The Long Night Box Set

by Kevin Partner

  He smiled. "It was Petrov. He finally developed a spine. Called out to the drone just as it was zeroing in on me. It might be almost unstoppable, but it ain't exactly smart."

  "Come on, we need to find Liang."

  "I reckon I know where he is," Tucker said. "Been thinking about it. When we were in that room with the Reaper, and it activated just as we were lookin' at it, he must have been nearby, otherwise how would he have known we were there? I didn't see no cameras."

  Paulie's mouth opened in astonishment. "You're right! Good grief, you're not only a hero, but a genius as well."

  "Oh, shucks, Sheriff" Tucker said in mock humility, but Paulie was already running away from him, her hand against her thigh and murder on her mind.

  Chapter 11

  Solly would have avoided Louisville if it hadn't been for the fact that one of the locations for the radio booster was on top of PNC Tower. He bitterly regretted not paying more attention when McBride had handed over the list but, especially given the events at Cincinnati, he felt more obliged than ever to fulfill his mission.

  Was he being driven by guilt at having escaped from the firebomb at the gas station when the others hadn't? Probably. He saw that expanding ball of orange plasma every time he closed his eyes. And he saw the momentary fear on the face of fake Pastor Fisher when he realized that Solly was no longer the man he'd met all those months ago. But he couldn't find it in his heart to regret that at all. Fisher had been prepared to see others lose their lives on his mission while he observed from a safe distance. Although it didn't turn out to be that safe, after all.

  No, he couldn't get beyond the explosion that Fisher and, as it transpired, the Lee Corporation had caused. It comforted him little that, by tackling Fisher, many of the women who'd have been consumed in the fire had been drawn away and had, therefore, survived. One Lee Corporation operative had made it within the defensive circle, and that had been enough.

  Solly had contacted Wright-Patterson when he'd set up the next relay on I-71 between Cincinnati and Louisville. He'd been patched through to Colonel McBride, who was setting up a new base in Cincinnati and overseeing the ceremonies for the dead. After the explosion, Solly and the others had spent the night hidden in an underground parking lot before circling back to survey the devastation. He'd known there was no chance of any of the soldiers surviving. The explosion had rocked the Humvee, even though it was a couple of hundred yards away at the time. The gas station was a blackened pile of twisted and molten metal. There was no trace of Bryant or his team, or any of the attackers. They'd been consumed in that instant of combustion.

  So, they'd headed south to resume their mission and Solly's mind had spent the time flitting between sadness, guilt and fear for what the events of that night meant for the country as a whole. The Lee Corporation was strong in the Northwest and Northeast, around its two power bases of Seattle and New York. Its sphere of influence extended into Pennsylvania and it was making an attempt to grab control of DC, but farther out it didn't have the resources, yet, to take over, so it sent its operatives out to prepare the ground for expansion by creating chaos as communities tried to come together. Solly ground his teeth in anger. Was there really nothing Lee Corp wouldn't sink to in their dash for domination over the American people?

  He'd felt better once he'd been able to give his report to McBride. Truth to tell, the colonel was angry that Solly hadn't awaited his arrival, but was at least grateful for the intelligence Solly was able to give him. A ring of steel would be going up around every military outpost and, especially, fuel stores. They had to assume that a concerted campaign was being waged against anyone who sought to organize themselves or to oppose Lee Corp.

  They'd been stopped as they'd tried to cross the river at the Clarke Memorial Bridge. The guards' initial surprise at seeing an approaching Humvee was followed immediately by pointing every weapon they possessed at it. This was then replaced by more confusion when they found that the vehicle was being driven by a civilian. There was a governor in Louisville, Solly was told, and they would have to report to him before being given permission to cross the city or, indeed, to return the way they'd come.

  One of the guards got into the Humvee and directed them to the Marriott in downtown. Solly pulled up outside the Starbucks and unpacked Ross’ wheelchair before helping him down from the back seat. Vivian was to remain in the vehicle with instructions to keep it safe and not allow anyone inside.

