CyberStorm Part 15

"No way, we need my truck. Nothing else is going to get us out of here, not with all this snow and ice."

He looked longingly up into the falling snow at his baby.

"Wolf '94 XD 110, under armor, snorkel, heavy-duty winch, thirty-six-inch IROK Radial snow tires-"

"It is pretty," I agreed. "Pretty d.a.m.n high up. Even if we got it down, do you think it could climb that s...o...b..nk?"

I pointed toward the eight-foot-high pile of snow and ice lining Tenth Avenue. It was the only obstacle to getting onto the West Side Highway from the garage lot, but it was a formidable one.

He shrugged. "One way or the other. But we can't just crash it down from up there. Not even the Wolf could survive a drop like that."

"We better get going." The temperature had dropped, and I was shivering hard. "Let's think about it. At least somebody didn't steal it."

Chuck stood and stared at his truck a while longer and then nodded and turned around. We scrambled our way out of the parking lot and began back up Ninth. The crowd outside the Gansevoort had mostly dispersed with the coming darkness.

As we pa.s.sed, several of the people still outside watched us closely, clearly interested in the backpacks we were carrying. Chuck reached into the pocket of his parka, gripping his .38, and stared back at them, but nothing happened. Breathing a sigh of relief as we left them behind, we pa.s.sed the Apple Store. All the windows were broken, and snow had swept inside.

"A funny time to decide you needed a new iPad," I laughed.

Then I noticed something else.

"This snow's getting deep."

We were walking right up the middle of Ninth Avenue. All day we'd been walking up and down the big avenues, and the plows had been rumbling back and forth. The snow hadn't gotten more than ankle deep on the plowed streets.

We were now up to our calves.

I squinted into the gathering darkness but couldn't see any headlights coming our way.

"If they've stopped plowing, city services must be totally screwed," observed Chuck. "This is going to get ugly."

"Maybe it's just a slowdown?"

"Maybe," replied Chuck without conviction.

We decided we better grab what we could from Chuck's restaurants before somebody else did, so we wound our way back, stopping at the closest one near our place. We packed our bags with as much as we could, and when we got back outside it was near pitch black.

Slogging the rest of the way back up to Twenty-Fourth, I had visions of the keys not working, of being trapped outside. The cold was unbelievable.

We could die out here.

My pace quickened.

By the time Chuck was opening the back door to our complex I was totally frozen. Before Chuck could turn the lock, the door opened by itself, and Tony's face appeared, smiling at us goofily.

"Boy, am I glad to see you guys!"

"Not as glad as we are to see you!"

Chuck and I had our headlamps on, but Tony had been sitting in the dark.

We asked him why.

To not attract attention, he said, and we left it at that.

Tony stayed behind to lock up and clean the hallway, telling us to get upstairs and that the girls were worried sick. In a jolly mood we began climbing the stairs, pulling open our layers of clothing and taking off our hats and gloves, enjoying the comparative warmth and the thought of a hot meal and coffee and a warm bed.

Reaching the sixth floor, we stopped, and taking a deep breath, I opened the door. I expected to hear Luke come running, and I jumped into the hallway to surprise him.

Instead, I was met by a mob of scared, unknown faces.

A large homeless man was spread out on the couch outside my apartment door, and a mother and two young children cowered on the Borodins' couch. At least a dozen more people I didn't know were crowded into the hallway.

A young man, wrapped in one of Richard's expensive duvets, got up and extended his hand toward me, but Chuck appeared through the door and pointed his .38 right in the kid's face.

"What have you done with Susie and Lauren?"

The kid held his hands up and gestured toward Chuck's apartment.

"Everything's fine. They're in there."

Behind us, Tony came charging up the stairs.

"Wait, wait, I forgot!"

Chuck was still pointing his gun at the kid's face as Tony appeared in the doorway behind us, huffing and puffing. He reached out and put a hand on Chuck's gun, lowering it.

"I let these guys in."

"You did what?" yelled Chuck. "Tony, that is not your decision to make-"

"No, it was my decision," said Susie, appearing out of their apartment.

She ran out and bear-hugged Chuck, and Lauren appeared out of the same doorway with Luke at her feet. She ran to embrace me as well.

