Overwatch (Collapse: New Republic)

by Riley Flynn

  “Yes, they do.” She nodded. “They’re also helping us get you to your new digs as we speak, and they aren’t getting paid to do it, so I think that ends that discussion.”

  Maggie took a seat behind the driver as he pulled away from the curb, the bus full of people sitting and standing for the ride to the big hotel in the city’s southwest, miles away from the neighborhood that had been their home for the past six months.

  As the streets rolled past in the darkness, she wondered what the future held for these people. She couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be good.

  13

  Wallace Todd stood in the Broadmoor’s opulent lobby, his arms crossed over his chest, trying not to stare at Patrick and Elsa as they scurried around getting things ready for their new arrivals. They had been awoken in the middle of the night just like the council members, but they looked like they had been up for hours.

  Elwood Hutchinson’s tall frame strode into the lobby, sporting a plum-colored velour track suit that would have made Tony Soprano green with envy. He’d been wearing it every evening since he’d unofficially taken up residence at the hotel; he claimed it was for comfort, but it was likely just as much for the fact that it looked ridiculous. Todd liked Hutch very much—his unique perspective and unflappable sense of humor were sorely needed around here, and the fact that he was sort of squatting in a quasi-government building didn’t seem to bother anyone.

  Now, of course, that point was moot. In a few minutes, Hutch would be one of hundreds of new residents. Todd had radioed in to Cheyenne Mountain after the earthquake and talked with Colton Raines. He suggested housing the downtown people at the Broadmoor, and Raines said he’d run it by the logistics people. Ultimately, the decision had been made and the people were on their way.

  “Enjoying the last of the silence?” Hutch asked as he propped himself against the reception desk next to Todd.

  “It’ll be a long night for sure. Did you manage to find Lisa?” The rest of the council had been roused and apprised of the situation, except for Raylene, who had been part of it.

  He shook his shaggy head. “Mind you, I didn’t search the whole bloody complex. I’d rather not stumble across Jack Nicholson typing away about Jack the dull boy, thank you very much.”

  “Hm. It’s not like her to take off without telling anyone.”

  “I don’t recall seeing her at all yesterday. Maybe she went into the city and decided to stay there?”

  “It’s possible. I’ll ask Raylene if she knows anything when she gets here.”

  “Big changes afoot,” Hutch sighed. “The Broadmoor is no longer our exclusive little club. Then again, as Groucho Marx put it, any club that would have me as a member isn’t worth joining.”

  Todd grinned as headlights illuminated the driveway in front of the Broadmoor’s front door. A black SUV came to a stop and a man in black hopped out the driver’s side as the president emerged from the passenger door. They strode into the lobby, the man in black nodding at Patrick and Elsa.

  Raines looked tired but otherwise unfazed by the events of the past few hours. He extended his hand as he approached the men.

  “Mr. Todd,” he said, shaking hands. “Thanks for getting in touch earlier. I think we’re in for a long night.”

  Todd nodded and lifted a hand in Hutch’s direction. “Mr. President, this is Elwood Hutchinson, a newcomer from Denver.”

  Raines shook hands with the tall man. “Good to finally put a face to the name, Mr. Hutchinson.”

  “If only it weren’t this face,” Hutch said, circling his head with his left hand while shaking with his right. “And, of course, the name Elwood. My parents were sadists. Please call me Hutch, sir.”

  Raines grinned. “Hutch it is.”

  “Booth got in touch a while ago,” said Todd. “The trucks with the heaters should arrive a little after the buses. We’ll try to get everyone squared away as soon as we can.”

  “I’m told supply trucks will be here by daylight,” said Raines.

  “How long do you estimate the power being out downtown?” asked Todd.

  The president glanced at Hutch before answering. “No way to know for sure; our engineers haven’t had a chance to assess the damage. But it’s almost certainly underground, which means it will be a while.”

  “As in months,” said Hutch. “Spring at the earliest, if we’re calling a spade a spade.”

