Aurora(10)

“How many dead?” he asked.

“Depends how long it lasts and if they try to run the water pumps twenty-four-seven, which would be suicidal. If they do, think millions dead, just in the U.S.”

“What about globally?”

“I wouldn’t want to speculate.”

“Pretend you have to.”

“No, Thom. I’m not a ghoul. I have to go.”

Without another word, she ended the call.

Thom was left looking at his own face on the screen, a crystal-clear hi-def image that showed the fear in his eyes in crisp 4K detail. He glanced away, his eyes falling on the rearview mirror, where Brady was staring at him again.



Brady had worked for Thom for seven years, and his job description was best described as facilitator. Brady made sure Thom got where he needed to be when he needed to be there, he expedited problems along the path to solution, and he handled the sorts of things that others could or would not. Two decades as a cop with the SFPD gave him access, confidence, and an ability to see through situations in about thirty seconds, to spot liars and dangers that most people took days, weeks, or never to suss out. Brady greased wheels, opened doors, ran interference, and generally made easy the life Thom wanted to live.

What Brady did not do was ask questions. Though he had no intention of breaking his impassive streak today, the things he’d just heard in the back seat of the Suburban pushed him about as close to that line as he’d ever been. The world, it seemed, was about to end, and his boss, his billionaire boss who had access to anyone and everything, was getting the hell out of there.

Brady wondered what Thom thought would become of the loyal employees he was leaving behind. But Brady did not ask. His job was to handle security, and Thom was secure. That was what mattered.

Thom, catching Brady’s eyes in the mirror, started to speak but couldn’t find his voice at first. He tried again. “Traffic looks good.”

Brady looked away. “Yes, sir. Took the spur at Loma Linda and got around a bunch of it.”

“ETA?”

Brady glanced down at the GPS on his dashboard-mounted phone. “Twelve minutes, Mr. Banning.”

Thom nodded and dialed up another call. Lisa, his assistant, answered on the first ring.

“Where are you?” she asked, skipping hello.

“Ten minutes out.” Thom glanced up at the rearview, where Brady’s eyes were seemingly glued to him now, and he winked. “Incentive, Brady.”

Brady smiled joylessly. “Yes, sir.” He gave the gas another five miles per hour.

Thom turned away, looking out the window at the endless housing developments as they raced past them. “Where are you?” he asked Lisa.

“In the hangar.”

“How’d you get there so fast?”

“I live five minutes away. Remember?”

“Oh, right. Yeah, you mentioned that.” If she had, Thom had absolutely no recollection of it. He moved on. “What about Ann-Sophie and the kids?”

“Francis picked up Ann-Sophie from the house at 9:35, and Antonio got both kids from school at 9:38. The cars met ten minutes later and now Ann-Sophie has both of them and is on the 310 Southbound, ETA four minutes ahead of you.”

“How soon can we be wheels up?”

“As soon as you’re settled in. The plane’s fueled, Marques is ready, and you were right, the only other pilots here are weekenders with prop planes. The weather cooperated. I was worried about the lack of a tower when you picked this place, but you’re good to go.”

“What’s the flight time?”

“An hour forty-seven. You’ll be on the ground with a two-hour cushion before onset.”

Thom sat back in his seat and allowed himself a tiny exhalation. Everything was going so radiantly according to plan that it was impossible not to feel just the tiniest bit proud of himself. He attempted to banish it—pride was Kryptonite—but then he decided to cut himself a bit of slack and allow a microscopic fleck of self-regard to flourish. Just for a moment.

“There is one complication.”

Thom closed his eyes. You see what happens when you let your guard down? “What do you mean?” he asked.

Lisa hesitated. “Marques needs to speak with you.”

“Is there a problem with the plane?”

“Marques will tell you himself.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? What complication? Tell me, right this second.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll see you in eight minutes.” And she ended the call.

Thom felt his body course with rage. Lisa had never, ever, not one time failed to obey a direct order from him, and then she’d compounded her unthinkable mutiny by actually hanging up on him? Was he the only one who gave a shit about propriety anymore?

No matter, he told himself, taking a deep, steadying breath. No matter what was about to happen, no matter when it came, Thom Banning knew one thing for certain.

He was prepared.





4.





Aurora

What was suddenly clear to Aubrey was that she’d learned exactly nothing from COVID. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had learned once again that wildly unexpected events do happen in life and that they can last way longer than you’d ever imagine, with much more far-reaching consequences. Therefore, it’s only basic common sense to stock up on supplies and hope the dreadful day never comes. She’d become mindful of the fact that she was no longer a solitary person in this world but, rather, the sole caregiver for a moody teenage shithead, and that she had a moral obligation to be prepared to provide for them both. Things happen. Be ready.