Samuel’s question echoed Austin’s thoughts, the man trying to determine where would be best to stock up on supplies. He didn’t really know this area of the city which left him feeling a bit lost. Samuel’s apartment was far more central than where he lived with his small family. They were still well within Lower Manhattan, a place Austin wanted to escape from as quickly as they could.
“We need to hit up a big department store or something. Is there anything like that nearby?”
Samuel thought for a moment. “There’s a big Walmart on the way into the East Village, but we probably want to avoid that area, right? What about trying to get across into New Jersey? That might be a safer route?”
“Yeah maybe,” Austin thought out loud, picturing the subway map of New York in his head and using that to get his bearings. “We could head up toward like, Times Square, then try and cross the bridge there?”
“Why go all the way up there? There’s a bridge from Soho. It’s only about a twenty-minute walk from here.”
“There is?” Austin paused, wishing he’d spent more time in this part of New York so he could figure out exactly where he was. “Oh yeah, of course. Let’s do that then. Are you okay to lead the way?”
“Sure,” Samuel nodded. “Are we ready?”
The two of them looked around the apartment once more, neither ready to give the order to leave. Samuel’s eyes lingered on several items, wondering when he would be back there again. The question of whether he truly wanted to leave with Austin hung over him like a dark cloud, but every time he considered changing his mind, he reminded himself why he was doing this.
Trident going bankrupt had put many things at risk, but Samuel had only realized much later that his humanity was one of those things. Losing that was out of the question. The guilt and shame he felt for his actions immediately after the banking crash was a constant prompt for him to do better. He thought of R Hauser and the fall he had taken from the Trident window. He remembered Anthony Calvert-Lewin, the man whose seat he had stolen on the shuttle across Long Island and wondered whether he ever managed to make it home. Questions about his parents and his sister, the latter stuck in Hawaii with her family, with no way of knowing if they would ever be able to leave their small island again also plagued him.
Could he have done more? Should he have done more?
Questions that Samuel would never be able to find the answers for. He was sure he would struggle with that for the rest of his life if things didn’t turn out the way he hoped. But during the quiet nights in his apartment when he’d sat up in his bed and listened to the terrifying sounds on the streets below, he had come to realize and accept that he couldn’t change the past. There was no use beating himself up internally for the way he had acted.
What he could do was shape the future. He could help Austin find his way back to his family and make sure the three of them were safe. There was little he could do for his own parents. Charles and Addison were perfectly comfortable in their house. They had enough food to last them for weeks and they wouldn’t even be considering going out into the city. Plus, Samuel knew his father could protect them if needed. He might be a member of high society, but that didn’t mean he was afraid to get dirty when necessary. They didn’t need his help, but Austin did and so that was where Samuel was going to focus his efforts for the foreseeable future.
Picking up one of the rucksack’s, Samuel slung it over his shoulder and caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. The actions of the last week had taken their toll on him, his stubble was unkempt and his hair uncombed. For once he was not wearing a shirt, though the t-shirt and jeans he wore didn’t seem to suit him, even still. It didn’t take a genius to notice that Samuel Westchester was not cut out for this sort of event, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him.
Turning to look at Austin – who thankfully looked somewhat more prepared, though equally nervous – he nodded and tried to force a smile onto his face. “We’ve got this.”
“Yeah,” Austin nodded back. “Here we go.”
With one final look around his apartment, Samuel tugged open the door and held it open for his friend, walking out into the hallway behind him. He turned and locked the door, a task that seemed almost futile. In that one act he left a huge part of his life behind and started a new chapter that he had never expected to write. Making their way back into the madness of New York City, both Samuel and Austin knew that from that moment onwards, their lives would never be the same.
Chapter 3
From the second the door of the apartment building was closed behind them, the city seemed to get darker around Samuel and Austin. The sounds of screaming, fighting, burning and terror increased and tormented them, that element of the outbreak dulled from their view from the window. Quicker than either of them could have imagined, it felt like they had been staring at a postcard—the parts of the city they chose to observe from the window not giving away the full story of what had happened in New York.
