TITAN

By Tom Stein

A teenaged boy gifted with incredible power and a dangerous secret searches for his lost brother in a war-torn world.

At seventeen years old, Alex has kept a low profile for most of his life. He and his brother, Levi, had always been isolated from the outside worl

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tom Stein Books
• Release date: Jun 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9798985501728

Tom Stein

Author Tom Stein was recognized as having a keen talent for writing early on in his life. He's been inventing stories since he was a child and, later in high school, won several prestigious Scholastic Gold Key Awards, which recognizes outstanding creative writing by a teen, and also a poetry award. He continued to hone his writing skills through college, journalism school, and law school, taking his time writing twenty-three drafts until perfecting his new sci-fi dystopian young adult novel, Titan.Tom believes a good story is one that has characters that are relatable and that the reader can truly empathize with. Whether it's heroes or villains, all great characters have aspects that humanize them. Most notably in his genre of sci-fi and fantasy, Tom feels that fiction gives the reader a world to escape to and the thrill of experiencing the impossible and the extraordinary. He hopes his young readers come away from his stories learning not to have other people's expectations rule them and to use their talents in the way that makes them most happy. With Titan, Tom hopes to convey that a family isn't based on blood; it's made up of the people who unconditionally love you just as you are. When he's not writing thrilling books for young adults, Tom enjoys playing guitar, taking photos, going on adventures (cycling, skiing, road trips), and exploring new places around the city with his fiancé. They live in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, with their German shepherd, Thor.

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

Copyright © 2022 by Tom Stein

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

For more information, please visit tomsteinbooks.com

First edition June 2022

Book design by David Provolo

ISBN 979-8-9855017-0-4 (hardback)

ISBN 979-8-9855017-1-1(paperback)

ISBN 979-8-9855017-2-8 (ebook)

www.tomsteinbooks.com

Contents

Title Page

MONDAY

Orphan

Betrayal

TUESDAY

Encounter

The Candy Bar Thief

Damned Either Way

No Turning Back

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

As Easy as Walking Out the Front Door

Plan B

Epiphany

Red Eyes

Introductions

A Shot in the Dark

Meditation

WEDNESDAY

Mama’s Boy

Loss

Ghosts in the Machine

Conspiracy

The Downfall of Hubris

THURSDAY

Truth

Snell County Penitentiary

Facades

Weapons

Helpless

Picking Up the Pieces

Everything That Drives Us — Everything That Holds Us Back

A Hero to Save the World

Little Roach

A Lead

After Everything, Goodbye

Avalon

Playing the Game

The Man Who Would Make a Better World

Into Darkness

Expendable

Nothing Left to Lose

Titan

Loose Threads

FRIDAY

Family

Orphan

Alex’s heartbeat skipped to the manic thud of an electronic bassline as he pushed his way through the crowded Chicago street. Colored lights from a nearby stage rolled over him and the hundreds of dancing people around him, further illuminating them in the already iridescent New Year’s Eve night. The crowd began to roar as a holographic woman with wild blonde-and-pink hair rained musical destruction down on them with her synthesizer.

The mood was lost on Alex. He tried to squeeze past two bouncing girls but bumped one of their elbows, knocking a neon-green plastic cup out of her hand. Liquor splashed on the asphalt, and the girl glared at Alex. Watch where you’re going, asshole! she growled, examining his almond-toned teenage face through narrowed eyes.

Alex quickly dropped his head, causing his shaggy blond hair to fall and hide his crimson irises from view. He couldn’t risk someone getting a good look at him. With what he was about to do, the last thing he’d need would be a police sketch on the news the next morning.

Excuse me. Alex’s apology was lost in the chorus of cheering fans as he edged past, this time with more care. He weaved through the crowd until he reached the sidewalk on the other side of the road.

Fewer people milled around there, although the area was far from vacant. Alex looked back the way he’d come. A thick press of bodies jumped to the beat of the music, hands in the air, drunk on proximity and alcohol.

Over a square mile of city streets had been transformed into a gigantic festival—an ideal distraction in Alex’s favor. A band played something for every musical taste on nearly every corner—just enough distance to keep their sound distinct. In between lay row upon row of concession and souvenir stands. Along with the usual New Year’s kitsch, most items for sale were neon colored and featured phrases such as Seventeen Years!, Never Forget, or One World.

