William Weber - System Failure

“The Bauers,” Holly said. “Where can I find them?”

Nate and Dakota decided the shelter at Chicago’s Grand subway station was the fourth and final one they would check today. With the sun going down, they needed to find a safe place to hunker down for the evening. If this place proved to be a bust, tomorrow the search would continue.

Already their introduction to Chicago had been less than ideal. While much of the city had emptied out in the past few days, it hadn’t been nearly enough for Nate. The good folks tended to hide at home, run for shelters or attempt to flee the city. The ones left behind to roam the streets, many of them in packs—those were the people he was most worried about. Journeying from shelter to shelter in the heart of one of America’s largest and perhaps most dangerous cities, they had crossed paths with a few such groups and on more than one occasion shots had been fired as they hurried past. Slamming on the brakes to return fire had occurred to him, although he’d also quickly understood that around here, such a tactic would have him engaging in gun battles at nearly every major intersection.

And so, as they reached the inner city, Nate and Dakota had relied on speed and brute force to push through any feeble attempt at erecting barricades in the streets. A few creative types had tried to rely on the snow itself, but none of the mounds they’d piled had been high or deep enough to stop the Beast.

But that wasn’t to say the cretins roaming the streets wouldn’t learn. While their modified pickup was fierce, even it had limits. Sooner rather than later, the hills of snow they were facing now would be piled into mountains and finally fulfill their purpose of creating a dead end, or put another way, a kill zone. All the more reason to grab his family and leave this godforsaken frozen hell.

With his G36 slung over his shoulder and his hand resting on the hilt of his pistol, Nate descended the final few steps, entering into Grand Station’s impressive mezzanine.

Directly ahead was the turnstile where a handful of Red Cross workers milled about. Nate and Dakota were about to step forward when two large men carrying AR-15s approached them from either side. They held their rifles in a low ready position.

“Sir, this is a weapons-free zone,” the larger of the two men said. He was wearing black and white military fatigues and sporting a hint of a foreign accent. A name patch on his chest read ‘Dimitri.’

“We’re not planning on staying,” Nate assured him.

“All the same,” Dimitri replied as he drew closer. Another guard milling about behind the turnstile touched his ear and headed over to provide support. This told Nate they were communicating with one another over the radio. They also knew how to handle their weapons. If his nephew Hunter had taught Nate anything, it was that an hour watching YouTube videos and prancing around the house with a toy gun didn’t make someone a soldier.

“Sir?”

Nate removed his hand from his pistol. “I’m looking for my family,” he started to explain, raising his hands in the air and shaking them at the wrist for emphasis. A young female Red Cross employee with a dash of purple dye in her hair was holding a clipboard. He spoke directly to her using his cop’s voice. “Amy Bauer. Please see if she’s on your list. She arrived here with my sister-in-law Lauren and Lauren’s kids Emmitt and Hunter Bauer.”

Purple Hair stood frozen for a moment before she tore her eyes away from Nate and looked at the guard.

“I just need to know whether or not they’re here.”

The guard nodded, turning back to keep a careful eye on Nate. They weren’t used to people with guns around here. Most of the folks who were packing heat had either left or were stalking the streets looking for easy prey. In one sense, if his family was here, he would be thankful for the protection. At one of the other three places they’d tried―a former museum―they had an outbreak of the flu and were not letting anyone in or out. Here, they appeared to largely be free from such problems.

“Bauer, Bauer, Bauer,” Purple Hair said, running her finger down a page before stopping. “Yes, we have them here.”

Nate sank to his knees. Dakota moved forward to help keep him upright. He cupped his face, overcome with emotion, or was it exhaustion?

“Thank you, Lord,” he whispered before something else occurred to him. “Can you also look for Carl and Elizabeth Hutchinson? They’re neighbors of mine who travelled with them.”

After a short search: “Yes, they’re here too.”

“I can’t tell you how relieved and happy I am right now,” he said, unaccustomed to any serious displays of emotion. Rising to his feet, Nate felt lighter than he had in a very long time. “Would you please send for them?”

Purple Hair looked at Dimitri again, who probably thought it was better if he delivered the bad news instead of her.

“We can release your friends and family,” the guard began, “but not before you cover the holding fee.”

Dakota was shaking her head. “Holding fee? What kind of BS is this? Is this a jail or a shelter?”

Eyeing Dimitri’s rifle, Nate wondered whether Dakota had just answered her own question.

Just then two more guards appeared on the other side of the turnstile. So far that made five against two.

“Why is the Red Cross charging a fee to see my family?” Nate asked, dumbfounded, but doing his best to keep his voice even.

“We accept any gold, precious stones and most jewelry,” Purple Hair said, although it was starting to become clear by the waver in her voice even she wasn’t completely on board with all this.

In his time on the police force and as a P.I., Nate had seen his fair share of shakedowns and this fit the bill. “We’re not paying you a single red cent, but you’re going to get my family and bring them here right now.” He spoke loud enough that several civilians gathered on the other side stopped what they were doing to watch. They looked uncomfortable and, in some cases, frightened.

Purple Hair held the clipboard to her chest, her gaze jumping between Nate and the guard. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” she said finally.

Another guard showed up. That made six.

The one closest to him was whispering to someone in an earpiece. Was he calling in more support? Or was he talking to his boss? The mastermind behind this crooked little scheme?

Now more people were gathering on the other side. Nate scanned the growing crowd for a familiar face.

“Any of you folks without money to buy your freedom aren’t getting out of here,” Dakota shouted.

The guards began closing in. Nate and Dakota stepped back. If Nate swung his rifle around, they’d be shot and killed on the spot. His pistol was the only weapon he’d have the time to draw if things went south. They were in the open here, with no cover or concealment.

“I have an idea,” Dakota whispered to him, laying it out in a short, concise burst.

He listened. “Well, it’s an idea,” he said, his eyes locked on Dimitri, barely fifteen feet away and edging ever closer. “But not a very good one.”

She reached into her pocket and produced the gold coin she’d taken from her uncle’s house in Rockford. It would be her ticket inside. She gave him a wink that surely meant trouble. “Trust me.”

Far from the tension at the turnstiles, Holly and Dillon busied themselves searching for Amy Bauer. It took a while to weave past all the people camped out along the way. With the flickering candlelight, the sight reminded her of pictures she had seen of the London Underground during the Blitz. The only difference was back then, people hadn’t only slept on the platforms. They had also built makeshift beds―and hammocks for the children―between the rails themselves.