The Astral Hacker (Cryptopunk Revolution Book 1) by Brian Terenna (motivational books for women TXT) 📕

Outlined by the evening sun, a tall, thin man dashes forward, his long hair streaming behind him. He raises a high-tech sniper rifle. “Take cover,” he shouts, his voice resonant and commanding. He fires again while running, a burst of flame puffing from the barrel.

A drone explodes and crashes to the ground next to me. We all scramble back to the graffiti-strewn brick wall behind us.

The man sights and fires over and over, almost robotically. Each time he pulls the trigger, a drone clatters to the ground in flames. The remaining three drones turn on him and fire. He runs in a zigzagging pattern, just barely avoiding the death raining toward him, but still, he shoots. Two more drones explode and plummet.

He fires at the last drone, but the bullet cracks into the brick wall above it. He curses and pulls the trigger again, releasing a flash of fire and a bang. The drone bursts into flames and careens toward us.

I push Sunny out of the path and shield myself from the impact. Nav swats it away like an insect, and it crashes into the dumpster, ringing it like a bell.

Four other people round the corner just as the gunman lowers his rifle.

I push myself up with a groan and press my hand over both sides of my wound. Oww. Warm blood seeps through my fingers. The smell of it rips me back to the last time I saw Barbra.

I squeeze my eyes to forget. The wound hurts, but my second chance at life dulls the pain. I can’t believe it. I thought I was finished.

Sunny squeezes my leg. “Fae, you’re injured.”

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” I say through gritted teeth.

Nav tears off her prison uniform’s sleeve and presses it against the hole in my shoulder.

I take over, putting pressure on it. “Sunny, analyze my wound.”

He scans me and says, “Your shoulder muscle is damaged. No arteries were hit. You have lost eight percent of your blood, but your current rate of blood loss is minimal. As long as you receive medical treatment within two hours, you should be fine.”

“It’s remarkable that you could hack the updated code,” says Nav. “We never would have lived otherwise.”

“Thanks, but it wasn’t good enough. If we weren’t rescued, we’d be dead. Who are these people anyway?”

“The Loyalist Militia. They’re loyal to Navin Briggs’ original government and formed after Congress established the NIA. They were worried about the loss of liberty. This is the main brigade, but there are several more throughout the country. The one that shot all the drones is Alexander. He’s full of himself, but he’s skilled.”

Sunny picks up a few pieces of the drones and puts them into the bag that hangs on my other shoulder. Nav takes the bag, puts the rifle inside, and helps me walk to the group. Their faces morph into new ones as I approach.

They have a face-shift program. Impressive.

Alexander stands tall and proud in a military vest. As he disables his face-shift, his complexion tans from pale to olive, and his wide smile shows off his straight, white teeth. His long wavy hair, square stubbly jaw, and the inch-long scar on his cheek fit the image of someone who’d charge into danger to save you…or someone who’d rob you in the street.

Alexander pumps a fist into the air. “Did you see that?”

I’m not sure if he wants a response, but before I can form one, he keeps going.

“You were like, I’m going to be killed.” He throws his hands up as if scared. “And I was like, nope! I’m a boss.”

I’d think he was joking, if not for the seriousness of what just happened. Still, he did save us.

 “You did miss once, Alexander,” says Nav.

He shrugs. “Hitting targets with a sniper rifle while running isn’t as easy as it seems,” he says with a chuckle. “Even Olympic course shooters miss the mark sometimes. That’s why I never stop training.”

At least he’s dedicated.

Nav shakes her head with a laugh. “Thanks, by the way. I’m not too proud to say I’m grateful you came.”

“If I didn’t save you, Americus would’ve had my head,” he says with a grin. He puts a hand on her shoulder and says in a more respectful tone, “Sorry to hear about your husband.”

Nav nods with a frown.

Her divorce must be recent. I guess it’s not just the accident that made her sad.

The other four soldiers greet Nav, with various levels of familiarity. One of them with a full bushy beard and a green flannel shirt squints at Sunny. I step in front of Sunny, protectively.

Alexander holds his hand out to me. “I’m Alexander, but you can call me Alexander the Great,” he says with a wink and a smirk.

I blink at him, still trying to decide if this is some kind of joke, or if he’s crazy.

Nav frowns. “No time to mess around. She was shot, and more drones will come.”

He nods at my shoulder, his joviality dimming. “Let’s get you patched up. We’re parked on the cross street.”

We turn the corner and stride forward as a tight group onto the busier road. We pass by people, drone pets, service robots, and advertisement holograms.

Thunder sounds, and I turn in its direction. Ominous clouds hang in the sky, and a gust of wind ruffles my hair, bringing the fresh smell of rain. A dog barks behind me.

I spin around.

An older man shouts at the dog, “I’ll never forgive you for cheating on me. I want a divorce.”

The yellow lab lowers its head with a whimper.

“To each their own,” says Alexander.

A woman screams from across the street. We all turn to look.

A bearded man with a knife slashes