Rolling into the underground parking, Dalton sat in the passenger seat, not wanting to converse. He’d made it the entire trip from the hangar to the offices of BXF Technologies without having to utter a single syllable. What he did have to endure for the previous ninety minutes was the graphic stories from Anton, Travis, and Red as they fought for Goodwin’s attention.
The exaggerated tales of survival had begun before Nicholas even pulled the black Humvee out of the hangar. Anton had labeled the last three days as the
Seventh Level of Hell
. He talked of marching toward the Las Vegas headquarters and how he and five others had battled no less than four hundred Feeders.
The story grew as Anton talked of reaching the doors to the building and having to fight through twenty-foot flames, only to be knocked back when they realized the entry was teeming with corpses that carried the ravenous flames to other parts of the building. He spoke about his group attempting to retreat back to McCarran, only to be forced back in the other direction again by the sheer number of Feeders moving through the south side of town.
When Anton paused to take a breath, Travis took the opportunity to add to the obviously overstated account of their time in the desert city. He spoke with the excited tone of a schoolboy coming downstairs on Christmas morning and finding the bike he’d wanted sitting beside the tree.
Unable to control his restlessness, Travis talked about how they’d run from the gates at the beleaguered airport, and about how they set about finding a safe house. He also gave an account of the wall of bodies they’d run across and the graphic nature of which the broken corpses were set to rest.
And as they pulled up to the building and waited for the automatic door to fully ascend, Red finally joined the conversation. He hung his head and told of the battle to get to the tiny wedding chapel and how they’d lost three of their own barricading themselves inside. He talked about losing one of his best friends and how he and the others wouldn’t still be here if it wasn’t for those men and their sacrifice.
Pulling into Goodwin’s marked parking stall, Nicholas turned off the engine and waited. He was running on autopilot and had stopped making any decisions on his own just after putting the G280 down in Burbank. He’d let the man in charge dictate every move the group made from here forward. He had to watch as Goodwin made his friend a martyr, and figured that sooner or later, he’d leave this world in much the same manner.
From the rear seat, Goodwin reached for the door handle, but before pushing the door open, he leaned forward in his seat. “Dalton, did you check the cameras?”
“Yes, we’re secure.”
“Are you sure, all the way up?”
“Yes,” Dalton repeated. “The building has been on lockdown since day one. I’ve checked every video feed multiple times.”
Goodwin pushed his door open and stepped out. Starting toward the elevators, he stopped and turned, his focus now on Nicholas as the pilot slid out from behind the driver’s seat and locked the door. “Forty-eight hours…”
“Yes?”
“I’m going home,” Goodwin said. “I’ll need you to have the chopper ready and on stand-by. There are a few things I’ll need from the house before heading to Blackmore.”
“I’ll be sure to have everything ready to go.”
“Good.”
The five men strode the short distance to the bank of elevators and waited as Dalton called the car from his handheld device. Anton, Red, and Travis stood just behind Goodwin and faced out away from the doors, as if preparing for another attack. They’d been running for the last several days and finally having the ability to relax seemed foreign to them.
Nicholas was the last to enter the corridor leading to the elevators and stood at the rear of the group. With his hands in his pockets, he looked down at his feet, kicking the toe of his right shoe against the polished concrete floor.
Dalton stood at the edge of the group, positioned at the center of the four elevators. He stared at his tablet, avoiding eye contact with Goodwin as well as the conversation he figured was coming. At this point, he simply wanted to be left alone. Head up to his suite, burn what remained of his clothes, and take a much needed shower.
Watching the green icon of elevator car number four descend past the lobby, Dalton briefly looked up. “Okay, it’s here.” A half second later, the speaker above car number four—Goodwin’s private elevator—sounded.
The men piled in one after another, with Dalton squeezing in last and punching in the four separate destinations. The twenty-first floor saw Anton, Travis, and Red depart. They marched out into the hall and moved in separate directions, each using a former office as their new home.
Next, Nicholas stepped off at the thirty-seventh floor. Before he was out of sight, Dalton reached out and held the door back with his left hand. “Grab some sleep and then come on up when you have a minute. There are a few things we need to go over before you head out again.” Nicholas only offered a half smile and then walked toward his suite at the end of the hall.
Pulling his arm away, Dalton allowed the doors to close as he took a deep breath. Just he and Goodwin remained. Glancing down at his tablet, he just prayed the next twenty seconds would pass without incident. That Goodwin was as exhausted as he was, and that the discussion that was bound to happen would at least be shelved for another twenty-four hours.
