The Undernet

By J.S. Frankel

Milton (Milt) Edwards, eighteen, high school graduate and gamer supreme, lives for the next game to be played on the internet. His friend, Simon Smith, is no different, and together they rule the world of war simulations and zombie invasions.

When Simon tells Milt about the newest site he’s heard of—the Undernet—Milt is intrigued. However, when Simon turns up dead shortly after telling him, Milt is determined to find out why. Was it the Undernet, a shadowy cyber world, or simply a maniac with a vendetta? He is soon recruited by Ramon, a former prisoner turned FBI hacker, and Larry Caldwell, an FBI agent. Ramon introduces Milt to the Darknet, and soon the clues fall into place, or at least Milt thinks they do.

Against the counsel of his girlfriend, Roberta Jones, Milt goes deeper and deeper into the netherworld known as the Undernet, finding out that reality isn’t what he thinks it is. More deaths happen, and when Milt discovers the truth behind who killed Simon—and others—it may be too late. Log onto the Undernet. Don’t think about logging out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eXtasy Books Inc
• Release date: Aug 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781487412678

Book preview

Log onto the Undernet. Don’t think about logging out.

Milton (Milt) Edwards, eighteen, high school graduate and gamer supreme, lives for the next game to be played on the internet. His friend, Simon Smith, is no different, and together they rule the world of war simulations and zombie invasions.

When Simon tells Milt about the newest site he’s heard of—the Undernet—Milt is intrigued. However, when Simon turns up dead shortly after telling him, Milt is determined to find out why. Was it the Undernet, a shadowy cyber world, or simply a maniac with a vendetta? He is soon recruited by Ramon, a former prisoner turned FBI hacker, and Larry Caldwell, an FBI agent. Ramon introduces Milt to the Darknet, and soon the clues fall into place, or at least Milt thinks they do.

Against the counsel of his girlfriend, Roberta Jones, Milt goes deeper and deeper into the netherworld known as the Undernet, finding out that reality isn’t what he thinks it is. More deaths happen, and when Milt discovers the truth behind who killed Simon—and others—it may be too late. Log onto the Undernet. Don’t think about logging out.

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The Undernet

Copyright © 2017 J.S. Frankel

ISBN: 978-1-4874-1267-8

Cover art by Martine Jardin

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by eXtasy Books Inc or

Devine Destinies, an imprint of eXtasy Books Inc

Look for us online at:

www.eXtasybooks.com or www.devinedestinies.com

Smashwords Edition

The Undernet

By

J.S. Frankel

Dedication

To my wife, Akiko, and to my sons, Kai and Ray, thank you for your support. To my sister, Nancy, thank you for backing me up every step of the way. And to Sara, Emily, Harlowe Rose, Beth, Safa, Trudy, Mirren, Helen, Paula, and so many more, I am eternally grateful.

Chapter One: Game On!

June fifth, Lincoln, Nebraska, the present. Three P.M. Commencement ceremonies over.

Get your game on, man. I’m waiting!

Those were the words I wanted to read most on my computer. They’d be from Simon Smith, my best friend at school, gaming buddy, and all-around nerd like me. Outside of my girlfriend, Robbie Jones, no one else I’d rather hang with. On the other hand, no one else wanted to hang with me, so there it was. At the very least, I did have a girlfriend. Nerds needed companionship, too.

Senior year was over and done with. Say goodbye to Lincoln Star High forever. Commencement had finished. My mother had shown up, helped me into the cap and gown the school had provided, I’d stood for the obligatory mug shots, and now, freedom called.

She’d gone home to work on something, while I had a few things to clear up at school. As I stood at my locker, the sounds of laughter, jokes flying around, calls for parties and plans and meet-ups soared through the air. Everyone had the similar ‘tude and why not?

You look pretty stoked, a familiar voice said.

Turning around, my girlfriend, Robbie—short for Roberta—Jones stood there, all five-three of her with long dark hair and green-eyed hotness. The sight transfixed me. She had a body most other guys would have gone to war for and a face that could have launched a million starships...

Milt, don’t zone out on me.

Was I doing that again? And how does stoked look on me?

She offered a giggle accompanied by a shake of her head. Milt Edwards, you always zone out on me. Now, here’s your expression...

