The Warehouse

by Rob Hart

  After a few moments he asked, “Do you need anything?”

  “A hundred vodkas and a pint of ice cream.”

  “The ice cream I can handle.” Paxton paused. “That might be too much vodka.”

  “Vodka and ice cream would make me the happiest person in the world.”

  “On it,” Paxton said, leaving the apartment, hitting the promenade, happy to be out of that small space. There were conversations he didn’t want to have. Not yet, at least. He went to the liquor store first, to get the vodka, wishing he had asked if she had a preferred brand, but then remembered what she usually ordered in the bar, so he got that, and then to a convenience store, for a pint of ice cream—that was easy, she liked chocolate chip cookie dough—and a prepackaged deli sandwich for himself.

  The whole time his head buzzed. Because he had to now try to convince her to trust that Dobbs would handle it and drop any kind of idea she had about pursuing this asshole through official channels.

  But more than that, something else about this didn’t add up right.

  The guy, Rick, had claimed Zinnia was messing with a computer before he attacked her. And Paxton couldn’t deny that after he’d hit Rick, when he turned, Zinnia was definitely standing at the computer bank, doing something. He wasn’t sure what.

  The look on her face, like he’d interrupted her.

  The dot. The CloudPoint door.

  Little things, like fingers, poking at his brain.

  ZINNIA

  Zinnia pulled the gopher out of her cheek and dove for her laptop. The closest place to get booze was toward the middle of the promenade, so she had at least ten minutes before Paxton would get back up, and she couldn’t wait. She needed to know. She needed something to push back against the shame and anger of Rick getting one up on her with that sucker shot.

  She dried the chip off and slid it into her laptop, let the machine work for a couple of seconds. She’d designed the bug to drop similar types of files into different folders so they were easier to sort.

  Zinnia was most interested in the folder with the maps. She opened it and flipped through, breathless, her fingers slipping on the screen. Electrical schematics. Waterworks. Vaguely helpful. Finally, she came across the tram system. There was something off about it. Something different from the maps that were plastered all over Cloud.

  The water, waste, and energy processing facilities were tucked into the southeast corner of the campus, a tight cluster of buildings served by a tram that left from Incoming but didn’t connect with the rest of the system.

  Which was the entire problem. She couldn’t get on that tram. No access for reds.

  But in the tangle of tram lines, she spotted one that wasn’t accounted for on the official map. It went from the waste processing facility directly to Live-Play. A garbage chute, maybe?

  She’d wandered all over Live-Play. She’d seen no tram entrance other than the main one on the lower level that connected into the entire system, plus the emergency lines. She zoomed in on the termination of the line, tried to guess where in Live-Play it might be, but the stores weren’t marked. Somewhere on the northwest side.

  She would find it. Just seeing it made this entire stupid day worth it.

  PAXTON

  Paxton handed over the ice cream and vodka and Zinnia poured two glasses, offered one to him. He took it even though he didn’t want it. Zinnia put on the television, which first blared a commercial about a new low-fat brand of ice cream that apparently tasted just like real ice cream, and then Zinnia flipped to a music channel. Some sort of orchestral electronic music, from a band Paxton both didn’t recognize and could barely pronounce. But he liked it. It was blood-pressure-lowering music.

  She flopped onto the futon, put her vodka on the bedside table, and pulled the top off the ice cream, tossing it next to the glass. She stuck in a spoon, carved off a large chunk, crammed it in her mouth. Paxton sat next to her and she held the ice cream toward him, the spoon sticking out of it. He waved it off, went at his sandwich instead.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner,” Paxton said.

  “I’m glad you got there at all.”

  “I wish you would have told me.”

  “Let’s not talk about that.”

  “Okay.”

  “So.” She put down the ice cream, picked up the glass. Downed it. Got up to pour another. “What’s next?”

  “Well.” Paxton leaned forward, put his arms on his knees. Tried to fold inward, away from the conversation he didn’t want to have. “Dobbs thinks it would be better to avoid going through official channels. Said it’ll be a whole big thing. But he promised the guy who attacked you would be fired, and Vikram, he would get demoted.”

  Zinnia reached into the mini-fridge, pulled out a handful of crushed ice, and dropped it into the glass, the frozen water clinking.

  “I want you to know, we’ll do this the way you want to do it,” Paxton said. “I don’t care what Dobbs thinks. I have your back.”

  Zinnia cracked the vodka and poured a few fingers into the glass. Placed the bottle back down and took a sip.

  “But I can see his point,” Paxton said, wincing. “Path of least resistance and all that. The important thing is, they’ll suffer. No need for us to suffer, too. Or, at least, for you to suffer more.”

  Zinnia turned. Her face was a blank stretch of beach. Paxton had no sense of how to interpret it. What she might be thinking. How big of a mistake he’d just made. He was considering standing, speaking, doing anything other than sitting and staring, when Zinnia nodded. She returned to the futon, slid over until her head was on his shoulder.

  “Path of least resistance,” she said, before digging the spoon into the ice cream again.

