Sky Zone: A Novel (The Crittendon Files) (6 page)

12

The Crittendons’ house, three weeks earlier

Pamela pulled her car into the garage, turned it off, and sat there dazed. Resting both hands on her hard tummy, she longed for a quiet moment to herself, to switch hats from administrative assistant to mommy and wife. But she knew Rebecca and Faye would be out to greet her any second.

If no one was home, she would sit there and cry her eyes out.

This was not the way it was supposed to be—not what God intended. She was seven months pregnant, much heavier than she’d been with either of the girls. Her feet were killing her. She was so tired … so very tired.

Back when the girls were born, Jack had a good job and she’d had the luxury of staying home. Her only job during those pregnancies had been to remain healthy and rested. She walked three miles a day, did exercise videos, and gladly did the cooking and laundry and kept the house clean. Now Jack did most of those things, and the backwardness of it was tearing her down—physically, emotionally, spiritually.

“Mommy!” Faye was the first one out the door, followed by Rebecca. They dashed around to her car door and reached in for hugs as they jabbered away about school. Pamela smiled and kissed them and gave them all the joy she could muster while her mom stood leaning in the doorway. The girls carried Pamela’s purse and laptop into the house.

“Where have you been?” Margaret said. “I didn’t even see you leave.”

Pamela stared at her, waiting for her to come to her senses. But Margaret just looked at her, waiting for an answer.

“Mom, really? Think about it.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Margaret snapped her fingers. “Work. I knew that. How was it today? I bet you’re dead tired.”

And
she
was retrieving the girls from the bus stop? Watching them after school while Jack worked on the job search?

“Same old thing.” Pamela got her coat off, ran to the bathroom, then made her way to the pantry to get a snack for the girls.

“Come see what came in the mail today,” Margaret called from the dining room.

“Just a minute.” Pamela set the girls up at the kitchen table with chocolate graham crackers and milk.

“I ordered this through one of the websites Shakespeare recommended.” Margaret entered the kitchen carrying a package the size of a shoebox.

Pamela could only imagine what she’d bought now. Margaret had already filled two huge plastic bins with dry food and rations.

“It’s a water filter.” Margaret put on the reading glasses hanging from her neck and read the box. “With the Max Two-Zero portable filter, turbid and heavily biologically contaminated water can be transformed into safe drinking water. Self-disinfecting. Chemical-free. Da da, da da, da da … Ideal for expeditions, extended journeys, civil-defense usage, and disaster-relief operations.”

Pamela stared at the box, dumbfounded. “That’s great, Mom.”

“That’s going to save our lives when the big one hits,” Faye said with her mouth full.

The girls looked at each other and giggled.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been talking to the girls about that stuff,” Pamela said.

“Only making them aware of the possibilities, so they won’t go into shock when it happens. We’ve all got to prepare mentally for anything.”

“Okay, girls, that is all in-family talk. Not a word about any of that to your friends.”

“Oops!” Faye put a hand over her mouth and continued in a muffled voice. “I told Rachel and Larissa.”

Pamela rolled her eyes. She just didn’t have the energy to address it any further. “Well, no more,” she said. “Where’s Daddy?” Jack usually greeted her when she got home.

“He’s been shut in his office for the last hour. On the phone,” Margaret said. “I’m hoping it’s a hot job lead.”

If only! If Jack got a job, Pamela would turn in her notice in a heartbeat—the very next day! Not that she wasn’t grateful or dedicated, but she would be going on maternity leave anyway. Whoever replaced her could have the job as far as she was concerned.

She went back to the den, knocked, then opened the door and started to say hello.

“Hold on—” Jack said, but he wasn’t on the phone. His head was buried in his hands at the desk.

“Sorry.” Pamela’s heart stopped. Was he crying? She closed the door and stood in the hallway, frozen.

“What is it?” Margaret came up behind her. “Did he get something?”

Pamela’s face flushed. Every time Pamela turned around, her mother was there.

“He didn’t get the job?” Margaret pried.

“Mom, I don’t know! He wants to be alone. Please, just give us a little space.”

“Well, excuse me.” Margaret walked away curtly.

Pamela immediately regretted losing her patience.

There had been a lot of regrets lately. Words that shouldn’t have been spoken. Frustration. Stress.

What was wrong with Jack?

The door opened, and Jack looked at Pamela, his eyes red. “Can you talk for a minute?”

“Of course.” She went in and sat on the ottoman.

“How was your day?” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. What’s wrong, honey?”

He plunked down in the chair, his head dropping to his chest. “I’ve been on the phone with the bank. We missed our house payment last month. I didn’t tell you because I thought there was a grace period, and I was due to get a check from EventPros.”

“Okay …”

“The grace period was only five days. We’re late.”

“Jack.” She got on her knees and slid over to him, putting her arms around his waist. “Honey, it’s okay—”

“It’s not okay! It’s not okay on many fronts. It’s not okay with the bank. It’s not okay for our credit. And it’s not okay for me to keep letting you down. Look at you. You’re seven months pregnant. You should be
home
!”

