Page 35 of The Midnight Hour
“I’m glad you think so.”
Am I imagining the undercurrent of tension that is suddenly running through the room like an electric wire? For a second, no one says anything.
“The only other rule of note,” Michael finishes, “is that we have a zero-tolerance policy. Again, we’ve found it’s the only way to make things work for this number of people?—”
“How many people are here?” I interject, curious.
“At present, four hundred, give or take a few,” Michael replies. “As I mentioned before, we have capacity for five hundred.” Although not underground, I recall. In any case, they’re almost full. Quite a few people have agreed to all the rules, which means maybe we should, too.
“This zero-tolerance policy,” Daniel asks. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means that if you break any of our rules, you and your dependents are required to leave,” Michael replies. His tone is utterly unapologetic. “No warnings, no second chances. You just go. And you are not allowed back.”
“Not ever?” Mattie asks, sounding like a small child.
“Not ever,” Michael agrees. “I know it might sound harsh, but we have to think of the greater good.”
Whichdefinitelysounds like a Stalinist work camp, and yet…I get it. Sort of. They can’t have people coming and going, a revolving door of would-be survivalists.
“Any other rules?” Daniel asks mildly.
Michael gives a little shrug. “No one is allowed off site—again, for the greater good. We are able to monitor radiation levels and they indicate that there’s no great danger at the base, but we have no idea how far that safety extends, and, since we can’t keep tabs on how far people might go, it’s better simply to keep the center contained. We have everything we need here, as you’ll discover if you stay.”
“How do you have electricity?” I blurt. “And running water?”
The smile Michael aims at me seems a little smug. “Twenty-two Wing operates on a microgrid, powered by solar and wind energy. Neither electricity nor running water will ever be a problem.” He makes it sound as if this is his personal accomplishment, but, since he is a computer engineer, maybe it was.
“Do you have internet?” Mattie asks, sounding so eager that I almost laugh. It could be seven months ago, when we arrived at the cottage, and she was bemoaning the lack of Wi-Fi.
“We do,” Michael replies proudly, and for a second we all goggle. It’s as if we’ve stumbled into Eden, with all its technological promises—water, electricity, even internet. It feels too good to be true, but that doesn’t mean it is. “Although,” he continues, “there’s very little you can access online right now. Most of the U.S. and Canada’s servers were destroyed in the blasts, or the resulting EMP. There are a few other bases in North America that are operating like this one, and we’re able to exchange information. Hopefully, as I’ve stated, one day we can work together to resettle both Canada and the United States.”
“Big dreams,” Daniel remarks, and for a second Michael looks flinty-eyed.
“Yes,” he agrees briefly, and another silence descends on us that feels uncomfortably tense.
“Who makes all these decisions?” Daniel asks. “You talkaboutwe. Do you mean you and the friends who helped you take control of this place?”
Michael’s eyes narrow and I resist the urge to grab Daniel’s hand and give it a hard warning squeeze. Does he want us to fail whatever evaluation we’re given? Maybe it’s already started, and this is part of it. Too argumentative and you’re out. And I already know I want to stay. Badly. I’m too tired even to think about doing anything else, even if I might regret it later.
“Essentially, yes,” Michael replies evenly. “The governing committee is the initial group who secured the base.”
“How many of you are there?”
“Twenty-four.”
“That’s quite a lot of people to weigh in on all these matters,” Daniel observes.
Michael’s nostrils flare as he smiles faintly. “True. Any major decisions are taken by an executive committee of five.” He pauses. “But of course, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to stay.”
“I didn’t say anything about not liking it,” Daniel replies easily. “It’s just good to know what we’re signing up for.”
“Of course.” He glances between us all. “Should I leave you to discuss it? You have fifteen minutes. After that, we’ll need these rooms for processing other arrivals, and, if you decide to stay, you’ll need to have your medical and ability evaluations.”
Medical and ability…? I try not to show my alarm; Kyle looks positively panicked. It’s hard to believe more people have already arrived since we did. It can’t have been much over an hour. If there are already four hundred-odd people here and only five hundred able to be housed in total…
This place is filling up.
With another faint smile and a small bow that feels a little ironic, he leaves us alone.