While celebrating New Year’s Eve had always been a tradition—or so Alex had heard—the signing of the End-War Ceasefire seventeen years before had given the date much more meaning. Dwindling resources and famine had pushed an overpopulated planet into war, but it was now completely united under a single democratic government, the World Unity and Peace Federation. People had food again. Affordable housing and jobs too. Even militaries had been disbanded to ensure the fighting would never resume.

Looking at the electric ocean of people around him, Alex wondered how bad it had gotten. Unlike him, many of those people were old enough to remember and, despite the lingering hardships that still plagued the world, they seemed content—even happy. Maybe it was all relative. Maybe it was just the booze. What he knew for sure was he didn’t feel the same way. Then again, he wasn’t exactly cut from the same cloth.

Nearby, a wiry teenager, far too young to drink, threw up in a nearby trash can, laughed, and wobbled back to his friends. Alex crinkled his nose in disgust as the sour smell of stomach acid and alcohol wafted his way. At least he hit the can, he thought.

Alex wasn’t the only person who noticed. A disheveled older woman who had sheltered herself a few paces away against a dilapidated brick building hollered at the boys. She pointed to a large homemade sign that read in big capital letters, REMEMBER THE FALLEN.

Mind your own business, the teenager snarled. He threw his half-empty beer can at her.

The woman shrieked as it crashed against the concrete, splashing frothy liquid onto her ragged coat and sign. The boys snickered and disappeared back into the crowd. She attempted to swipe the liquid off, tears in her eyes. On instinct, Alex ran to help but stopped after only a few strides. Gotta keep a low profile tonight, he reminded himself. This may be my only shot.

Pushing the woman from his mind, Alex made sure his gloves were pulled over the sleeves of his green jacket, so none of his light-brown skin was visible, then bent down and pulled his long black socks up under his jeans for the same reason. He walked casually toward the attractive marble-and-glass building before him. Wide, but not as tall as those on either side, it spanned nearly half a city block—and the colossal Doric columns that held the pediment over the entrance made it look like a modern Greek temple. This was the Federation’s Chicago field office, the high-security home to government secrets and critical networks, and absolutely nobody was paying attention to it.

The sidewalks around the dimly lit building were relatively empty. Only a dozen or so people sat on the wide concrete steps, their backs to the front doors. Alex ambled past them, and once out of view, removed a black ski mask from his pocket and pulled it over his head. He double-tapped the earbud in his ear, and an old-school EDM track began to play—music he could work to.

Walking around the side of the building, he found an employee entrance off a deserted alley. The single, windowless metal door was nearly invisible, painted to match the building’s off-white exterior. Above it was a security camera. Alex grinned and gave it the bird. He knew no one was watching.

He retrieved his phone, a black slab of opaque, flexible glass only a few millimeters thick, from his pocket. For a fraction of a second, in the dim light, he saw his red eyes reflected on its dark surface before the screen lit up. He launched an app he had created the day before and held the phone to a rusting security-card reader that jutted out of the wall next to the door. A second later, he heard the click of a lock, and he pulled the door open.

Alex looked back at the street, making sure no one saw him enter. Then he shut the door with a soft thud and another click as it locked behind him. Stepping as lightly as he could, he moved down the tiled hallway. His destination was up just three floors. Minus interference, he could be in and out in less than fifteen minutes.

Alex passed several glass doors until he came to an archway that led to the high-ceilinged marble-and-granite main entrance lobby. The plain tile floor of the hall flowed into the room like a stream merging with a river, swirling into intricate patterns of varying shades of beige and gray and creating paths that led to other archways. The meticulously crafted design covered the whole expanse of the room and yet was so plainly colored that most people probably wouldn’t notice it.

The dazzling lights from the festivities outside pulsed through the sliding and revolving glass doors at the front of the room, opposite Alex, and danced on the glossy stone walls of the otherwise dark and empty space. They injected into the building an energy that he suspected it was not intended to have.

