The Last Layover (3 page)

After their inventory, Peggy said, “So has anyone heard from Glen?”

Evan replied, “I checked his room on the way down the hall and knocked on the door but there was no answer. I think I should go down to the front desk and see if they've seen him, or if they have any news. You two hang tight. I'll take the stairs down and go see what I can find out.”

With that, Evan left the room with his Sig Sauer under his jacket. He and Jason would now be defying the draconian New York gun laws as well as their own Standard Operating Procedures (SOP's) about off duty, off airport carry. Although both men prided themselves on being law-abiding citizens, they refused to die for the sake of a rule or law, which under the circumstances, did not seem at all relevant. They always joked that when it came to survival, they’d
rather be judged by twelve than carried by six
, as the saying goes. This had definitely become one of those situations.

Evan made his way down the emergency stairwell, and, luckily, it was still being lit by the emergency generator. Once he reached the lobby, he saw that there were numerous people surrounding the front desk demanding answers, as if somehow the clerk was responsible for, or could actually do something about the situation. He also noticed that it was the same fellow that was on duty the previous evening; he looked worn out and tired.

The clerk, tired of all the yelling and interrupting, climbed up on the lobby counter and yelled, “Listen up people! A police officer came by and told me that there has been a series of what appear to be terror attacks. He said they are not sure of the full extent of it or if it’s all over. For now, they are ordering everyone to shelter in place. For us, that means the hotel.

“The emergency lighting, however, only has another day, to a day-and-a-half of fuel, and we can't get more because the gas stations are without power or already out of fuel because people made a run on them as soon as it went down. I guess hurricane Sandy’s post-storm fuel shortages have people paranoid, or something. Anyway, given what he said, my dayshift relief isn't here yet, and if he doesn't show soon, I'm leaving anyway. I have my own family to get to. Most of the rest of the dayshift staff, for that matter, haven't shown up either. Just a few people who live within walking distance, but there isn't much they can do, so I'm sending them home to their families.

“We are going to pull the complimentary breakfast pastries, bagels, and fruit out for you to hand out. Unfortunately, the boiled eggs, milk, and the other perishables are likely already spoiled because the refrigerators aren't on the generator and have been without power since yesterday. Good luck, I'm sorry I can't do more.” He stepped down from the counter and did his best to ignore the eruption of emotion from the crowd as he disappeared back to the office.

A mixture of emotions filled the room. Some people were outraged and continued to seem to want to make demands of the hotel staff. Others broke down in tears or just stood there as if in disbelief. As one of the hotel employees carted out the remainder of the breakfast food, people began to just take what they wanted and stuffed their pockets and bags. Evan managed to get his hands on a few pastries and muffins before it turned into a total brawl.

He noticed another man in his mid-fifties with a calm demeanor looking on in disgust as well. They made eye contact and walked over to each other as Evan said, “My how quickly the weak crumble.”

The other man said, “My thoughts exactly. Just imagine how they are gonna behave after a few days without society holding their hands.”

Evan stuck out his hand and said, “Evan Baird, pleased to meet you.”

“Damon Rutherford,” he replied. “Let's take a walk.”

The two men left the lobby for one of the adjacent conference rooms. Damon explained that he was an electrical engineer who was in town attending a company conference for the week. They each shared a little information about themselves, both being careful not to give away too much to what five minutes ago was a total stranger, but just enough to let each other know they could perhaps be beneficial to each other. Evan told him about his crew, and that they were waiting on Glen who had gone over to Manhattan.

Damon responded, “If he went to the island you’re not gonna see him very soon. This morning I went on a walk to gather intel just before coming back into the lobby to witness this mess. I met an EMT who said the Island was hit hard. By whom, they didn't know. He thought he heard another first responder mention jihadists over the radio, but city officials are throwing around the words
Tea Party
and
right wing extremists
, but he said that's bull. Not sure why they are messing around saying stuff like that during an emergency, but it's all crap.

“He said they have also pretty much declared martial law, and no one was allowed in or out. If you're not a government official, you're seen as a bad guy. Several buildings have been destroyed by bombings, as well as ferry terminals, subways, and even a few night clubs and restaurants. If I heard him right, even Times Square was hit pretty hard. So if your friend is okay, and still there, he's gonna be there for a while.”

Evan just looked at the ground for a moment and said, “Well, in light of all of that, I need to talk to my crew, but if he doesn't show up soon, I think we are gonna have to move on before this place implodes.”

“Oh, and by the way, you say you're airline?” questioned Damon with a not so pleasant expression.

“Yes, why?” Evan enquired.

“Well,” he said, “from what the EMT told me, LaGuardia and Kennedy were both hit and are said to be down for an indefinite time. So my guess is that you're on your own.”

“Really? How were they hit? With what?” Evan responded.

“Not sure. It was a quick conversation and he was just giving me a quick debrief of what he had seen and heard. If you guys decide to head out, let me know. Maybe we can work together, at least until we get out of the city. I've got a plan, and I'll let you in on it if you decide to go. Let's meet back down here at five o'clock to see if your man made it back from Manhattan and go from there.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Evan said. “Hey wait, what floor are you on?”

“Ninth,” Damon answered.

“Well, we are on the eleventh; let’s meet in the stairwell on the tenth floor landing. That'll save a lot of stairs.”

“Sounds good to me, my old knees miss the elevator,” Damon replied.

With that being said, both men agreed with a handshake and parted ways. When Evan got back to Jason's room, he explained everything he had seen, heard, and learned downstairs. He gave them the pastries that he had acquired before the hotel staff abandoned their posts and explained, “For food, this is it. Even with what we have in our bags, we don't have much to hold out on for long. The stores that haven't been looted already can't process any transactions because everything is automated, and face it, because of our own addiction to the grid with our habit of using debit cards instead of cash while traveling, we don't have much to work with. I've got twenty three dollars in cash left.”

