Adam Drake - Blackout

Suddenly, an argument broke out in front of the main entrance. People were yelling and shouting.

Without another word the guard stood and rushed outside.

Wyatt looked to Ethan. “Hang in there, buddy. We made it. Just gotta wait for the doctor. He’s coming to see you next. Don’t you worry.”

Ethan didn’t respond.

He can’t die, Wyatt thought. Ethan was all he had in the world when it came right down to it. Ethan was the only one who kept him in check. And without him around Wyatt didn’t even know what he would do with himself.

He felt somebody staring at him from across the waiting room.

Casket and Scarface stood next to the main reception desk. Both of them were glaring at Wyatt. Casket started blowing kissing at him and flicking his tongue out provocatively.

Wyatt knew right then and there that things were about to get a whole lot worse. He reached into his pocket and slipped on the brass knuckles.

Then rage exploded in his chest.

Nate

Nate arrived at Unger’s bar, The Spectacular, roughly an hour or two before nightfall. Without any ability to tell the time, he guessed it was five o’clock.

Along the way from Granger’s, he passed no less than eight burning buildings. None had any firefighters attending to them and crowds gathered around to watch, helpless.

He’d seen even more carnage on the streets then was imaginable. This thing was city-wide, without a doubt. Not one car or motorbike or anything motorized moved. Nothing. Only people on bicycles like himself.

And the crowds outside got bigger and denser. It seemed like everyone was outside now. They sensed that something greater than a blackout had occurred. Something so significant that their lives might be changed. Everyone waited for the lights to come on so the long agonizing process of untangling the Gordian-knot of a traffic jam could begin. But the lights didn’t come back on and Nate was beginning to think they might never.

Which suited him just fine.

He rode his mountain bike across Spectacular’s parking lot, which was empty except for a blue truck and a black Mercedes. The Mercedes was Unger’s and Morse drove the truck.

Good, they were both here.

The front double doors were propped open with barstools. Two large men sat in either one, Wilson and Earl. Spectacular’s bouncers and Unger’s goons.

Nate had hoped they wouldn’t be here since their shift didn’t start until the lunch hour, well after all cars in the cities had died. Yet, here they were.

The men eyed him as he rode up. “Gentlemen,” Nate said with an affable smile. “Thought you guys would have the night off, all considering.”

“Considering what?” Wilson growled. He was the nice one.

Nate leaned his bike up against a concrete barrier post. “Considering there isn’t any electricity. Can’t run a bar without it.”

Wilson sniffed. “Fuck the electricity company. They’re pulling a con, I say.”

“Electrical company,” Earl corrected.

“What?” said Wilson.

“It’s called the electrical company,” Earl said. Only Earl could correct Wilson, which was an ongoing thing for him. Earl held a lighter in his hand and flicked it on and off.

“Whatever,” Wilson said. “Still a con. Now they can ask for anything they want to turn this shit back on.”

Nate hated to interrupt such a fascinating conversation, but asked, “So, how did you guys get here? Bike?”

Both men turned to fix Nate with dour expressions.

“What do you care?” Wilson asked.

“Just curious,” Nate said. They had their jackets off and were wearing shoulder holsters. Unger must have thought someone might take a run at him with all that was happening. He wasn’t incorrect.

“We flew, alright?” Earl said. “You and your fucking questions.”

Nate raised his hands, “Okay, fine. So much for small talk. Is Unger in?”

Wilson laughed. “Course Unger is in,” Wilson said. “It’s his bar. Why wouldn’t he be in?”

I should have shot these guys as I rode up, Nate thought, exasperated. But he didn’t really want to. As shitty an attitude these guys had they were good muscle. And muscle would be very valuable in the days ahead.

Earl said, “The question isn’t whether Unger is in, but whether Unger wants anything to do with you right now.”

“I gotta report in,” Nate said.

“Report what in?” Earl asked.

“The job I was on.”

“What about it?”

Nate felt his temper rising. He couldn’t flip off on these two. They may be huge but their size was deceptive. He’d seen them draw their pistols before and they were both damned quick.

“Unger wants me to report in,” Nate said through gritted teeth. “That’s all I can say about it. You know how it is.”

“No, how is it?” Wilson said, enjoying his little power trip.

Earl waved a hand at Nate. “Unger said nothing about you reporting in today. So it ain’t gonna happen. Ride your bike home, Nate. If we want ya, we’ll call.”

Wilson burst into laughter. “Call! Ha! That’s rich! No phones, Earl!”

Earl rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know that, ya idiot.”

Wilson chuckled and shook his head. “Call! Heheh.”

Nate had had enough of this little show. He may need muscle in the future, but it didn’t have to be these two assholes. He tensed up.

“Davenport! Get your ass in here!” came a booming shout from the dark bowels of the bar.

Wilson and Earl sat straighter on their stools.

Earl nodded toward the door. “Boss wants ya,” he said, serious. His eyes gave Nate’s long coat a once over.

Nate entered the bar which was nearly pitch black. A column of fading sun from the doorway created a corridor of light which sliced across the huge room, revealing tables and chairs, all empty. At the other end, the door to Unger’s office could be seen with more light spilling into it from another source.

He crossed the bar, mindful of Earl’s gaze on his back.

At the office door, he paused. The small room was dominated by a huge oak desk with a high-back leather chair. The walls were covered in old photos of Unger posing with strippers and political figures which Nate found amusing. They both danced for money, but in different ways.

Boxing trophies crowded for space atop a filing cabinet. Unger had been a golden-gloves or something like it back in his younger days.

An ashtray on the desk caught Nate’s attention. Ash and cigar stubs formed a small mountain range on it. It was shaped like a seashell just like the one Granger had.

Guess idiots do all shop at the same stores, he thought with a wry grin.

Where was Unger?

A prickling against his neck made him turn in alarm.

Earl stood there, watching him with a crooked smile.

Panic rose in Nate’s chest and he was about to reach into his jacket when the other man pointed a finger.

“He’s out back,” Earl said, indicating a short hallway that led outside. The back door was open, revealing a lot. Nate could see someone’s legs sitting on a chair outside.

Nate nodded at Earl and headed to the back door, mindful of the other man following.

Outside Nate found Unger sitting in a plush chair dragged out from his office.

If there was one way to best describe Unger’s appearance, it would be to take a grizzly bear and shave off all its fur. Kick it in the balls, to give it a perpetual expression of anger, then stick a cigar in its mouth.

The furless grizzly looked up at Nate and talked around his cigar. “Davenport. The fuck? Sit down,” Unger said, pointing at another chair which held the door open.

Nate did as he was told. Earl took up a position in the doorway and leaned against the frame.