William Weber - System Failure

The new group was hurrying in their direction. Nate pulled the G36 back in and started the engine as Dakota hurried over, wading through the deep powder. A minute later she was in, but Shadow was still gnawing on Eight-Ball.

“We can’t just leave without him,” Dakota said, out of breath.

“He’ll catch up,” Nate assured her, throwing the truck into reverse.

The Beast shot back through an empty lane already carved by the plow. Drawing even with the street, Nate swung the truck around and honked the horn three times.

A grey, furry head popped up above the snow drifts. Moments later, Shadow was racing toward the truck. Dakota opened the door and he scrambled in over her and into the back seat. The wolf stared at them, licking his chops.

Nate threw the truck into gear and sped off.

They returned to the interstate, resuming their journey toward the center of town. They hadn’t been here more than a few minutes and already one man was dead and another seriously injured.

Let it go, Nate thought. What’s done is done. He drew in a deep breath, waiting for that sage advice to settle in.

She glanced over at him quickly before looking down at her lap. “You’re angry, aren’t you?”

“I told you not to go in there,” Nate said, losing that internal battle. “The less stupid stuff we do, the better.”

She grew quiet. He wondered if it was shame she was feeling or remorse. Then he saw her turn the front page of the newspaper she’d retrieved and realized she was feeling neither of those emotions.

“Tell me all that was for more than just a newspaper,” Nate said, his temperature rising even more. He slowed the truck to maneuver around a car blocking his path.

“I went in there looking for something to eat,” she started to explain. “But most of the shelves were completely bare. I’m guessing the people around there aren’t fond of reading because the newspaper and magazine racks were pristine, except for the X-rated mags, that is. Anyway, I figured it might take you a minute to fill the engine, so I started leafing through the paper. I was hoping to find something on the hack. The paper would have been from before then, I get that. But sometimes there are early events that signal something larger is on its way.”

“Like the attack on the banks,” Nate said, wondering where this was going.

“That’s right, just like the banks. Anyway, I was flipping through the pages when I came to a follow-up on a story posted the week before.” She held up the paper and began reading. “‘A tragic end has come for two of the three wolves that escaped from the Lincoln Park Zoo last week after a handler failed to properly seal their enclosure. Two of the animals were struck by cars and killed on the interstate, their bodies recovered by animal control. Judging from the path they were taking, experts suspect the wolves were attempting to leave the city.’” Dakota took a deep breath. “Here’s where it gets interesting. ‘At this time, there is still no sign of the last of the three escaped wolves. However, there have been recent sightings of a lone animal fitting its description south of Rockford. It has left some zoo officials wondering whether at least one of the majestic creatures made it safely out of the city after all.’”

Nate glanced in his rearview at the yellow eyes staring at him from the backseat. “Is that you, buddy? Are you an escaped felon?”

Dakota laughed. “That might explain why he’s built a bond with us. He’s used to humans. Used to seeing them around. Used to taking food from them.”

“Shadow seems more than capable of getting his own dinner,” Nate said, half in jest. “Remember that rabbit he brought us?”

But if this was all true, Nate couldn’t help feeling bad. The wolf had defied the odds and escaped the city before all hell had broken loose. And here they were dragging him back into that very same urban nightmare. Well, they weren’t exactly doing much dragging since Shadow had largely been the one following them. Still, it didn’t change the fact that at heart, he was a wild animal and had risked almost certain death to live free. Nate could relate to that. Heck, as soon as he found his family, he planned on doing the very same thing.

The Grand Station entrance was little more than a set of descending steps surrounded by a wrought-iron fence. Manny squeezed the snowcat past a row of abandoned vehicles and came to a stop.

“I guess this is where we get out,” Holly said, the strain of emotion in her voice.

“We got out of the airport in one piece,” he said, grinning. “So we must have done something right.”

Even Johnny was feeling the weight of the moment. “You sure you won’t reconsider and join us?” he asked, running his fingers along the smooth surface of his Rolex.

“I wish there was a way,” Manny replied. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I simply abandoned my family.”

“Well,” Holly said, touching his forearm, “worst case, you know where to find us.”

Holly, Dillon and Johnny gathered their things and shuffled out from the snowcat and into a mass of white powder. Holly held the door a moment longer.

Manny nodded. “I’ll wait around for a few, just to make sure you get in okay.”

“What about the pistol you took off that nurse, you still have it?”

He tapped the inside pocket of his jacket. “I’m covered. And you?”

Holly motioned to the pistol she kept in her winter coat.

“I’m no expert on shelters or anything,” Manny said, offering a touch of helpful advice. “But they normally don’t take kindly to folks smuggling in guns. Especially around here.”

“Thanks for the heads up. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind.” Holly removed the pistol and shoved it to the bottom of her suitcase. “You’re a good man, Emmanuel,” she said, taking in the youthful contours of his face one final time before she shut the door.

Together, the three of them worked their way down the long, dimly lit subway stairwell. Gradually, the snow covering the risers began to clear until their boots were clomping along the wet stone surface.

Down below, the faint glow from flickering lights could be seen. Also floating up toward them was the indistinct sound of voices.

Soon, the stairwell opened into Grand Station’s modern-looking mezzanine. Against the wall nearest them was a bank of ticketing machines, now blank and lifeless. Turnstiles divided the large space in two. The ceiling ranged in height from ten to twenty feet, depending where you stood. Those two features, along with the low lighting, conspired to make the area feel much smaller than it was. The folks who were visible were all on the other side of the turnstiles, huddled together in small groups. Some were chatting, others warming food over propane camping stoves emblazoned with the Red Cross’s symbol: a red plus sign encased in a white circle. A large chalkboard stand had been taken from a local pizza shop and repurposed for instructing newcomers.

A young-looking man and a woman wearing Red Cross pinnies over their jackets and holding clipboards waved them over.

Holly felt the edges of her mouth tweak northward into a smile. For the first time in days, she felt safe.

“Welcome to the Grand,” the woman said, as though she were the doorman at a fancy hotel. She was average size with walnut-colored hair and fleshy cheeks. By contrast, the man was thin, but not skinny. Pleasant, but not good-looking.

Holly wasn’t sure if it was refreshing or unnerving having the entrance guarded by these two. “The shelter, is it full?” she asked, watching figures coming up and descending two other sets of stairs on the other side.