Free Dark Web by T. J. Brearton Page B

to him? What was secret?
    He loved to skateboard and had gotten around Florida on those four little wheels for years. Mike had noticed that the skateboard had been left at home more frequently in the months before their departure.
    Desperate, Mike tried a few brand names. Volcom, and Burton — though he thought Burton only made snowboards. He tried RUCA and Billabong. The red text kept flashing. Then the website prompted him to continue by entering a string of odd letters and numbers. It was attempting to protect itself from hackers.
    Frustrated, sweating now despite the cool temperature of the room, Mike bent closer to the screen and squinted at the code, pecking it in with his index finger. Then he was again at the log-in field the idiot cursor blinking at him, teasing him to enter the correct phrase.
    Or numbers , he thought. Or a combination of text and numbers. He could be here all day.
    But he didn’t think Braxton would’ve used numbers. It was just a hunch, but he felt like his son was more inclined to use a word with special meaning to him. The kid was into reading and writing, not math. What else was he into?
    Braxton was fiercely dedicated to environmentalism and had some wild ideas about a whole new type of economy, what he called, on the few occasions they discussed it, a resource-based economy. This concern for the environment and the economy, coupled with his lack of debating skills, had caused some trouble between them on more than one occasion.
    Mike felt a sudden light illuminate the back of his mind. An innovator Braxton had once expressed his admiration for. He had been watching some documentary about a man named Jacques Fresco who had created The Venus Project , an elaborate design for a utopian world, one that, to some people, would seem like pure communist fantasy, but that placed resources at the center of the world economy instead of the commodification and competition of capitalism.
    Mike typed J-a-c-q-u-e-s and F-r-e-s-c-o and then both together.
    No dice.
    He tried V-e-n-u-s-p-r-o-j-e-c-t
    He hit enter. Foiled.
    He sat back for a second and rubbed his face. He leaned forward again and stared. He tapped the delete button until the word “project” was erased and then he stopped. He was grasping at straws here. There was just as much of chance that Braxton would be coy and have a password like “Password.” Anyone who wanted to get anywhere they weren’t supposed to go on the web didn’t bother trying to crack existing passwords.
    Mike was preparing to try a whole new angle when he hit enter on “Venus,” just for the hell of it and, a second later, Braxton’s email account opened up in front of him.
    Mike’s eyes widened and his scalp tingled. He was in. He started flipping through the emails. He kept his eyes on the dates to the right of the email chain.
    “Dad?”
    It was Reno calling from the other room.
    “I’ll be there in a minute. Just put on another episode, okay honey?”
    “Dad?”
    “I said I’ll be right there.”
    He heard a thumping.
    “Dad there’s someone at the door.”
    He froze. He had yet to locate the email. He peered at the screen and scrolled further down. There were not many messages. Mostly there were repeats from something called “Kapow.” He quickly flicked the cursor over to the trash folder and opened it. He scrolled toward the bottom, and heard the knocking again at the front door.
    Jesus, he needed to get out there. He strained his eyes, rolling up and down, scanning the screen. Nothing. Braxton had already deleted the email Mike was hunting for. It was long gone.
    He pulled his face away from the screen and quickly closed down the browser window, collapsing both of the open tabs.
    He got up out of the chair and turned to see that the screen was now illumined, whereas it had been dark in sleep-mode. The original browser window was now closed. He’d tampered with evidence, for God’s sake.
    He left the room, his pulse rate uncomfortably high. No