Wipeout | Book 4 | Overdrawn

by Richards, E. S.

  “What are you all doing here?” Walter asked, shaking his head from side to side in shock. “Are you okay?”

  It was a stupid question, but he didn’t know what else to say. A few more of the children looked over at him as he spoke, but none of them even tried to reply. They were exhausted, broken and beaten by what had happened to their city and entirely spent of energy. Some of them looked like they hadn’t eaten in days while others lay in puddles of their own urine, or worse. They ranged in age from maybe four or five to sixteen, all left to fend for themselves far before they were ready to do so.

  “Hey,” Walter knelt down beside a young boy who looked to be just entering his teenage years. “What’s your name, fella? Here,” he unclipped his water flask from his belt. “Are you thirsty?”

  At the sound of the flask being unscrewed, several pairs of eyes angled in Walter’s direction. All the children were hungry and thirsty, desperate for any kind of sustenance but lacking the energy and skill to retrieve it for themselves. The running water had stopped working across the city a little over a week ago and while there were reservoirs available, most people were beginning to struggle to find a clean supply of water. In some desperate cases, they were drinking from the Hudson. While the river water wouldn’t kill you, it was full of bacteria and had a salt content much higher than the human body was used to – prolonged consumption could lead to sickness which Walter worried several of the children were suffering from.

  “Where did you come from, mister?” The little boy who Walter had offered his water to whimpered, liquid dribbling down his chin and onto the floor. “Are you going to save us?”

  “I’m going to try,” Walter replied, re-capping his flask and nodding. Most of the children were watching him now, waiting to find out how this strange new arrival was going to act and whether he was really going to help them. Walter didn’t have the first idea of what he could do on such a mass scale, the harrowing realization that there must be thousands of children across the city in a similar state to those in front of him. He didn’t want to walk away and leave them, but there was nothing he could do for them there and then. He had to talk to Samantha and the Captain again, make them see sense and understand that the measures they had in place weren’t working. They had to do more – they had to look beyond the lives they interacted with and find a way to help everyone.

  “I’m going to come back,” Walter announced as he stood up, speaking to the room, sincerity in his voice. “I’m going to find a way to help you all, I promise. I’ll bring you food and water and we’ll find somewhere safer for you all to live, get you clean, give you all a bed to sleep in. I’m sorry that this has happened to you, but I want you all to know that you’re not alone. There are people out there who still care about you – I still care about you – and things are going to be okay.”

  With his words lingering in the air, Walter took a step toward the door, the little boy he’d helped reaching after him like a child yearning for its mother. It broke Walter’s heart to see the sheer hopelessness in the boy’s eyes, like he had already given up.

  “I’ll come back,” Walter whispered as he looked at the little boy. “I promise.”

  Once he was back on the street, Walter ran over to the opposite wall and dry heaved into the gutter. He felt sick from what he had seen, ashamed that they had let things get so bad in the city while under the guise that they were doing the best they could. Things were far from normal. The poverty was more advanced that it had ever been – the country had done better in war time, an embarrassing fact to admit. After retching until his throat ached, Walter wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood upright. He needed to get back to the precinct and make people aware of how things really were in the city. They couldn’t mess about with rations and proposed curfews any longer; they needed to take real action or risk losing hundreds of thousands more lives.

  The sun had finally set over the city while Walter had been in the children’s house and as he walked back toward the police station, the nighttime sounds of New York echoed around him. One thing that hadn’t changed since the collapse was how the city never slept – previously it had been alive with the roar of traffic on the bustling streets, people moving from one bar to the next or fueling themselves on late night cups of coffee and sugary snacks.

  Now darkness brought with it much more threatening sounds, distant banging that could be a heavy object falling over or a gun being fired. Shouts and screams of people in trouble, or the cries of people who simply couldn’t handle things anymore. The noise from the roads being cleared and the neighborhoods being cleaned up often drowned it out, but behind it all, the terror still told the truth.

  Walter opened his ears to all the sounds of the city and listened carefully. He was done trying to shut out the pain and suffering. That hadn’t done him any good. Now, he needed to hear it all. He needed to understand it so that he could help put a stop to it and he decided he wasn’t going to hide away any longer.

  As he listened, the cries of one particular person stood out to him. They sounded closer than most – practically just around the corner. Starting to jog, Walter moved toward the sound of the cries, crossing onto another street and seeing in the distance a group of people all crowded around one poor man on the floor. They were kicking at him, beating him senseless as they laughed and jeered, taking joy in the pain they were causing another human being.

  “Hey!” Walter shouted as soon as he saw it, breaking into a run and heading straight for them. “Get off him! Leave him alone!”

  It didn’t even occur to Walter that he was severely out-numbered. As a police officer he had been trained to leave his fears at the door and to do what was right when there was someone in need of his help. A couple of the attackers looked up and warned the others, however they seemed unphased and continued to kick at the man on the floor, the withered frame now almost unmoving as each blow sunk in.

