He pushed down hard on the panic as Mona caught up. "Sorry," she said. "Not so fit as I used to be."
"I live down on 79th—about a mile. We’ve got to move fast, though. I'm not sure what's going on out there, but it's not likely to be pretty." He scanned the darkness, his ears pricking as sirens wailed. His eye was caught by the movement of a pickup truck that was easing between abandoned cars. It was going at barely walking pace, but something about it made him uneasy. Or maybe he was just jumping at everything now. The sooner he got back to his apartment, and his medication, the better. Without warning, his mind's eye flicked to the old man with the burned off face and he shook his head, breathed in the cold air and headed over the bridge.
"This way!" he called to Mona, who was struggling behind him. He darted off to the right, along a narrow tree-lined road that, on a summer's day, would probably be pleasant enough. On this snowy night in a dying Manhattan, on the other hand, all he could see were potential hiding places for attackers. He reached the corner and waited again for Mona. A house alarm was blaring, and he thought he could see figures darting to and fro. Surely the rule of law wouldn't break down so quickly? Did others know something he didn't? From the house on the corner rose a cry of grief and he knew another person had dropped.
Over Mona's shoulder, he saw the pickup as it turned into the road they'd just walked along. "You need to lose that bag," he said.
"What?" Her face darkened with suspicion.
"I don't want it!" he said, "But they probably do.” He gestured at the truck behind them. “They’re probably looters looking for easy pickings. At least I hope so. That fancy bag has gotten their attention."
"No! It's got my stuff in it."
The pickup truck accelerated toward them. Solly was faced with a choice: rip the bag from her shoulder or grab Mona and run for it. "Come on!" he said, pulling on her hand and heading around the corner. He heard the rev of the pickup's engine. Somehow, his body found more reserves of adrenaline as he ran, dragging Mona along with him, down the side of the block of houses and across another intersection. Oddly, this one was largely deserted, with only a handful of cars dotted around and even fewer moving.
He pulled his collar up against the icy wind that whipped across the road as they ran. A fast food restaurant stood on the corner so they caught shelter against its red brick wall and, as Mona panted, Solly peered back the way they'd come. No sign of the pickup now. His rational mind relaxed a little. After all, why pursue them when there must have been richer pickings? But his lizard brain was buzzing a warning. Something was wrong. He felt like the mouse that thinks it has outwitted the cat just as the paw drops.
"You okay?"
Mona nodded, though he could see she was exhausted. Then, just as he was about to slide along the wall and down 80th Street, he heard the revving of a truck engine. They were coming.
Instinctively, he pushed on the door of the diner and, to his surprise, it opened. "In here!" he yelled. She followed him inside and he slammed the door shut.
It was dark inside, and the air smelled of curry. Solly slid the nearest table against the door and piled chairs on top as fists thumped on the door outside. "It won't hold," he said. "We need to find another way out."
As they edged toward the kitchen of the dimly lit restaurant, a window smashed, and a bright ball of fire fell through the gap, rolling along the floor. It instantly set the nearest table cloth aflame and, within moments, the inside of the restaurant was lit with a flickering orange glow.
Solly barged into the kitchen and almost fell over the body on the floor. A man dressed to cook. Maybe he'd been washing up after the place had closed. No one had been there to see him fall and Solly didn't have time to feel sadness or regret on behalf of the anonymous chef. He and Mona stepped over the man's prone corpse and headed toward the back door. As he went, Solly grabbed the knife that lay on the surface. The blade was filthy, but he was prepared to bet it would prove sharp enough.
Flame erupted into the kitchen as the fire alarm blared. Sprinklers fired fitfully, but the air was close to unbreathable now and their only chance was to get out through the back door. Solly burst through it and found himself in a small yard surrounded by a brick wall topped with a wire fence.
Mona shrieked. A huge man had leaped down from the wall and was pulling on her bag as another man, lean and wiry, followed him and faced Solly. This one was dressed in a dark winter coat and torn jeans, his face a mass of tattoos and murder in his eyes.