“A shiver just ran right down my spine.”
“Mine too,” Austin agreed, feeling the same apprehension that Samuel did. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
“Me neither,” Samuel shook his head. “Let’s get going. I don’t want anyone to recognize me and start asking questions.”
The possibility of being identified as the man who had informed the world that their money had vanished was not something that Samuel had forgotten about. He kept his head down as they walked, glancing down side streets and alleyways in case there was anyone lying in wait. He knew it was highly unlikely, but he couldn’t avoid the idea that there would still be someone from that very first mob who had chased him waiting for him to show himself again.
Shouting and banging sounded off down almost every street. The two of them needed to cut a path across the city eventually, but both were frightened about walking into the thick of it. They turned back on one occasion at the sound of gunfire, both men ducking down where they stood.
“Which way should we go?” Austin whispered.
“Down here,” Samuel guided the pair of them, turning left but then stopping immediately. At the end of the street there was an overturned SUV lying motionless in the street, a tiny plume of smoke rising from underneath the hood. The vehicle didn’t look to have crashed into anything, lying dead center in the road without anything in its path. It was crumpled beyond belief though, suggesting to Samuel that it had rolled over quite a few times before ending up where it was now.
“Whoa – what happened there?”
“I don’t know,” Samuel answered as they walked toward the wreckage, equal parts confused, intrigued and unnerved by the incident. “It doesn’t look like it happened that long ago.”
“Careful!” Austin remarked as Samuel reached out to touch the framework of the car, causing him to jump back and look around in shock.
“What?”
“It might be dangerous. Look,” Austin drew Samuel’s attention back to the smoke that was rising from the hood. “Something’s on fire under there.”
Heeding Austin’s warning, Samuel kept his hands to himself. It was odd seeing the SUV in this position though. The fact no one was around or – thankfully – left in the vehicle made him feel on edge. The city was certainly alive around them, so why was this specific area so quiet?
“Come on, let’s keep going.”
“Yeah, okay. We’re going to have to face the music now.”
Fearfully, the two men started to walk towards the sound of people. They had watched the riots and protests evolve over the last few days, and heard about the public’s anger switching from Trident to the government, demanding that their city provide more to help keep the people alive. Samuel’s neighbors from upstairs had knocked on his door once more as they came back from scavenging the city for supplies, passing on relevant information and updating them both on the city.
They had learned how foodbanks had tried to open, a welcome savior to those in need like Samuel’s neighbors, but
they had very quickly been overrun by demand and forced to close their doors or, in some cases, be taken over by the public. The demand was just too high for the supply. It was easy to figure out there was nothing coming in from elsewhere, no additional manpower, no resources, no aid to speak of. The early morning traffic wasn’t dominated by delivery trucks and large vehicles, in fact there was practically no traffic to speak of left. That was another thing the two men had observed, the use of transport getting less and less likely as less fuel became available. It hindered their chances of finding a working vehicle, but they were both still determined to try.
Austin was ready for the challenge, but he wondered whether Samuel was truly up for it. New Yorkers weren’t used to fending for themselves in such a manner; they preferred the easy life where things were handed to them on a plate and they didn’t have to know where that plate was coming from. Samuel was the perfect example of that with his privileged upbringing and high-paying job. But things had changed now and much like everyone else, he was going to have to adapt and get used to it before it was too late.
Roughly a hundred people rallied in the streets, Samuel and Austin approaching the riot with caution. It was one of the foodbanks that they were trying to force their way into, the soup kitchen like many others likely shut down by a selfish group of New Yorkers who had thought to take it all for themselves. Angry protesters hammered against the doors and shouted to be let in. Many brandished anything that could be deemed threatening—from very real weapons like crowbars and baseball bats to broken pieces of scrap metal, splintered wood and even their own shoes. Samuel and Austin were very quickly swept into the middle of it.
