please remain in your home. Do not attempt to leave. If you are at your place of work, do not attempt to return home. Do not attempt to..." He looks off screen. "Jack, I'm not fucking telling people to..." He sighs, exasperated. "OK, OK. Do not attempt to reach loved ones. Lock all doors and windows, and move to the most secure room in your building. Gather any food you have and fill as many containers as you can find with water, and prepare as best you can for possible power outages.
"If your area is not currently affected you should tune your set to local broadcasts for details of evacuation plans. Jack, do we have the frequency? The... umm, the emergency... OK, I'm being told that the emergency alert system will soon be broadcasting local information across all radio frequencies, including digital bands. We understand that authorities are currently establishing safe zones on the outskirts of several cities with sufficient food, power and fresh water to support all those who wish to —"
The signal suddenly drops out, leaving the room cast in the blue glow from the menu screen, and eerily silent but for the rain drumming against the window.
tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
My mind is running a mile a minute. I have no way of knowing for sure, but I can only assume that my worst nightmare has come true. The deadline given by the Sons of the Father was a little more than a week ago. That day came and went like any other, and it was so far from my mind that I barely registered my relief when the sun set without incident. Now it seems like I was right all along. The shit just hit the fan a little later than scheduled.
Taptaptaptap.
I pull myself to my feet, almost in a trance. None of this seems real. Did the President say New York? Jesus. Am I safe? Is Kate safe? Is this really - I almost laugh out loud at the insane thought - is this really a fucking zombie outbreak?
I suddenly feel like I'm suffocating. I've never had a panic attack, but this sure feels like one. I feel like the walls are closing in, and the air feels like it's been drained of its oxygen. I stagger over to the window and yank it fully open, stick my head out and inhale a lungful of fresh, cool air.
Tap, tap, taptaptap.
The street outside my window is empty of traffic, but that's not out of the ordinary since this is a dead end road. It's usually pretty quiet out there. Something is niggling at me, though, tickling at the back of my mind. There's something obvious that I really should have already noticed, but my mind doesn't seem to want to connect the dots. What are you missing, Tom? Think!
I stare out at the street and try to imagine what's going on in the city. I wonder where Kate might be. Her coffee shop is just a few streets over. Surely she'd try to come back here when she heard the—
My mind suddenly clears, and I realize what my subconscious is yelling at me to notice.
tap, tap, taptaptaptap, tap, tap.
The sound of raindrops, still bouncing off the window like ball bearings.
Only it's not rain. The rain has stopped.
tap, tap... tap.
That's the sound of gunfire.
And it's close.
"Bryson! Jim, are you home?"
My voice echoes through the halls, but it's not met with an answer. I didn't really expect one. Bryson usually spends Friday night with one of the many women in Manhattan who are more than happy to push their soft toys to the floor for a good looking guy with a wallet bursting at the seams. Right now he's probably sleeping off a champagne hangover in some NYU student dorm.
I stalk down the hallway aimlessly, still struggling to get my head around the enormity of what's going on. I lean back against the wall and take a deep breath, trying to focus and center myself, then I slap my forehead in disbelief that I haven't thought to check my damned phone yet.
I run back to my room, dive on the bed and fish my iPhone from beneath the duvet. 17% battery.
"If your area is not currently affected you should tune your set to local broadcasts for details of evacuation plans. Jack, do we have the frequency? The... umm, the emergency... OK, I'm being told that the emergency alert system will soon be broadcasting local information across all radio frequencies, including digital bands. We understand that authorities are currently establishing safe zones on the outskirts of several cities with sufficient food, power and fresh water to support all those who wish to —"
The signal suddenly drops out, leaving the room cast in the blue glow from the menu screen, and eerily silent but for the rain drumming against the window.
tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
My mind is running a mile a minute. I have no way of knowing for sure, but I can only assume that my worst nightmare has come true. The deadline given by the Sons of the Father was a little more than a week ago. That day came and went like any other, and it was so far from my mind that I barely registered my relief when the sun set without incident. Now it seems like I was right all along. The shit just hit the fan a little later than scheduled.
Taptaptaptap.
I pull myself to my feet, almost in a trance. None of this seems real. Did the President say New York? Jesus. Am I safe? Is Kate safe? Is this really - I almost laugh out loud at the insane thought - is this really a fucking zombie outbreak?
I suddenly feel like I'm suffocating. I've never had a panic attack, but this sure feels like one. I feel like the walls are closing in, and the air feels like it's been drained of its oxygen. I stagger over to the window and yank it fully open, stick my head out and inhale a lungful of fresh, cool air.
Tap, tap, taptaptap.
The street outside my window is empty of traffic, but that's not out of the ordinary since this is a dead end road. It's usually pretty quiet out there. Something is niggling at me, though, tickling at the back of my mind. There's something obvious that I really should have already noticed, but my mind doesn't seem to want to connect the dots. What are you missing, Tom? Think!
I stare out at the street and try to imagine what's going on in the city. I wonder where Kate might be. Her coffee shop is just a few streets over. Surely she'd try to come back here when she heard the—
My mind suddenly clears, and I realize what my subconscious is yelling at me to notice.
tap, tap, taptaptaptap, tap, tap.
The sound of raindrops, still bouncing off the window like ball bearings.
Only it's not rain. The rain has stopped.
tap, tap... tap.
That's the sound of gunfire.
And it's close.
"Bryson! Jim, are you home?"
My voice echoes through the halls, but it's not met with an answer. I didn't really expect one. Bryson usually spends Friday night with one of the many women in Manhattan who are more than happy to push their soft toys to the floor for a good looking guy with a wallet bursting at the seams. Right now he's probably sleeping off a champagne hangover in some NYU student dorm.
I stalk down the hallway aimlessly, still struggling to get my head around the enormity of what's going on. I lean back against the wall and take a deep breath, trying to focus and center myself, then I slap my forehead in disbelief that I haven't thought to check my damned phone yet.
I run back to my room, dive on the bed and fish my iPhone from beneath the duvet. 17% battery.
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