"What you got?" he said in a broad eastern accent. "iPhone? Here, give it to me. Maybe you live?"
Solly had few friends, and even the most generous of them wouldn't call him a man of action. But every man, every person, has their limit. He hefted the knife. "Let her go, and get out of here," he said, desperately trying to keep his voice steady. Mona's bag was now in the hands of the other thug and she was now struggling under his grip.
The thin man laughed. "You know how many I cut tonight?" he sneered. He then held up three fingers. "This jacket, it's nice, no? Better on me than him."
It was a universal law, it seemed, that as soon as any tragedy struck, the jackals would start preying on the weakest. Where were the police? Concentrating their efforts on the better parts of town, no doubt. Queens could fend for itself.
Solly lunged, moving so fast he caught his opponent by surprise, his knife ripping into the arm of the coat he was wearing. With a cry, the man stepped back, then forward again, bringing his fist around in an arc that connected with the side of Solly's face and sent him reeling backwards as Mona cried out in dismay.
The man was on top of him before he could recover. Solly caught the flash of a knife just in time to duck, flinging his arm out to protect himself. To his astonishment, the attacker shrieked as Solly's knife sliced into his shoulder. It was a complete accident, but Solly pressed his advantage by stabbing at the man's open chest with every ounce of rage and desperation behind the blow. The thin man dropped to the floor, shrieking with the knife embedded in his ribs. With a snarl, the thug who'd been holding Mona stepped forward, his own blade drawn. Ignoring his stricken comrade, he thrust out a huge hand, grabbed Solly by the throat and propelled him against the wall. Solly felt himself being raised onto tiptoes, but he could do nothing to release that deadly grip. He felt his throat closing and his peripheral vision began to close in, leaving only the scarred face of his attacker visible. The last thing he'd ever see.
Bang. Red splashed the black, and he fell to the floor. Hands gripped him. There was something on his face. Blood. He looked up. "Mona?"
Tears ran down her face and she pointed at a small black object lying at the feet of the dead thug. "I had to do it, Solly. I couldn't let him kill you. Not after all you've done for me."
"You carry a gun?" he managed.
She nodded. "I got a license. That's why I didn't want to give up my bag."
Solly stooped and retrieved the gun. It was a small revolver, the barrel still warm from the discharge that had felled the thug. "Here, you'd better have it back."
"No, you keep it—till we're back at your place."
Solly pocketed the reassuringly solid hunk of metal.
"Help me."
The thin man lay on the floor with the kitchen knife still embedded in his chest. Mona began to tear up again, but Solly felt no pity for this low-life who, only moments ago, had been intent on slicing him up. Smoke was now billowing out of the kitchen door and, ignoring the dying man, Solly went across to close it. "No way back through there," he said. "Here, I'll lift you up."
Mona accepted the lift and made it onto the top of the brick wall before offering a hand down to Solly, wrapping the other around the iron railings. They clambered out and over as the thin man began to sob.
"Here we are," Solly said. They stood outside a red brick two-story apartment block. The branches of the bare trees lining the sidewalk danced in the freshening wind, the streetlights casting shadows that ran back and forth across the building
's front.
Mona followed him up the small flight of steps to the steel front door and watched, panting, as he fumbled for his keys before, finally, they were safely in the hallway. "I'm upstairs," he said as he led the way up to the first floor and, after locating his house key, they made it inside.
As he stood with his back against the door, exhaustion, pain and grief overwhelmed him and what had begun as a sigh of relief turned into a river of tears. So much for starting a new life. Be careful what you wish for, Solly, it might just come true.
"It's okay," Mona said, stroking his arm. He opened his eyes and wiped the moisture away. She had a kind face that, in different circumstances, he would probably have found attractive. Coffee skin and deep brown eyes framed with frizzy gray hair.
Pulling himself together, he activated the lights and gestured at the couch. "Take a seat," he said. "Sorry about the mess. I'll make us some coffee."