“Get out here and fight us you cowards!”
“We have as much right to this as you do! Let us in!”
“Back off!” Voices carried from behind the metal shutters, proof that people were in fact trapped – or shut away by their own means – inside. “Go find your own place!”
“Arrghhh!”
A cry of anguish burst through the crowd as someone barreled forward, throwing their shoulder into the metal shutters and sending a tremor through them. Samuel winced immediately as others cheered around him. The mob surging forward, those at the front smashing into the shutters as well.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Samuel muttered, hoping that Austin could hear him over the noise. He was still scared of being recognized, trying to keep his head down but struggling as he was thrown about in the sea of bodies.
“Come on out, you chickens! You can’t hide forever!”
The power of hunger coursing through the men and women on the street was overwhelming. It may have only been a matter of days since the crash but everyone was well aware of what they had already lost. The rich and powerful among them had lost their authority and the poorer were in an even worst position than before. Humanity didn’t have much left to fight for and so it made the little that remained even more precious.
Groans and creaks rang out from the cracking shutters, the hinges giving way from the force of people slamming into it. The structure wasn’t designed to withstand such pressure. Samuel continued to struggle against the crowd as a loud snapping sound occurred, followed by a cheer and another rush forward from the people around him.
Stumbling, he found himself being thrown to the floor and yelped out in pain as a heavy foot trod on his fingers. Instant pain shot through his hand and up his arm, convincing Samuel that his fingers were broken. He tried to push himself back to his feet, but the pain was too much. He couldn’t use his hand for support, and he slipped, knocking into someone’s legs.
“Come on Sam,” strong hands hooked under his arms and yanked Samuel to his feet, Austin helping him to regain his balance. “We’ve got to move.”
With one arm remaining around his friend, Austin fought through the crowd and tried to make it out to the empty street beyond. But the shutters were up now and the angry mob finally had a real outlet for their rage as six men stood on the other side and tried to defend the soup kitchen. Austin glanced over and saw the shimmer of metal in the sunlight. Things were about to get violent and he had no intention of sticking around to be caught up in it.
With Samuel finally walking on his own, the two of them struggled on together, barging and shoving wherever necessary. Samuel was reminded of the first time he had tried to get back into the Trident building after the accounts were wiped clean. He had tried to remain the gentleman he knew he was, but by the end of it he was pushing back against everyone who stood in his way just like the rest of them. He was the same now, aware that even more was at stake.
Screams and shouts from the crowd came from every angle, the sound of punches being thrown and men and women getting knocked to the ground filling the street. Had the scene looked like this ten minutes earlier, Samuel and Austin would’ve added ample time onto their journey in order to avoid it. If only they had been so lucky.
This foodbank was currently one of the most sought after resources in the city. It had received a delivery of food no more than an hour before the crash occurred, meaning it was stocked to the brim and designed to provide meals to hungry New Yorkers for several days. No one could have predicted how the demand would sky-rocket so quickly, leaving the thousands living on the breadline with no other option but to literally fight for their next meal.
A heavy man slammed into Austin’s shoulder, throwing the pair of them to the ground. Both Austin and the man exclaimed in shock as it happened. Austin was pinned underneath the other man. Samuel turned to try and help Austin to his feet, doing his best with his injured hand.
“Oh man! Are you okay?” Terror pinched in Samuel’s voice as he noticed a bloodstain on Austin’s side, the red mark dampening his shirt and standing out like a target. Austin’s eyes grew wide when he saw it. He ripped his shirt up and searched his side for any sign of injury, any explanation for the blood. But there was nothing there.
“What the…” Only then did both men look to the man on the floor who had collided with Austin. The stranger was clutching his abdomen and trying to stop the blood flow, his hands and clothing quickly becoming sodden with the gushing red liquid.
“Jesus. We’ve got to do something. Hold on pal, you’re gonna be okay.”