"I thought something had happened to you," she whispered in my ear between happy sobs.

"I'm fine, baby, I'm fine."

With a deep breath, she released me, and I leaned down to kiss Luke, who was hugging one of my legs.

"We okay?" asked the kid, his hands still in the air.

He looked like he'd had a rough time of it.

"I guess so," Chuck replied, putting his gun away. "What's your name?"

"Vince," said the kid, reaching out to shake my hand. "Vince Indigo."

Day 5 December 27.

9:00 a.m.

SUNLIGHT STREAMED IN through the window. It was morning, but I had no idea what time. My phone was out of power, and it'd been years since I'd worn a wrist.w.a.tch.

Then it dawned on me-blue skies. I was staring out the window at blue skies.

Lauren was curled up under the covers, with Luke wedged between us. Leaning over, I kissed her cheek and tried to pull my arm out from under her head.

She sleepily protested.

"Sorry, baby, I gotta get up," I whispered.

She pouted but let me go, and I swung out of bed, carefully tucking the covers back around the two of them. Shivering, I pulled on my stiff, cold jeans, put on a sweater, and quietly exited Chuck's spare bedroom.

It was our bedroom now.

The generator was still purring rea.s.suringly outside the window, but the small electric heaters running off it weren't keeping out the cold very well.

Even so, I admired the clear blue skies outside again.

They were beautiful.

Grabbing a gla.s.s from Chuck's cupboard, I leaned down to the sink to fill it with water.

Blue skies, nothing but blue skies, coming my way.

I turned the tap but nothing happened.

Frowning, I turned the tap off and then back on, and then tried the hot water, but nothing.

The front door to the apartment creaked open, and the noise of a radio announcer spilled in. Chuck's head appeared through the door, and he watched me playing with the taps.

"No more water," Chuck confirmed, dropping two four-gallon cans of it on the floor. "At least, not in the taps."

"Don't you ever sleep?"

He laughed.

"Water was off at five when I got up. Not sure if the city pressure can't make it up six floors with the pumps off, if the pipes are frozen, or if the city mains are off, but one thing's for sure."

"What's that?"

"It's G.o.dd.a.m.n freezing outside, at least ten below and windy as h.e.l.l. Blue skies bring cold weather. I liked the snow better."

"Can we fix the water?"

"Don't think so."

"Do you want me to get some water with you?"

"Don't think so."

I waited. I could see he had something unpleasant in store for me.

"I need you to get gas for the generator."

I groaned. "What about Richard, all those people out there?"

"I had Richard go last night, and it was hopeless. He's about as useful as t.i.ts on a bull for stuff like that. Take the kid."

"The kid?"

"Hey, Indy!" yelled Chuck, leaning back into the hallway. From the distance a "yes?" echoed into the room.

"Get some weather gear on. You and Mike are going on an adventure."

Chuck turned to leave but stopped and smiled at me.

"And fill two four-gallon cans, can ya?"

"What kind of a name is Indigo?"

I was crouching out of the wind and letting the kid do the work. He was quiet on the walk down, just staring into s.p.a.ce. When I asked him to dig out the first car, he silently nodded and began methodically shoveling without a word.

"Family's from Louisiana. Used to farm the stuff down there. They named us after it."

He didn't look African-American, but then, he didn't look Caucasian either-dark, short-cut hair, and exotic, almost Asian features. The most prominent thing about him, unusual at least, was a gold chain that hung around his neck with a large, crystal pendent swinging from it.

"Poisonous, isn't it?" I asked, referring to indigo, trying to make conversation.

We were outside on Twenty-Fourth Street, on the opposite side of the street, a few buildings down from our place. Our group had already siphoned most of the cars close by.

The kid nodded and continued to dig.

"Sure seems that way."

Looking up and down the street, I imagined the millions of people trapped in this wasteland with us. From here, the city looked abandoned, but I could somehow sense the ma.s.ses huddling, hiding in the gray monolithic buildings that hunched shoulder to shoulder into the distance-a frozen desert between concrete towers.

A hissing sound persisted, and I worried it was a gas leak until I realized it was the sound of fine particles of ice being driven by the wind across the snowy surface.