The lobby’s impressive marble front desk stood only a few feet from him. On the wall behind it, big platinum letters read, WORLD UNITY AND PEACE FEDERATION: CHICAGO. To the right, an open door was marked SECURITY. Through it, he could see the profile of a portly night watchman in a brown uniform. The man sat inside, staring at a computer monitor.

For a moment, Alex feared that the guard was monitoring camera feeds after all, but on closer inspection, he noticed that the man was wearing headphones. He crept nearer to get a better look. A wide smile stretched across the guard’s tubby face, the hues of the changing images on the screen washing over him. The fool was watching television, just as he’d been when Alex had scouted the building earlier in the week. Alex smiled. As expected, he wouldn’t have to worry about the cameras. Still, there were at least another dozen watchmen around. He couldn’t afford to be sloppy.

He patted his mask to make sure nothing was showing that could later identify him. A small tuft of blond hair had managed to escape through one of the eyeholes. Alex pushed it back under the fabric, out of sight. Then, keeping close to the wall, he silently ran into the lobby on the balls of his feet toward a door labeled STAIRS.

After one last glance over his shoulder, he proceeded up the steps, skipping every other one. He stopped short at the third-floor landing and pulled up a map of the building on his phone.

Thank you, public access laws. Without you, I’d have no idea where to go, Alex whispered.

He scanned the map, his eyes following the twists and turns of the hallways that led from where he was to a little square marked SERVER. He had already memorized the route days ago, but he didn’t want to take any chances. One wrong turn, and he’d be forced to waste time backtracking until he found his way again.

Satisfied that he knew the floor’s layout, he cracked open the stairwell door and stuck his phone out near the bottom of the doorjamb. Using its front and back cameras, he captured images of both sides of the dark hallway. He pulled the phone back in and examined the photos. Unlike the hallway downstairs, the ceiling here was lower and the floor carpeted, more utilitarian than out to impress. Not even a picture hung on the walls. The good news: there wasn’t another soul in sight.

Alex stepped out of the doorway, pulled the door shut behind him, and moved on.

At another fork in the hallway, he leaned up against the wall, crouched down, and silently snapped more photos. This time, they revealed a second night watchman, younger and leaner than the first, sitting at a table next to a kitchenette in an alcove. The man was distracting himself with a tablet computer, likely on a break. With any luck, he’d be just as oblivious to his surroundings as the other guard.

Being careful not to make a sound, Alex crept across the intersection. He paused, motionless against the wall, out of sight and listening for any signs that the man was coming to investigate. He heard nothing but the tick of fingers tapping on the glass of the tablet. Alex held back a sigh of relief and moved forward.

He repeated the photo-taking process several more times at each intersection, turning at some and going straight through others until he arrived at the server room. Its door was wide and metal and activated by a keypad. Alex didn’t know the passcode, and his phone would be no help with this type of lock. He hesitated. He’d been afraid it would come to this.

Alex glanced down the hall, then back at the big metal door, and groaned under his breath. He had only one other option, and it was going to be loud.

He grabbed the handle and, with one great tug, yanked the door open, breaking the lock with a loud metallic thunk and nearly ripping the door off its hinges. He winced at the noise. The watchman from the kitchen would likely come to investigate. Alex didn’t have much time.

Hot, dry air greeted him as he entered the room. The weight of the heavy door caused it to close against the frame behind him. The room was pitch black, except for a few scattered green and red LEDs that seemed to hover in the darkness. Alex used the beam on his phone as a work light.

The space wasn’t very large and was completely windowless. Wires lined the plain white walls, connecting several racks filled with black metal boxes—the source of the green and red lights. In the middle of it all, sitting innocently on a small folding desk, was a simple computer terminal. Alex glared at it with disappointment. Guess the Federation really does practice what it preaches, he thought. He had been looking forward to experiencing tech that wasn’t half a century old, for once in his life. Oh, well. Makes my job that much easier.

Alex seized the keyboard and tapped on it. The monitor glowed to life, displaying the words World Unity and Peace Federation: All United, United for All. It prompted him for a password.

Next to the monitor was a sync pad, which allowed users to wirelessly transfer data from their devices to the computer and vice versa. Alex set his phone on it. A notification popped up on its tiny screen, alerting him that it couldn’t connect because the computer was locked.