  “Back off, now!” As he was only a few yards away from the group, Walter reached around his body and unholstered the Glock which he carried there. He wasn’t an idiot – he had no intention of firing it at any of the attackers, but he also knew he couldn’t fight them all off at once. Pointing it up at the sky, he squeezed the trigger twice and fired off two quick rounds, filling the air with a couple of loud bangs and finally getting everyone’s attention.

  “Run!”

  “Whoa dude! He’s got a gun!”

  “Shit. Go, go, go!”

  To Walter’s delight, the shots had the desired effect and with cries of fear, the five attackers fled into the darkness. What he really wanted to do was go after them and make each of those criminals pay for what they had done. Walter re-holstered his gun and knelt down beside the elderly man. He was curled up into a tight ball with his hands over his head, shaking.

  “It’s okay,” Walter spoke to the old man. “They’re gone. I’m a police officer. Where are you hurt?”

  With his hands quivering in fear, the old man slowly lowered them from his face and looked at Walter, relaxing as he realized he was telling the truth.

  “What happened?” Walter asked as he helped the man to uncurl his body and lie flat out on his back. “Are you okay?”

  “My ribs,” the old man whispered, clutching his side in pain and wincing. “I think they’re broken.”

  “Okay. Does anywhere else hurt? Anything at all?”

  “My ankle,” the old man replied, his words ragged and broken as he struggled to catch his breath. “I think...when I fell.”

  “Okay, okay,” Walter nodded. “I’m going to get you to a hospital, I’m going to get you some help.”

  “So cold.”

  “I know,” Walter spoke softly, taking off his jacket and laying it over the old man. “What’s your name? Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Andrew Fincham,” the man stuttered, his breathing become more strained as he tried to take deep breaths but ended up coughing and gargling.

  “Take it easy,
” Walter soothed him, worried that the damage to his ribs had lacerated the old man’s lungs in some way. “Try to take smaller breaths, Andrew. In and out, just like this.” He demonstrated to the old man, supporting his head so it no longer rested on the tarmac and holding Andrew’s hand with his spare one. “There you go,” Walter smiled. “Nice and steady. That’s it.”

  “My wife,” Andrew tried to speak again, the words catching and coming in short bursts. “I need to get to her.”

  “Don’t worry about your wife just now, Andrew. Where is she, is she at home?” As Andrew nodded, Walter let go of the man’s hands and reached into his pocket. “Where’s your wallet, Andrew? Do you know your address?”

  “They...” Andrew stuttered, coughing and spluttering for breath as he tried to explain. “They took it.”

  “Alright,” Walter nodded, realizing as Andrew lay there that the man was fading fast. The old man became paler as Walter held him, his breathing staccato and shallow. “Don’t worry about your wife, Andrew. I’ll find her and I’ll bring her to you soon. You just relax now. Everything is going to be okay. Help is on its way.”

  As he held the old man, he realized all he could do was reassure Andrew. It was clear the old man wasn’t going to make it and as he begged for his wife, Walter wished he could give him something more.

  “Try not to speak, Andrew,” Walter whispered to him, feeling the old man’s grip become weaker and weaker in his hand. “Close your eyes. Everything is going to be okay.”

  Holding Andrew close, Walter began to hum under his breath and gently rock him. Andrew continued to choke and gasp for air, the sounds he made chilled Walter to the core. He closed his eyes. But he didn’t let go as slowly but surely, Andrew slipped away.

  Andrew Fincham was yet another person that Walter had been unable to save after the collapse, but there were many more whose lives he could make a real difference to. Cradling Andrew’s body in his arms, Walter swore to himself that he would track down Andrew’s wife and make sure that she was safe and healthy, just like he would do something to save all the children who he’d left behind earlier.

  Each day, more and more innocent people were dying across the city, whether from disease, famine or human cruelty. The collapse of Trident had shown its cards in many different ways, each equally as treacherous and debilitating as the last. It couldn’t go on any longer. Andrew would be the last person that Walter would see die as a result of what had happened. His death would mean something. His death would be the beginning of the end.

  Chapter 16

  It was another couple of hours before Walter returned to the police station. He felt like he’d needed the time to himself to process what he’d recently learned about how New York was functioning behind the scenes and the dark truth that was hidden there. Wandering through the streets he’d observed all sorts of sights, from break-in’s and robberies to family events and even funerals.

  When he finally parted ways with Andrew Fincham’s body, Walter didn’t have much choice but to leave the old man where he lay. He wished he could’ve done something more for him, but other than mumble a few words under his breath and close his eyes, Walter had little to offer Andrew in death. At least he hadn’t died alone, Walter told himself. At least he had been able to be there in his final moments.

  The funeral that he had stumbled across just under an hour later was touching to watch – it was a small affair, likely family only as thousands were separated across the city following the collapse. Dealing with the dead was one thing Walter’s team had been working on, however it wasn’t easy to dispose of so many bodies. As a result, people had taken to burning their loved ones themselves, the telltale fires adorning many street corners and the smell of burning flesh often floating through the streets at night. Walter had bowed his head and passed by quietly, not wanting to disturb them.

