San Diego 2014 Part 7

11:30 P.M.

"How's your shoulder feeling?" Stuart took a step backward, wiping his b.l.o.o.d.y palms against the seat of his pants. There'd been so much blood. He wasn't sure how much blood was safe for a person to lose. He was deathly afraid that he was about to find out.

Kelly offered him a small smile. She could feel the b.l.o.o.d.y fabric of her s.h.i.+rt sticking to her skin, and she knew the situation wasn't good. "It hurts like h.e.l.l," she said. "I'm glad we got the wireless back on."

"Me, too. I'd hate to have waded back into this mess for nothing."

Kelly's smile strengthened. It was good, she decided, that he'd introduced himself without being prompted; it was good that she'd gotten to know him, even if it was only a little, before things went all the way wrong. "Hope's not nothing. Remember that, okay?"

"What?" Stuart blinked, expression turning alarmed. "Why are you talking like that?"

"I got bit, Stuart. You remember what that girl said. I'm as good as dead."

"No, you're not. The real world doesn't work like that. The real world-"

"She's not wrong." Pris's voice was very soft. Kelly looked past Stuart to the other woman, realizing as she did that she hadn't even noticed when the cheering stopped. Pris was pale, and the hand that held her tablet was shaking. "It's all over Facebook and Twitter. People are calling this the zombie apocalypse. Actual people, who aren't trapped inside here. They're saying it's an outbreak. The government didn't lock the doors, but they're not going to let anybody unlock them because we're all already written off as dead. Infected."

"See? It's the zombie apocalypse, and in the zombie apocalypse, once somebody gets bitten, they're not your friend anymore." Kelly held out her spear, waiting for Stuart to take it. "Go. Find a back door, find a way out of here, and go. Tell people we got the Internet up. Maybe if we make enough noise from inside, they'll have to open the doors."

"Kelly, we're not leaving you."

"Yes, we are." Marty stepped up behind Pris, who shot him a relieved look. "I'm sorry as h.e.l.l that you got bit helping us out. I'd take it back if I could."

"Would you take my place?" asked Kelly.

Marty looked away. They should kill her; all the zombie movies he'd ever seen told him that they should kill her. And he couldn't. That would be the final step toward making this all real, and he couldn't.

"I didn't think so." Kelly sighed. "Stuart, please. You saved my a.s.s by setting up shop where you did, even if you don't have a d.a.m.n clue how to use the weapons you were selling. Let me save yours. Get the h.e.l.l out of here."

"I don't want to go without you," said Stuart quietly. He reached out as he spoke, and took the spear gently from her hand.

Kelly smiled. "I don't give a f.u.c.k what you want." Somehow, the words sounded like an endearment. Her attention swung to Marty. "Look out for Stuart. He needs a lot of looking after."

"I'll do my best," said Marty.

Pris sniffled, wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and said, "I'll make sure everybody knows what you did. How brave you were."

"You do that," said Kelly. "Now go."

She stayed where she was, tucked into the shadowy nook off the main wall, and watched as the other four turned and walked away. Stuart glanced back at her several times. She forced herself to keep watching until they vanished around a corner and were gone. Then she sighed, all the straightness going out of her spine as she sank, cross-legged, to the floor. Her shoulder ached. Her feet hurt. She was so tired. So, so tired. Maybe she'd just stay there forever, she thought. Maybe that would be for the best.

Kelly Nakata closed her eyes, letting her head list forward, and waited to stop caring about what was going to happen next. She was small. She'd lost a lot of blood.

It didn't take as long as she might have thought.

LORELEI TUTT'S APARTMENT,

LONDON, ENGLAND, JUNE 1, 2044.

The rum is sweet and burning at the same time. It makes it a little easier to discuss the events inside the convention center. Kelly Nakata and the others restored the record of what happened during the siege of Comic-Con; without their attempts to turn the wireless back on, we might never have known as much as we do. Lorelei was right when she said she'd need something stronger for what came next. So did I.

