The Dying of the Light: Interval (20 page)

“Remnants?”

“Holdovers. Survivors. Those as couldn’t find anyplace else and are just looking for… well, something.”

“I thought Beoshane rounded all them up.”

“I can’t say as to that, ma’am, but I do know that the folks we’ve seen come close haven’t been looking to cause a ruckus. Look more like refugees than anything else.”

Kim nodded, sipping at her coffee again. “We haven’t had an attack in, what, eight months? And nothing big in nearly three years?”

“That’s as best as I can recall it, ma’am.”

Draining the last dregs of her coffee, Kim set down the cup and stretched. “Well, Captain, I think I’m done here. I’ve got some ideas I’ll want your input on. Meet me in my office tomorrow before your shift.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Night, all,” she said as she left, the door swinging shut behind her.

Normally, she’d be on her way to her office right now, but it had been a long, grueling day of meetings and paperwork, and she just couldn’t face any more of it tonight. So instead of turning left to her office, she turned right, headed to the main personnel lift.

Maybe I can even make it home for dinner
, she thought, and switched on her earpiece, dialing David’s number. There was no answer, and she frowned. When he didn’t answer, it either meant he’d left it behind in their quarters—something that was happening more and more frequently these days—or he was busy and couldn’t take her call. Since today was his off day in the rotation, she couldn’t imagine what he’d be so busy with that he couldn’t take her call.

No point in fussing about it now,
she thought, and hit the button for the third level and the first stop on her regular Wednesday inspection route, the motor pool. Some of her people talked and whispered where they thought she couldn’t hear, wondering why she stuck to the routine so diligently after ten years. She wanted to tell them that it was precisely
because
it had been ten years that she stuck to it so diligently. Because without that routine, without that stability, she’d have gone crazy long, long ago.

It hadn’t taken long, once their self-imposed exile underground had begun, to spot those who weren’t going to make it. Everyone had
thought
they’d be OK, since, after all, it was either the bunker or slow death topside. Unfortunately, it hadn’t worked out that way. Even with the government putting everyone through their paces in psych test after psych test, some people just couldn’t hack it with megatons of rock over their head, between them and the sky.

And it was getting worse. Just this week they’d had a case of claustrophobia get so bad that the victim lapsed into catatonia. The bunker roster was full of psychoanalysts, psychotherapists, and every other type of mental health professional you could name, but even they could only do so much. Sometimes, people just needed to get outside.

Kim pushed her bleak thoughts aside as the lift stopped on level three, and she strode down the hallway. As she approached the open double doors leading to the motor pool, she stopped as she heard voices and laughter. Normally, there wasn’t anyone around when she came by, except perhaps a lone maintenance tech working on an assignment that had taken a bit too long. But this, this was at least five or six people. She glanced at her watch, and was surprised, not so much by the time, but by how early she was there. Her rounds didn’t usually start until 2000 hours, but here it was a full hour beforehand.

What the hell is going on?
She listened for a moment, but couldn’t make out what they were saying, just the occasional jumbled sentence followed by a bunch of laughter. She shook her head.
What the hell am I doing? Being suspicious because they’re laughing? Christ, Kim, you need a vacation
. She stood tall, catching her reflection in the window of the doors and straightened her uniform.
Best to make a good impression
.

She walked down into the room, glancing around for the source of the voices, and spotted what looked like smoke coming from a side door. She grabbed the fire extinguisher mounted next to the door and raced for the room, ready to put out the fire. The men seated around the table looked up as she entered, all but one with a cigar in his mouth. For a brief moment, time stood still as surprise reigned supreme over everyone.

Poker. They’re playing poker
. Just as she realized what was going on, every man in the room—and Janet Turner, who’d been blocked by one of the bigger men—stood up, the military folks at attention, every cigar hitting the floor and being surreptitiously crushed by a boot. She noted the bottle of whiskey to one side, and a pile of chips in the middle of the table. Then she realized who was standing at the back of the room, the only one not smoking, trying to edge behind one of the other men.

