STASIS: Part 3: Restart

by E. W. Osborne

  “Much better, thank you.” The answer satisfied him. As he busied himself with the coffee, she chose to play the first card she had in her hand. “It would be good to get out of the city. Maybe we can go tonight?”

  “Yeah, absolutely. I can call him right now, if you want.”

  She pressed on, as if he hadn’t replied. “I’ll be showing soon. And you say the cabin is secluded?”

  “Very.” He quickly continued, covering his tracks. “I mean, from what he says. I’ve never been there.”

  Kristine smiled weakly as he set the cup down in front of her. “But isolation comes at a price. I know we’ll be safer up there, but it also means being so far away from the doctor. I feel like I can trust him, you know? Not to say anything?” She watched the realization wash over him.

  “That’s true.”

  She took a sip and watched him over the rim of the cup. “I’m sure he, and his family if he has one, would come along if we only had the money to pay him. But now, I guess I have to hope there’s an amazing midwife up there somewhere.”

  Christopher’s fists clenched once before he relaxed them. “Maybe I can talk to Jamie, see if he can help somehow.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of his good graces like that.” She paused, letting him think things through. It was almost fun watching him try to scramble over the barriers she’d just dropped in his way. Right now, whether he genuinely felt it or was trying to pretend to, he knew he’d let his wife down. Now was the time to ask for what she truly wanted.

  “I had a thought the other day, before all this stuff happened.”

  He perked up, forcing an airy conversational tone. “What’s that?”

  “I’d love to get in touch with your sister.”

  Kristine fought to keep her expression neutral as she watched her request hit home. Her adoring fiancé grappled with the sudden shift. “I… why would you want—”

  “I know she lives all the way out there and all, but I thought it would be a good gesture to reach out. I don’t know all the details of why she and your brother don’t get along…” Oh, I absolutely do know, now. It might be handy to know someone who wants to take down Steele Industries as much as I do, she thought. “But maybe a wedding might bring the family closer together.”

  “Babe, with everything that’s going on, do you really think having a wedding is the best idea? Wouldn’t you rather wait for when things calm down a little?”

  She rubbed her stomach, just under her bellybutton. “I’m close to showing. I could write it off as overeating for only so long. And after that? You think things will be calm for us when we’re the only ones walking around with a newborn?”

  He threaded his fingers together and stared at them. Kristine had to wonder if she was playing into a trick or if he really wasn’t as good at deception as she assumed.

  “I suppose you’re—”

  “It’s not like I expect her to come out to visit. I just thought the gesture would be nice, that’s all. Do you happen to have her number?”

  Christopher made a show of scrolling through his cuff, searching. “I’m not even sure where she is.”

  “You mean you haven’t called her to make sure she’s okay?” she gasped. She touched his knee, making him look up to her. “The only thing we can count on now is family. We have to stick together.”

  He nodded, eyes swimming with fresh tears. “You’re right. I’ll send you her details right after I text to make sure she’s okay. Then I’ll call Jamie and see if we can’t go up there tonight.”

  Kristine watched his fingers fly across the cuff, presumably messaging his sister. She grasped the hot mug between her hands and watched the steam curl into the air, feeling in control for the first time in months.

  Chapter Eighteen

  London, UK

  July 17th

  Julian paused in the hallway, his hand resting against the locked door to the padded room. His head hung low, shoulders hunched. There was enough rage bubbling through his veins he thought he’d have the strength to push his fist through the wood in one strike.

  In the days since the last outbreak, he hadn’t gotten a single moment to himself. If he wasn’t at work riding out the panic, he was at home, tending to his father’s needs or Harriet’s. For a man who so valued his space and privacy, this was a new kind of fresh hell. All he wanted was thirty minutes, one single block of thirty minutes. He’d sharpen his knives, strip down, and release all his frustrations on the inanimate corpses locked inside.

  Or maybe a few animated ones, he thought as his fingernails scraped down the grain of the wood. It’s not like anyone really cares right now.

  “What are you doing?”

  Julian squeezed his eyes shut, unable to stop an image of his hands flying to Harriet’s neck. Her constant whinging had erased all the sexy bravery she’d demonstrated in the nightclub attack.

  “Just thinking,” he replied without turning.

  She silently padded from behind on the balls of her feet. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

  He trapped the flesh of his tongue between his molars and bit down hard enough to taste blood. “Nothing important.” With a fake smile, he spun to face her. “Did you sleep well?”

  Her hair was pulled up onto the top of her head, tendrils of crimson framing her face. The shirt she’d pulled on barely covered her hips, exposing the pale cotton panties beneath.

  “Not really. I had nightmares.” She slid closer, walking her fingers up his chest to rest on his chin. “I’d sleep better in your bed, I’m sure.”

  It was a blessing in disguise having her here. Julian quickly learned her wiles weren’t half as effective with constant exposure. Shedding his hormone-fueled lust was an unexpected benefit to growing up. The last thing he needed was his libido getting in the way of their important work. But his lust was combining with the unreleased rage. A part of him feared she could push him to the brink, force him to take her as violently as she begged for.

