Page 72 of Colin Gets Promoted and Dooms the World
“You would never beat up anyone. You’d use math somehow.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Painful math.”
We returned to the sofa and curled up next to each other, taking what comfort we could. After a while, Amira asked, very quietly, “Do you think we’re going to be okay?”
I thought about The-One-Who-Hungers disappearing into Hell. Maybe the Lords of Sin and Vice were strong enough to defeat it, or at least keep it there. And if not, Management would have to involve Themselves now that one of Their offices had been attacked. They’d bound the Abominations once before—surely They could do so again. The real question was whether any of us would survive Their attempt. “I don’t know,” I said at last. “I hope so. We just need to hang on a little longer.”
Hours later, after Amira had fallen back asleep, my phone buzzed. Wondering if it was Lex, finally responding to my frantic text from earlier, I checked and saw that I’d received an email.
From:Personnel Department
To:General Employee List
Subject:An Important Update
As you’re probably aware, we’re experiencing a Level 5 event here in New York City. But don’t worry! Your safety remains one of our top concerns. We’ve increased our onsite protections so you can do your job while enjoying valuablepeace of mind. Please note, however, that these protections are available only to DE employees. If your family and friends try to shelter onsite, they will be removed and sent to a fun, action-packed stay at one of our many corporate retreats.
In these challenging times, it’s important that we all step up and do our part. That’s why, though it’s the weekend, we’re asking our employees to return to work first thing tomorrow morning. Employees who fail to report for work will be considered in breach of contract and will be dealt with by our remediation teams. So don’t be late!
Let’s keep making the world a better place.
After reading the email twice, I slumped back into the sofa and closed my eyes. Tomorrow morning I’d have to walk back into Dark Enterprises, right over the shiny stone floor where Beverly had met a fate worse than death, and pretend like it was just another ordinary day. I’d sit at my desk, down the hall from the boardroom where Tamsin had shrieked her last breath, and update Ms.Crenshaw’s calendar. It sounded awful. Unless I wanted to spend whatever remained of my life running from the Firing Squad, though, I didn’t have a choice.
All I’d wanted was to save myself from certain death and maybe also become powerful beyond my wildest dreams. I didn’t think that was unreasonable. Sure, I’d made some ill-advised choices with unforeseen and disastrous consequences, but who doesn’t in their twenties?
I kept reminding myself that, however bleak things seemed now, options remained. Dark Enterprises had taught me that anythingwas possible—you just had to be willing to pay for it. Maybe I could sneak Amira into DE somehow, grab Lex if they ever bothered to text me back, and we could take a one-way trip through a gateway in Transportation. Safety had to exist somewhere in an infinite multiverse. And Eric? I imagined him fighting his way through hungry, encroaching shadows, that sword of his glowing with brilliant fire as he struggled to reach me. Even if I saved him as well, what kind of future would we have? He was a knight sworn to eradicate dark magicks, and I was willing to use the blackest of arts to get what I wanted.
Heartsick, I waited for answers to come and found only more questions.
Twenty-Six
Eric called four times duringthe night, leaving voicemails that I deleted unheard, which meant I was not in a great mood when I snuck out of the apartment the next morning. Worse, without the MTA to ferry me into Midtown, I was resigned to walking the entire way. In a rare stroke of good luck, however, I came across an abandoned bike lying in the street, possibly left there after its rider was devoured. Wherever that person was now, I decided the bike was fair game and set off in a slow, wobbling trajectory that barely approximated a straight line. I hadn’t ridden a bike in a very long time, and it was rough going at first—I ran into a parked car almost immediately, then toppled with a scream into a very prickly hedge—but I got the hang of it eventually.
Though I kept an eye out for patrolling military caravans or other signs of trouble, Manhattan was unnervingly quiet, even for a Sunday. The cautious and the frightened were staying inside while everyone else had either been detained or was trying to find ways off the island. After I crossed from Central Park into Midtown, I saw afew individuals skulking from building to building or scuttling along the sidewalks, perhaps looking for safety in the abandoned office towers. Only when I reached Dark Enterprises, however, did I find people dressed for work. Employees were trickling into the building, leaving a variety of bikes and scooters outside, and as I dismounted from my own bike a middle-aged woman came rolling up on a skateboard, looking sweaty and annoyed. She visibly steeled herself before pushing through the revolving doors, and she wasn’t the only one.
Crossing the street, I got Ms.Crenshaw’s coffee from the Starbucks, trying not to notice the fear in the barista’s eyes as she gave me a dutiful, company-mandated smile.What are we doing here?I asked myself as I walked outside and stared at the blank facade of Dark Enterprises. The smoked glass had been repaired, and we’d been promised that new defenses were in place, but I doubted that anyone inside believed they were safe. Safety no longer existed. Oh, and by the way, no one could be trusted, either, because they probably worked for the Seraphic Conclave. Everything was stupid and pointless and dumb.
Lost in this self-pitying spiral of angst and frustration, I strode back across East 54th and into the lobby I’d barely escaped the day before. As I stepped onto those treacherous, polished floors, I heard a faint echo of despairing screams and couldn’t stop myself from looking down. Reflected there was my own face, pale and wary, framed against the ceiling high above. Other employees were doing the same thing. As we clustered together, waiting for an elevator to arrive, we did so in tense silence. It sure didn’t look like any of us wanted to be there.
I was alone by the time I stepped off onto the thirteenth floor. Unnervingly, there were no distant screams at all, though the airseethed with watchful menace. I recognized that feeling: Management had dropped by. They were probably meeting with the entire board. I wondered how many executives would survive the experience.
Not my problem. Placing Ms.Crenshaw’s coffee on her desk, I retreated to my own and stared blankly at my keyboard. I could find work to do, but why bother? None of this mattered. I didn’t believe that The-One-Who-Hungers would stay trapped in Hell, and if the day before had been any indication, the company’s executives were incapable of handling it. I had no idea what would happen if Management intervened, but it wouldn’t be good. On top of that, Lex was MIA, Eric was a lying jerkface who wouldn’t stop calling, and I’d abandoned the only person I had left in the world to come and sit at this stupid desk, answer stupid emails, and wait for the world to end.
I remained lost in this bleak reverie until Ms.Crenshaw walked through the door, as composed as ever. Belatedly, I realized that the threatening, bowel-clenching atmosphere had dissipated. If Management had disintegrated any of her fellow executives or cast them into the Outer Darkness, she gave no sign of it. “You’re here,” she noted as she paused in front of my desk. “Good. We have work to do.”
My frustration spiked. “What work?” I demanded. “What can we possibly do? Why are we even here?”
“You sound upset,” Ms.Crenshaw observed.
“I am! I left my best friend so I could bike halfway across Manhattan and then sit here wondering when more of us are going to die!”
Her gaze remained coolly remote as she studied me. “We are here because Management expects it. They are…displeased. Ten minutes ago, They made an example of the Chief of Security, who ispresently smeared across the boardroom, and put the rest of us on notice. We will share her fate unless we contain the situation ourselves.” She paused, and her mouth thinned ever so slightly before she added, “I believe They expect us to fail.”
I stared at her. “Why would Management tell you to do something that won’t succeed?”
“I’ve found it’s best not to speculate about Their motives.”
“And if youdofail?”
