Chapter 4
"You still alive?"
"So far."
"Good."
"What's happening?"
"No fucking clue."
"Useful."
"My cousin works security at Lakeview Medical."
Lakeview was on the other side of the city.
"And?"
"He said they're diverting ambulances."
"Why?"
"He doesn't know."
"Then how does he know they're diverting them?"
"He works there."
"Fair."
A television played behind him while someone moved around.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"At Jamie's. Downtown."
I sat straighter. "You might want to get out."
"That's what Jamie keeps saying."
"Traffic sucks."
"Already?"
"Yeah."
I reopened the map.
More red.
Several new incident markers.
"What are you seeing?"
"Lots of crashes."
"No shit. Some guy just drove across the median on East Washington."
"You saw it?"
"No. Twitter."
"Then no, you didn't."
Aaron laughed.
"Okay, Dad."
"I'm serious."
"I know. We're leaving."
"Where?"
"My place."
"Why your place?"
"Farther west."
"Okay."
"You staying there?"
"For now."
A crash sounded through his phone, followed by Jamie yelling.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Lamp."
Then, quieter, "Gabe, this is weird."
"I know."
"I mean really weird."
"I know."
"You see that hospital video?"
"I don't know which one you're talking about anymore."
"The guy with the cop."
"No."
"Don't watch it."
"Why tell me about it then?"
"Because—"
He stopped.
"What?"
"Never mind."
"Aaron."
"Just stay inside."
"You too."
"We're leaving now."
"Text me when you get there."
"Yeah."
The call ended. I sat on the couch and listened.
Buildings had sounds you usually stopped noticing: pipes, fans, doors, footsteps.
Oakstone carried hallway footsteps well. Tonight there were more than usual—doors opening, people moving, something heavy dragging. Then nothing.
At 12:44, I got up and checked my kitchen cabinets.
This time deliberately.
Rice, pasta, cereal, peanut butter, soup, bread, crackers, coffee. Enough calories for longer than I wanted to think about.
I filled two more bottles with water and the insulated jug I used for long walks. It felt ridiculous, but I didn't empty them.
I pulled my backpack from the coat closet.
Black.
Medium-sized.
I set it on the kitchen counter.
Phone charger. Battery pack. Water. Granola bars. First-aid kit. Flashlight. Then a sweatshirt, jeans, and another shirt.
I looked at everything.
What are you doing?
I honestly didn't know.
Preparing to leave?
Preparing to stay?
Apparently both.
I added my laptop charger, realized the laptop wasn't even near the bag, and took it out again. I put in a roll of toilet paper, stared at it, and removed that too.
I stood with both hands on the counter. This wasn't analysis. It was motion for the sake of motion.
I pictured trying to haul all of it through a stairwell. Stupid.
I pared everything back.
One backpack: battery pack, charger, two bottles of water, granola bars, flashlight, first-aid kit, one change of clothes.
Enough.
For what?
No idea.
I set the backpack beside the wall.
Then I went back to the couch.
The television station had finally interrupted its regular programming.
A local anchor sat beneath a red banner:
brEAKING NEWS: MULTIPLE INCIDENTS UNDER INVESTIGATION
"We're receiving reports of several violent incidents across the city tonight. Police are asking residents to avoid the Rothwell Avenue corridor and the St. Agnes Medical District. Officials have not identified any confirmed connection between these events."
Not much, but actual information.
The screen changed to helicopter footage.
Traffic. Police lights. An intersection blocked by cruisers. Then the camera zoomed toward a convenience store. Several people were moving near it. One was down. Another bent over them.
The feed abruptly returned to the studio.
The anchor glanced slightly off camera.
"Again, we want to caution viewers that information is developing quickly."
I leaned forward.
"What was that?"
They didn't show it again.