  It took effort for Todd not to grin at the memory of Hutch’s line about needling people in power with uncomfortable questions.

  Raines nodded. “Yes. Not much point in trying to sugar coat it.”

  Steven Burnett and Evan Travis finally arrived in the lobby. Todd thought it was almost as if Burnett could sense Raines’ presence, and knew it was time to put on a show of helping. He’d dressed himself in his usual business casual, despite the hour and the ridiculousness of believing in upward mobility in this day and age. Travis, meanwhile, still looked half-asleep in his jeans and sweatshirt.

  “Mr. President,” Burnett said with a wide grin. “Glad to see you could make it, sir.”

  Hutch glanced at a non-existent watch on his wrist and acted baffled. “Strange hour for an episode of Brown Nose Theater,” he said, making no effort to lower his voice.

  Burnett glared at him, but Raines ignored it.

  “I wouldn’t be much of a president if I didn’t come,” he said. “Hundreds of citizens have just had their lives turned upside down. Again.”

  Todd strode over to Evan’s side. “You seen Lisa, kid?”

  “No,” he said, his eyes foggy. “Why?”

  “We can’t find her. Thought maybe she was with you.”

  He snorted a laugh. “Yeah, she made it pretty clear that’s not going to happen. You mean she’s not at the hotel?”

  “Not that we can find, no.”

  Evan scowled, suddenly alert. “I bet she’s with Farries. I saw him leaving here this afternoon, when I was in the lounge.”

  “Was Lisa with him?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t come back. Or that she didn’t follow him later.”

  Todd frowned. It didn’t make sense to him that she’d want to keep spending time with Farries, after everything she’d said. But he knew enough about life to know that love rarely made sense.

  At that moment, the first bus pulled up out front and dozens of downtown people started filing in through the door. Judging by the looks on their faces, not a single one was in a good mood.

  Maggie was the last person off the bus. Todd strolled toward her through the crowd as people milled about, many of them gawking at the huge crystal chandelier above their heads.

  “Wallace.” She gave him a tired smile. “Good to see you.”

  “You, too. I hear you had your hands full tonight.”

  “And then some. Do you think we’ll be able to pull this off?”

  He looked around and counted heads: probably seventy people or so were in the lobby.

  “If we do it by busload, we should be good,” he said. “We’ll get these folks into their rooms, then let in the next busload, then get them into their rooms.”

  “When Jax told me that Raines had chosen the Broadmoor, I couldn’t help but wonder what you and the council thought of the idea.”

  Todd frowned; it had been his idea in the first place.

  “It just made sense,” he said. “We could have put them in Hotel Row, but then we’d be powering and heating three buildings at once. Plus there’s a lot more gathering places here.”

  “Well, I hope they appreciate it.”

  “They don’t have to appreciate it. It’s not like we own the building and we’re doing them some sort of favor.”

  Hutch emerged at his side. “The argument could be made that everything belongs to everyone now.”

  Maggie smiled. “Hey, Hutch.”

  “Hey yourself, Sheriff.” He tipped an imaginary hat. “Your selflessness is inspiring. Running into a b
uilding after an earthquake would not have been at the top of my list of priorities. My own narrow ass is too precious to me.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second,” she said with a wan smile.

  “Well, let’s just thank whatever deities there might be that I wasn’t called upon to find out.”

  A tinkling sound filled the lobby, prompting the crowd to go quiet. Todd looked across the room to see Raines standing on a wooden dais with a cordless microphone. The president was about to speak.

  “Thank you all,” he said. “I know the last thing you want to see right now is my face, but I thought it was important to be here in this time of crisis. I want you to know that your government has taken action to make sure that your needs will be met, and that the Broadmoor will be your home for as long as you need it to be.”

  The crowd muttered amongst itself, but no one actually spoke up, so Raines continued.

  “Our soldiers will begin hauling supplies here immediately, and you’ll be given heaters for your suites. I can assure you that every room at the Broadmoor is comfortable.”