As the machine warmed up, he swallowed his medication and, by the time the coffee was ready, was feeling more stable. It was odd, but he'd never really felt at home in his apartment. It wasn’t in the best neighborhood and the landlord hadn't bothered to update the insulation so it cost a pretty penny to keep warm, but right now it felt like a fortress against the gathering storm. He padded back into the living room and pulled the drapes, shutting the nightmare out.
Mona had done a good job of clearing a space for them to sit comfortably. "Let's find out what's going on," Solly said as the TV powered up.
He switched from Netflix to CNN. A newscaster he didn't recognize was speaking to the camera. Solly could tell from the look on the man's face that the situation was dire.
"… a state of national emergency. I repeat, the White House has declared a state of national emergency. All police and military leave is canceled, and National Guard units are to begin mobilization immediately. Government officials are advising all citizens to remain in their homes and to await further announcements. And now, for a recap of tonight's events, over to Chad."
Another man appeared. He was wearing a dark suit and had the look of a graveside preacher. "Just over two hours ago, at midnight, a wave of sudden deaths took hold across the country. The first victim, as far as we can tell, was Scott Lee, technologist and husband of Annabel Lee whose death he was announcing. Since that announcement, men, women and children, have been collapsing in a pulse that has spread from New York, where the announcement was made, across the country like a deadly ripple. Highways are blocked, all airports have been shut down, and the military is on high alert."
"We cannot say how many have died—though it is certainly millions—nor whether the pulse is over, we can only say that the America of a few hours ago no longer exists. We will keep broadcasting for as long as we can. God bless you all."
Mona and Solly sat together in complete silence. So, they had been near the epicenter. Switching off the TV, Solly pulled his smartphone from his pocket and dialed. He was as ready as he'd ever be to handle whatever happened next.
After seconds that felt like hours, a voice answered. "Solly, is that you?"
"Bella?"
"Oh, thank God. Thank God. You're alive."
"I'm okay. Tired and scared, but okay. How about you? And the kids?" His stomach was so tight he could barely breathe. Please God, let the children be alive. Please God.
"Yes. They're still in bed. I couldn't see the sense in waking them."
Solly nodded. "Yeah. They might as well have one more night. If what's happened here reaches you..."
"It has. Mr. Holstein, next door, he died in front of his wife. She came around for help, but I couldn't get through to 911, so I went over there and then she collapsed. I tried to ring Todd..."
Solly's guts tightened even further at the mention of his ex-wife's lover. Ice ran through his veins and his head began to swim. Must be the medication.
"... but he didn't pick up. Solly, do you think he's alright?"
"I expect so," Solly replied through gritted teeth.
"What do you think it is? A pandemic?"
Solly glanced at Mona. Suddenly, all his energy was sapping away, and he wanted nothing more than to get warm and to go to sleep. "No, it's been much too fast for that. Look, Bella, the government says to hole up and, for once, I agree with them. I'll call in the morning and we..."
He heard Mona cry out, felt the wetness run down his leg and collapsed sideways as darkness enveloped him.
The last thing he heard was Bella's distorted voice. "Solly? Sol? SOL!"
Chapter 3
"Solly? Sol? SOL!"
Tears flowed down Bella's cheeks as she paced around the living room praying that he would respond. But it wasn't his voice she heard next.
"He's bleeding. Sorry, gotta go. I'll call later."
Bella looked down at the phone's display as it went dark. It had been a woman's voice. She felt panic grip her and raged at her inability to find out what was happening. He was bleeding? How? Was it serious? Serious enough to cause him to black out. So now her ex-husband, the father of her children, was over a thousand miles away, injured and in the care of a stranger.
Her shoulders dropped, and she unmuted the TV. She'd been half-watching it when she was on the phone, a mélange of flashing red and blue lights interspersed with national, state and local government announcements printed on the screen.
Stay at home. Lock your doors. Arm yourselves, if possible. Await further instructions.