  He remembered it all though – each new snippet of information he had gathered in his short time outside of the precinct doors was added to the list in his head, a list he was preparing to take to Captain Banes and anyone else who would listen. Their priorities had to change and what they were doing for the city needed to be entirely rethought. Developing a currency and a method of keeping track of people’s value wasn’t a necessity, it was a luxury. They were trying to skip over the steps which would build a better foundation for New York City. Without them, society would collapse again far sooner than anyone cared to acknowledge. Walter needed to make people see this.

  “Lieutenant, hey. I didn’t know you were out tonight.”

  “Hi Dicky,” Walter greeted the younger officer who was guarding the precinct doors when he finally arrived back there. “Just been doing a bit of recon work of my own. How’re things here?”

  “Nothing to report,” Dicky replied as he opened the door for his commanding officer. “It’s been a quiet one tonight.”

  “Here, at least,” Walter mumbled under his breath as he made his way inside, squinting as he entered the almost pitch-black hallway. It felt wrong that so many people were sleeping comfortably inside the building, when there were children roughing it in the streets. The sight of them all on the floor in the abandoned house made Walter shudder, the division of wealth and power somehow even greater now than it had been before the collapse.

  Even in the dark precinct, Walter knew exactly which turns to take to bring him to Captain Banes’ office, thankfully seeing a candle flickering inside as he reached it. He hadn’t been too keen on waking the captain to deliver his news, so at least the man was still up. Knocking once, Walter didn’t wait to be invited inside.

  Captain Banes looked up from his desk while Philip McManaman turned in the chair, both surprised as they saw Walter.

  “Lieutenant Davies,” Captain Banes greeted him. “We weren’t expecting you.”

  “No,” Walter shook his head and strode across the office to the other vacant chair, sitting next to McManaman on the other side of the wooden desk to the captain. “I’m sorry for the intrusion gentlemen, but I’ve been out in the city tonight and discovered some harsh truths that I don’t think can wait until morning. I’m afraid the way we’ve been handling things up until this point isn’t working. We need to make some changes and I don’t think we can wait.”

  “Right,” McManaman replied with a slight huff, repositioning himself in his chair and angling his body away from Walter so it was as if he was just speaking to the captain again. “Well we’d actually been discussing that ourselves before you came in. We know the rationing isn’t working as a result of the gang activity. We were going to brief everyone on this in the morning, but you might as well hear it now,” McManaman paused, sighing mid-sentence. “We plan to split the city into zones and manage the people within them accordingly. We’ll limit free movement for the time being. It’ll help us deal with the required resources in each zone and deal with the gang activity.”

  “Yes,” Captain Banes picked up the trail of conversation, nodding along with McManaman happily. “We can manage the population of the city a lot easier if we know where everyone is. Each person will be registered to a zone and a resulting food bank or rescue center, then we can control how much food, water, medicine and so on that each of them will receive.”

  “The gang activity will be stunted by this too,” McManaman added with a smile, returning to his favorite topic of conversation. “If everyone has to be registered to a certain area, then it gives us more reason to break up mass gatherings and require people to remain in their zones. Gangs won’t be able to rely on resources from other zones and as such, they will struggle to keep functioning as they are and begin to cool down.”

  “Wait, what?” Walter was entirely dumbfounded by what he was hearing. Captain Banes and McManaman both seemed so proud of the so-called solution they’d come up with. It couldn’t be further from what the city needed. Zones wouldn’t help to fix the problems Walter had encountered that night in the city, they would only make them worse. How could these two men not see th
at?

  “That’s ridiculous,” Walter blurted out. “It’s not like the gangs are following the law, why would creating new ones change that? If we set up zones, they’ll just figure out a way to smuggle resources from one to another. They’re not going to see a piece of red tape and just stop. There’s no way that this is going to work or help.”

  Captain Banes looked at Walter and narrowed his eyes, his disapproving glare still noticeable even in the dim light of his office. “With all due respect, Lieutenant, we think it will. We’ve hashed out the details pretty carefully and from what we’ve seen on the streets this is what our city needs right now.”

  “What have you seen on the streets?” Walter argued back. “When have you been out there? I’ve just spent one night walking around and looking, properly looking at the chaos all of this has caused and we’re not doing nearly enough to deal with the real problems. We’re polishing the edges and adding a new lick of paint here and there, but trash kept in a designer handbag is still a bag of trash.”

  “Keep your voice down,” McManaman scolded him as Walter became more agitated and animated about what he was saying. “There are people trying to sleep out there.”

  “That’s the problem!” Walter raised his hands in the air and gestured wildly. “There are children starving out there; they’re sleeping in abandoned houses with no warmth or comfort – twenty, thirty, forty of them on the floor, covered in dirt. They haven’t eaten in days because they can’t get rations, they haven’t washed or slept properly. There are thousands of them across the city who have lost their parents and families and we’re not doing anything to help them.”

  “I don’t think that’s strictly true,” Captain Banes answered. “Everyone has access to the rations available at the food banks. Everyone has the capability to come forward and request to be rehoused through the work we are doing. Everyone has equal means out there, Walter. It’s not our fault if not everyone is choosing to make use of those means.”