  Tension rolled off Paxton’s shoulders. He told himself it was the best thing, for himself, for her, for Dobbs, for everyone. And he considered asking her about the computer bank but then thought he’d done enough talking, and he was tired, so he put down the sandwich and took the pint of ice cream from Zinnia, his fingers clasping around hers for a moment.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  She looked up, into his eyes. The way you do when you really want someone to hear. “Thank you.” And she reached her lips to his, and he forgot about everything else except for the beat of his heart in his chest.

  GIBSON

  Earlier today the employees of Cloud got to meet my daughter, Claire, in a special video that played during a routine software update (you know, so they might actually pay attention to it!).

  I wanted to share that video with you all here, so you could meet her, too. I think she does a real fine job of introducing herself. Makes me proud like I can’t even explain, to see her like this, taking a leadership role in the company.

  And I want to say, to anyone who thinks a woman can’t run a company the size of Cloud: to hell with you. I wish I were being facetious but I’ve had a few folks say to me that maybe she might not be up to the challenge. I don’t know what kind of people y’all spend your time around, but the women in my life are strong as hell. Claire and Molly don’t need me standing behind them, fighting their fights for them.

  Since the day I built Cloud, I promised no more of the good-old-boy atmosphere that’d been so prevalent in the workforce for such a long time. Men and women would be paid the same, and I’m pretty sure Cloud forced the end of the wage gap, another legacy I’m incredibly proud to have.

  It is very important to me that we support and respect the women in our lives. Because, let’s be honest—without them, where would we be? Without Molly I’d be living in a ditch somewhere. Without Claire to push me to want to build a better world for her, and then her children, Cloud might not be the company it is today.

  Anyway, here’s that video. I’m proud of you, kiddo.
/>   (Oh, and just ignore that little bit at the beginning. Like I said, it ran during the software update.)

  Hello. My name is Claire Wells. And I want to start off by apologizing that you can’t turn this off….

  ZINNIA

  Zinnia’s cell phone buzzed.

  It woke her from half sleep—her head throbbing—and she thought it might be Paxton’s, because her cell phone never buzzed, but then she remembered Paxton had left, apologizing profusely but reminding her he couldn’t sleep on the thin bed, that he was too light a sleeper, just like he did every night.

  And just like every night, she hated how much she wanted him to stay, but tonight most especially. She didn’t need protecting, but sometimes it was nice to end the day with an arm around you.

  When she realized the buzzing was real and it was actually her phone, her heart froze in her chest. She scrambled for the table by her feet, where her phone was plugged in next to her CloudBand, and found a text message from “Mom.”

  When are you coming home, honey? We miss you.

  Zinnia fell back into a sitting position, staring at the phone. A coded message from her employer.

  It meant someone wanted to meet her, in person, off campus.

  Zinnia put the phone down and placed her head in her hands and sighed, that feeling of victory from having discovered the secret tram line now completely evaporated.

  CLOUDBAND NOTIFICATION

  Please be advised that two weeks from today, Gibson Wells is scheduled to visit our MotherCloud. This visit will coincide with our yearly remembrance of the Black Friday Massacres. More information to follow….

  ZINNIA

  Zinnia didn’t bother turning on the overhead. Pale yellow light streamed through the window. She glanced at the near-empty bottle of vodka on the counter. Her brain felt twisted up in cling wrap that was slowly being cinched tighter. She wasn’t sure if it was the vodka or yesterday’s blow to the head. Maybe a little from each column.

  The lack of sleep didn’t help.

  She’d drifted off a few times, when her body couldn’t handle the pressure of being awake anymore, but mostly she stared at the tapestries hanging over the bed and wondered why in the holy fuck her employer wanted to meet with her.

  That had never happened before. Not once. Not before a job was done. Even an assignment change could be done through encrypted message. This meant what had to be said was too sensitive to transmit.

  Or it was something else.

  Zinnia didn’t like something else.

  There were cars available for rental in Incoming. She logged in to the system on the television and clicked through, found the wait to be three months, unless you paid a premium, and the premium would wipe out her account. She considered what it would take to just walk out of the facility, get far enough away to safely make contact with her employer and agree on a meeting spot. But there wasn’t any cover that would provide shade for miles around this place.

  Which was why she had a Paxton in her life.

  She pulled out her phone, fired off a text.

  Day trip? Would love to get the hell out of here for the day. But car rental waiting list is too long. Any strings you can pull?

  She didn’t have to wait long.

  I’ll do my best. More soon.

  Zinnia smiled. She threw on a robe and made her way to the women’s room so she could shower. She’d probably need a shower when she got back, too, because she felt as if she still had Rick on her and that feeling probably wouldn’t go away any time soon. She wanted to stand under the hot water until her skin stripped off.

  Two shower stalls were taken, and sitting on a bench was Hadley, a white fuzzy towel wrapped around her torso, pink neon flip-flops on her feet. Cynthia was sitting next to her, in her wheelchair, naked but for a towel, rubbing Hadley’s bare shoulder. She was whispering something to the girl, who was nodding along.

  Cynthia looked up as Zinnia stepped into the room and did an exaggerated double take. It took Zinnia a second to remember why: her own banged-up face. Cynthia frowned and took her hand off Hadley’s shoulder.