  The guard directed them past the dusty and rusty electric bikes parked in a rack outside the hotel and into the main lobby area. A young woman sat at the reception desk and her eyes flitted from Solly to the guard and back again as he spoke. She picked up a phone, twisted away and spoke a few words into it, before swinging back with a smile. "You may go through," she said, gesturing at the door to a conference room. A man and a woman in dark business clothes stood outside and one pulled the door open as Solly and Ross approached, the guard going ahead of them into the room.

  Solly pushed Ross into the conference room. Long tables of light ash wood arranged in a U shape occupied three sides and a man sat in the center of the shortest table, his bald head reflecting the white strip lights that ran along the ceiling. To Solly, it felt like stepping back in time to the world before the Long Night. Boy, he'd hated meetings in places like this, but it was a poignant reminder of how things had once been at a time when electricity was taken for granted.

  The man gazed at Solly and Ross through round spectacles as the guard whispered in his ear. After a few seconds, the guard stood up, saluted the little man and marched out.

  "My name is Oscar Weinstein, chief administrator of the New Louisville Commonwealth. Please, take a seat,” he said, before smiling at Ross, “though I see your friend already has one.” Or was it a sneer?

  He was, Solly judged, in his late sixties and had a round face with chiseled features. Above his thin lips sat a gray mustache and his eyes, behind the lenses of his spectacles, looked unnaturally small. Overall, Solly couldn’t help forming the impression of a man who laughed rarely. But then, these weren't happy times and perhaps the world needed people with organizational talent more than those with a sense of humor and humanity.

  "You are, let me see, Solly Masters," he said as Solly took his seat. "Is that short for Solomon?"

  "It is, though I prefer Solly."

  The man blinked at him as if surprised. "If there is one thing the Dying should have taught us, Solomon, it is to respect our parents and their choices, including the names they selected for us. Such a disaster would not have happened—did not happen—on their watch."

  "Surely that's because the technology didn't exist back then," Solly said.

  Weinstein shrugged doubtfully. "Humanity has had the means to destroy itself since 1945, Mr. Masters, and yet it did not, until last November. If we are not to repeat our mistakes, we have to ask ourselves why."

  "I'm sorry," Solly said, "but I don't think the fact that my parents chose a stupid name for me caused the Long Night."

  "The Long Night? Is that what you call it? To us it is simply The Dying. And as for your name choice, it is a symptom of a greater malady. The assumption that all progress is good. As we rebuild our city, we will keep faith with the past. Technology where it is necessary but always in its place. Machines are to be our servants, Mr. Masters. And you, young man, what is your relationship to Solomon?"

  Ross cast a glance at Solly. "We've been together since just after the…Dying. He's my…"

  "I'm his father," Solly said. "Not by blood, but in every way that matters."

  Weinstein inclined his head in a gesture Solly interpreted as appreciation. "And where have you come from?"

  "We passed through Cincinnati," Ross said.

  "We're here on a mission for the commander of Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Mr. Weinstein," Solly added, growing impatient as he thought of Vivian in the Humvee alone and the long miles ahead to Texas and the beginning of his true mission.

  Weinstein
couldn't hide his surprise at this news, though he tried. “Wright-Patterson… That's in Dayton, Ohio, isn't it? I had no idea it had survived. Who controls it?"

  "Colonel McBride is the commander, but he recognizes the authority of the newly re-formed Federal Government in DC."

  "Yes, we've heard about DC. Many of our people have journeyed there. I warned them that their home is here, but for many folks, the illusion of hope is better than the reality of safety."

  "I've met the president," Solly said. Again, the eyebrows lifted. "She's a formidable person. But tell me, Mr. Weinstein, have you had any contact from the Lee Corporation?"

  There it was again. This man was no politician. Solly knew without an iota of doubt that they had been here. But would the man admit it?