Robbie proceeded to let her lower jaw hang slack while simultaneously widening her eyes to an absurd goggle-level. At the same time, a clownish grin began to form. Was that how I looked? As if reading my mind, she nodded. Yeah, that was how you looked.

Obviously, I hadn’t noticed, but as for zoning out, Robbie had a point. Then again, with her, who wouldn’t get a combination case of the hots joined with a case of the shys? I had it bad around her, and I’d felt that way for the longest time.

Hey, man, another familiar voice called out.

Simon, short and slender like me with red hair, a face full of freckles and a long beak, resembled a baby robin. Still in his cap and gown, he cut through the crowd, loped up to us and asked, Are you ready to game on, Black Night?

Once I get home, you’re on, Red Dragon. He used the moniker Red Dragon on the gaming forums. I went with Black Night, a little pun which no one else appreciated save me.

With a bob of his head, his eyes lit up. Man, I have got to tell you about a new kind of software I heard about.

Instantly, I was all ears. What’s it about?

Leaning forward, he imparted in a hushed tone, It’s on the Undernet. It’s supposed to be the next great thing for getting what you want.

Robbie rolled her eyes at all the subterfuge. She’d heard it a million times before. Let’s get going, she said. Milt, you and me, okay? You and Simon can hook up later.

Since we all lived in the same neighbourhood only a few houses from each other, hooking up was easy. Yes, this would be a great summer, game to fame, battle on, and...

Hey nerd, are you going to set me up or what?

Crap, Jim Kody, star linebacker of our football team, big man on campus, and all-around jerk, just had to show. At six-two and around two-twenty, he had a face like a clenched fist, a burr haircut, and a lousy attitude. He hated gamers and nerds in general, yet, he played fantasy football. To make the irony complete, he was always bugging me to get him some software for free. Yeah, right...

As Jim moved the other students aside with a shove of his forearm, Simon gave him a nervous look and lit out with a, Later, man, I gotta change comment, but Robbie stuck by me.

Wearily, I turned around. Jim, I don’t have any, and even if I did, why would I give it to you for free?

His cocked fist, resembling a small ham, almost made me change my mind. Here are five reasons why you should.

Those five reasons constituted a pretty big threat. Bullies always resorted to threats followed up by force. Considering he’d whipped half the student population at one time or another, I took his threat seriously. However, Robbie stepped in to ask, Are you going to smack me around, too?

Put up or shut up time. She weighed less than half of what he did, but something in her eyes or maybe it was the challenging tone of her voice, made him back down.

Yeah, get your girlfriend to save you, he spat as he uncurled his fist. Go ahead, be a cheapo on the games. Have a nice vacation, nerds.

Spinning around, he stalked off, and Robbie turned to me with a smile on her face. He used the plural of nerd. His grammar is impeccable.

Her reply came out totally deadpan, and we both cracked up. A second later she said in a tough-girl voice, Let’s blow this popsicle stand.

On our fifteen-minute trip home, we savoured every moment of the warm summer air, the cleanness of the city, and the greenery around us. Well, okay, maybe Robbie did, but I was dreaming of my next game. As she hugged me goodbye at her doorstep, she whispered in my ear, Go get your game on. I’ll call you later.

Hoo-ah, what a way to start the summer vacation! I’d managed to get into a community college, so come fall I’d be studying a variety of subjects and then figure out what to do with my life. However, that could wait. The games waited for no one!

Once back at my house, computer fired up, Simon’s earlier statement about the Undernet came back to me. If it involved new software, count me in. As usual, my mother was downstairs working on her laptop, so free time called. My turn at the wheel and I sent Simon a quick message before logging onto the Horror Hotels site. Get ready to kick some butt.

Simon and I had linked up about three years ago when we were fifteen. Sports and yours truly didn’t get along, and being smaller than most other kids my age—barely five-eight—it was a cinch I’d be slaughtered on the playing field.

However, give me a game, and I ruled! It came naturally to me, and Simon was no different. We’d bonded over Dragons and Warriors, Alien Space Rogues, and Horror Hotels, all popular games on the market. Handheld devices or computer forums, those games offered opportunities to discover new worlds only limited by the imagination...

