The Apocalypse Script

by Samuel Fort

  Chapter 26 - Trucks

  They stood on a balcony overlooking Steepleguard’s courtyard and adjacent cobblestone parking area. Below them were five semi trucks in the former hotel’s parking lot, the trailers painted a glossy black. The trailers were being set up by men and women who were dressed, ridiculously in Ben’s opinion, in evening formal wear.

  Ridley moved close to Ben and said in a hushed voice, “Nephew, I know you think this is too lavish, but in days anything not taken from these trucks by your family will be worthless. Silk dresses and rubies will be far less valuable than a loaf of bread or a glass of clean water. There is no harm in a little indulgence.”

  The doors to the trailers were open and mobile, carpeted stairs were put in place. A pickup truck had towed a generator to the top of the mountain and five men were connecting power cables to the trailers while another fired up the engine. Lights within the trailers flickered to life.

  “Sister,” said Fiela, tugging at Lilian’s elbow, “they are ready. Shall you require I go alone?”

  “Coming,” said Lilian pulling Ben gently forward, her arm still interlocked with his.

  As they walked, Ben pulled out his phone and checked the latest headlines. The headline story was Flash Crashes Worsen - No Culprit Identified.

  It read:

  The Securities and Exchange Commission yesterday reported little progress in its investigation of a series of so-called ‘flash crashes’ that have spooked investors in the United States and abroad. In the past two months there have been five such crashes, the last and most severe resulting in a 19% plummet in the Dow Jones Industrial Average in the course of just two minutes.

  Since the crashes first began in March, the Wilshire 5000, which represents the broadest index of U.S. equities, has dropped a precipitous 63% as rattled investors reallocate money to lower-yielding but less volatile investments. The SEC has refused to comment on whether high-speed traders, software glitches, or computer viruses may be responsible for the crashes, but has suggested trading at U.S. exchanges may be ‘indefinitely halted’ if the crashes cannot be stopped.

  The Chairman of the SEC is under pressure by an increasingly frustrated Congress to resolve the issue quickly. Experts warn that a continuance of such crashes will further destabilize international markets and could ultimately result in a second global economic Depression.

  He clicked off the phone. Why did he start his days like this?

  “Everything okay?” asked Lilian, looking at him.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think not. But never mind, here we are.”

  The first two trailers were, to Ben at least, disappointments. In the first were nothing but a half dozen smiling men and women standing next to sewing machines and cutting tables, a hundred or more spools of fabric on racks behind them. The second was obviously a mobile beauty parlor, replete with sinks, tubs, reclining chairs, mirrors, and a bewildering array of bottles, tubes, and canisters. Five women stood at the ready, all smiles and deference.

  The third trailer was closer to what he had expected. It was lined with oak panels and carpeted, and mini-chandeliers dangled from the arched, foam ceiling. On one side was row after row of women’s shoes in one of two sizes – Lilian’s or Fiela’s. On the other side was a counter with three catalogues of clothing designs, a display case of fabric samples, and a collection of buttons, zippers, bows, and hats. Four women were in this trailer, one of whom Ben was certain was a professional model he had seen on television.

  The fourth trailer was finished the same as the first three and contained a large collection of purses, wallets, scarves, and, at the back, women’s underwear and lingerie compartment, which no amount of cajoling by Lilian could induce Ben to enter.

  The fifth trailer was the most mesmerizing. Two armed security guards stood on either side of the entrance. The trailer’s walls were lined with red and white silk tapestries, and on both sides were glass cabinets whose contents gleamed like a thousand brilliant, multicolored stars against a purple velvet sky.

  The interior of the trailer glowed. Stones of every color and cut in almost every conceivable configuration littered the displays like gold doubloons spilling out from an overturned pirate’s chest. Diamonds, rubies, sapphires, pearls, emeralds, and stones Ben didn’t recognize, far larger than any he had seen in his lifetime. Most were fashioned into rings, bracelets, necklaces, and earrings, but some stones were loose and he thought the little man at the table in the far corner was there to set them, if needed.

  “This may take awhile,” said Lilian, not unhappily. Ben checked his watch. It was almost noon.

  “Do not hurry,” said Ridley. “Whatever you do not need tonight can be provided to you tomorrow. If you and Fiela can amuse yourselves here, I’d like to steal my new nephew.”

  “Most assuredly,” Lilian said with gravity. She kissed and released Ben and walked toward Fiela, who was thumbing through a catalogue as an attendant doted over her.

  At the same moment a rotund man in a three-piece suit with a well-oiled goatee and thinning hair appeared, a clipboard in one hand. “Mr. Benzira?” he inquired.

  Ridley said, “This is your man,” patting Ben on the back.

  “Very good. Sir, can you please sign this form, stating that we have provided the services agreed to?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Ben, taking the clipboard, “but I didn’t catch your name.”

  Looking anxious, the other man replied, “Mr. Fetch, sir.”

  “Ah, of course it is.”