"I see." Frowning, Ramsey steepled his fingers together.
Bates shifted in his chair.
"Permission to speak freely, Mr. Ramsey?"
"Of course."
"Sir, perhaps we need to consider our situation more carefully. Things have become-rather precarious."
"Continue."
"Well, we're down to one helicopter, and it's our only way out of here.
We can't go outside because those things have us surrounded, and more are showing up every day. The guy with the ham radio in Chatham told us that the zombies have gotten the Dover train running again and are shipping reinforcements into the city via the Morris-Essex line. What possible reason could they have for doing that? Face it, sir. We're under siege. Right now, it's a stalemate, but should they get more organized-should they get a leader, things could go bad very quickly. And if the U.B.R.D. malfunctions, or we lose the helicopter due to a mechanical problem or hostile fire, we'll be completely trapped."
"But we're not trapped, Bates. Indeed, we are safer than anyone else who remains alive out there."
"But for how long, sir? With all due respect, Mr. Ramsey, I don't understand your insistence on sending out regular patrols to bring back survivors. Sure, we have enough food and water now, but for how long?
The more people we bring back, the more supplies we consume. There's no telling how long this siege will last. And every time we send the chopper out, we risk losing it."
"We bring them back because I can save them."
Bates clenched his fist and continued. "Then think of the biological hazard. We're surrounded by thousands of dead bodies. Corpses. I'm not a doctor, but I would imagine they're all carrying disease. Things like the bubonic plague and hepatitis. These zombies are walking petri dishes. Maybe it's time we considered other options."
"So what would you have me do?"
"At the very least, we should shut off the strobe light on the roof. All it does is attract more of these things."
"How will others know where to find us if we don't show them the way?"
"But the other survivors can't get to us on foot, sir. Instead of worrying about others, maybe we need to worry about ourselves. We have to consider the possibility that sooner or later, no matter how well-guarded, those things will breach our defenses."
Ramsey grinned.
"If that happens, which it won't, then I have a contingency plan."
"Good. I can't tell you what a relief that is, sir. May I ask what it is?"
"No. As of now, that information is given out on a need-to-know basis, and quite frankly, you don't need to know."
Bates leaned back in his chair.
"Begging your pardon, Mr. Ramsey, but how am I supposed to protect us if I don't know?"
The old man took another sip of wine.
"Trust me, Bates. If and when the time comes, you'll be the first to know. Now, what about this situation to the south that you apprised me of earlier today? What became of that?"
"The communication center has continued monitoring, sir: citizen's band, short-wave, all civilian, federal, local, military, and maritime channels, as well as cellular and other frequencies. Branson and Val tell me it was a large force, obviously on the move. Possibly remnants of a National Guard unit, judging from some of the transmissions we intercepted. But we've heard nothing for hours."
"And that was in-Hellertown, Pennsylvania, yes?"
"Affirmative-at a government facility. Quinn and Steve are out now, flying over the Garden State Parkway, Interstates 95 and 78 and all the other major highways nearby, just in case there are survivors heading this way. I doubt they'll find anything. Who would be foolish enough to come into New York City if they weren't already here?"
"Who indeed," Ramsey chuckled. "Anything else?"
"We need to reconsider our power usage. Keeping the building lit not only excites the zombies, but it's draining our resources. I suggest rolling blackouts. We need to conserve-"
"Out of the question. I told you, we must keep the building lit so that other survivors will find us. The lights are a beacon to their safety. 'While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.' John, 9:5. You should read the Bible sometime. Fascinating book."
Bates fought hard to keep the frustration out of his voice. "As you wish, sir."
"Is that all?"
"There is one other thing. Earlier in the day, I discovered that one of the new arrivals, a little girl of about seven, had a bag of ripe black plums on her person. She was nice enough to share some with me, in gratitude."
"Plums?" Ramsey salivated at the thought. "Most excellent!"
"I'll have one sent up for you at once, sir."
"No." Ramsey waved his hand. "You'd better wait an hour. I wish to masturbate first."
Bates paused, fighting very hard to maintain his composure.
"Very well, sir. I'll leave you then."
He turned and walked out. The door hissed shut behind him.
Darren Ramsey, billionaire industrialist and the man who was New York, unbuckled his pants, letting them fall around his ankles. Then he shuffled to the window and pressed his hardening member against the cold glass.
He threw his head back, closed his eyes and sighed.
" 'While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.'"
As his hand began to stroke, he gazed out upon the skyline again.
If there were a God, he thought, I bet his view wouldn't be as good as this ...
"I am their savior ..." he moaned.
This building, Ramsey Towers, spanning the 200 block of Madison Avenue, and stretching between 35th and 36th streets, was his world. And he stood at the top of that world, the ruler of all he surveyed.
Fourteen floors below him, an armless, legless torso strapped to an operating table shouted curses in ancient Sumerian.
Bates stood outside the door, listening.
"Bates?"
He whirled, hand automatically going to his pistol.
"Whoa." Forrest threw his hands up in the air. "It's just me."
"What are you doing?" Bates snapped. "You know better than to be on this level without authorization."
The big man stared at the floor.
"You told me to let you know if Steve and Quinn found anything."
"And?"
"They did. Four survivors. Should be here in about fifteen minutes."
"Wonderful. That's all we need-more people."
"I bet Mr. Ramsey will be happy to hear it."
"I'm sure he will," Bates said. "He'll be delighted."
Because the old fucker has lost his mind and has some kind of messiah complex.
The black man stared at the door, listening to the noises drifting out.
"What's he doing in there?"
"None of your concern." Bates lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. "Did you tell Dr. Stern to prepare for the new arrivals?"