William Weber - System Failure

This was the second time the normally self-centered Johnny had turned around and surprised her. She motioned to the cot. “I’m sure a week and a half ago none of us would ever have considered an army cot a luxury item.”

“‘The times they are a-changin’,’” Johnny replied, quoting the Bob Dylan song.

Later, Holly had removed a knit sweater from her suitcase and was laying it on the hard tile floor for bedding when she noticed the woman next to her. She was somewhere in her forties with tangled dirty hair and smears of grease on her face. Holly suspected that somewhere beneath all that was a very attractive woman. The woman was eyeing Dillon. Gradually, her attention turned to Holly.

“Brenda Duval,” she said, offering her hand.

Holly returned the gesture. “How long have you been here?”

Brenda counted on her fingers. “It’ll be a week tomorrow.” Her lips curled into something resembling a smile. “I used to be a financial planner. Worked for one of the largest firms in the country. I’ve spent the last few years worrying about capital gains and inverted yield curves. I didn’t think for a second anything like this could happen. I mean, way in the back of my mind I knew it was possible.” She stretched out that last word as if to emphasize the point. “But possible and probable are two very different beasts, especially in the world where I spent most of my adult life.”

“I was climbing that ladder too,” Holly admitted. “Looks like we landed on a snake.”

Brenda laughed when she got the snakes and ladders analogy. “Yeah. This was one hell of a snake, all right.” She paused to readjust the clothing piled into a makeshift mattress beneath her. “I couldn’t help noticing your son. He’s on the spectrum, isn’t he?”

Holly was quiet for a moment. She glanced over at Dillon, who was sitting on the cot counting shadows on the ceiling.

“I hope you don’t mind―”

“No, not at all,” Holly said. “Normally people ask if he’s special, some if he’s retarded. He has Asperger’s.”

Brenda nodded. “I see. My niece has autism, so I’m hip to the lingo, you might say. Is he taking anything?”

“I’ve been giving him Zoloft,” Holly replied, fighting back the sting of guilt. “To even out his moods and anxiety.”

“I’m sure you know, but if things don’t get better…”

“People like him aren’t made for a world like this,” Holly said, understanding what Brenda was saying, even if she didn’t like hearing it. “All we can do is hope it’s just a temporary blip. You here alone?”

Brenda hesitated, a flicker of emotion welling behind her eyes. “I arrived with my husband, but I haven’t seen him in four days.” There was an empty spot next to her where her husband had once slept.

“Four days? Where could he have gone?” It seemed to Holly they were pretty boxed in down here.

“He went along one of the subway tunnels, looking for a way out.”

The expression on Holly’s face clouded over. “Way out? Why would he do that when there’s a set of stairs past the turnstiles?”

“It’s not that simple,” Brenda said, whispering now.

Holly had been to clubs in her younger days where leaving meant you might not be allowed back in. She asked Brenda if this was what she meant.

“Not exactly.” The woman sighed. “What’d you pay to get in? Goods or services?”

“A friend gave up his Rolex watch. But that was just collateral, they said, to ensure we followed the rules.”

Brenda laughed. “That may be the line they give you, but it’s really a flat fee. If your friend thinks he’s getting his watch back, I’m sorry to say, he’s got another think coming. But you don’t just have to pay to enter. You also have to pay to leave. Problem is, most people here handed over nearly all the portable wealth they owned just to get a spot. Diamonds, wedding rings, anything that can be melted or broken down. My husband’s claustrophobic and the tight quarters around here were killing him. When the guards refused to let him head upstairs for some fresh air, he took off down the subway tunnel, with a handful of them in pursuit. I tried to follow but couldn’t keep up. I heard shots, but they came back empty-handed. Said their warning shots hadn’t made him stop and he ran off. They also brought me back, kicking and screaming. To this day, I have no idea whether or not he got out.”

“We’re in prison,” Holly said in disbelief.

“No,” Brenda corrected her. “This is less of a prison and more of an elaborate extortion scheme.”

“But how is that possible? It’s the Red Cross, one of the most trusted humanitarian organizations in the world.”

“Smoke and mirrors,” Brenda said, leaning closer. “Don’t get me wrong. Those people really are Red Cross workers. But they were brought here from the Natural History Museum shelter.”

“The one with the flu epidemic?”

Brenda winked. “Bingo. Rumor is, the people who set this place up went over and bribed as many Red Cross workers as they could to join them. Not that it was all that difficult. Who would wanna stay in an enclosed space that’s going through a viral outbreak?”

“But who’s behind it all?” Holly asked, breathless.

“A syndicate of some kind. Russian maybe. Eastern European for sure. Who knows?”

“You’re talking underworld?”

“Of course. Who else would be ready to fill the vacuum so soon after a governmental collapse? Types like these are used to working in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to enrich themselves. As my granny used to say, when the lights go out, the cockroaches have free rein. And I should know—my husband Greg worked for the district attorney’s office prosecuting guys just like this.”

Holly felt the artery in her neck thumping a wild beat. “I hate to speculate, but maybe one of them recognized your husband and decided to even a score rather than drag him back to the shelter.”

Brenda’s head fell. “I thought of that, but I sure hope you’re wrong.”

Holly reached out and rubbed her shoulder. “Listen, there’s something else I wanted to ask. You mentioned you’d been here a week or so.”

“Yeah, maybe a little longer.”

“Have you had a chance to get to know anyone?”

Brenda regarded her inquisitively. “A few. Why?”

“Have you happened to meet anyone named Nate Bauer? Not sure if he goes by Nathan or Nathaniel.”

Brenda shook her head. “No. But I did meet an Amy Bauer.”

Holly’s eyes lit up. “That happened to be my next question.”

“They arrived in a small convoy of buses a few days ago,” Brenda explained. “Came in from some small town to the west of Chicago. The name’s escaping me right now.”

“Byron?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Do you know them?”

“Uh, sort of. Let’s just say they’re friends of friends,” Holly tried to explain without going into too much detail. “I happened to see their name on the list and was surprised.”

“The way I heard it, they got off to a late start evacuating from their hometown. Something about the nuclear power plant melting down. It’s terrifying really. And I’ve heard it wasn’t the only one to go up like that.” Brenda sighed, struggling to catch her breath. “It’s part of why I’m not in a big hurry to go topside. Who knows how much radiation is floating around up there? Anyway, Amy told me they tried a few shelters and were turned away. Either they were full or, like the museum, fighting a slew of secondary problems. Like the rest of us, they ended up here. Heard they had to hand over their buses for everyone to make it in. Paid the tax just like everyone else. But it’s the exit tax that really bites you in the rear end. Always read the fine print.” The grin that bloomed on Brenda’s face wavered when she saw the serious look on Holly’s face.