  He blinked fitfully for a moment, as if making a monumental decision. "They have been…helpful," he said. "They have supplied some hard to obtain food—fresh mainly—that have lightened the hearts of the people."

  Solly felt as though he could read this man as plainly as if he were to say the words out loud. Weinstein had taken their help, but at what price?

  "What did they ask for in exchange?"

  "Nothing much, just permission to have a small team here to help with the restoration of our technology. The electricity in this hotel was their first project."

  Solly wanted to warn Weinstein, but he realized he'd probably already said too much. He should have asked about Lee Corp before opening his big fat mouth. If they installed electricity, there was every chance they'd bugged this room.

  Solly reached into his pocket and pulled out the little notepad he carried with him. He scribbled a note and held it up for the governor.

  This room is likely bugged. Nod if you agree.

  Weinstein nodded.

  Massive fire in Cincin caused by LCorp. Fuel dump destroyed. Many dead.

  His mouth opened in horror, but he nodded again.

  Please let us station a radio relay on PNC Tower. I will leave you a radio so you can contact WPatt. Do not tell LCorp.

  Again the little nod. The confident, dry governor had been replaced by a man in fear of his life.

  LCorp is the enemy. Do not move against them. Contact WPatt. McBride. We must unite to survive.

  "Well, Governor, I guess we should be on our way. I wouldn't want to disturb what is obviously a well-run community. I wish you every success."

  "Thank you, Solomon. I hope to meet again in the future and you will see how we've progressed."

  They got up and left the room together. The guard who'd stopped them at the bridge was waiting and Weinstein called him across.

  "Escort Mr. Masters and his party to their destination please, Conrad. He will advise you."

  Solly shook the little man's hand with more warmth than he'd imagined he would when they'd met. He saw the fear in Weinstein's eyes, but also a determination to do the right thing by the people who relied on him. A good man, Solly concluded. A rare breed.

  The PNC Tower was a couple of blocks across from the hotel that was Weinstein's base.

  "Here it is," Conrad said, getting out of the Humvee and gesturing up at the skyscraper, a rising pillar of black metal and glass that looked disconcertingly similar to the Lee Corporation building in New York, except many times taller. "Be careful, mind. The building ain't occupied, 'sfar as I know, but there could be any number of folks hidin' up there and we wouldn't be none the wiser. You take care now."

  Solly thanked their guide then, once he was out of earshot, turned to Ross.

  "It's alright, Solly," the young man said. "I know I can't come with you. How many floors do you think it's got?"

  Solly smiled sadly. "Forty? Fifty? Sorry, son, but I think the elevators are out of order. Now, listen to me. I'm going to give you a walkie-talkie, but if there's trouble and you're in any doubt, drive away and circle back if you can. Warn us if it's safe to do so. Got that?"

  "Sure," Ross said as they embraced.

  It was nothing short of a miracle that he could tell Ross to drive away. After all, it had only been a few days since the young man had reported tingling in his right leg. Solly had responded with encouraging words, but privately believed these were likely phantom sensations and meant nothing. He'd been wrong because, since then, Ross had finally been able to straighten the leg without touching it and had proved that he could push with enough pressure to handle the gas and brake pedals in an emergency.

  "I suppose I gotta come, have I?" Vivian said, a wide grin brightening her dark face.

  Solly helped her out onto the sidewalk before waving to Ross and shutting the door. He went around the back, opened up the rear doors and pulled out the transmitter along with its solar power source. "Come on," he said. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get out of here."

  "Yeah, this place gives me the creeps, you know?"

  Solly checked his weapon and stowed it in a jacket pocket as he approached the entrance of the building. The door had been wrenched off its hinges and much of the glass on the first floor was shattered, but enough remained for Solly to catch his reflection just before they went inside. He paused for a moment, transfixed by this alien version of himself. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen himself in a mirror recently, but that had revealed only his head and neck. The whole package was something quite different.