He drew her in and tried to suppress the sobs.

She tried to comfort him. “Listen, honey—”

“Why is God doing this? It’s been months! What did I do that was so wrong? Why haven’t I gotten a job yet?”

She’d asked the same questions a million times.

“I don’t know.” She held him tight, their heads next to each other. “I just don’t know.”

“I feel so bad, having you head off to work each day, all day long …”

“Honey, it’s not like you’re sitting around eating popcorn and watching movies. You’re working at the arena, applying for jobs all day, keeping the house up, getting me and the girls off in the morning … putting up with my mother.” Pamela laughed and squeezed Jack tighter, forcing him to chuckle.

“She’s been a big help.” He pulled back to look at her.

She wiped his tears away with her thumbs. “I bet she would help us, you know, lend us a little bit—”

He shook his head. “No way. I don’t want to owe her.”

“She’s mentioned it to me before.”

“I thought we were okay,” he said. “I had everything budgeted. The check just didn’t show up in time. I feel like such a failure. And I feel sorry for you. I want a job so bad. I’d take anything.”

“Something will come, honey. We’ve got to just keep praying. Keep doing what you’re doing. I bet you’re going to get the best job you’ve ever had.”

“Thanksgiving’s coming. Christmas. How are we gonna pay for gifts?”

“Jack, look at me. We have each other. We have the girls and our parents. We’re healthy. I don’t care where we live. We can move to a smaller house for all I care.”

“But you’re unhappy because you’re working, and I don’t blame you.”

“I’ve got maternity leave coming.”

“Then what? Twelve weeks? You’re not going to want to go back.” He held her face in his hands. “You’re not going to be able to go back.”

He was dead-on. The thought of leaving her twelve-week-old baby all day, five days a week … She couldn’t even go there.

“You’ll have something by then,” she said. “I know you will.” She squeezed his hands. “In the meantime, let Mom pay the mortgage, just once.”

“I’m due to get that check. It should’ve been here.”

She nodded. “When it finally comes, you pay her back. Simple as that.”

“I just can’t believe we’re in this place. We had over thirty-five thousand dollars saved up.”

“Yeah, and we used it on life. It’s not like we’ve been living extravagantly. God knows where we are. He knows we’ve honored him with our tithe. He’s going to take care of us.”

“That money was for college, weddings … retirement.”

“We’ll catch up, honey. The important thing is, we’re going to have a baby, a healthy baby. Right? And we’ve got insurance through my work. Think if we didn’t have that.”

She put her hands around his back and snuggled close.

They stayed like that for quite some time.

To lighten things up, she told him how her mother had said she hadn’t noticed Pam leave for the day.

After a moment, Jack chuckled into Pamela’s shoulder.

Since she had him on a roll, she then told him how proud her mother was of the lifesaving water filter that had arrived in the mail.

He outright laughed at that.

Then he told her how much he loved her.

She knew he meant it.

And that felt like gold.

13

Festival Arena, October 6

Clarissa dashed up the concrete steps marked Employees Only. Derrick and his photographer followed twenty feet behind. All Derrick could think about was letting Zenia know what was happening. But he hadn’t had a second.

Clarissa threw open the door leading to the main concourse of the arena. Derrick and Daniel followed. Pure bedlam. They stood frozen as masses of people rushed by them in every direction—to concession stands, to restrooms, and into the bowl of the arena.

“It’s too late to get them out,” Derrick said.

“Unless they make an announcement and force them out,” Daniel said.

“Let’s follow Clarissa.” Derrick headed toward the enormous glass front of the arena, with Daniel and his equipment in tow.

“Get shots of this!” Derrick called over the noise, pointing toward the commotion at the large bank of front doors.

At Clarissa’s order, EventPros had shut all of the doors in midflow, and the people outside were shaking fists, scowling, and pounding at the glass. A young EventPro stood with her back to the doors, her face contorted in panic. Many of the people who’d made it inside looked scared, determined to get away from the chaos at the front doors. Some flashed nervous smiles as they latched hands with loved ones and forged ahead into the arena.

Clarissa huddled up with a group of supervisors by the long, curved customer-service desk. The TV screen above them showed the massive crowd packed like a soccer-riot mob outside the lobby. It was a sea of people—leaning, swaying, pushing. The way they were pressing and pounding at the front doors made Derrick sick to his stomach. He supposed the people complaining angrily outside viewed the locked doors as some sort of liberal plot to suppress their freedom of speech or to ruin the independent candidate’s evening.

Daniel was standing on a chair behind a display table, holding his Nikon high and firing flash after flash. Derrick signaled to him that he was heading toward Clarissa’s group. The crowd was so thick, he had to weave and force his way within earshot of her team.

“I can barely hear you.” Clarissa pinched her mic right up against her lips. “No, we need them up here, now! And six forty-five is out of the question until we get control of things. Over.”

She let the mic drop to her chest and addressed her team. “SWAT’s on the way up. We’ve got to get this crowd spread out. Have your people motion the crowd
inside
the bowl.
Inside
the bowl. That’s all we can do. Get people into the bowl and get them seated as fast as possible.”

