those things,” Sam said.
“And what do you get?”
“His resources.”
“Resources to do what?”
Orpheus seemed surprised by the question. “Time to move out.” He rose and the rest of the team followed, save for Tim, who remained seated.
“Hold on a sec. I volunteered to help you guys because I wanted to do something. I wanted to stop feeling useless. If I die doing it, so what. But if there's some other agenda here, your agenda...”
Orpheus stopped in his tracks and turned slowly, but not completely, toward Tim.
“I'd drop it if I were you, bait,” Fish warned.
“...then I deserve to know what it is. I'm the only one who doesn't, and that's bullshit!”
Orpheus still hadn't faced Tim, but Mutt recognized his demeanor. It meant trouble. He kept quiet, but he got ready to peel Orpheus off of Tim.
“Sir, if you tell me what you're looking for, I can help you find it.”
Orpheus said, ”Stand up.”
Tim did, and waited for whatever was coming. Orpheus put his hand inside his jumpsuit and Tim remembered what he'd been told about catching a bullet if Orpheus felt he couldn't trust him. He tried not to sweat.
Orpheus pulled out a small piece of paper.
A photo.
Tim took one look at it and knew.
“My son, Tim. I'm looking for my son.”
It all came together for him then. The two teams, the walkies, the wedding ring, and the name. Orpheus. Tim had been right on the money. He tried to not stammer. “Thank you, sir. We'll find him.”
Orpheus moved to the stairs, presumably to begin searching for valuables and collecting the walkies. Tim moved to follow him when another hand grabbed his wrist and stopped him.
Mutt said, “There's one other thing you need to know. There's almost no chance that his son's still alive. He's almost certainly one of them. And, in that case, no one puts him down but Orpheus...according to Orpheus, at least. But if that happens, there's no doubt in my mind that, no matter where we are or what we're doing, Orpheus will follow him about as quickly as it takes to pull the trigger once more. No one knows what happened to his wife, I have my theories, but the thought of finding his son alive or, worst case, putting him down for good, is the only thing keeping him going. So if you ever find the kid in the picture, the only person you don't tell is him. Got it?
“So you want me to disobey a direct order and deny a guy closure about his family?”
“He looks out for us; we look out for him. I don't care if you don't understand it.”
“I understand just fine. I just want to make sure that the four of us right here are on the same page. For all I know, this is another one of your dumbass hazing things.”
Sam, who had remained on the sidelines since they entered the building, said, “We don't pull that stuff down here. Ever.”
“So what do I do if I find him?”
“Tell one of us. We'll figure it out. Chances are Orpheus will spot him long before we do, but we can try.”
“This whole thing sucks.”
“You know what sucks, bait?” Fish said. “I didn't hear that story for two damn weeks, teacher's pet.”
"By the way, what did you see?" Tim asked.
"Huh?"
"When you first saw the evacuated floors."
"Oh, shit, I forgot about that. Well, check this: the whole...zombie...thing kicked off at what, six pm-ish on a Saturday, right?'
"Yeah. So?"
"So, we normally have a lot of people working Saturdays, that's not strange. What's odd is that I remember that the breakfast delivery came in at about 9:00 am. Coffee, donuts, bagels."
"I'm not following, Fish," Sam said.
"We've all worked in offices, and we know what happens when free food's involved. There's no way that breakfast stuff would last an hour, let alone all day. What I wondered then was, if that floor was evacuated, why was it evacuated like nine hours before there was anything to be evacuated from?"
* * *
They retrieved the walkies and whatever else useful they could find, then gathered around
“And what do you get?”
“His resources.”
“Resources to do what?”
Orpheus seemed surprised by the question. “Time to move out.” He rose and the rest of the team followed, save for Tim, who remained seated.
“Hold on a sec. I volunteered to help you guys because I wanted to do something. I wanted to stop feeling useless. If I die doing it, so what. But if there's some other agenda here, your agenda...”
Orpheus stopped in his tracks and turned slowly, but not completely, toward Tim.
“I'd drop it if I were you, bait,” Fish warned.
“...then I deserve to know what it is. I'm the only one who doesn't, and that's bullshit!”
Orpheus still hadn't faced Tim, but Mutt recognized his demeanor. It meant trouble. He kept quiet, but he got ready to peel Orpheus off of Tim.
“Sir, if you tell me what you're looking for, I can help you find it.”
Orpheus said, ”Stand up.”
Tim did, and waited for whatever was coming. Orpheus put his hand inside his jumpsuit and Tim remembered what he'd been told about catching a bullet if Orpheus felt he couldn't trust him. He tried not to sweat.
Orpheus pulled out a small piece of paper.
A photo.
Tim took one look at it and knew.
“My son, Tim. I'm looking for my son.”
It all came together for him then. The two teams, the walkies, the wedding ring, and the name. Orpheus. Tim had been right on the money. He tried to not stammer. “Thank you, sir. We'll find him.”
Orpheus moved to the stairs, presumably to begin searching for valuables and collecting the walkies. Tim moved to follow him when another hand grabbed his wrist and stopped him.
Mutt said, “There's one other thing you need to know. There's almost no chance that his son's still alive. He's almost certainly one of them. And, in that case, no one puts him down but Orpheus...according to Orpheus, at least. But if that happens, there's no doubt in my mind that, no matter where we are or what we're doing, Orpheus will follow him about as quickly as it takes to pull the trigger once more. No one knows what happened to his wife, I have my theories, but the thought of finding his son alive or, worst case, putting him down for good, is the only thing keeping him going. So if you ever find the kid in the picture, the only person you don't tell is him. Got it?
“So you want me to disobey a direct order and deny a guy closure about his family?”
“He looks out for us; we look out for him. I don't care if you don't understand it.”
“I understand just fine. I just want to make sure that the four of us right here are on the same page. For all I know, this is another one of your dumbass hazing things.”
Sam, who had remained on the sidelines since they entered the building, said, “We don't pull that stuff down here. Ever.”
“So what do I do if I find him?”
“Tell one of us. We'll figure it out. Chances are Orpheus will spot him long before we do, but we can try.”
“This whole thing sucks.”
“You know what sucks, bait?” Fish said. “I didn't hear that story for two damn weeks, teacher's pet.”
"By the way, what did you see?" Tim asked.
"Huh?"
"When you first saw the evacuated floors."
"Oh, shit, I forgot about that. Well, check this: the whole...zombie...thing kicked off at what, six pm-ish on a Saturday, right?'
"Yeah. So?"
"So, we normally have a lot of people working Saturdays, that's not strange. What's odd is that I remember that the breakfast delivery came in at about 9:00 am. Coffee, donuts, bagels."
"I'm not following, Fish," Sam said.
"We've all worked in offices, and we know what happens when free food's involved. There's no way that breakfast stuff would last an hour, let alone all day. What I wondered then was, if that floor was evacuated, why was it evacuated like nine hours before there was anything to be evacuated from?"
* * *
They retrieved the walkies and whatever else useful they could find, then gathered around
Similar Books
