The Last Layover Read Online Free PDF Page A

bulk than to freeze to death later he thought.
    After their inventory, Peggy said, “So has anyone heard from Glen?”
    Evan replied, “I checked his room on the way down the hall and knocked on the door but there was no answer. I think I should go down to the front desk and see if they've seen him, or if they have any news. You two hang tight. I'll take the stairs down and go see what I can find out.”
    With that, Evan left the room with his Sig Sauer under his jacket. He and Jason would now be defying the draconian New York gun laws as well as their own Standard Operating Procedures (SOP's) about off duty, off airport carry. Although both men prided themselves on being law-abiding citizens, they refused to die for the sake of a rule or law, which under the circumstances, did not seem at all relevant. They always joked that when it came to survival, they’d rather be judged by twelve than carried by six , as the saying goes. This had definitely become one of those situations.
    Evan made his way down the emergency stairwell, and, luckily, it was still being lit by the emergency generator. Once he reached the lobby, he saw that there were numerous people surrounding the front desk demanding answers, as if somehow the clerk was responsible for, or could actually do something about the situation. He also noticed that it was the same fellow that was on duty the previous evening; he looked worn out and tired.
    The clerk, tired of all the yelling and interrupting, climbed up on the lobby counter and yelled, “Listen up people! A police officer came by and told me that there has been a series of what appear to be terror attacks. He said they are not sure of the full extent of it or if it’s all over. For now, they are ordering everyone to shelter in place. For us, that means the hotel.
    “The emergency lighting, however, only has another day, to a day-and-a-half of fuel, and we can't get more because the gas stations are without power or already out of fuel because people made a run on them as soon as it went down. I guess hurricane Sandy’s post-storm fuel shortages have people paranoid, or something. Anyway, given what he said, my dayshift relief isn't here yet, and if he doesn't show soon, I'm leaving anyway. I have my own family to get to. Most of the rest of the dayshift staff, for that matter, haven't shown up either. Just a few people who live within walking distance, but there isn't much they can do, so I'm sending them home to their families.
    “We are going to pull the complimentary breakfast pastries, bagels, and fruit out for you to hand out. Unfortunately, the boiled eggs, milk, and the other perishables are likely already spoiled because the refrigerators aren't on the generator and have been without power since yesterday. Good luck, I'm sorry I can't do more.” He stepped down from the counter and did his best to ignore the eruption of emotion from the crowd as he disappeared back to the office.
    A mixture of emotions filled the room. Some people were outraged and continued to seem to want to make demands of the hotel staff. Others broke down in tears or just stood there as if in disbelief. As one of the hotel employees carted out the remainder of the breakfast food, people began to just take what they wanted and stuffed their pockets and bags. Evan managed to get his hands on a few pastries and muffins before it turned into a total brawl.
    He noticed another man in his mid-fifties with a calm demeanor looking on in disgust as well. They made eye contact and walked over to each other as Evan said, “My how quickly the weak crumble.”
    The other man said, “My thoughts exactly. Just imagine how they are gonna behave after a few days without society holding their hands.”
    Evan stuck out his hand and said, “Evan Baird, pleased to meet you.”
    “Damon Rutherford,” he replied. “Let's take a walk.”
    The two men left the lobby for one of the adjacent conference rooms. Damon explained that he was an