Apocalypse: The Savior with System

30 Breakthrough

It was after another week at Rahu’s place that Eric finally found a small break into Pearse-Sachly’s servers. Employing much of Rahu’s own computers and devices, Eric was able to get into a “room” that apparently led to other rooms, as he explained, which none of them understood. So he and Judith worked on that while Paul and Rahu busied themselves in building a vehicle for all of them to fit into. Eli and Andie were in charge of food and general housekeeping.

Every once in a while they would come across a zombie that had wandered into the compound, owing to the fact that Rahu was no longer able to revive the security system around the perimeter. It would take time and resources and Rahu did not think it was worth all that effort.

Whenever they did have an unwanted zombie guest, Paul used the chance to test the fireballs he had been developing. Firing them was not a problem; making a straight target was. He knew that one day he’d be battling a host of them with sufferers scattered about. Oftentimes, he noticed, the fireballs would curve or list. He could not and would not risk an innocent life to become collateral damage.

When Eric announced his breakthrough, he also had additional information on a military base a few miles away. It was also a large arsenal, full of firepower and resources. Rahu immediately wanted to capture the arsenal so they could use it. It helped that he had been to the place before when he was invited over for meetings regarding his weapons business.

“I do have to tell you that the security there is tight,” Eric said. “Tighter now than before when you’d been there. I tried looking for a way in but it seems they’ve upped the level of security. I wouldn’t be able to hack into their own server from here.”

“What do you think we should do?” asked Paul.

Rahu thought for a long while before answering, “I don’t know if it’s still there but there’s a clubhouse where I met with their commanders and people from the government.”

“Clubhouse? Like a restaurant?”

“Not exactly,” Rahu said, looking a bit dazed for a moment.

Eric, who had been typing furiously on his laptop suddenly blurted out. “Found it! It still exists and is operational. It’s called Braxton’s.”

“Yes, that’s the name of the place,” Rahu agreed.

“So how do we go there and what exactly do we do when we’re there?” Paul asked again. “I don’t think it will be wise to go there guns blazing.”

“I know someone who might be there and who can get us in,” said Rahu.

“Only government officials are allowed in,” Eric told them. “But it says here that you’d need an ID with a code to enter.” He grinned at them. “If you have the technology, I think I can help you with those.”

Paul grinned back. “Can you make us those IDs in a few days?”

Eric closed his laptop. “Like I said, if you have the tech, I can make you those IDs…in an hour.”

Luckily, Rahu and Paul were able to create a machine that could duplicate IDs. With Eric’s help, they now had two IDs with codes Eric filched from the national database.

“Government officials are rarely checked for infection,” he told them. “Besides, once they’ve scanned your ID, the assumption is you’re cleared and normal.”

Rahu was given an ID with the name of Allan Holtz, a security personnel for the governor. Paul would be going by the name of Thomas Bridge, a clerk.

Later, on the way to the city of Rehoboth where the clubhouse was located, Paul asked Rahu, “What can you tell me about this arsenal?”

Rahu, who was now driving their car, replied, “That military base used to be a private compound, which the interim government appropriated. George Phelps ran the place—he’s closely linked with David Morgan’s party.”

Paul raised an eyebrow. “That’s strange. Something of David Morgan’s is also found in relation to Pearse. Aren’t they rivals?”

“It’s not unusual to find information on one from the other. For a long time those two have been at loggerheads.”

“And this George Phelps, a friend of yours?”

Rahu grunted. “No.”

Paul shrugged. “Okay.” He leaned over to the dashboard and opened a tablet-like device that was not unlike the navigation map he had in his system. “Are the maps in here?”

Rahu nodded. “Any and all information on the arsenal and the clubhouse are there, too. Eric uploaded them.”

Thanks, man, Paul thought happily, opening the map and reading on the data Eric gave them. It was better this way so Paul could conserve the energy by not opening his system every so often.

“So if we get hold of Phelps, what happens?”

“Phelps controls the arsenal and has the key to opening the place and everything inside it,” Rahu said. “Whether he dies or not, we need that key to take over the arsenal.”

The two talked of how to go about taking Phelps by surprise. It was fairly easy, once they’ve gone past his own security detail. Eric was able to get information on his daily schedule—the man apparently kept to a strict timetable. He would be at Braxton’s in a few hours.

When Paul and Rahu arrived at the clubhouse, Paul was quite surprised.

Braxton was not a restaurant. And it wasn’t really a clubhouse.

It was a bar.

And, no, not your usual sports bar, too.

Immediately upon gaining entry, Paul was greeted by the sight of a woman—no, make that two very naked women—writhing on an elevated stage at the end of the large space. At the edges of the room were chairs and tables, some already occupied with men and scantily clad women.

“It’s a stripper’s bar,” Paul murmured. He looked at Rahu's askance. “And you had official government-sanctioned meetings here, you say?”

“I never said the government was not rotten,” Rahu hit back. He looked at his watch. “Phelps will be here in an hour. Let’s get a table.”

Paul had been to places like this before he got married. He was no saint. It only shocked him that the place was being used by the government for their trade deals. He wondered if trading in flesh had any effect on those deals turning into the government’s favor.

The two men found a table far removed from the lights and the public but still with a good view of the rest of the room. Barely had they sat down when a sultry female voice purred at them from the next table, “Well, well, well. Look who the cat dragged in.”

Paul turned and found himself looking at an elegant-looking young woman who seemed like she came out of a 1920s pin-up poster if those existed.

With her dark hair cut short in a bob, pale skin, and blood-red lips, she did look like someone from that era. She had the look of a natural femme fatale, the kind of girl his mother had warned him about as a young man. And he could not blame her or the men who would fall from grace for this woman. She did look very tempting.

Alluring was the word.

She did not rise from her seat, only slightly turned so she could take a good look at Paul. Her eyes, though, were on Rahu, who kept his usual stoic expression plastered on his face. She smiled and Paul had goosebumps on his skin. Her eyes narrowed in a cat-like way and they zoomed in on the IDs they had hanging around their necks. She raised an eyebrow at Rahu.

Suddenly, the naked girls on stage disappeared and new music filtered from the speakers. The nameless woman stood and approached their table. She held out a hand to Rahu. “Care for a dance?”

Paul opened his mouth to say something but Rahu had already stood, taken her hand, and led her to the dance floor. He wondered if she was part of Braxton’s “menu”.

Rahu as a ladies’ man did not quite fit with what he already knew and have seen of his friend. Paul sighed, signaled a waiter for a bottle of beer, and watched as Rahu and the woman slow-danced with other couples around them. From where he was seated, he couldn’t see if they were talking but he did see the woman whisper something close to Rahu’s ear that made the man frown.

The beer came and Paul downed the entire thing in seconds, which caught the attention of two women—yes, the same women who had been naked and going down on each other onstage earlier. They approached and invited him to dance with them. Paul turned them down, an image of Judith’s disapproving face in his mind.

In a while, the music stopped and changed into another. Rahu and the woman came back to their table and she held out her hand to Paul. Rahu didn’t seem to mind and just watched as she led Paul onto the dance floor. It’s been a long time since Paul danced with a woman and he found the experience a bit awkward. Or maybe because he felt her eyes boring through him. And then she pressed her body closer, her mouth right up at his ear. Paul’s goosebumps intensified.

“Whoever you are, you’re not Thomas Bridge,” she whispered, her breath warm on his ear. He almost took a step back but her grip on his arms was strong. On the outside, she looked dainty but that grip did not belong to someone who was pampered. “I should know. I killed him last week.”

Paul froze.

Who the hell is this woman?!