Free 6th Horseman, Extremist Edge Series: Part 1 by Anderson Atlas Page A

should’ve thought about this.
    I run to the door. I can’t unlock it. This
totally sucks. My chest gets tight. I put my ear to the door. Some
guy is yelling so loudly that I can hear what he’s saying.
    “The Constellation is down, sir. Every
satellite! Not just the North American Constellation, but the
European Constellation too. A virus has taken over the bios, wiping
out our onboard memory and erasing our protocols. I can’t
communicate at all. Internet servers are going down all over the
planet. We’re sitting ducks.”
    Someone else yells, “Level ten has shut down
the building, sir. Our contamination alarms have gone off. There’s
a virus in the building.”
    “What are you talking about?” yells some
other dude. “A computer virus is in our satellites and on
level ten?”
    “Sir, an unknown substance is setting off
alarms on level ten. The whole building is being locked down.”
    “What substance?”
    “Not sure. But the system didn’t like
something in our ventilation ducts!”
    I’m sweating and I feel like a caged rat. Was
this my fault? I’m fifteen. Can they try me as an adult? Shit!
There’s nowhere to go. Then I see the vent. It’s big enough for me.
It’s my only option. I grab my backpack, pull out my Swiss Army
knife, then run to the vent by the desk. I unscrew the plate and
worm my way into the vent. The next office over shouldn’t be
locked, so if I can crawl a few feet to that vent I’ll be free. I
squirm my way down the shaft a ways. I’m getting close to the next
office vent. That’s when two metal doors close, one in front of me,
the other behind. Shit! I scream in my head. The building
shuts off the ventilation system. My asthma kicks in full gear and
I can’t breathe! I reach behind me, pull my inhaler from my
backpack and suck on it twice, three times. It doesn’t help. I
need out!
    I pass out like someone pulled my power
cord.
     
     
     

Chapter 1.7
Ian:
     
     
    A s I wait for my
credentials to be verified, I’m sweating like Niagara Falls under
my coveralls. Why haven’t they come back? Did Zilla screw up my
ID?
    Eight months ago I’d felt like a different
man. I was on a mission. I’d been in contact with a man who called
himself Zilla. He despised, as I did, the tyranny of our capitalist
leaders. Those leaders corrupted the entire U.S. system, which led
to currency manipulation, shadow courts, and wars for oil. Zilla
wanted to see the power given back to the ninety-nine percent. The forgotten man.
    The whole global system was taken over by
secret groups of the super-rich, and was redesigned to keep the
power in the West and suppress growth in the rest of the world.
It’s not cat and mouse; it’s checkmate. The rich and powerful need
to be taken down. Billions of dollars are spent on guns and bombs
and stupid political campaigns while people starve. Jesus, I sound
like my mother.
    She and I believed that weakening the
capitalists was the only way to bring a sense of balance back to
the earth. My mother fought the system from the inside. I fought on
the outside. When socialism reigns the globe over, things will be
better. Decisions will be based on what is good for the planet and
humanity. Nationalism will finally be nailed in its coffin and put
six feet under. The American dream is dead, having almost killed
the world along with it. The future is globalism, environmentalism,
and fairness.
    #
    This Zilla guy could say it better than me,
which was rare. I spoke with him for hours sometimes. We saw
eye-to-eye on almost every political issue. He was one smart bird.
One day he told me about his plan. I can still remember what he
said to this day, “The poverty of man and his reign on this Earth
is over. American wealth is holding back global change. The puppet
masters are too powerful. To create a unified and fair global
government, the U.S. must be weakened.”
    “Are you talking about the Bilderberg group?
The G8? Illumiati? How do we even know which one controls