“Jonathan Michael Barnes, Junior!” Her brother stopped shuffling to one side and stood straight, eyes level and focused above her right shoulder.

“Yes, ma’am!”

Kim set down the fire extinguisher and waved her hand through the smoke, coughing. She moved over to her brother, looking him up and down like he was a new recruit. She then glanced around the room, taking in the table, the mix of civilians and military, and noted how nervous they all were, including Johnny. Suddenly, an idea occurred to her that might solve several of her problems all in one fell swoop. Turning back to her brother, she frowned as though this was his last night on earth. He didn’t glance down, but she could see the sweat standing out on his forehead.

“Lieutenant, you will explain to me exactly what is going on here, am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am. We—”

Kim interrupted him. “
And
, you will explain to me exactly how long this has been going on.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“
And
, you will explain to me precisely why it is, Mr. Barnes,” she said, moving to his side and half-facing the rest of the room. “That you have less than half the chips of anyone else at this table. Our father would be appalled.”

There was dead silence in the room, until Johnny glanced down and saw the slight grin on her face, then mirrored it with one of his own. “Well, Colonel, Janet had this massive full house…”

With her voice still stern, Kim’s grin got bigger. “Oh, what, now you’re telling me you got beat by a girl?” There was an involuntary snicker from Janet Turner, and then suddenly they were all laughing, as though the dam holding back the tension had been broken. Kim moved to the only empty chair at the table and sat down. “Well, what are you waiting for? As you were, and deal me in!”

A little while later, in between hands, Johnny looked over at Kim as he shuffled the cards. “So you really thought the room was on fire?”

Kim leaned back in her chair, puffing on a cigar. “Well, since the whole bunker is supposedly non-smoking,” she said, eyeing one of the aircraft mechanics, “and I didn’t know about Mr. Livingston’s little pet project, what else was I supposed to think?”

Johnny laughed. “You should’ve seen the look on your face. Priceless!”

“Yours wasn’t much better, Johnny. Trying to hide behind Martinez, for shame!”

Johnny blushed. “Yeah, well…”

“‘Yeah, well’ nothing. And you play like Mom used to play. Horribly. No wonder you’re almost out.”

Martinez spoke up. “Actually, ma’am—”

“Martinez, you asshole, shut up!” Johnny cried out, trying to shush Martinez before he got out whatever he was about to say.

Kim raised an eyebrow. “Go on, do tell,” she said.

Martinez laughed. “Sorry, man, she’s the boss,” he said to Johnny and turned back to her. “Actually, he’s already bought in again.”

Johnny sighed, his face in his hands in shame.

“Twice.”

Johnny’s head sank to the table.

Kim hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time. She wiped tears from her eyes, and wasn’t the only one in the group. “Oh, Johnny. Wow.”

He sat up, the picture of bruised ego. “Some of us are better at lying than others, I guess,” he said, continuing to shuffle.

Turner snorted without a trace of mirth. “At least it gives us something to goddamn
do
around here.”

The others kept laughing for a moment, but slowly, they began to look at each other with quick glances and shaking heads, and a pall came over the room. Kim could guess that the sudden mood swing had at least a little to do with the empty bottle of whiskey on the desk that had been pushed to one side.

“What is it?” she asked, curious as to why they’d all got so quiet so quickly.

Johnny cleared his throat, but stopped short of answering. Finally, Turner spoke up.

“It’s just… beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but we’re… well, we’re bored.”

Kim put her chair flat on the floor, looking at the diminutive medic. “Bored?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I shouldn’t have said anything,” she replied, looking at her watch. “Oh, wow, is that the time? I need to get to my bunk.” She started to stand up, but one look at Kim and she sat back down.

“It’s OK, guys,” said Kim, back in colonel mode. “I know you don’t want to say anything, but I promise, nothing goes past these walls, at least, with your name attached. Tell me what’s up. I can’t fix it if I don’t know it’s broken. Start with the ‘bored’ part.”

Janet spoke up again. “Well, ever since Beoshane and his goons lightened up, it’s like…”

“Wait, so you’re saying we’re not getting attacked enough?” Kim sat forward, her annoyance plain to see.

