West of Nothing

42. The Worst that Can Happen

The cloud of gloom hung over the Bridge for the rest of the evening with no signs of progress to lift their spirits. Johnny returned from a stint in the lab only to slump quietly in his chair.

Mason kept tabs on how events were playing out on the world stage. Military Mannequin had not been exaggerating. Things looked bad. Maybe not nuclear Armageddon bad but at least a stock up on your cotton underwear because who knows when there will be another shipment sort of bad. The Russians and Chinese were blaming America for carpet-bombing them with spy-borgs and other countries were starting to pile on. The Europeans and Japanese were staying on the sidelines for now. Depending on which news site you read, it portended either the last gasp of American hegemony or the start of a new Cold War.

"All right, everyone," HotDamn announced. "Stop what you're doing and come with me! We're taking a field trip."

"I already told you, you're not dragging me to one of your goddamn soirees," Skunkworks grumbled.

"Then stay if you like." HotDamn ran a hand over his jaw. For once, he looked just as haggard and exhausted as the rest of them. "I just thought it would be a good idea to get out of this place."

"I'm in," Mason said. "Where are we going?"

"The roof. No party this time. Just us."

"What's up on the roof?" Corny asked, suspicious.

"The stars."

"You figure a little stargazing will give us a better perspective on our place in the universe and help us get a fucking grip?"

HotDamn smiled weakly. "Something like that."

"Sure, why the hell not. Anything beats hanging around here and breathing the recycled air. Come on, Gabby. If I'm going, you're coming too. You too, Skunkworks. I don't want to hear another one of your fucking excuses."

HotDamn led them up to the rooftop and somehow convinced their guard chaperone to stand post inside the stairwell; no one was in danger of escaping or leaking secrets from up there.

"You're sleeping up here, aren't you?" Skunkworks asked.

Once the question was asked, the answer was obvious enough. Some folding chairs stood next to a sleeping roll and a duffle bag of provisions like the rest of them had.

"I can't go to sleep with another person around," HotDamn said. "Four years of marriage taught me that. It was this or a private conference room, but I don't do well in closed-in spaces. So here we are. Welcome to my penthouse suite. To loosen things up, I thought we'd play a little party game."

"Count me out," said Skunkworks.

"I think you'll like this one. It involves Jack Daniels."

"Where did you score the Jack?" Doogie asked.

"Some of the military guys played a little loose with the 'bring a six-pack to the party rule' and brought some hard liquor instead. Major Zeus had it confiscated, but he sort of forgot to lock it away afterward." HotDamn reached into the duffle bag and pulled out a copper-colored bottle. "You will observe the bottle is still full. As for the whereabouts of a second bottle, I am not at liberty to say." He grabbed a folding chair and moved it over to a clear area. "There aren't enough chairs for everyone. Women and those of advanced wisdom get first pick, of course."

Naturally, this meant Mason ended up on the ground. Corny, who did not like being deferred to on account of her sex, sat down next to him.

Doogie turned to Skunkworks, "I think this is the part where you get up and say, 'I'm an addict.'"