Milton, dinner’s ready!

Had the time passed so quickly? Stealing a look at the clock, it read six-thirty. Wonderful, my mother would have to interrupt feeding time at the game zoo. Coming, Mom, I’ll be down in a second!

If you’re not down here in ten seconds I’m going to serve your dinner to the dog!

We didn’t have a dog.

I called down, Give me a second, Mom, I have to log off!

While stalling for time and waiting for Simon to make his next move on my behalf, I glanced at my games, mentally catalogued them, but my mother interrupted my musings by calling out more sharply this time, Milton, get down here!

All right, I’m coming!

Sheesh... getting back onto the forum, I sent my bud a message. Duty calls.

Duty calls meant I had to do chores or homework or something useless that took up my time. He wrote back later, man and I logged off.

Going downstairs while hanging onto the banister, it creaked under my weight. Rickety and old, just like the rest of the house, it was a miracle it hadn’t broken. My mother was a single mom, and we didn’t have enough cash to move into a better place.

As I trod the steps, my left leg acted up. It sent a sharp stab of pain from my calf up to the top of my neck to remind me of the accident. As if I wanted to forget it in the first place—as if I could.

Getting injured is never on anyone’s menu. Some people got hit by cars while saving a total stranger. Others got hurt scoring the winning touchdown.

Then there was me. I had to get hurt in the weirdest way...

My little date with destiny had taken place six months ago, right in the middle of a snowstorm. The details stood out in my mind—Christmas vacation just around the corner, gaming, and seeing Robbie. She and I were walking home together just after school let out.

Trudging through the snow and huddled against the chill of the air, we joined hands to keep moving. Puddles of ice dotted the ground. We avoided them and the shifting crowds of people, talking about plans for the holidays.

Robbie always kept things light. We’d formed our own connection early on in life, first playing on the swings in elementary school, moving on to walking home together and talking about more serious matters, and finally, when we were sixteen, to romance.

On our first date-not-a-date, more like a question-and-answer session, knowing less than zero about the ins and outs of guy-girl relationships, I asked, Why me?

It happened to be an extremely dense question, but she didn’t give me a snarky answer. Instead, a thoughtful look appeared on her face. We’ve known each other forever. I like you. You’re a decent guy, you don’t mess around, and I can trust you.

Just that one word—trust—sealed the deal. Other guys had tough sounding names. Mine sounded really old-fashioned, and I’d never liked it. In addition, other guys were better built. The full-length bathroom mirror showed a short guy with a slender body and not a whole lot of muscle.

On top of all that, my face resembled a fox’s, narrow and non-descriptive. Add in brown eyes and voila—instant blandness. No one would ever spot me in a crowd. As for messing around, I never even thought of it. Robbie was the one for me and me only.

Um, I got a question for you, I began, getting to the holiday thing. What are we going to do for Christmas?

She giggled. You mean when you’re not gaming with Simon?

Touché...

Yeah, that’s right, when I’m not gaming with Simon.

Another giggle came my way. Well, we could go out or watch some movies or, she snuggled closer, you could come over and spend Christmas Eve with me if your mother’s okay with that. That would be nice.

Yes... the games could wait for one night. We continued slogging our way home, and then, like all dramatic things, it happened. An overhead transformer on a telephone pole shorted out due to the cold, and the snowfall and the cable snapped.

I remembered pushing her out of the way and into a snow bank. Look out! she yelled.

Her warning came too late, as the cable came down in a blinding arc of speed. It whipped through the air and cut my left leg out from under me. The world spun crazily, and a shock ran through me as I hit the ground. The air went out of my lungs. Wet flakes of snow coated my face. Oddly enough, I felt no pain.

Oh god, she screamed and put her hands up to her mouth. No!

There goes my vacation, Robbie, gaming...

The wail of a siren cut through the air... a wall of white descended... the next thing I knew, the smell of antiseptic and bright lights indicated I was in a hospital.

Looking to my right, an orderly had his hand on some metal bars. The bars belonged to a gurney, I was on it, and he was doing his best Indy 500 imitation to get me somewhere.

I’m over here, Robbie said from my left side. They’re going to operate, they said. I called your mother. She said she’d be here soon.

