Summer Lane - State of Emergency

Chris leans forward.

“Sounds like these Omega pukes were ready to roll in before this thing even hit,” he states. “They were pretty well prepared for this. We saw more executions about forty miles from here. You think Omega’s responsible for the EMP?”

“We may never know who was behind the EMP,” Walter replies. “And if I were you, I wouldn’t dedicate your time to figuring out why or how . I would worry about staying alive now .”

“But shouldn’t we know why some random army we’ve never heard of before is trying to kill all of us?” I point out.

“No.” Walter narrows his gaze. “Your life has one purpose, now. And that is to stay alive.”

“You were in the military,” Chris says suddenly, leaning forward.

“Yes,” Walter sighs, setting the book down abruptly. “I was a Pilot…a long time ago.”

“During World War Two,” I add, putting the pieces together.

“I was a history teacher for thirty years,” he sighs. “I thought I’d seen it all, too. But this…this is a takeover. They’re killing off anyone they think might get in their way. I saw this once, more than sixty years ago. Never thought I’d see it here. And who knows how far it’s spread?”

I stare at my coffee, suddenly feeling sick.

“You saw this before inGermany,” I say, bringing my eyes up to his.

He says nothing.

“I’m only alive right now because I wasn’t stupid enough to run into the streets when everything went to hell,” he replies, standing up again. “But I’ll run out of food eventually. Not that I’m upset about that. I’m old enough to die, don’t you think?”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Self pity much?” I say before I can stop myself.

Walter rubs his hands on his pants again — a nervous habit, I’m guessing.

“Do you live here alone?” Chris asks, his voice low.

“Now I do.” Walter paces to the window, the one nailed over with curtains. “They took my wife. First day. She went downstairs…haven’t seen her since.”

My throat seizes up.

“I’m so sorry,” I say.

He waves me off.

“It was her decision, not mine,” he answers, but his voice is shaky.

“Thank you for letting us stay here,” I tell him.

“You’re not staying here,” he corrects, turning around. His eyes are bright with tears from speaking about his wife. My heart breaks just looking at him. “I brought you here so you wouldn’t be shot on the streets. If you try to get out by just walking through the town, you’re dead. They’ve got guards posted on every block that leads out of the city.”

“We got into the city fine,” I point out.

“They’re not trying to stop people from coming in ,” Walter says, picking up the coffeepot. Pouring a cup. “They’re keeping people from coming out .”

Chris rests his arm against the back of the sofa.

“What are you saying, old man?”

Walter breaks into a wide smile.

“I know a safe way out of the city,” he grins.

“And?”

“And to be honest, I just wanted to see if somebody could really pull it off.”

Chris stands up, drinking the entire contents of the coffee cup in one gulp.

“Details?” he asks.

“There are tunnels under the city,” Walter explains. “My wife…” he clears his throat, “was an architect. She helped build them. They were abandoned about fifteen years ago. I know how to get in, and all you have to do is follow them until you come to the end, which is well outside the city limits.”

“Are you serious?” I exclaim. “Tunnels under the city?”

“All cities have secrets,” Walter shrugs.

“How do we get to these tunnels?” Chris asks, not nearly as impressed as me.

“I’ll show you,” Walter says, “but we can’t do it until it gets dark. It’s too easy to be caught otherwise.”

“Why haven’t you gotten out of the city through the tunnels?” I demand, looking for a trap. “If they’re such a good escape route, why are you still here?”

“Sweetheart, I’m over eighty-seven years old,” he replies, the corners of his mouth curling upward. “I’m not in any condition to be making a daring escape.”

I blush, embarrassed that he even had to point that out.

“Ah, right,” I cough.

“Are you hungry?” Walter asks.

“Starved,” I reply.

“I’ll get some food for you.”

“We can’t take your food,” Chris says, being uncharacteristically kind to our host.

“Boy, I’m dying either way,” he laughs. “No use worrying about me.”

I sigh. Cheery.

So if there’s one thing I know, it’s that the United States of America has generally been a pretty cool place to live. I mean, sure, it’s not perfect by any stretch, but at least I have the freedom to snag a caramel macchiato every once in a while. Or watch a soap opera instead of doing homework.

Yeah, my idea of the land of the free and home of the brave is pretty basic. Until now.Because my caramel macchiato and soap operas seem to be in permanent jeopardy.

Chris and I take turns sleeping on the sofa in Walter’s apartment, neither of us really feeling comfortable enough to be asleep at the same time. Before we know it, the rest of the day has passed, and Walter is walking up and down the length of the living room, excited.

“What’s eating you, old man?” Chris asks, stretching his tall, lean frame over the couch. “You’re not the one who’s going to escape.”

“But you’re more than welcome to come with us,” I add, shooting Chris a look .

Walter shakes his head.

“No, no,” he says. “There’s nothing in it for me. This better work, though.”

He pulls out a thin sheet of white, almost transparent paper. He shoves all the magazines off the coffee table and brings some of the candles closer. “What is it?” I ask, spreading the paper out.

“The tunnels,” he says. “These belonged to my wife. The whole construction meant to be a sort of a drainage system that would dump into a basin outside the city. Never did work right.” His eyes mist over. “So as far as I know, they’re completely empty.”

“Are you sure ?” I press.

“I said as far as I know.” He traces his finger along the route that we should take. Chris listens intently, studying the map from every angle. Me? The whole thing just looks like a bunch of squares and circles, and I hardly understand a word they’re saying. How are we supposed to know what direction we’re headed when we’re traveling underground, anyway? What good does a map do when we’ll have no light to read it with?

“What about light?” I ask. “Do you have any flashlights?”

“Sorry, no,” Walter says. “Mine were electric. Dead.”

I sigh.

“So we’re going to go underground in the dark,” I state. “We’re going to die.”

“We’ll be fine,” Chris replies. “You’re not claustrophobic, though, are you?”

I run my fingers through my hair.

“Who isn’t?” I mutter.

Chris pats me on the back, capturing one of my frizzy locks of hair around his finger. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there to keep you company.” He smiles devilishly, sending blood straight into my cheeks.

“Stop teasing,” I say, slapping his hand away. “This is serious.”

“I know.” Chris looks at the map one more time. “It looks easy enough. We just follow the tunnel until it drops off at the basin.”

“That’s all there is to it,” Walter nods. “It’s a piece of cake.”

“Get your stuff, Cassidy,” Chris says. “It’s time.”

I stand up from my cross-legged position on the floor and check my pack. I shrug my jacket on, twist my hair into a messy bun, and pull my boots back on.