“I will, Mr. Warren.”
“Call me, Jack. Believe it or not, I’m not much older than you are. I’m 35, not 50.”
“Okay, Jack,” the kid said, smiling.
“You miss your family?”
Kevin nodded.
“Me too.”
“Sorry about your wife.”
“Thank you. I miss her every second of every day.”
A few moments of awkward silence filled the air between them before Kevin spoke up.
“Do you know about the plan to nuke the city?” Kevin asked, keeping his voice low.
Jack put his head down for a moment. “Yes.”
“We can’t let that happen. How would we as a nation survive such a thing? I mean, how are we going to survive what’s already happened? Millions of people are dead, walking around, looking for a bite of human flesh.”
“We will. It’s what this country is about, and we’re no longer in it alone. The world has shrunk, and for the most part, we’re all in this together.” Patting the kid on his arm, he said, “But hey, nothing’s happened yet, so why worry? ”
Kevin took a deep breath and shook his head. “You’ve got a real positive attitude, Jack.”
“My wife used to say the same thing.” Jack smiled, trying to look calm, but on the inside, he felt like throwing up his breakfast. He’d been keeping it together, but when he really thought about what was happening, he almost couldn’t believe it. For the kid, he kept on with the happy charade.
If the city remained as is, how were he and the others supposed to escape? Would the military send in an extraction team after a year’s time? And if the city was nuked, Jack was getting a chill just thinking about it, what then? The bunker was secure, the good doctor assuring Jack that the place being five stories underground and lined with two feet of lead, would survive a nuclear attack. But how would they get out without risking exposure to high amounts of radiation?
“Kevin, mind if I ask you a question?”
“No, shoot.”
Jack looked around. The closest people were a few tables away and busy eating and talking amongst themselves, but he leaned in and spoke in a hushed tone. “Is there another way out of here? I mean besides the topside and sewer exits?”
“Yeah. You don’t know?”
“Is it the security door Reynolds says is off limits? The one next to his office?”
“No. That’s C-wing. That’s a ‘ high-clearance ’ only area. I’ve never been inside; above my pay grade, if you know what I mean.”
Jack had been given the run of the place, having been issued a level 1 keycard that opened regular doors throughout the bunker and not the ones that led to the outside world, or to C-wing, as it was called. He wondered what was in there, but had a more pressing concern at the moment.
“There’s a tunnel,” Kevin continued. “It leads from Reynolds’ office to somewhere outside of Manhattan. I would imagine, Brooklyn or Queens, though I don’t know for sure. Its destination is classified; again above my pay grade. In the event the city is too hot for retrieval, we go that way and walk our way out of Manhattan. It’s why none of the people down here are freaking out. They know in the back of their minds that there’s a safe way out.”
Jack felt a little better. Selfish, but a little better. There were probably survivors in the city. For them the way out looked grim. Maybe he could somehow help save a few. Make a difference. In the bunker, he was just taking up space.
He would add it to the list of things he needed to talk to Reynolds about.
“Well,” Kevin said, “I better get going or I’ll be late for my shift.”
“It was good talking to you, Kevin,” Jack said, holding out his hand to shake.
Kevin took it. “Yeah, it sure was. See you later?”
“Sure thing.”
After breakfast, Jack went to talk to Reynolds, but the man was busy. He would have to wait. So he went back to his room, lay on his bed and listened to some AC/DC on the portable stereo, having downloaded a bunch of albums from some of the guards’ MP3 players.
He still couldn’t believe his wife was dead. Hell, probably everyone he knew in the city was dead. Thank goodness, his sister, Sara, had moved out of Manhattan. He hadn’t spoken to her in over a year, wishing now that he had called to see how she was doing. Her husband, Gary, was an abusive drunk.
One day, while Jack was visiting Sara, Gary got shit-faced drunk, calling her a dirty, cheating whore and said she was probably fucking her brother. Jack intervened, telling Gary he needed to sleep it off, but instead he grabbed Sara by the hair and said, “This is my woman; my bitch. And you can keep your god damn mouth shut as you are a visitor in my house.”
Jack had had enough and wound up beating the shit out of Gary, sending him to the emergency room. When the police arrived, Sara said that Jack had started it and he was the one led away in handcuffs.
That was all a year ago and he’d refused to speak with her since. She’d called a few times, but he never answered. Now he wished he had. He’d do anything to hear her voice. They had been so close growing up, then she married Gary and things changed. She was distant, hardly inviting him up to her place. She was probably too embarrassed to have him over. Now she was worried sick over him, at least he imagined she was.
He had been so disappointed in her, having him arrested, letting that loser off. Gary was the victim, b ut the truth was, she needed help. He should’ve been there for her; gotten her away from that crazy son of a bitch. She only called the cops, because Gary had probably threatened her. That bastard was the one she had to live with. If Jack made it out of the city, no, strike that; when he made it out of the city, he’d make it his mission to get her away from that asshole husband of hers.
Jack got up, shut the radio off and paced the room. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he was experiencing a little bit of cabin fever. But what could he do about it? N othing. Thinking about how to approach Dr. Reynolds, a thought popped into his head. If the man did come up with a way to fix the problem with the ENHANCE program, how was he supposed to get word to the proper authorities? T ravel through the escape tunnel and hand deliver the message? That just didn’t seem right. The man must have a way of communicating with the outside, some electronic way he didn’t want anyone to know about. So why lie about it? He would have to remember to ask the doc about it when they spoke.
Sitting in his chair an hour later, playing Xbox, he felt more useless than ever. Everyone at the bunker had a job. He didn’t. He was also the only non-military employee in the place. How was this possible? But he knew the answer. He was close enough to the bunker for Reynolds to send a team for him and his wife. Reynolds had gotten Jess’ name from the police report. Once the outbreak occurred, he had no time to go around the city rounding up infected, but going into a building directly above the bunker, a building that his corporation owned, had been within reason.
So what could Jack do to make a difference? To help? He thought of Zaun. Was his friend still alive? Was anyone in his building still alive? To traipse around the city was crazy, but what about just going to his building? That wasn’t so nuts, was it? He didn’t think so. That’s what he could do. Get some of the guards together, lead an expedition into his building, and see if there were any survivors. And if he or any of the others became infected, they would know how to kill the bots, becoming uninfected again. He had to see if Reynolds would go for it.
Chapter 7
Jack rapped on Reynolds’ door, the man’s room more like an apartment. The doctor had a king-sized bed, a computer, a large bookcase, filled with various titles, a bathroom with a stall shower-Jack and the others had a communal washroom-and a faux fireplace with some kind of furry creature skin rug in front. Pictures of various outdoor landscapes hung on the walls.