Samuel followed Austin’s lead as he knelt down over the man, the three of them still being knocked and jostled by the fight that carried on within the crowd.
“We’ve got to move him,” Samuel spoke loudly to Austin over the noise. “We’re just going to get trampled here.”
“Okay,” Austin nodded, not taking his eyes off of the man who looked pale and frightened, struggling to maintain consciousness but clearly aware that he was being offered help. “Come on pal,” Austin encouraged him, “let’s get out of here. Then we can assess what’s happened. Okay? Can you stand? Put your weight on me. There you go. Easy does it.”
Austin helped the man to his feet again just like he had with Samuel, who moved around the other side and tried to help with his good hand. Between the two of them they managed to stumble out of the crowd, both Samuel and Austin protecting the stranger, warding off the crowd where possible. The blood that dripped onto the tarmac made for an easy guide though, people eventually noticing it and standing to the side, letting the three of them pass. It was a long minute, but eventually they were able to place the man down on the sidewalk again, his eyes flickering from Austin to Samuel as he sagged to the ground.
“There you go,” Austin continued to talk, his voice soothing over all the madness behind them. “What’s your name? Do you mind if I take a look at that?”
“D-d-Daveed,” the man shivered, his hands clutched over the wound.
“Alright Daveed,” Austin smiled, “I’m going to need you to move your hands just for a second, okay? My name is Austin, I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Samuel whispered to Austin as they both waited for Daveed to react, Austin not looking away from the inju
red man as he replied.
“Yeah. My other half is a nurse. I’ve had basic first aid training too.”
Samuel nodded, amazed once again by what Austin was capable of. It made him feel insignificant.
Austin knelt beside Daveed, carefully sliding his hands away to inspect the wound in his stomach. While Austin tended to Daveed, Samuel took hold of his injured hand and studied it, trying to determine if his fingers were in fact broken.
“Okay,” Austin said after a couple of seconds, shrugging off the shirt he wore over his t-shirt and balling it up in his hands. “I’m going to need you to keep pressure on that, Daveed.” Austin pressed the shirt against his stomach to help slow down the bleeding. “We’re going to get you to a hospital. You’re going to be fine; do you hear me? It’s nothing that a couple of stitches won’t sort out. Sam, help me get him back to his feet, come on. Do you know where the nearest hospital is?”
Samuel tried to force his brain to work quicker than it currently was. The riot in front of the foodbank had reached its height and was starting to die down, but that was only because more bodies littered the ground in front of it. Daveed’s puddle of blood was certainly no longer the only one there.
“Yeah,” he answered with a shake of his head. “It’s not far. Five minutes maybe; it’s only a couple of blocks.”
Austin forced a determined smile onto his face. “You hear that, Daveed? Five minutes and we’ll have you in a hospital. They’ll patch you right up. Come on, we need to walk again now.”
Just as before, Austin and Samuel helped pull Daveed to his feet, supporting his weight between them. He was growing paler and paler by the minute, the blood loss not slowing down despite Austin’s help. Samuel wasn’t confident that they would be able to carry the man if he lost consciousness and he feared that might happen before they reached the hospital.
“Which way?”
“Right,” Samuel guided the other two, turning a corner as several other people ran past them, seemingly away from the final moments of the foodbank riot. It was obvious from the noise that the crowd had dissipated and the contest for the foodbank was over. No matter the result though, there would be no real winners. Managed improperly, the food would only last a handful of people for a few days and it was clear the city needed more than that. Foodbanks would no longer be getting donations and would quickly stop being a safe place for people to go and eat. The question of how people would survive once the basic rations ran out was going to get bigger and bigger over the next few weeks; those who weren’t prepared or willing to take matters into their own hands were likely the ones who would suffer. The elderly and vulnerable would go first, but the crash would not be selective in its victims. Everyone was going to suffer from what had happened, it was just a matter of when and how.
Wipeout | Book 2 | Foul Play Page 2
