State of Emergency Read Online Free PDF Page B

and on weekends—if they were lucky and she didn’t have to cover for another nurse.
    They made up for it by talking on the phone every day during his commute as soon as he got phone reception. Tuned to the timing of it all, his eyes flicked open the moment he felt the train shudder and began to slow.
    â€œGood morning, bright eyes,” he said, glancing at the older man next to him who gave a rolling eye. Jerks blabbed in public on their phones all the time about much less important things. Trains going outbound from the city weren’t nearly as crowed as those packed with commuters heading in at this time of day, but they were still full enough you could read the paper of the guy sitting next to you, so Winters kept his voice at a respectful level.
    â€œHey, Jordy,” his wife said. She sounded hoarse. Her cold was getting worse. “How’s my man?”
    â€œI’m fine,” Winters said. He gathered his jacket and moved toward the doors as they hissed open. “You’re sick. Why don’t you call in today?”
    â€œI do feel like crap, baby,” she said. “But you know I can’t call in. I don’t qualify for OT if I take a sick day this pay period and heaven knows we need the money, honey.”
    Jordan pushed his way along the packed platform, ducking and dodging the endless tide of morning commuters. He could smell the relatively fresh air of Market Street rolling down the stairway above as he passed the ATMs in the ticketing lobby.
    â€œWe don’t need the money that bad,” he lied. “I can pull an extra shift this weekend if I have to.”
    He worked his way toward the escalator and what his buddies on the night shift called the “world of the day-worker.”
    â€œI’d better not. . . .” Her voice wavered.
    After fourteen years of marriage, Jordan knew that slight hesitation meant he had her. “It’ll be worth it to spend the day with you.”
    â€œThat would be nice,” she said, sniffling.
    He sweetened the deal. “I’ll stop by that Czech bakery you like before I catch the bus and get you a couple of kolache. That’ll put meat on your bones.”
    She giggled. He loved it when she giggled.
    â€œIt’s settled then. I . . .” He paused, one foot on the escalator, cursing under his breath. He’d loaned his last ten bucks to Cal at work.
    Jordan pushed back from the escalator and through the crowd, past the guy playing his saxophone in front of an open case, toward the bank of three ATMs along the white tile wall. Most people were coming to catch the train so it was easier now that he’d turned around and wasn’t a salmon swimming upstream.
    â€œOh, Jordan . . . you really think I should?”
    â€œNo question about it.” He felt the thrill of getting to spend a few precious moments with his wife—even if it meant feeding her soup and fruit kolache.
    With a new spring in his step, he made his way to the ATM just as the headlight from the next city inbound beamed out of the tunnel. Brakes squealed above the din of frenzied commuters, desperate to catch this particular train as if it were the last one on earth. Hundreds of people shoved and jostled their way from the stairs and escalators, flinging themselves into the bowels of the packed station.
    Jordan chatted happily with his wife as he put his card into the slot, thankful to be going home.
    â€œYou just get better.” He began to punch in his PIN. “I’ll be there—”
    A blinding flash of heat and light shoved the words back down his throat.
    The initial blast all but vaporized Jordan Winters and everyone else within five meters. Commuters were blown from their expensive loafers and high heels. Their bodies, some intact, some in mangled bits and pieces, hurtled across the tracks in front of the oncoming train.
    Above, at ground level, passersby felt Market Street rumble under their feet. A