Derrick could only imagine how the mob outside would react when they saw the SWAT guys with their guns, helmets, and shields.

“What about Charlie and Steve?” said Gordy Cavelli.

“Still nothing,” Clarissa said. “Two SWAT are on their way up to the Sky Zone. You’ll hear as soon as I do. Now let’s get busy.”

The supervisors began to disperse, but Clarissa called, “Wait!”

She cupped a hand over her earpiece and held up a finger, listening intently.

“Three more team members have left.” She shrugged, relaying the information coming in her earpiece. “SWAT wants us to take Sterling to suite 227 on the club level … Once that happens, they want Lester to go to suite 213, club level … Wait a minute.” She squinted and put her mic to her lips. “Why would we do that? They’re safer in the bunker. I repeat,
they are safer in the bunker.
Over.”

Clarissa squeezed the back of her neck and dropped her head, awaiting a response. She shook her head and spoke into her mic. “This whole thing should’ve been called off—” She blinked several times, as if getting shot at with verbal gunfire. “Yes … yes, sir … understood. Over.”

Her mouth sealed to a slit, and she looked soberly at her people, her chin jutting out. “Okay. SWAT wants Sterling and Lester up high. They intend to keep that level closed so they can isolate them. They don’t like all the possible entry points in the bunker. Also … the squad from Columbus PD is having a difficult time getting here.”

Several of the supervisors shook their heads, concern brimming in their eyes.

“Apparently traffic is at a standstill, and they’re caught in a bottleneck before the bridge at Overbrook Parkway. Word’s gotten out that Lester’s here. And who knows what else is being said on the news.” Clarissa cupped her mouth, turned, and glared at Derrick as if he’d caused all of her problems.

He just shrugged and held up his hands.

She looked around the packed lobby with weary eyes. “I don’t know if we’re going to be able to fit all these people in the bowl without opening the club level …” She threw her hands out as if shooing a cat. “That’s it. Go. Do your best.”

Shakespeare never shied away from a fight, but the team he was playing for this night was unraveling before his eyes. He felt as if they were fifty-point underdogs, with the odds worsening with each passing second.

As long as he could remember, people had relied on him to know a little about everything, to give good advice, to be prepared, to have the answers, to be brave, to know how to fight—and win.

It wasn’t going to be any different tonight; he could feel it.

The cold truth was, Charlie and Steve had probably been overtaken by terrorists up in the Sky Zone, maybe even killed on the spot. More than a thousand civilians had been let inside the building, basically to go wherever they wanted. The thought was crystallizing in Shakespeare’s mind that his leadership in the next few hours might well mean the difference between life and death for a good number of people. It was time to make the mind-set change from EventPro to soldier.

He approached Chico. “I’m gonna disappear for five minutes. Stall till I get back.”

“You can’t leave, man!” Chico’s black eyes about popped out of his head. “We’re about to take them upstairs! Can’t it wait?”

“No. I’ve got to get some things out of my car. Don’t worry. It’s right on the parking deck. It’ll take no time.”

“Please, Brian, don’t leave. Get it later.”

Shakespeare started for the door. “Stall them till I get back. Say I’m in the boys’ room. They’ll wait.”

“Hey, you got a minute?” Jack got in step with Shakespeare as he stepped out the door. Clarissa was coming toward them down the hall at full steam.

“You guys heard Columbus PD is stuck in traffic?” she said, out of breath.

“This is serious, Clarissa,” Shakespeare said. “I think the terrorists are in the building, in the Sky Zone.”

“That’s impossible,” she said. “We did a thorough bag check on everyone who came in.”

Shakespeare closed his eyes and shook his head. “They’ve
been
here. Embedded. Overnight. Probably came in as civilians for the hockey game last night. No bag checks at hockey games.”

“We did a full sweep last night after the game, just like always,” she protested. “I was here.”

“You know as well as I do that if someone wanted to spend the night in this building, they could. If these guys are pros, and this thing’s been planned out, they could have been hanging from the ceiling like bats for all we know. There are plenty of places to hide. I say they’re in here now, and we should evacuate.”

Jack’s mouth was agape. He swallowed visibly. “What are we gonna do?”

“Stay calm.” Clarissa took in a deep breath. “You may have something. I’m gonna run your theory by Lieutenant Wolfski.”

“We definitely have a situation,” Shakespeare said. “I’m gonna go get some things from my car that will come in handy—”

“Oh no you’re not.” Clarissa shook her head. “There’re no weapons allowed in this building—not on us, anyway. I want you to get back in there and escort Sterling to the club level. That’s an order.”

Shakespeare clenched his jaw and paused a moment, composing his thoughts. “I don’t mean any disrespect, Clarissa, but these are special circumstances, and I’m going to my car. If you don’t want me to come back, tell me now.” He started walking. “Otherwise, I’ll see you back in here in five minutes, and we’ll take care of business.”

Not another word was spoken.