  He stiffened, but not enough to reveal how uncomfortable her touch was making him. “You are sleeping in my bed. I’m the one sleeping in the guest room.”

  “That’s not what I—”

  “I know what you meant.” He spun and headed toward the small kitchen at the back. “Do you want breakfast before I go?”

  Harriet huffed behind him, a sound he’d come to realize she made without realizing. Somehow, it made it more infuriating. Her manipulation had become unconscious.

  “I don’t understand why you insist on going to work in the first place. I mean, I never understood and now… I doubly don’t.”

  Julian filled the kettle and switched it on. He popped four slices of bread into the toaster and distracted himself by getting all the preserves ready. “Because that’s what we do. We carry on, especially when it gets hard.”

  She shimmied onto the high barstool, resting her chin in her hand. “But you’re the one creating these hardships. You and Dad.” She rolled her wrist, cracked her knuckles, and smirked.. “Well, mostly Dad. Maybe that’s why. Is it that Daddy expects you to keep up appearances?”

  He paused with his back to her, hand in the cutlery drawer. His fingers closed around the silver handle of a butter knife. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining how long it would take to slice open one of her arteries with it. Showing any signs that she was getting to him was like blood in the water, but he couldn’t help slamming the drawer shut just a touch too hard.

  “Ooooh, touched a nerve, did I?”

  “I continue to go to work because that’s part of the plan.”

  “The plan, the plan,” she replied in a mocking voice. “It’s all part of the stupid bloody plan that neither of you will tell me about.”

  Julian slowly turned as he opened a jar of strawberry preserves. “Neither of us?”

  She straightened and pursed her lips, the tip of her tongue running along the inside of her lower lip. “You’re not the only one who talks to him.”

  �
��What do you two possibly have to talk about?”

  “I don’t need something to talk about. He’s my father too, you know.”

  “Like I could fucking forget,” he cursed, plunging the knife into the jar. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “God. Don’t you sound like a moody teenager! Try me.”

  His fingers tightened on the knife, short nails digging into the meat of his palm. He never intended on telling Harriet about the things he found in his boss’ possession, but he could at least explain his reasons.

  “Do you know why many arsonists get caught?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest.”

  “Because they like to watch. What’s the point in burning a massive building down if you don’t get to enjoy the destruction?”

  “So, you want to get caught?”

  It was like she was being deliberately thick. With three angry swipes, he smeared the strawberry preserves on his toast. “No… I’m trying to explain why I continue to go to work.”

  “Because you want to watch something burn?”

  Julian couldn’t explain it was all for her, not without revealing too much. Loving someone meant accepting their flaws and limitations. Harriet’s reaction would be unpredictable and might risk everything he’d worked for. It was better to keep her in the dark.

  He pressed the bread together, making a pathetic excuse of a breakfast. “Exactly. I’m late.”

  “Hey! What about mine?” she called after him. “What about me?”

  It ruined his commute in, but he had no other choice. There was no fighting it. Even though he was furious at being pushed out of the loop, he still needed his father. Luckily, his father still needed him.

  Using the voice-to-text feature on his cuff, he sent him a message. He’d allowed him to drive the course of this mission long enough. It was time he took more control for himself.

  We’re ready for the next step.

  It was only a few strides before he received the response, the digital voice chirping in his ear.

  You’re going up north to collect something for me.

  Julian stopped dead in his tracks, sharp enough a man behind him cursed and had to jump out of the way. His pulse throbbed in his temples. “Like I’m some sort of delivery boy?” he muttered. His breath hitched in his throat when he realized the cuff was still in the speech-to-text mode, meaning it’d sent his last message straight away. In a moment of terror, he nearly apologized. Maybe he would’ve if his frustrations hadn’t been at such a boiling point. Instead, he owned it. He sent another message right after.

  I should be treated as an equal. If it wasn’t for me, none of this would be possible.

  ***

  Is that what you believe?

  Julian began to regret using his commute to have this conversation. He strode to the end of the short bridge, off the pavement and into the mouth of an alley. The stench of death made him gag, but it was better than having someone walking by eavesdropping.

  I want direct access. Any Seed. No authentication.

  ***

  Even I need authentication. It’s built into the software.

  ***

  Then unbuild it.

  Julian leaned against the wall. A dim thought popped into his mind that at any other time, he wouldn’t have dared touch his expensive clothes to something as filthy as an external brick wall, but the world had changed. He had changed. His father had him so exasperated, he didn’t think twice.

  He glanced at the time, realizing he was going to be really late. Kieran should be thankful I’m coming in at all, he thought. Gritting his teeth at his father’s lack of response, he quickly spat out another message into his cuff.

  Deal breaker. I get direct access or you can go fetch whatever it is you need. You went behind my back with the last event. You owe me this.

  It was the first time in his life he’d ever truly stood up to his father. It made him more than a little nauseous, but it was a long time coming. None of what they’d accomplished could’ve happened without him.