  “So are the houses in New Haven,” someone grumbled.

  Todd and Hutch exchanged a glance. The person had a point.

  “That’s very true,” said Raines. “And I can assure you, I’ll be looking into the housing situation immediately with my council.”

  That’s interesting, Todd thought. You’ve never mentioned housing before this moment.

  “But for right now, I just want to reassure you that we will take care of you, and that you do have a home here. Every American matters. Now I’m going to get out of the way and let the people who know what they’re doing take over. Thank you all and good night.”

  A few people applauded as the man in black whisked Raines back to the SUV outside the front door. Meanwhile, Booth and Lambert had arrived with a couple of non-coms, who proceeded to set up a register at the front desk and began the process of assigning rooms.

  “I’d best get over there and help,” said Maggie.

  “Let them do the grunt work,” said Todd. “You’ve done your part tonight.”

  She smiled. “The people still need someone on their side through this, even if just for moral support. But thanks.”

  Jax and Ruben passed her on her way to the desk and took her place by their side.

  “Gentlemen,” said Jax. “Quite a night.”

  “And it’s not over yet,” said Todd. “Are you here to take charge?”

  “Actually, I’m assigning Lt. Lambert to oversee this operation. Can you help him out with some logistics?”

  Todd sighed. “I suppose, as long as he doesn’t think he’s in charge of me.”

  “Perish the thought,” Ruben said with a wide, sardonic grin. “We should start with an inventory. I’ll need those two staff members.”

  “Patrick and Elsa have their hands full,” said Hutch. “I’m sure young Mr. Todd and I can be of assistance, given that we’re both awake now and pre-dawn drinking would likely be frowned upon under the circumstances.”

  Todd sighed. “Fine. We’ll start in the kitchen. We should also get some bottled water to every room first thing.”

  “Exactly what I was going to suggest,” said Ruben.

  Yeah, just like Raines was going to suggest moving everyone here after I suggested it first, Todd thought darkly.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” Jax said before heading off into the crowd.

  Hutch went to the front desk and pulled a pad and pen from the drawer as the non-coms took down names and assigned room numbers. He motioned for Todd to follow him into the hallway that led to the Broadmoor’s main kitchen.

  “Analog record keeping,” he said with a grin. “It’s been a while.”

  “I’d rather be drinking,” Todd grumbled.

  “And I’d rather be on a beach in Maui with a buxom young nymphomaniac and a fully functioning prostate. Wish in one hand, shit in the other, my young padawan, and we’ll see which one fills up first.”

  The caretakers had turned on the sconces in the halls and set them on dim as soon as the decision to bring the downtown people to the Broadmoor had been made, so the pair didn’t have to shuffle along in the dark, at least. They could worry about wasting precious electricity later.

  “I worry that this place is going to turn into a powder keg,” Todd said as they turned a corner. “Living downtown may not have been the best option, but at least everyone had their own apartment. And they were close to a supply depot, and the bowling alley where they all like to drink.”

  “Alas, I fear the Penrose Lounge will no longer be our personal refuge,” said Hutch. “But really, it was too good to last. I think the most burning question is whether these people will ever be able to leave. There’s no way to be sure that the buildings they left behind will ever be safe.”

  “Maybe we need to start looking into a new place for the council to live. Leave the Broadmoor to these people.”

  Hutch raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you’re above the riff-raff, Wallace?”

  Todd felt his hackles rise, but before he could answer, they pushed through the swinging doors into the kitchen. Hutch sailed through the left one, but something solid blocked Todd on the right.

  “What the hell’s in front of the door?” he griped. Then he saw the look of horror on Hutch’s face.

  “Oh,” the professor breathed. “Oh, dear.”

  “What?”

  Hutch stepped farther into the kitchen and held the door open, his eyes glued to the floor. Todd felt adrenaline seep into his veins as he followed into the darkened room and tracked his friend’s gaze. Even in the dim light, it was impossible to mistake what they were looking at.