Bella's instinct was to do exactly that, for tonight at least. Jake and Maddie could sleep through anything, it seemed, and she could see no reason to disturb them. As Solly had said, give them one more night of peace. For all his faults, Sol could be profound from time to time. Oh God, she thought, please let him be okay.
She put the phone down and crept upstairs. Though the living room was brightly lit, in the rest of the house there was only the occasional table lamp to break the darkness. Ordinarily, Bella enjoyed the warm embrace of the Texas nighttime. But these weren't ordinary times.
Maddie always slept with her door slightly ajar, so it was easy for Bella to slip inside without disturbing her. She knelt beside the bed and watched her daughter sleep. Maddie's eyeballs were flicking back and forth beneath closed lids and she'd occasionally gasp. Perhaps she was having a nightmare, Bella thought. Would she awaken from one nightmare into another? Who knew what the morning might bring?
She stood up with a grunt and shuffled out, taking one last look at the slumbering child. The calm before the mother of all storms.
Jake's door was shut, but she risked turning the handle. She'd seen her daughter asleep and now she needed to see her son. Treating the two of them equally had been her mantra ever since Jake had been born. She hadn't always succeeded, in truth. It had been his birth that had signaled the beginning of the end of her relationship with Solly. Never a passionate marriage, the difficulty of that pregnancy and the complications that followed it meant that she began to push Solly away. She asked him to be patient—and he was—while she got over it all, but she never did.
"Mom?"
"Sorry, honey. I didn't mean to wake you."
Jake rolled over and rubbed his eyes. "I thought I heard voices."
"It must have been a dream. Go back to sleep."
He snuggled down, pulling his comforter around his chin.
She could hear ringing from downstairs. Dammit, she'd left her phone on the couch. Bella tiptoed at speed out of Jake's bedroom, onto the landing and down the stairs.
By the time she'd reached the living room, she realized it was the house phone that was ringing, and it had switched to answerphone.
"Darn this infernal contraption," said a familiar voice through the speaker. "Should I talk now? Hello?"
Bella yanked the handset to her ear. "Hello Pop."
"Isabella? Is that you?"
"Who else calls you Pop?"
"Well, your brother, for one."
"But you didn't ring him, you rang me."
"
I know that, I'm not completely meshuga you know."
She waited for him to come to the point. He never rang this late, so she knew he must have seen the news, but she didn't want to break the spell. For a few seconds there, they were father and daughter again, verbally sparring as if nothing was wrong.
"You know people are dying over here," he said.
She tightened her grip on the handset. "What's happened?"
"I was watching the news when I saw that woman was dead—Lee. Then her husband dies right in front of the cameras. Then I heard a shout from next door, but I didn't pay much heed—old Jeremiah's a bit soft in the head these days. Then there was a whole heap of commotion. I went out of my room and people were running up and down. One dropped dead right in front of me."
"Where are you now, Dad?"
"I went back into my room and locked the door. Then the news reports started coming in and I thought you'd ring to see if I was okay, though I know you've got the kids to worry about. But then I needed to know you were alright and I couldn't wait no longer."
The line went quiet for a moment. "I think I'm the only one left, Bella. It's all quiet outside. Not the quiet of people sleeping, neither. They're dead. I know it."
"I'm coming to get you."
He didn't argue, and that, on its own, frightened her more than anything.
Maddie and Jake sat, sleepy-eyed, on the couch as Bella made a flask of coffee for the journey. It was only a half-hour trip from their house in Baytown to the care home where her father lived, but she was worried that she would hit a wall at some point on the journey, so she was carrying caffeine. She was also carrying a Bersa Thunder 380.
The doorbell rang as she was pouring coffee into the flask. "Darnit!" she said, before running her hand under the cold-water tap. "No, I'll go!"
Maddie had gone for the door and, true to form, had answered it before Bella could intercept her. Maddie had a legendary ability to hear warnings too late—it was as if the speed of sound didn't apply to her.
The Long Night Box Set Page 3