“Eighteen for me,” added Jason.

“Sorry, but I've only got some loose change,” said Peggy in an embarrassed manner.

“That's forty one bucks and change between us,” Evan said adding it up quickly in his head. “That won't get us far, but in reality, paper money is probably not much use right now anyway.”

“So what about Glen?” asked Peggy, who seemed more overwhelmed with each passing moment. “We can't just leave him here!”

“We aren't leaving him here; he left us,” said Jason as he stood up and walked to the window. He stared out at the view below. “We all have families back home that need us. Your son needs you, our wives and families need us. From what we know now, things aren't getting any better around here anytime soon and who knows what's going on out there where they are. We didn't make Glen go off on his own, and we have no possible way to find him, or to know where he is, or if he’s even alive. Besides, he is from Boston, so he may just try and head off that way and we would never even know it. I made an oath to my wife and you have a God given obligation to your son to make it back to him.”

Evan spoke up and added, “Right now the streets are semi-safe during the daylight, but as we all heard last night after dark the scum have taken over. They know, with the power out, there are no security cameras to record their mayhem, and the blackout of streetlights gives them the perfect cover. It won't be long before they realize things have changed for the long term, and then they will be just as bold during the daylight too. If we are gonna get out of this urban nightmare before everything completely falls apart, we have to get moving. Damon's offer may be a good way to go.”

“You're right,” she said. “But we don't even know what his plan is, do we?”

“That's just good OPSEC, and I think he is showing wise judgment by not sharing the details until he knows who is on his team,” Evan said.

“OPSEC?” she queried.

“Oh yeah, Operational Security. It's keeping your plans, resources, strengths, and weaknesses low-key so that others can't use the information to their advantage if they mean you harm.”

Peggy nodded in agreement. “Oh, that makes sense.”

With that, the three silently agreed to get moving. Deep inside, they all hoped Glen was okay and that he would show up before they left, but there was a hollow, empty feeling that it wouldn’t be the case.

As five o'clock approached, Evan, Jason, and Peggy went down to the tenth floor landing of the stairwell. Damon arrived right on time. He and Evan shook hands with a smile and Evan introduced everyone. After exchanging pleasantries, Damon said, “I'm sorry your friend didn't make it back, but I'm glad to have you all on board. I've got a way out of here, but I'd rather not have to do it alone. I'm no spring chicken and with a knee that's been blown out more than once, I'm entering uncharted waters trying to make it on foot. I'd much rather have a team than be a loner.”

“So, where are we going?” asked Evan.

“Well, my brother Jim has an older forty-thee foot Viking Yacht, from the late ‘80s I believe. It's down at the Rockaway Point Yacht Club down by Breezy Point. He lives in Delaware, but he had a guy out of there doing some post Hurricane Sandy repair work on the canvas top over the flybridge and the rear deck. Whether it's finished or not, it's in running condition and, considering the state of things, he'd be happy if we got it back home to him. It has two strong, running Detroit Diesels and all the gear we need to get it underway. You three help me get to it, get it going, and ride shotgun for me along the way, and once we get to the Delaware Bay I'll take you as far as I can. I should be able drop you off south of Philly. It's a straight shot over to Ohio from there.”

“Ride shotgun?” Evan said with a raised eyebrow. “How did you know we were armed?”

“You're armed?” Damon questioned with a smile. “Well heck, that's even better. I thought we'd be unarmed till we got to the boat. That's a bonus. Knowing my brother, I was just assuming he had something stashed like he usually does.”

Evan and Jason looked at each other with a mutually satisfied look and a nod. Jason then turned to Damon and said, “So how do we get to the boat?”

“Well, it's gonna be dark soon, so I think we should get a good nap in and head out first thing in the morning. That will give your friend a little more time to make it back, if he is in fact coming back. Our route, as I see it at this point, is about sixteen miles give or take for deviations as necessary. It basically follows the POW/MIA Memorial Highway to Broadway. We would then follow that to Central Avenue. We will take that west to Mott Avenue, where we will jog north to Channel Beach Drive. We will then take Channel Beach Drive down to Riis Landing. Once we get there, we can get off of the roads completely and follow the beach on down to the boat. This, of course, is all subject to change based on the conditions we find. I also figure we will need to handrail this route, for threat-avoidance reasons, when need be.”

“Handrail?” Peggy said inquisitively.

“Handrail is a tactical term for following a route parallel, but off to the side. If you don't want to get ambushed or detected, you don't just walk down the middle of the street,” replied Jason.

“Oh, okay,” she said. “That makes sense.”

Damon then finished by saying, “Well, that's the plan as I see it for now, but I'm sure it will change as soon as we start walking. Sixteen miles would take us six hours in a best case scenario, so we had better plan on all day.”

At this point Evan said, “Okay guys, we are a team now, so let’s act like it from here on. Jason and I have rooms next to each other with an adjoining door. Let's all move into those rooms with the door open. That's four beds, and if last night was any preview, I expect it to get worse so being together only makes sense.”

Everyone agreed and went to gather their things. They then went back up to the eleventh floor. As Peggy walked down the hall to her room to gather her things, a man approached her and said in a demanding and disrespectful voice, “Hey, how much food do you have?”

“Just a little, why?” she replied nervously.

“Give us what you have. We are collecting all of the food in the building. It will then be handed back out accordingly.”

At that time, Evan heard what was going on and walked quickly towards Peggy's room. He looked at the man with a scowl and said, “She's not giving you anything. You've got no right to demand what others have, so just move along.”