  The Solly Masters that looked back at him from the black glossy panes was almost unrecognizable. There was little sign of the flaccid, downtrodden man he'd been. Instead, a leaner, seemingly taller, figure peered out from behind a thick beard that was at least a quarter gray. His camouflaged baseball cap was stained by weather and sweat, and his olive coat and jeans had seen better days. He wouldn't have looked out of place on Duck Dynasty, except that his beard was about a foot too short.

  They picked their way over broken glass across a black marble floor that was covered in a layer of dust and wind-borne detritus that crunched beneath their feet. The first floor smelled of nothing other than the city, open as it was to the elements, but the higher they climbed, the more the air was laden with the heavy scent of decay.

  Focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, Solly didn't allow his mind to think about what might be beyond the doors on each landing, though he knew that many people had died here at their desks. Had the dying begun during the working day, it would have been far worse, but still the Long Night took its toll of cleaners, security guards and late-night workers.

  The lower levels of the stairwell had been used by at least some people in the months since the dying had happened, but as they passed the tenth floor, the discarded trash and signs of forced entry grew rarer until, once they were halfway up, there was no evidence that another human soul had climbed these stairs.

  Solly's thighs and calves were burning and he was forced to swallow his pride and call a brief halt. It gave him some satisfaction to see that Vivian, who was little more than half his age, was almost as exhausted as he was. But they didn't dare wait for more than a few minutes. Solly's mind flitted to Ross on the street below and he grabbed the transmitter electronics and panels, and trudged on.

  Finally, they reached the top and Solly stood with his back to the access door, trying to catch his breath.

  "The air's a bit thin up here, isn't it?" he said with a smile as Vivian bent with her hands on her knees, heaving in deep lungfuls of oxygen. "I see why soldiers say you should never volunteer for anything, now."

  "Let's get this over with, Sol. We got a long road back. Forty floors."

  "But we'll have gravity on our side. Come on then," he said, putting his shoulder against the door and turning the handle. "Give me a hand. I think the wind's pushing it closed."

  Vivian joined him and together, inch by inch, they widened the gap as what felt like a gale whipped by them to whistle down the stairwell. Solly pushed it back against the wall and engaged the catch. He didn't relish the prospect of trying to open it from the outside if it slammed shut.

  "Don't
go near the edge!" he called. It felt as though the words were being torn out of his mouth and carried off in the wind.

  "Do I look stupid?" Vivian shouted back.

  "We'll put it there." Solly pointed at a row of three glass structures that stood proud of the surface, presumably providing natural daylight to the offices directly below. They struggled across and found that between them, the wind dropped and they could safely lash the transmitter base to the superstructure.

  "Hurry, it's so cold!" Vivian said, hugging herself against the bitter wind.

  Solly unfolded the solar panels and used the bonding compound supplied to stick them to the windows. They were so thin, there was no way for the wind to get under them.

  "Ready!" Solly called as he flicked the activation switch. Lights appeared on the control panel and he checked that the batteries were being fed by the panels. "Yep. Diagnostics check out. We can do the rest from street level!"

  He stood up, and Vivian grabbed him as he almost overbalanced. She looked beyond him and her mouth dropped. "Look!"

  Solly turned around. There, in the space between the other two glass structures stood a squat black antenna emerging from a rectangular control box. On the side of the box was a logo.

  The Lee Corporation.

  Chapter 12

  Paulie flung herself to the floor as the rat-at-at of gunfire echoed around the entrance lobby of the department store. The last time they'd been here, there had been five of them and they'd taken infinite care. Now only Paulie and Tucker remained—unless Petrov had somehow escaped the Reaper—and they were focused entirely on getting to Room 5 where they expected to find Liang.

  "Where did that come from?" Marvin whispered as they sheltered behind an upturned plinth.

  "Dunno. Pretty close. Didn't sound like the Reaper's weapons, though."

  Marvin looked doubtfully at her. "Really? You reckon someone's fightin' back?"