  Collect what I need, and consider the rest done. We’ll need a global reset, but that shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll send you the address.

  Julian strode into the office as chipper and happy as any other Tuesday morning. With a practiced smile and nod, he greeted the security guard at the front desk. Julian was oblivious to his horrified and somewhat concerned reaction. He hummed a little tune on the lift ride up.

  It wasn’t all bad. He did rather enjoy watching his boss implode before his eyes. But his mental breakdown had to be perfectly managed. If he wasn’t careful, Kieran Hart might crack before he got the chance to really have some fun.

  And Father just assured me I’m going to be having lots of fun. After a rough start, today is turning out to be such a good day.

  The office was empty. As he strode in, a tune on his lips, he noted that only two out of twenty monitors were on. His boss’ voice boomed from his office at the end of the open plan space, out of sight but very much audible.

  “How is this not going to cause a panic? In what fucking world do people react well to a decision like that?”

  Julian calmly set his bag down at his desk, listening to the tirade. Even under such an incredible amount of stress, he hadn’t heard Kieran openly curse to staff. Something must’ve really set him off. The thought brought a fresh smile to his lips.

  As he was striding toward the office to make himself available, the door flew open. A young woman he recognized ran from the room, her eyes red, hand to her mouth suppressing a cry. She gave him a surprised, passing glance as she fled to the break room.

  Julian made sure to affix a calm expression before entering the room.

  Kieran was at his massive wooden desk, leaning on it with tight, hunched shoulders, looking like a weary General attempting to turn the tides of war. A diminutive man he thought was named Jack or John, cowered in the furthest chair. He looked up to Julian as if he were a savior sent from above.

  “Okay, I’m back,” a voice said from a speaker on Kieran’s desk. “Frankly, at this point, we’re beyond managing panic. We’ve moved well into disaster management which means—”

  “I’m telling you, you’ll have an even bigger disaster on your hands if you go forward with this plan.”

  “We have a distinct geographical advantage. We aren’t France or Germany. We’re surrounded by water.”

  Julian took a long step into the room, finally catching his boss’ attention. He straightened and gestured to the speaker on his desk with angry exasperation.

  Kieran’s response dripped with barely controlled rage. “You realize whatever geographical advantages you think we have can also be used against us.”

  There was silence from the other end. Julian took the opportunity to nod to young Jake or Jim, giving him permission to leave. He jumped up with such gratitude, he half-expected him to bow and kiss his knuckles on the way out. He wisely shut the door behind him.

  He took a seat in the high-backed chair in front of the desk, crossed one leg over the other, and patiently waited for the call to end. He listened to the voice, hoping to recognize it or glean something from the context.

  “Your position has been duly noted.”

  Kieran’s face turned a lovely shade of red and Julian worried, not for the first time, that the man might have an aneurysm before he got to have any fun with him. “My opinion wasn’t needed,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “It will be taken into consideration.”

  The conversation was over, their voices returning to the practiced formality of politics, every word brushed with hidden meaning. Julian patiently waited, biding his time. When the call finally ended, his boss collapsed in his chair like a man fully deflated.

  “Can you believe these knobs?”

  “I’m afraid I only heard half the conversation.”

  Kieran slouched further down into the chair as if hoping it would eat him alive. “I never thought it would get to this point.
Whatever I’ve been, whoever I’ve screwed over, it’s been for the greater good.”

  “Of course.”

  “I genuinely want to help people. That’s why I went into politics in the first place. And if I get a little help on the side because of it, is that so bad? I’m a genuinely good person.”

  “I know,” Julian lied.

  Kieran’s chins pressed together like tightly packed sausages as he stared at his feet. “If I could do something to fix this, I would. As if the children haven’t already suffered enough.”

  He gritted his teeth at the mention of children. Like I’m one of his clueless sheep constituents. “Yes, of course.”

  He waited for the man to continue, hoping he would finally reveal what had gotten him all worked up. But honestly, he was losing his patience with this confessional. He needed to know exactly what the government was planning. He reverted to the formality his position technically required, hoping it would jar the man enough to finally reply.

  “Sir? What exactly is happening? Who were you speaking with?”

  Kieran blinked as if coming out of a daydream. “They’re going to close the borders.”

  A rush of anxiety sent his heart thumping but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. “The borders? Already?”

  His eyes glazed over again. “I feel like I’m the last person holding a bucket of water on a burning ship.”

  “They can’t do this yet. It’s too early.”

  “They’re doing it.”

  “Inbound traffic?”

  Kieran’s gaze rose to his. It was the first time he saw genuine fear in his boss’ eyes. “And outbound.”

  Without thinking, he jumped to his feet ready to bolt from the office. “I have to speak to my father. If they close the borders—”

  Luckily, his boss didn’t understand the true meaning of that. He nodded and spoke as though he were imparting some sage wisdom. “I know the instinct is to run. If it weren’t already too late, I’d give you permission to run and hide like the rest of them. But as it stands…”