him. Tolbert froze into place as the huge slug-like creature bore down upon him. It opened its mouth.

  Tolbert ran for his life, running as fast as he could from the slug-like monster.

  The monster rushed after him.

  Tolbert ran, not looking back. He could hear the slug as it hurtled along the concrete.

  It moved faster than he could run. A long, thin pink tongue reached out and wrapped itself around Tolbert’s waist. The slug pulled Tolbert in, swallowing him whole. In a single fluid move, the slug turned back into the park and passed through the bushes, leaving the street quiet and empty once again.

  Chapter 7

  “Hey Mr,” a young boy pestered Tolbert shaking him from his sleep. He looked up into the face of a young boy of average height and with a mop of brown hair covering his eyes.

  “What?” Tolbert returned, stretching. He sat up, and the boy took a back step.

  The boy had a backpack over his shoulders bursting from the seams. The boy was wearing several layers of clothes.

  “Didn’t you have time to get clothes?” asked the boy, gesturing toward Tolbert.

  Tolbert realised that he was once again only in his boxer shorts. He chuckled going slightly red.

  “I am just grateful to be alive” Tolbert commented. I have been wearing only these boxer shorts for the past couple of days. I need new clothes.

  “What happened to you?” enquired the boy, his eyes widening.

  “I am not sure,” Tolbert mused. “Where am I?” Better not scare the kid. That slug attack happened in a world that looked just like this Is this the real world?

  “You’re in New York,” the boy stated as if that was the only place in the world.

  Tolbert scrunched his face. “I am going to need a little more detail than that.” Looking around he saw a river on one side and a park on the other. He was sitting on a park bench, with tall trees and the sound of the early morning and the milling of many people around.

  “Well, across the river is Manhattan Island.” the boy reported. “Just behind us is the Kennedy Ridge.”

  “Well at least this time I wasn’t under a bridge.” Tolbert observed.

  The boy paused and asked him, “You were under a bridge last time?”

  “Yeah, last time I woke up in New York, I was under a bridge. I think it was that one.”

  A loud roar shattered the morning. Everyone went quiet. The staccato of automatic gunfire countered the roar.

  “We are lucky that the army came in last night and is protecting us from those monsters,” the boy observed.

  “What do the monsters look like?” Tolbert queried. Am I dealing with the trolls or the slugs this time? Not that I can do anything about them. I am just as powerless as I was when living in Queens.

  “I am not sure,” the boy replied. “The one I saw had two eyes and four arms and was ten feet tall,” the boy recalled, his eyes going wide from the account.

  “Other people have said that some of them have no arms, and are only huge mouths; some said that they are yellow,” the boy rambled.

  “That does sound strange,” Tolbert gulped, looking in the direction of the gunfire. I have to do something. I can’t keep running from this problem and letting innocents die. If I don’t solve it, I don’t think anyone else can.

  “I don’t think that they are all the same,” the boy pondered.

  “Would seem so.” Tolbert stood up and stretched again. “I would like to see what they look like, get a good look for myself.” Please don’t come with me, kid. I don’t want to see you die also.

  “Good luck,” the boy called out as he ran back to his family.

  Tolbert watched as the boy returned to his family, and then began walking along the path heading up for the bridge. Cresting the rise, he spotted an army blockade. The army had placed a barricade across the bridge. Standing behind it, facing down the bridge stood, soldiers in battle gear, looking down their rifles.

  A troll. roared from across the bridge and charged the defence line.

  The soldiers fired at the troll.

  Those trolls–they are from Dragon Hunt…. What is going on? How can I solve this without knowing what I am dealing with?

  The gunfire came out raggedly as soldiers took aim. One soldier with a sniper rifle, fired off a shot, the louder boom ringing in Tolbert’s head
. The bullet hit the green monster square in the head.

  The troll recoiled from the blow.

  A small cheer erupted from the encamped soldiers.

  Two of the troll’s arms windmilled wildly and then it regained its balance. The cheers died instantly as the beast roared, with no sign of the bullet impact on its head.

  An officer with a pair of binoculars trained on the troll, lowered them and muttered a small curse.

  The troll charged down the bridge, and out of the building on the opposite side of the bridge came raptors.

  All the soldiers started firing at the oncoming creatures.

  The raptors fell from the onslaught. More poured out from the building, stepping over their dead.

  A tank parked a little back from the soldiers let off a single, high-powered shot from its main cannon.

  The troll at the halfway point was hit by the large calibre shell and, then the round exploded with the full fury that it brought to bear. The concussion and subsequent explosion destroyed the troll. With pieces of the troll raining onto the bridge the raptors turned and fled.

  A cheer ripped up from the soldiers on the line. A quiet calm then descended over the soldiers as they set about preparing for the next wave, checking their magazines and drinking water from the flasks on their jackets.

  The officer turned and marched straight for Tolbert, still standing in his silk boxers. The officer, resplendent in his camouflage gear, had a name badge identified him as Lieutenant Briggs.

  “You should move away,” Briggs instructed.