We’ll see about that. Alex dismissed the message and opened another homemade application. Within seconds, the computer revealed its desktop.

A wave of pride swept over him. He had written a program that had worked out the password to a Peace Federation computer in less than a second. Beautiful, he whispered.

While the Federation’s practice of keeping sensitive data on its own separate intranet had forced Alex to physically break into the field office, seeing his programs work so flawlessly almost made it worth the risk. Now, if I can just find it, everything can go back to the way it was. Trembling in anticipation, he searched through the file system until he found the Federation Security Force’s operations records. He was so close.

His fingers typed his brother’s name, Levi, into the search bar. The database pulled up nearly five million documents. Obviously, a first name alone wouldn’t be enough to locate what he was looking for. He added the surname, Fischer. The number of items dropped to twenty thousand. Still way too many. He then entered his mother’s name, Meli. The results shot down to zero. Frustrated, Alex scratched the side of his head under his ski mask. As his fingers brushed through his hair, he felt the ridges of the hidden scar that spelled out R E O H. Levi had that marking too.

Mike? Was that you? a faraway voice said from the hallway over cautious footsteps.

Alex needed to hurry. He erased the names from the search bar and put in the four letters from his scar; 179 results. That was a little more manageable.

What the hell? the voice exclaimed from just outside the room. Shit!

Alex prompted the computer to copy the data onto his phone just as the door flew open. The guard who’d been in the kitchenette pointed a flashlight directly at Alex, jumping in surprise when he saw him. Wh-who are you? His voice cracked. Show me your hands.

Now that they were closer, Alex could see that the man was only in his early twenties. Looking at his terrified, pimpled face, Alex felt sorry for the guy. This was probably the first time anyone had ever broken into the Federation building. Like finding a gold nugget in a box of cereal, it just didn’t happen.

Using the steady beat of the music in his ear to keep calm, Alex raised his palms. What’s up?

Put your hands behind your head and get on your knees. Shaking horribly, the man pulled a Taser from his belt and pointed it at Alex.

Alex glanced over his shoulder to see if the file had finished downloading. It had. He slowly reached for his phone. Relax. I’m just a figment of your imagination.

Like hell you are. One more move and I’ll shoot. He motioned with his weapon. I mean it!

Alex grabbed his phone. The watchman fired his Taser, sending electrodes into Alex’s chest. Despite the current of electricity flowing into him, Alex didn’t flinch. He simply grabbed the electrodes and pulled them out.

Wrinkles formed on the man’s brow as he squinted at his weapon, then his eyes widened. Y-you’re one of them, aren’t you? A Juggernaut.

Alex shrugged. Honestly, I have no idea what I am.

B-but you—

Taking advantage of the guard’s loss of composure, Alex darted past him toward the exit. The small size of the room worked against Alex, however, and the man managed to grab the ski mask, pulling it off. Alex didn’t stop. He couldn’t risk getting into a confrontation. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt anyone. The guard chased after him but, unable to keep up, stopped and radioed for backup.

Alex sped through the hallways and back into the stairwell. The sound of footsteps echoed toward him from the flights below. He couldn’t go down, and he couldn’t go back the way he’d come.

He sprinted up the stairs instead, running across the walls at each landing to keep his momentum. Alex passed six floors before bursting through the locked maintenance door and onto the roof. He ran to the edge of the building and looked down at the crowded streets. A cold winter breeze blew his loose, shaggy hair into his face. He brushed it aside and examined the city before him.

Skyscrapers dwarfed the building he stood on. A crescent moon shone between their glass-and-metal skeletons, casting beams of white light through hazy clouds onto the already glowing metropolis. The streets below undulated like a river of neon as the revelers jostled about, completely oblivious to what was going on just above them.

Alex looked over his shoulder at the door as four security guards hustled out. All but one had their Tasers drawn at Alex. The one who’d been watching TV near the lobby, now completely out of breath, was still fumbling to remove it from its holster.

Freeze! the leftmost shouted.

It couldn’t be helped. If Alex was going to get out of this, he had to show his face. He turned around.

He’s just a kid, the pimpled watchman who’d confronted him in the server room muttered incredulously.

I just turned seventeen! I’m hardly a kid. Alex walked toward them. He needed more space between himself and the edge of the roof.