  “What happened to you?” she asked.

  Zinnia shrugged. “Got in a fight.”

  “Lord…”

  Hadley peeked up. Zinnia gave her a little smile. “You should see the other guy.”

  Zinnia held Hadley’s glance. She wanted to say it without saying it, but Hadley dropped her eyes to her lap. Zinnia walked over to a far bench, opened a locker, put the clothes she would change into inside. Cynthia gave Hadley another reassuring pat on the shoulder and rolled off to the far end of the bathroom, to the handicapped shower stall.

  Zinnia walked to a free shower stall, was about to pull her towel off and place it on the hook on the wall, when she looked back at Hadley, still curled up on herself, like a cat, staring at the floor. Zinnia walked over and sat across from her, their knees almost touching.

  Hadley didn’t look up. Didn’t say anything. She seemed to shrink away.

  “Stop that,” Zinnia said, her voice quiet, afraid Cynthia would overhear and try to intervene.

  Hadley looked up, one eye visible through the hair hanging limp over her face.

  “Don’t be afraid of him,” she said. “Then he wins. And what’s going to happen is, the idea of him will grow into a monster you can’t kill. You’ll lie in bed every night until exhaustion takes over. And he’s not worth it. He’s not invincible.” Zinnia leaned in, dropped her voice even more. “Like I said, you should see him right now.”

  Hadley paused, as if she were shocked by the words, but then some life came to her spine. She revealed a little more of her other eye through the veil of hair.

  “Quit it with that whiny baby bullshit.”

  Hadley jerked a little, the strength she had developed in that moment fading, and Zinnia felt a little bad, finishing that with such a strong forward thrust. But the girl needed to hear it. One day she’d even be thankful.

  Zinnia went to a free stall, where she stepped under the blast of water. It spread warmth over her skin. She pressed the soap dispenser in the wall and lathered up and realized she felt a different kind of warmth, this one spreading through her from the inside, and it seemed to start somewhere in the region between her lungs, on the left side of her chest.

  PAXTON

  Paxton knocked on the open door, peeked his head in. “Got a second, boss?”

  Dobbs looked up from the tablet on his desk. “Thought I told you to take the day off, son.”

  “Got a favor to ask.”

  Dobbs nodded. “Shut the door.”

  Paxton closed the door and leaned against it, arms crossed. Wondering if he should lead with the request or if he should tell Dobbs how the talk had gone last night. Probably the latter. That would put him in the man’s good graces. He hoped. But then Dobbs made the decision easy. He sat back in his chair, the plastic joints creaking, and asked, “Did you talk to your woman?”

  “I did,” Paxton said. “She’ll be leaving well enough alone.”

  “Good,” Dobbs said, his face flat. “That’s good. I’m real happy to hear that.”

  “But he’s gone, right? And Vikram is somewhere else?”

  “All done.”

  “Great.”

  “So…”

  “Right.” Paxton stepped forward, arms still wrapped around himself. He was a little afraid to ask, because it meant asking for special treatment, which he wasn’t sure he had earned. And anyway, special treatment always came with some kind of caveat. It was a promise you’d eventually have to make good on. But it was for Zinnia, and not him, which was enough to press on. “My wom— Zinnia wants to get off campus for the day. Drive around a bit. But the rentals, there’s a long wait for them. Any chance—”

  “Consider it done,”
Dobbs said, waving his hand. “Head on over to Incoming, they’ll have a car waiting for you. Security gets a discounted rate. Where you headed?”

  “No idea. All I know is, she wants to take a little road trip, we both have the day off, and considering the day she had yesterday, I ought to accommodate, right?”

  “Smart man,” Dobbs said. Then he raised his wrist and tapped his watch. “See the news this morning?”

  Paxton’s heart gave a little skip. “I did. The man himself, coming here.”

  “That he is. As I’m sure you can imagine, that’s going to be a hell of a time for us.”

  “I bet.”

  “Dakota will be taking point among the blues, naturally,” he said, looking out to the bullpen, like she might be standing over Paxton’s shoulder. “Going to need a few good people backing her up.”

  Paxton considered the question. It sounded silly to ask but he asked it anyway. “Am I good people?”

  Dobbs got up from his seat, walked to the window overlooking the office. Behind the glass, blues went to and fro, oblivious to the two of them looking out. He stood close to Paxton, close enough Paxton could smell the man’s aftershave. Woodsy and astringent. “I’m still not thrilled you abandoned your post yesterday. But at the end of the day, I’m not a process guy. I’m a results guy.” Dobbs looked at Paxton. “I like to think I get a good read on people and I got a good read on you. You get up and move when a lot of people are inclined to just sit there.”

  “Thank you, sir,” he said. “I want to do a good job.”

  Dobbs nodded and returned to his seat. “Talk to Dakota when you come in tomorrow. Tell her I suggested it. But it’s her team, her call.”

  “Okay,” Paxton said. “I will. And thank you.”

  Dobbs dropped his chin, returned his attention to the tablet. “Welcome. Now go have fun on your day off. You know how rare those are around here.”