LORELEI: It's funny. I mean, there's this whole story that has nothing to do with my family, happening at the same time that my family was fighting to survive. But without it, I'd never have known what happened to them. Was the whole Rising like that, do you think? Just layers and layers of tangle, so that you can never really tell where one thing ends and the next one begins?

She seems more human now, and more lost. I put my cup down and push it carefully away. I need to be sober for the remainder of this interview. No matter how much I want not to be.

MAHIR: I believe so, yes. Everyone has his or her own story to tell. The San Diego Outbreak was unique only in that so many people were confined in such a small s.p.a.ce. Their stories were almost forced to overlap.

LORELEI: I spent a lot of time after the Rising going through all the social media feeds from that outbreak, looking for...something. I don't know. Something that would make it all start making sense. Not linear sense. Just...

MAHIR: You wanted something to make it fair.

LORELEI: Yeah. That's it, exactly. I wanted something that would make it fair for my parents to have died in there. I wanted something that would make it fair for me to have lived when they didn't. I know-I know-that they were both glad I made it out of the hall before the doors closed. But that doesn't make it right. And it doesn't make it fair.

MAHIR: I don't think "fair" ever entered into it.

LORELEI: Yeah, I guess not. That was never part of the equation. You know, I met Kelly Nakata's brother a couple years ago. He came to one of the Equality Now film screenings that I helped put together. He was a really nice guy. He wanted to meet me.

MAHIR: I can understand why.

LORELEI: We're almost to the end. Do you think we can get through this tonight?

MAHIR: I would like that.

LORELEI: Yeah. So would I. Let's finish this.

Everything Must Go

The heroes of the Rising took many forms. Some of them fought. Some of them hid. Some of them just left artifacts for us to find after they were gone. But all of them died, and all of them, whether they knew it or not, were mourned.

-Mahir Gowda Me? Oh, I'm just your ordinary time-traveling bada.s.s with a badge. Now freeze, dirtbag. You're going to Paradox Prison for a long, long time.

-Chronoforensic a.n.a.lyst Indiction Rivers,

s.p.a.ce Crime Continuum, season one, episode three

11:30 P.M.

"Holy c.r.a.p-Shawn! The wireless just came back on!" Robert waved his phone like it would ill.u.s.trate the point. "I've got connection!"

"Me, too," said Leita, holding up her own phone. "Maybe this means they're finally getting ready to break us out of here."

"Maybe," said Shawn, with an utter lack of conviction. He didn't want to discourage the others in their hoping-at this point, hope was about the only thing they had going for them, and he'd rather it lasted-but he couldn't work up any excitement for something as small as the Internet coming on. Not unless it was accompanied by an announcement that the National Guard was on the way. He paused. The National Guard... "s.h.i.+t."

"What is it?" asked Vanessa. She was holding her iPad again, fiddling nervously with her new video editing software. Maybe later, she could edit together a video about their Comic-Con adventure. a.s.suming they all survived.

"We need to get back to work on the barricades. Break time's over." Shawn grabbed a hammer. "I want this place so fortified that we could live in it."

"What?" Vanessa's eyes widened. "Why? Didn't you hear Robbie? They're going to come and rescue us soon!"

"No, they're not." Shawn shook his own phone at her. "You hear that? Silence. Lorelei's at the Coast Guard right now, and what I've got is silence. That means she hasn't managed to get them moving yet, and if the Coast Guard isn't moving, neither is anybody else. We're not being saved just because we can check our e-mail again. And when people realize that, they're going to lose what little serenity they had left. The s.h.i.+t's about to hit the fan in here, and all that's standing between us and the chaos is the hull on this s.h.i.+p."

"It's a booth, Shawn," said Lynn quietly, stepping up next to her husband.

"Right now, it's our s.h.i.+p, and it's the only way we're flying safely out of this." Shawn thrust the hammer at her. She took it. "Get to work, all of you. We don't have much time."

"I hope you're wrong, Shawn," said Lynn, and leaned up to kiss his cheek before walking briskly toward the other side of the booth.

