Richard Stephenson - Collapse

Richard always had a plan.

Two hours prior to the ashes falling, Warden William Vandehoef had met with his Executive Staff in his office. The people who helped him operate his facility were seated on couches opposite each other. To his left were Associate Wardens Kevin Kapparis and Stephen Courts. Seated next to them was Captain John Zamir. On the opposite couch and to the right of the warden sat his Executive Assistant Jose Bertrand, Utilities Executive Richard Landry, and Emergency Preparedness Officer Jay Foxworth. The Warden first addressed his EPO. “Jay, is there any chance at all that this thing will miss us?”

“Warden, this thing is coming right for us unless we’re lucky and get blessed with some divine intervention.”

“God will not intervene and save these animals,” A.W. Kapparis said.

The warden addressed the man who had just spoken. “Kevin, is there any chance at all that the buses can make it in time?”

“No, sir, I’m afraid not. I’ve been on the phone with Vegas for the past hour, and the fastest they can be here is eight hours.”

The closest major city was Las Vegas, fifty miles to the east. The best they could offer was a fleet of school buses. The inmates would have to be in full restraints, so the preparations would take some time. That was the original plan, based on now erroneous information that led them to believe that they had until 10PM to get everyone out. With the weather system pushing the black cloud to them earlier, the buses would arrive far too late.

“We don’t have that kind of time,” said Captain Zamir.

“The state can be here in roughly two hours,” replied A.W. Kapparis.

“Well that’s good news!” said the warden.

“Not exactly. They can only provide buses to hold maybe five hundred inmates.”

“Shit, that’s barely a third of the population.” A.W. Courts shook his head and rolled his eyes.

With the plan of moving the inmates out of the facility impossible, the Warden turned his attention to the utilities executive.

“Rick, how long will the inmates last in the cellblocks?”

Landry knew he was about to piss off his boss. “An hour, maybe two at the most.”

The executive assistant turned and addressed the man sitting next to him. “I thought the upgrades to the air handlers had been finished?”

“We did upgrade them.”

The warden look confused. “So what’s the problem, Mr. Landry?”

“The problem, sir, is the ash. Once the ash starts falling, the air ducts will be clogged within an hour. Once the hot air from the smoke pushes the ash out of the way, smoke will pour into the cellblocks. At that time, the air handlers will turn on and try to pull the smoke out of the unit. The ash already in the air handlers will burn out the motors, might even catch them on fire. The air filters were never designed to handle that kind of load and will be essentially worthless. The inmates will be dead in an hour, two would surprise me.”

“Shit! Shit! Shit! What the hell are we supposed to do, people? I need answers and I need them fast!” The warden looked desperate. The inmates had already been walking the yard for some time when this meeting began.

The executive assistant was the first to speak. “Mr. Landry, couldn’t we rig the air handlers to turn on now so the smoke could be pulled out?”

“Mr. Bertrand, that was my first thought. There are forty-eight air handlers, four in each cellblock. I estimated that our best shot was to rig two in each block to come on and hope for the best. The problem is, if we started immediately, we might get eight of them rigged in time.”

A.W. Courts did the math. “So four units out of twelve could be saved.”

“Exactly, but that’s if we start immediately; we don’t have a second to spare.” Utilities Executive Landry looked to his boss for the go ahead.

“Get started,” the warden replied.

“You got it, boss.” Landry keyed up his radio and gave the order.

“Jay, how long do we have before ashes start falling on us?” the warden asked.

“An hour, maybe two,” the EPO replied.

“Shit. That only gives us time to finish one cellblock.” Richard Landry looked defeated.

“Are you sure about that, Jay?” the warden asked.

“Yes, sir, I am.”

Most of the men in the room started looking around to see if anyone was going to speak up.

The Warden could tell he was missing something. “What is it? What am I not being told? Somebody better start talking and quick.”

“Well, pretty soon we’re gonna be dusting the ash off our resumes so I’ll say it.” Captain Zamir leaned forward in his chair, ignoring the stare of the emergency preparedness officer.

Zamir pointed to Jay Foxworth. “This guy has no idea what he is talking about.”

“Hey, not called for!” Foxworth said.

“Oh, shut up, Jay! We all know the reason you got this job was because of your wife. You have absolutely no clue what you’re doing.”

“Not true! How the hell was I supposed to know some weather would come out of nowhere and blow the thing right to us? No way are you going to pin this on me!”

“It’s called The Weather Channel, mother fucker; maybe you should check it out!”

“Hey spic, you wanna take this shit outside? Call me mother fucker one more time and see what happens.” Jay Foxworth stared daggers into the man.

Captain John Zamir stood up and bowed out his chest. “You so much as open your idiotic, racist mouth again and you’ll be swallowing your teeth!”

“What are you going to do, beaner? Cut me?”

“That’s it! You opened your mouth, told you not to open your mouth.”

Zamir started towards his target when the rest of the men in the room quickly held the two men back from fighting each other. The men calmed down and stood on opposite sides of the room.

The warden hadn’t moved from behind his desk. He felt that to do so was beneath him. Someone needed to maintain a level of composure and control.

“Sit down, all of you.”

The men took their seats. Zamir and Foxworth didn’t look at each other.

“Mr. Foxworth,” the warden began with frightening calm, “Captain Zamir is right; this is your fault. It is your job to monitor anything outside these fences that could do harm to the inmates in our charge. If an earthquake hits, we look to you to do your job. If the facility managed to catch fire, you would be our liaison to the emergency crews. AND IF A FUCKING CLOUD OF SMOKE AND ASH IS HEADED FOR US WE LOOK TO YOU TO DO YOUR GODDAMNED JOB!”

The warden slammed both fists down on his desk and swept everything on his desk in the direction of the Emergency Preparedness Officer.

“Gentleman, someone get this piece of shit out of my office.”

“What? You can’t do that! You don’t know what kind of trouble you’re gonna be in when I te…”

“What? You mean when you cry on a vid-con like a little bitch to your wife in Sacramento? Is that what you were going to say to me? I can give one good goddamn if your wife works in the governor’s office.”

“You’ll regret this; I promise you’ll regret it.” Foxworth said with a cocky smile.

“Not today, I won’t. Why is no one getting this man out of my sight?”

The men in the room watched in awe as the dumb ass was finally getting what he had coming to him. No one wanted to move an inch for fear of missing the show.

EPO Foxworth was sitting with his claws dug into the arms of the sofa. He was not leaving.

Captain Zamir and Utilities Executive Landry carried the man into the hallway. The former EPO didn’t protest; he was pouting like a spoiled child. The two men locked the door behind them on their way back in and took their seats.