Page 33 of His to Burn
“Other than facilities and the bailiffs, almost no one comes down here. Most of thebailiffs are at the jail, and Jorge was the only custodian in today…”
I trailed off, my words dying as I remembered what Jack did.
Remembered that a good man was gone.
Wondered how many others were gone now, too.
Jackson studied me, again taking my measure, but as much as I wanted to give in to tears again, I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
“So,” I cleared my throat, “if there’s anyone else in the building, they probably won’t come here.”
Jackson looked toward the monitors. “What’s the plan, Counselor?”
It almost sounded like teasing, but his eyes were dead serious. Strangely, that made me smile. “That’s my line.”
That got the tiniest smile out of him before he said, “Maybe, but I’m at a disadvantage here. This is home field for you, so I’ll follow your lead.”
“But no pressure, right?” I said, trying to keep my voice light.
Jack’s arched brow was his only response.
“Well,” I whispered, my mind racing as I tried to come up with what to do next.
My smile brightened when I focused on the filing cabinets again. The guys basically had a makeshift kitchenette here, and that was something.
I approached the cabinet and looked through the drawers. The coffee canister was empty and there were no ramen noodles, either. Jorge’s wife, Camila, usually kept him supplied, but she’d been out of town with their daughter after she had their newest grandbaby.
I sighed. I guessed that didn’t matter anymore.
I grabbed two bottles of water and two packs of peanut butter crackers.
I smiled, searching for the levity I desperately wished I felt. “First things first. We dine like kings.”
He didn’t laugh, but he took the offering.
We ate in silence, both watching the grainy monitors as the crowd of shuffling bodies outside grew.
Then his voice cut through the quiet, so abrupt and unexpected, I almost screamed. “I’ll try the radio.”
He grabbed the weather radio haphazardly shoved on a bookshelf that held paper towels and bath tissue.
Cell reception was shit down here, something that was confirmed when I looked down at my phone, which still had zero bars.
But maybe…
A quietclickwas followed by static filling the room as Jackson turned through the stations.
This is not a test.
Repeat.
This is not a test.
Shelter in place.
Martial law is in effect…