Shawn sighed. "So do I." He glanced around at the others, finally settling on Robert. "Hey. I need you to do something for me."

"What?" asked Robert, putting down the box that he'd been lifting.

"Come here." Shawn beckoned him closer. Robert came, and when he was close enough, Shawn murmured, "I want you to get online and start looking for anyone who has outside eyes on this place. We need to know what's going on. We need to know how bad things are going to get. Can you do that?"

"Sure," said Robert. He had to fight to ignore the sudden churning in his stomach. This wasn't how his Comic-Con was supposed to go. Not a bit of it. "Is there anything I should be watching for, in specific?"

"Yeah," said Shawn. "Look for people talking about the zombie apocalypse. I need to know whether this is the end of the world."

Wisely, Robert didn't say anything else. He just moved to one of the booth's folding chairs, sat down, and started to search. Shawn watched him go. Then he picked up another hammer, and turned to his work.

11:30 P.M.

Elle's phone pinged, signaling that her e-mail had successfully been sent. It was a familiar enough sound that it didn't wake her. Sleeping sitting up with her back braced against a door wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but she was tired enough and wrung-out enough from her day that she didn't care anymore. On the other side of the replica office, Matthew and Patty slept sunk deep into their own respective dreamlands. Patty seemed almost entirely boneless, a limp puddle across the model of Indiction Rivers's desk. Matthew was slightly more upright, but only slightly, with one arm curved protectively around her back.

Then the phone rang, and all three of them snapped awake. Matthew was on his feet before his brain and his body fully caught up with each other. Patty sat up, blinking bemusedly. And Elle, who knew that ring tone better than she knew almost anything else in the world, was simply reaching for the phone. It was reflex. If she'd been awake and able to think about what she was doing, she might not have answered...but she was half-asleep, and sleep can make you careless. The phone was almost to her ear before she realized what she was doing, and by then it was too late.

"Sig?"

"Elle?" The edge of panic on her girlfriend's voice was painful. Elle winced.

Sigrid demanded, "What the h.e.l.l is this e-mail I just got? What's going on in there?"

"I'm sorry. I set my memo function to auto-send, and someone must have managed to turn the wireless in here back on. You weren't supposed to see that." Not while I was still breathing, anyway.

"The police have cleared and cordoned off the Gaslight District. The hotels were evacuated almost an hour ago."

"Where are you?"

"I'm still in our room. I tried to go down to the convention center when I realized you were stuck there, but there are police blocking all the access roads. They're not letting anyone near." Common sense dictated that "the talent" stay as close to the convention center as possible, to make sure that they could get to and from their panels quickly and easily. Sigrid and Elle were staying at a very nice B&B almost two miles off-site. If Sigrid couldn't enjoy the convention, she could at least enjoy their accommodations-and it made it less likely that there would be a public slip where one of Elle's fans might see.

Elle had never been so grateful for her paranoia. "I'm glad," she said quietly. "I don't want you anywhere near here."

"Are you hurt?" The edge of panic was spreading, saturating Sigrid's tone. "Elle, are you alone in there?"

"No, no, honey, I'm fine. I'm here with two friends, Matthew and Patty. We managed to get to cover before the lights went out. None of us is hurt. We're all fine."

"I kinda need to pee," said Patty, and promptly blushed a brilliant red, adding, in a mutter, "I don't believe I just said that in front of Elle Riley."

"Where's your handler?" asked Sigrid. "Isn't there someone who can get you out of there?"

"No, there's not. I lost him when the screaming started, and I haven't seen him since. Maybe he made it out of the hall." Or maybe he got caught up in the riot at the front, and was out there somewhere, looking for her. Elle couldn't manage to muster any compa.s.sion for his possible plight. He was the one who'd run away and left her with two strangers in the middle of the exhibit hall.

"That letter-"

"I meant it. I meant every word of it. I'm done pretending."

"Why would you write that if you thought you were coming home? What would make you do that?"