F Wilson: Fatal Error

Jack waded back through the crowd until he reached a point where he had a line of sight to Gia. He waited till she looked his way, then waved. Her face lit when she saw him but he motioned her to stay seated.

"Meet me downstairs by the car rental booths," he called.

She gave him a questioning look.

"ASAP," he said.

She nodded and began buttoning Vicky's coat. He turned and squeezed through the crowd.

Far below, he'd left the three bodies where they'd fallen. He'd closed the door to the room and locked them in. No one without a swipe card could open it. After wiping down anything he'd touched, he'd made the long, painful climb back up to the ticketing level.

His hip was on fire now as he entered the crowded men's room and found he had to wait on line for a stall. When he finally reached one, he removed the sweatshirt and hung it on the hook on the back of the door. He waited a minute, then exited, leaving the hoodie behind.

He found a spot outside on the floor where he could watch the traffic in and out of the men's room. He thought it would take at least ten minutes, but it took only five before he spotted a tall, lanky kid exit the men's room with a gray sweatshirt rolled up under his arm. Could have been his own, but his swiveling head and furtive look meant he'd probably boosted it. When Jack spotted a piece of the Nets logo, he was sure.

Wear it in good health… but wear it.

Jack headed down to the baggage level and found his ladies waiting near the Hertz booth. Vicky smiled and waved. She seemed to have recovered from the loss of her pretzel. Gia's expression was more serious.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded as he took the handle of her rolling suitcase.

"Fine."

"What about-?"

"They're no longer interested in you."

She bit her upper lip. "Oh, Jack, I don't like the sound of that."

"It's okay."

"But what does that mean?"

"Just what it says: They won't be bothering you anymore."

"But…" She leaned close and whispered so Vicky couldn't hear. "Did they attack you?"

"As we both knew they would."

"Then why did you go?"

"To get them away from you."

"Did you… I mean, are they…? "

He looked at her. "Do you really want to know the details?"

She held his gaze, then looked away. "No. Not really. I have a good imagination."

"I hope Jack kicked their fucking asses."

Unwilling to believe Vicky had just said that, Jack turned and stared into her innocent blue eyes.

"What did you-?"

"Victoria Maria Westphalen!" Gia said, hands on hips in the classic shocked-and-angry mother pose.

It appeared to be dawning on Vicky that she'd crossed some sort of line, but she merely shrugged. "Well, he stole my pretzel."

"That's not the point. Have you ever heard me talk like that? Have you ever heard Jack talk like that? Where on Earth have you ever heard that kind of language?"

"On the bus. Everybody-"

"I don't care what everybody does, we do not use that kind of language, understand?"

"Okay, okay," she said in a my-mother-is-so-not-cool tone. "I hope he kicked their fucking heinies. Okay?"

Jack had to turn away. He could stifle-barely-the laugh that struggled to burst free, but he could not hide the grin. He shouldn't have bothered because, after a pregnant pause, Gia leaned against him and started laughing out loud. Jack joined her while Vicky looked at them like they were crazy.

When Gia finally composed herself she looked back at Vicky. "We don't drop f-bombs either."

"F-bombs?"

"The f-word."

Vicky rolled her eyes. "Okay, how about-?"

"How about we talk about something else?"

Vicky shrugged. "Okaaaaay."

Gia looked back at Jack. "What are we doing out here?"

"I thought we'd go for a walk."

"Back to the city? But-"

"No. One of the hotels. Whichever is closest."

"I thought you said they were full up."

"They are, so we'll camp in a lobby until morning."

"Why?"

"The airport might not be the best place to stay. Way too crowded in there. Something might set that mob off. And if it does, you two might get hurt." He put an arm around her and pressed her against him. "Or worse."

That was one reason. But Jack had another. Since no one without the right swipe card could enter that room, the bodies had a decent chance of remaining undiscovered till morning. But he couldn't count on it. Someone might stumble on them five minutes from now. Word of a triple murder could panic the crowd. But even if word never reached the crowd, the cops and TSA people would be poring over the tapes. They might see a couple of the dead guys with someone in a gray Nets hoodie. Jack had spotted a good number of gray hoodies in the Central Terminal and, though it was highly unlikely in that packed throng, the tapes might link the hoodie with the dead guys to the hoodie who'd been with Gia and Vicky. That was the way his luck seemed to be running lately.

He lifted Vicky onto his shoulders. His hip protested but he ignored it. This was Vicky.

"Want to go for a ride?"

"Yes!"

He held out his arm to Gia. "Shall we?"

She hooked an arm around his elbow and they started walking. A couple of hotels waited not half a mile from the terminal. Any other night, it would be suicide to try to cross the Grand Central on foot. But tonight it would be like making their way through a crowded parking lot.

He looked up at the sparkling winter sky and thought of the Lady. With all the concern about Gia and Vicky, she'd slipped his mind.

He wondered how she was doing. It couldn't be good.

"Well, it's official. A White House spokesperson has announced that the Internet, that globe-spanning conglomeration of computer networks for the sharing of information, has, for all intents and purposes, crashed. Internet data traffic has come to a virtual standstill. Uninfected intranets-self-contained computer networks with guarded Internet access-still remain functional, as do military and some governments networks, but these form an infinitesimal fraction of what the Internet was. No World Wide Web, no Twitter, no Facebook, no chat rooms, no Usenet-it's all down. The Department of Defense is looking at this as a possible act of war. The Department of Homeland Security has raised the National Threat level to red or 'severe.'

"In further comment, the White House announced-"

Weezy muted the TV.

She hadn't checked on the Lady for a while and was afraid to go see her now. She knew the end was near, maybe had passed.

She pushed herself up to her feet, and forced herself down the hall to the bedroom.

She stopped by the doorway, listening. Again, no breathing. She wasn't used to that, but she expected it. She stepped into the room. The bedside lamp still burned, illuminating the bed The empty bed!

No… no… someone there, under the covers. But she'd left the Lady lying atop the covers.

"Lady?"

Weezy gasped as she realized she was seeing the covers through the Lady. Her brain kept telling her to run, to flee this madness, but she put one foot in front of the other until she was standing at the bedside, looking down at what was left of the Lady.

Her body as well as her clothing had become transparent, or nearly so. What substance she retained had a faint, misty quality about it, just enough-barely enough-to provide a visible form. Weezy wondered at the transparency of her clothing until she realized that what appeared to be clothing on the Lady was really part of her, as malleable as her flesh-or rather, as malleable as it used to be.

Weezy stared at the two holes in that flesh. When Weezy had first met her last year, she'd shown her a tunnel carved front to back through her torso by a previous attempt to extinguish her. After the Fhinntmanchca attack, a second, larger tunnel had appeared on the other side of her navel.