Don’t come any closer, son. We don’t want to hurt you if we don’t have to, another watchman said. Alex hadn’t seen this one before. She was a little older than the others, gray bangs hanging limply over her lined forehead.

Your friend tried that already. It’s not going to work.

The radio crackled on the guards’ shirts. The police are here. Where do you want me to send them?

The roof, the woman responded.

The building’s security weren’t permitted to have guns, but Chicago PD certainly was. Alex was out of time.

Hear that? There’s no escape for you now, she warned Alex, speaking with a slow, disarming tone. Just stay where you are, and we’ll make sure your arrest is as painless as possible.

Uh-huh. Alex continued to close the gap between himself and the watchmen.

"This isn’t a game. We will shoot," the female guard said more firmly.

Yeah, I’m sure. But will you hit me?

Dun, tss, dun, tss …. The rhythm in Alex’s earbud never wavered. As long as it was playing, neither would he. He took a deep breath and, in the blink of an eye, ran back toward the edge of the building. The guards fired their Tasers, but the electrodes fell short.

Alex focused on the rooftop of the building across the street. It was a long jump—a good fifty yards, at least—but he’d made greater leaps before.

With one great push, Alex launched himself off the roof. But his foot caught the lip that lined the building. The world spinning, he cried out in surprise as he tumbled down into the crowd, nine stories below.

Betrayal

A re you sure you can’t just give me the data? Jack Reid cajoled his burner phone, which was perched haphazardly on the lip of his parked Toyota Corolla’s dashboard. The device glowed in the darkness, illuminating the car’s dingy, decades-old interior. Jack tried to ignore the way the light cast his twenty-three-year-old face in the windshield—transparent, like a phantom. It made him uneasy.

I’m sorry, Jack, Daniel said, his pale, bald head displayed prominently on the phone’s screen. It was a no four days ago, and it’s still a no now. Sitting in his cozy home office, Daniel should have been relaxed, but his tired expression told otherwise.

Brushing a strand of straight brown hair from his tapered eyes, Jack watched a drunk New Year’s reveler shuffle down the squalid Chicago street, using the antique retrofitted electric vehicles that lined nearby Nichols Park for balance. Not even for an old friend? You realize how much danger this puts us in, right?

"You realize how much danger it would put me in if I did it for you? I’m not like you guys. I’m quite a bit more fragile." Daniel glanced behind him as if expecting someone.

Jack grinned, admiring Daniel’s wrinkles. That’s true, especially now that you’ve gotten so old.

Daniel frowned. Not everyone is immune to the passage of time like you.

Jack glanced at his reflection again. It was true. He hadn’t aged a day in the twenty years since the now defunct United States military had transformed him into a Juggernaut. Eternal youth wasn’t the only benefit the genetic enhancements had bestowed, either. Strength, speed, intelligence—he had it all. Too bad the power came with such a heavy price. If he’d known the world would be turned against him after the war ended, he never would have taken it.

Still, a password and a guarantee that they won’t be expecting us isn’t much, Jack said. With your high position in the Federation, surely you can do at least a little more.

Daniel shook his head. I can’t access the Federation’s database without them knowing it was me, and it would be pretty suspicious if the data I copied happened to end up in a terrorist Juggernaut’s hands. That would be the end of both me and your line into the government.

I’m not a terrorist, Jack said bitterly. It was bad enough the Federation called him that. Daniel knew better. But you’re right. I just hate going into Chicago without an edge. It’s not going to be easy getting out of a city this big if something goes wrong.

Daniel said nothing.

"You are telling me everything, right?"

Daniel cleared his throat. I haven’t steered you wrong in ten years, have I? You know you can trust me.

Can I?

Jack, we served in the war together. You saved my life. We’re practically brothers.

So why do you look so worried?

Well, I … Daniel looked like a frog that just realized it was being boiled alive. It’s just some late-night business I’ve been hit with. In my position, things can come up without warning.

Jack laughed. I’m just giving you a hard time.

Daniel’s doorbell rang, distorting harshly through Jack’s phone. Daniel jumped in surprise.

That your business? Jack said, still grinning.

The fear in Daniel’s expression had multiplied ten-fold.