Free Quarantine by James Phelan Page A

life, and dipped his head and closed his eyes and prayed.
    â€œI remember the mayor saying that the aging pipelines were vulnerable and that this city could be brought to its knees if one of the aqueducts collapsed,” Daniel said, his low voice reverberating around the empty nave. “ A potential apocalypse . Well, we’re living more than that now, so I ask you, Lord, help us out of it.”

11
    â€œW e’ll have to pull over,” Daniel said.
    I slowed the truck and put it into park, keeping the engine running. The visibility was near gone, although it was only 10 A.M. The day’s sky was black and the headlights of the truck only served to bounce back in our faces off the thick curtain of snowfall. At least it was warm in here.
    â€œDo you think Bob’s okay out in this?”
    â€œHe’ll be fine,” Daniel replied. “He can hardly see his feet in front of him, so who’s going to see him?”
    I almost laughed. Yeah, he’d be fine—I’d been out on my own enough, and he was at least twice my size.
    â€œHow’d Bob know all that?”
    â€œHe was working for the Department of Environmental Protection,” Daniel said. “He told me he once spent three months deep under the city, with a dive team, living and working down there to repair the old tunnels. Imagine that. Living in a little house so far below this city, in a subterranean world as deep as the Chrysler Building is high. You believe that?”
    â€œI believe anything these days,” I said, “nothing seems too strange anymore.”
    â€œTrue. He said it’s hot down there,” Daniel said. “Unlike the freezing air up here at the surface, it’s like seventy degrees down there, a humid mist of dust and fumes.”
    â€œSeventy degrees—compared to this, that’ll be like going to the tropics for a holiday.”
    â€œHey, look there,” he said, pointing across the street. Through the snowfall I could just make out a hotel and a few shops. “Since we’re stuck for a bit, how about we go check it out, see if there’s anything useful?”
    â€œSure.” I killed the engine, pocketed the keys, and we darted across the road. The wind cut at me, ice knives at my face and neck; inhaling the cold air made me feel frozen from the inside out.
    â€œTight fit,” I said, just managing to squeeze through the lobby doors, which were jammed partly open. Daniel followed; he seemed to fit more easily.
    â€œNo way Bob would have fit through that,” I said and Daniel laughed.
    Illuminated by our flashlights, the place looked pristine, unlike so many of the ransacked shops and other buildings. Through a side door we looked around the type of hotel store that sold a bit of everything. I took a new watch, as the face of mine had cracked. Daniel pulled on an extra coat, and I found a couple of wheeled bags that we could fill with whatever we might find of use in the hotel.
    â€œLet’s find the kitchen,” Daniel said. We went through the lobby and looked around in offices and bathrooms, emerging into a large banquet hall that had been burned out, leaving a vast black-on-black landscape. Our flashlight beams couldn’t reach the far walls.
    â€œThis isn’t creepy at all . . .” Our feet scrunched the charred carpet and ash-strewn floor, sounding as though we were walking through a thick blanket of autumn leaves.
    â€œThere’s a door down there,” Daniel said, and we headed towards a couple of shiny brass handles at the corner of the room. Our movement kicked up a cloud of dust that hung in the air like smoke.
    The double swinging doors squeaked open to reveal a huge stainless-steel kitchen, untouched by the fire.
    â€œJust grab a few things that are easy to carry,” he said.
    â€œHallelujah!” The pantry was as well stocked as any I’d ever seen, and reminded me of an apartment back at 30 Rock.