As the awkwardness of the moment intensified, Dalton broke first. He felt the need to jump first and not give Goodwin the chance to drag him into the conversation he was determined to avoid. “Mr. Goodwin.”
“Yes?”
“The power to the lower floors and the parking garage?”
“Yes, you’re right. Let’s take everything below where Anton and the boys are down to three percent. And any other unoccupied floors down to two percent.”
“Okay, and do you foresee the need to head back to Burbank? Any other travel besides your home and then Blackmore?”
“No,” Goodwin said. “I have a few other things that need tending to over the next three days. When we hit Blackmore, I’ll need every single one of you on your game, so go get some rest.”
Back to his device, Dalton watched as the green icon slowed just below the fifty-fourth floor. The numbers flashed across the screen and then the doors opened with a burst of cool air. Confirming the next destination—Goodwin’s penthouse on the sixtieth floor—Dalton stepped back and waited as the doors began to close.
Goodwin paused for a moment and then placed his foot over the path of the closing door. The two sides quickly came to a stop and then pushed back into the walls. He held up his index finger as if he’d forgotten something. The billionaire with an ego bigger than the building they fought to return to never forgot. He never forgot anything.
“Say, Dalton…”
“Yes Mr. Goodwin.”
“You’ve powered down most every other non-essential part of the building?”
“I have.”
“And what does that leave us with?”
“Excuse me, sir?”
“How much time do we have left on the generators at our current rate of consumption?”
Dalton again powered up the tablet and moved through four screens before tapping out a command and doing a quick estimation in his head. “Somewhere between six and seven days.”
“Okay, and if we decide to utilize the drone… send it on ahead to Blackmore, what does that do to our capacity?”
“You want to send an armed drone into the facility that you’re looking to occupy in less than a week?”
“I want it as an option.”
The previous twenty-four hours had gone by in the blink of an eye. Emma again sat at the floor-to-ceiling windows of the third-floor lobby and stared down at the crowded streets as the sun made its way into her world. Scanning the city below and following the path to where Tom had left his vehicle two days earlier, she couldn’t imagine attempting a return trip.
Alone with only the sounds of the outside world for company, she slowly sipped the cup of lukewarm coffee. Veronica had made the uncontested decision that today would be the day that they used what little solar power they had left to heat a single pot of black coffee. The others agreed to forgo showering and a heated lunch for one morning of bliss.
The day before, after being educated about the other group that occupied the city, she and Tom had the opportunity to see the rest of the building. After a marginally acceptable lunch of canned green beans and prepackaged salami, Cedric and Patrick escorted her and Tom to the parking garage. They were only able to make it as far as the southwest corner—the one nearest the stairs—due to the sheer number of Feeders surrounding the building. The scene was mind blowing, as not a single inch of asphalt was left empty.
From there, the pair was handed off to Veronica and were given a tour of the first-floor restaurant that was to be their one true savior in this new world, where starving to death was a real and true possibility. She explained that the restaurant had received a shipment the day before the infection, and that most everything was nonperishable, having an expiration date well into the future.
By nightfall, she was more familiar with her new surroundings than she was with her former home. Although something about this new place and her new friends felt a bit off. Not that they appeared insincere or untrustworthy, but maybe a bit too agreeable, and overly accommodating.
Emma had been around genuinely good people in the past. She had friends that would do anything for her at the drop of a hat. But this felt different, almost as if Cedric and Veronica were fearful of them, or maybe it was someone or something else. She didn’t know, but now wondered if she also needed to be fearful… of whatever it was.
Tilting her cup back and finishing what remained, Emma pushed away from the table. She and Tom were to give Cedric ten minutes before heading down to the garage. He said he needed a few minutes with the man he referred to as Mitchell Blake before their introduction. And as Tom came through the door, she assumed it was time to go.
He was alone and moved more quickly than he had in last few days. “You ready to go?”
“Sure, but why are we even doing this?”
“I’m getting a weird vibe too, but it’s not really our place to question what they’ve asked us to do. They took us in when they didn’t really have to.”
Emma bit at the side of her lip. “I get that, but something about them seems different.”
“Yeah, almost like they owe us something.”
“That’s it,” Emma said. “You think we have anything to worry about?”
“No, I don’t think so, but I am keeping my eyes open—you never know.”
Standing behind the door leading out into the garage, Emma knocked three times. As Cedric had asked, she and Tom stepped back against the stairs and waited. A pair of muted voices could be heard on the other side; however, the words were lost to the steel-reinforced security door.
Twenty seconds had passed before the door finally opened. Cedric now stood on the other side of the threshold with the door pinned back. He waved Emma and Tom into the garage and motioned toward the two men standing in front of a white luxury SUV.