“Sis, I love ya, but shut up,” said Johnny.

Kim looked around and saw what she was doing—closing off the very people she wanted to hear from. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Go ahead, Janet.”

The medic cleared her throat and started over. “When he and his people were attacking all the time, it sucked, for sure and for certain. No one in their right mind wants that to happen over and over again.” She looked down as she continued. “Still, at least we were busy.”

Martinez threw down his cards and tapped the ashes from his cigar into the ashtray. “What she’s saying is we had something to do. We had a goal, a focus.” The others began nodding and agreeing. “But now, it’s like all we do is wait, and wait, and wait for something else to happen. It’s… well, it’s making us all a little crazy.”

When no one else spoke up, Kim leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “So what we need is something to do. Something for
all
of us to do, not just scratching around underground like a bunch of rats.”

Johnny nodded. “That’s it, exactly. We’re dying down here, Kim. Oh, sure, our bodies are alive, but we’re as bad as walkers. We need something to take our minds off the fact that we’re going to be stuck underground for another ten to fifteen years or even more.”

“Anyone have any ideas?” No one said anything, but they all looked thoughtful. “OK, I tell ya what. Let’s all think about what we can do, and if anyone has an idea, let me know. I’m meeting with the governor next week, and we’ll talk about what we can do to alleviate some of the boredom. Sound good?”

There was a round of nods and murmured agreements, and the mood lightened noticeably. Johnny finished shuffling the cards, and picked up his cigar.

“Now, whose deal is it?”

When I woke, the room was dark, and the candles I’d put on the table had long since burnt out. I yawned, the sour taste of old wine on my tongue making me wince as my jaw popped. I wiped a hand across my face and palmed the lights on, wincing again as the fluorescents stabbed into my squinting eyes. I wondered what had awakened me, and then heard a scrabbling at the door. I glanced out the peephole, and saw Kim leaning against the door, fumbling with her id in the keycard slot.

I shook my head, trying to dispel the rest of the cobwebs and opened the door, ready to catch her as she fell inside. I coughed at the stench of stale cigar smoke and helped her to a chair, where she sat back and swayed. I had only seen Kim drunk a couple of times in our ten-year marriage, but this time… she was close to passing out. I glanced at the medkit near the door, but there wasn’t anything in there that would help. There was only one thing for it, and she might hate me for doing it, but turnabout was fair play, after all.

I helped her stand, guiding her to our small bathroom and the shower. Helping her out of her uniform and boots, I tried not to smile and cackle as I turned the shower on full blast, as cold as I could get it. I quickly shut the shower door and leaned against it as she began yelling and fumbling with the door handle.

Nothing like an ice-cold shower to sober you up damn quick
.

Eventually, she sobered enough to turn the shower from cold to hot, and I stood away from the door. She hadn’t said a word in at least ten minutes, so I peeked in to make sure she was OK, and got a faceful of steaming hot water for my trouble.

Damn extendable showerheads
. I turned away to grab a towel, and the door opened wider, her hand shooting out and grabbing me by my shirt. “And just where do you think
you’re
going, soldier?” she said, smiling. Her red hair cascaded down her wet, naked body, and I swallowed hard.

“Absolutely nowhere, ma’am,” I said, stepping into the shower.

A little while later, I was toweling off my hair as I walked out of the bathroom in my robe. Kim was standing against the living room wall, the Japanese
kimono
she loved so much clinging to her body. I wrapped my arms around her, dropping the towel onto the floor and resting my chin on her shoulder. She pulled my arms up, holding them to her tightly, and as I brushed a lock of hair from her ear, I could see the sadness in her expression.

“What is it, Kim?” I asked, concerned.

“That’s why you didn’t answer my call earlier, isn’t it?” she answered, nodding toward the kitchen table. The candles had gone out, but the rest of the setup for what I’d planned as a nice romantic meal were still evident.

“I’d hoped to surprise you. As it turns out, you surprised me, instead,” I said, kissing her neck and holding her close. “And what a surprise it was.”