In the case of my mother, the expression she’d be here soon meant coming home after she finished work. What it really meant was she’d be home late or not at all. Then she was off again, trying to build her business.

A freelance software engineer, her job entailed driving to neighbouring cities or sometimes travelling cross-country to help out small businesses upgrade and connect. I learned a lot from her in how to use computers when I was younger, but as for being a mother, her business came first, and everything else came last.

I’ll be fine, Robbie, I managed to get out before the first waves of pain hit. Go home, okay? I’ll be fine.

Would I, though? Stealing a peek at my left leg, it lay at an acute angle to the rest of my body and then the agony came, filling my body. God, don’t cut it off, please.

Inside the operating room now and on the table, a cap-and-gowned doctor said, I’m Doctor Olson. What’s your name?

Milton Edwards. I’ll be eighteen next March. I’m a senior in high school.

What was up with the intros? Maybe he wanted me to relax. With half my leg hanging off the table, it was a little difficult. He said, You’ve had a pretty bad injury, but we’ll get you fixed up. You’ll walk.

Thanks. Nothing else came to mind.

Who’s the young lady outside? He gave a signal to the anesthetist, and someone placed a plastic mask over my face. The gas started hissing, and I breathed it in, feeling my body gradually relax.

Young lady...

I twisted my head around and saw Robbie staring through the window of the OR with a worried look on her face. Her name’s Roberta Jones. She’s my girlfriend.

Everything started to spin, and I couldn’t keep my eyelids open much longer. Focus on something. Choosing to fix my gaze on the bright lights overhead, hoped that I wouldn’t come out of this looking like Peg-Leg Pete. Then darkness settled in...

Unlike the comic books, I didn’t wake up with super powers or cover model looks or a giant IQ. What I did wake up with was a reconstructed left leg held together by titanium plates and a lot of screws.

You got lucky, the doctor said as he examined the cast. The accident shattered the bones in your leg and partially severed your hamstring, but we put everything back together.

Yeah, just like a jigsaw puzzle. A day after the operation, my mother ran into my room and apologized for not being there right away.

I had a job and got back just now, she said as she took in my casted leg suspended by a sling and leaned over to stroke my brow. Her mouth began to quiver, and tears fell from her eyes. I’m sorry, she sobbed. I should have been here, should have paid more attention...

Struggling against a sudden surge of torment, I lifted my hand to pat her shoulder and then let it drop to the mattress. What else could I do? Mom, if you can be home a few more days a week so we can talk, I’m fine with that.

Her teary gaze met mine. I’ll try. She glanced at my casted leg again. Are you going to be okay?

The doctors said I would be.

So they said. After the cast had come off and after two hours a day of therapy once school let out, I managed to walk again, but I still had a limp and probably always would have one. The titanium plates would stay forever.

During therapy, gaming withdrawal symptoms set in, so my mother brought over my laptop, and I managed to get in a few hours with Robbie and Simon.

Out of all the people I knew in real life, he was the only person outside of my girlfriend to drop by and offer any sympathy. Not that I wanted it, but it happened to be a pretty decent gesture on his part, and good friends were hard to come by...

Milton!

Third time for a call-out and I snapped back to the present and moved to the bottom of the stairwell. I’m here, Mom, chill, okay?

Letting my gaze travel around our downstairs, I took in the beat-up old couch opposite our used flat-screen television, the worn carpet, and the sagging bookshelves. I also caught sight of my parent’s wedding photo.

My mother, short and somewhat overweight at the time, wore her brown hair long and full and had a smile on her face. My father, tall and serious looking with a narrow face and green eyes, looked pretty average to me. They appeared to be happy, and I guess they were for a time. He’d died when I was two, so I didn’t remember him at all.

Inside our small, old kitchen, she was sitting at the table where we ate breakfast. It was usually the only meal we ate together. Even though we’d had our heart-to-heart at the hospital about her being home more often, she still took off for days at a time.

It wasn’t easy for us. When kids my age said, The struggle is real, they were talking about whether to buy a smart-phone as opposed to an iPad.

I never had the luxury. We needed the money and to be fair about it, my mother worked hard. I know you love your games, Milton, she