Clearing his throat, Cedric began. “This is Emma—”
The taller of the two men stepped forward and held up his hand. He looked as though he’d forgotten that the world had ended. From the perfectly tousled blond hair to the almost translucent blue eyes, he looked out of place in this new reality. His neatly pressed jeans and fitted long-sleeve t-shirt only intensified the already awkward situation. And although the man with the jaw chiseled from granite stood right at six feet, his obvious sense of self made him appear much larger.
Stopping Cedric mid-sentence, the blond man held his hand toward Emma. “Let her tell me.”
Narrowing her eyes, Emma stared back at the aggressively handsome stranger. “What is it you want to know?”
He smiled. “Let me guess, your name is Emma Runner, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, now that I know your name, how about you tell me about yourself. You know, from before all this.”
She couldn’t see any harm in it and turning to Cedric, his look hadn’t yet indicated otherwise.
“As you are already aware, my name is Emma Runner. I grew up in a small town in Colorado, and transferred to California for work. I left my home the morning the infection broke out and was in a car accident. I was—”
Interrupting yet again, the tall blond man said, “Okay, I think I get the point. How about you step back a bit and tell me a little about Colorado, specifically your family.”
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but first I’d like to know who it is that I’m talking to.”
The blond man snickered. “Sure thing… okay, as I’m sure Cedric has told you, my name is Mitchell Blake, but most everyone just calls me Blake. I’m thirty years old and have been in this city since the second day. I’m also originally from Colorado and have family in Denver. Now, what else do you need from me before we proceed?”
Stepping forward, Tom said, “I don’t quite understand why we’re here. What’s all this about? You have to admit, it’s a tad awkward.”
“Tom Whitlock, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Alright Tom, I’ll be able to answer that question just as soon as I get a few more details from the both of you.”
“And what’s that?”
“Well Tom, I wanted to finish up with Emma first, but since you seem so determined to do this your way, here goes. Do you have any family, friends, or otherwise that you’re looking to bring into my town?”
“No, I don’t have any family and my friends already have a place outside of this city. And at some point, I’ll be going back to them.”
“That’s great,” Blake said. “So now if you’ll let me finish with Emma, we can wrap this thing up and get back to the business of trying not to die.”
“I do have family,” Emma said. “But they’re in Colorado and I don’t even know if they’re alive. Two days ago, I sent them a message letting them know exactly where I am. That I’m right here in this very building, and if they ever receive that message, I can guarantee you that they’ll end up here at some point.”
“Good,” Blake said. “Now with that out of the way, I can tell you why this information is important to me. You see, if we just let anyone into this city without some sort of a vetting process, who knows what this town will become in the next six months… in the next year. My goal is to keep this city as safe as possible, maybe one day even turn this place back into what it was. We have enough to worry about with what’s roaming the streets. Adding to that with the wrong sort of residents would be foolish, don’t you think?”
Emma shook her head. “I’m not sure, but it sounds a lot like you’re saying that my family may not be welcome here. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Emma, if and when your family makes it here, all you have to do is make an introduction. If they are half as lovely as you and your friend Tom, I’m sure we’ll get along splendidly.”
Growing weary of the conversation, Emma snapped back. “Your sarcasm is lost to me, especially where my mother, my father, and my brother are concerned. So save it for someone else.”
“Hey, there’s no reason for any hostility; I actually like you. My friends and I only want to make this city a place where we can rebuild. I would think that you would agree that we should at least assure every new citizen is up to a certain standard?”
“Your standard?”
“Maybe?”
Turning to Cedric and then back to Blake, Emma said, “I’m sorry if I’m coming across as rude or impatient, but don’t we have some sort of time limit out here?”
Blake nodded. “I have men on the street that are making sure none of those things get in. But yes, we do need to move this along, so I thank you for your candidness. It may not seem like it now, but we only want what’s best for this city. And when your family arrives, I’m sure they’ll be thankful we took these precautions to keep you and everyone else here safe.”
Blake turned and walked back to the white SUV. He jumped in behind the wheel as his yet unidentified friend climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door. Next, the engine roared to life, echoing through the empty parking garage. And in less time than it took for Emma to collect her thoughts on the unusual gathering, they were gone.
Turning away as the SUV disappeared into the street below, Emma cautiously regarded Cedric. “I hope I didn’t just cause any problems for you.”
“No,” Cedric said, the look on his face defying his rapid response. “Blake’s not that kind of guy. If he had a problem, he would have said something.” And then under his breath and only to himself he said, “At least I hope so.”