  There, in a heap on the floor, was Lisa Blume’s lifeless body, her swollen face crusted in blood, her pale blue eyes staring into nothing.

  14

  “Is there any way we can move this?” Elsa asked testily. “Patrick and I need to use the kitchen.”

  Maggie glared at her. “There are, like, four other kitchens in this place. This one is a murder scene.”

  She bit her tongue as the older woman rolled her eyes and stalked away. Not for the first time, she wondered just who the hell Elsa and Patrick had been before the collapse. Whoever they used to be, they were plenty weird now.

  It was early afternoon and Maggie had seen about as much of Lisa Blume’s body as she was ever going to. She might not have been a real, trained police officer, but she’d seen the aftermath of enough fights—and been on the receiving end of enough fists in her day—to recognize blunt force trauma. Whatever the final cause of death had been, it was a result of a savage beating.

  Crowds of downtown people milled around the Broadmoor’s main floor, scouting out their new home. Any lookey-loos were kept away from the crime scene by a very stern-looking Ruben Lambert, the post-apocalypse version of police yellow tape.

  “What’s the verdict, Mags?” he asked. “Any chance she fell down the stairs and managed to drag herself in here?”

  She gave him a sidelong glance. “Are you being serious?”

  “No,” he sighed. “Just clutching at straws. Integrating hundreds of people into the Broadmoor is gonna be hard enough without the new republic’s first murder investigation going on at the same time.”

  “Well, in answer to your question, no. There’s no blood on the carpet leading into the kitchen, so whatever happened to her happened in here.”

  “Too bad you don’t have one of those black lights or something out of the TV shows. You must have some tricks of the trade, though, right?”

  Maggie stood and rubbed her eyes. She’d managed to catch about thirty minutes of sleep on a hallway sofa after the last people had been settled in their rooms around 8 a.m., and she was dead on her feet. It was probably the reason that she wasn’t freaking out over having a murder dropped in her completely unprepared lap.

  “Forensic stuff is done by scientists with labs,” she said. “We barely have enoug
h engineers to fix the power grid, and nobody seems to know how to fix the computers. We’re stuck with good old-fashioned detective work.”

  That I’m not qualified for, she didn’t add.

  “Do you have anything to go on?”

  Actually, she did. “The majority of bruising on her face is on the left-hand side, meaning her killer is right-handed.” She gave him a rueful grin. “That narrows down the number of suspects to about eighty per cent of the population.”

  Ruben shrugged. “You’ll have the killer by sundown, easy.”

  “And then what?” asked a voice from behind him.

  It was Hutch. He and Todd ambled into the area by the kitchen door from the direction of the lobby. Both were wearing the same clothes as last night, which meant they had probably grabbed cat naps like she had and then returned to the scene of the crime. That said, Hutch’s hair looked like bedhead at the best of times.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she said. “Once we figure out who it is, then we can start worrying about what to do with him.”

  “Or her,” said Hutch, arching an eyebrow. “Not to tell you your business, Sheriff, but gender bias isn’t politically correct.”

  “Jesus,” Todd growled. “If there’s one thing that should stay in the pre-collapse shitcan, it’s political correctness.”

  “For once we agree,” said Ruben. “Plus, it would have to be a pretty big woman to do that kind of damage.”

  Hutch frowned. “The only one I know would be Raylene, and she wasn’t here when we discovered young Lisa.”

  “Thank God I have an alibi, then,” Raylene’s said as she entered the hall from the other end, which led to the stairwell. “Guess I’d be a suspect if I didn’t.”

  “I meant no offense, my dear,” said Hutch. “Just trying to think like a cop.”

  You and me both, Maggie thought.

  Raylene ignored them and knelt next to Lisa’s body. Tears trickled from her red eyes down her wide cheeks.

  “You’d think after hauling hundreds of corpses out of their houses, you’d get used to death,” she said in a shaky voice. “I mean, it seemed like that’s all there was for a while, you know?”