“No, sir, uh… Agent Reynolds. I was a dishwasher when I was working my way through high school, though,” Michael told him.
“I’ve done my fair share of short order cooking, hun,” Caitlin said in a less sultry voice with a hint of anger. She wasn’t going to let this agent off easy, though she’d planned this out because they’d observed him checking out all of the female agents already. “Momma owned a diner in Louisiana. It’s in my blood.”
Her story was mostly true. She had been a beauty pageant model in the Miss America contest, so in case anyone remembered her from years ago, she could go with what they may already know about her.
“Good. We’re actually a little behind,” the agent said, a little relieved though a little red on the ears and neck. “We’ve got some folks with special dietary restrictions. That means different utensils and pots and pans used. Different plates…”
“Like Kosher?” Michael asked. “I’ve dealt with that before in the restaurant biz.”
“Same here. Just point us at something to do, or I might just die of boredom,” she said with a big sigh.
Michael tried not to roll his eyes at Caitlin hamming it up a bit, but the agent was eating it up. The part of this he thought was dumb was the cousin bit. They had different accents, but maybe to this agent, all Southern accents sounded the same. Then he grinned as he realized cousins don’t all have to live in the same state. Michael mentally kicked himself and followed the agent when he started walking.
They went into the back of the mess where four cooking surfaces were in operation, and there were two different three-tub sinks. Only one of them was manned, so Michael walked over to the unused one and grabbed a pair of rubber gloves that had been left on the side. The water had already been drawn, and it was still hot. All were labeled from left to right; wash, rinse, sanitize. Michael hadn’t been fibbing when he told the agent he had done this before, so without a word to anybody else he rolled up his sweatshirt sleeves and jumped in.
Michael didn’t pay attention as he attacked an insurmountable pile of dirty plates and cups, with more push carts full coming at somewhat regular intervals.
“I know you’re not in here for the food,” a feminine voice said.
Michael half turned as a beautiful agent in her mid-twenties bumped him in the hip. She had raven black hair mid-length down her back and had curves that most couldn’t maintain with the short rations the rest of the country was living on. Michael knew he was in the middle of an enemy base but couldn’t help but suck in his breath as she looked him in the eye. Green eyes, gold flecks. Michael never really… Well, the sheriff's daughter… but she was a girl. This was a woman, and she was looking at Michael the same way a dog looks at a side of beef.
“I uh… I heard that…”
“Oh no, cuz,” Caitlin said from somewhere behind him, “don’t you get backed up with them dishes, we got a lunch rush coming.”
“The desserts are pretty good here,” she told him smiling. “I’m Shannon.”
“Oh, the desserts? Yeah. Honestly, though,” Michael said, finding his brain and words again, “I was sort of dying of boredom.”
“Oh? I was too. That’s why I volunteered. That and there’s way too many older men. They won’t leave a girl alone, you know?”
Michael could believe it, and he shot a look over his shoulder. Caitlin was in front of one of the big griddles, a spatula in each hand. She was using her forearm to hold back the laughter, but he could see her upper body moving as the laughs escaped, if silently.
“I’m kinda new here,” Michael said starting on another plate, but turning his head to the right so he could look at her. “We’ve been here a couple of days, and there’s nothing for us to do until we get the stand down order revoked.”
“I know, me too. I was just transferred to Little Rock when we were told to head north up here. Hey, what’s your name?” Shannon asked suddenly.
Michael blushed and almost dropped the plate he was working on. He pulled off his right glove, getting his sweater soaking wet as he used his left arm and his side and held out his mostly shriveled hand to her.
“Michael. Sorry, my manners flew right out the window, ma’am.”
“A man with manners?” she asked, taking his hand gently.
“Back to work, ladies,” the agent they had volunteered to said as he came back through the swinging doors.
“Michael, what are you doing later on?” Shannon asked.
“After dinner, I’ll be over by C block,” he answered her truthfully.
“I’ll look you up. It’d be nice to talk to somebody my own age,” she told him giving him a quick look over.
Her gaze made Michael blush, and this time, Caitlin’s laugh was joined by laughter from a couple of the men in the room as well.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Michael said truthfully.
The lunch rush over, Caitlin went over to help Michael with the last of the dishes. A few of the cooks and servers came by after Shannon left and gave him a pat on the shoulder and an atta boy. Michael wasn’t used to any of this and was feeling conflicted. He was playing a part. He was supposed to be a special ops guy in training, but he was working the part. This was an act, just something to play until they could get to the—
“Hey, Miss Caitlin,” the agent from earlier, Reynolds, came up with two pushcarts. Food steamed from beneath the metal lids. “Can you and your cousin get these carts on the dumbwaiter and send it down to three?”
Michael looked up and met Caitlin’s eyes, and she just gave him a smile. Not the 10k watt smile she used to turn on the charm or make men’s brains go to mush, but one that looked reluctant. Like saying “Sure, I volunteered, I stayed later than everyone, what’s one more thing?”
“Sure thing,” Michael told him.
“You can leave the rest of the cleanup for the regulars,” Reynolds said. “Listen, I really appreciated the help today. We ended up short three more people. They didn’t show up or check in today. I don’t know what’s happening, but that’s the second time this month.”
“Maybe they caught a bug?” Michael asked.
“Maybe. Listen, I don’t have anything to pay you guys with…”
“Hey, we’re all salary,” Michael said and mentally winced.
Were DHS agents salary? Hourly? Did it even matter nowadays with the grid down and the country in ashes? Reynolds busted up, and soon Michael joined in with his laughter.
“Salary? Kid, I like you. Listen…” he fumbled in his pocket then looked around to see if anybody was looking, “…this is for the both of you.”
He handed Michael a small baggie. The young warrior grinned and gave Reynolds a sly grin.
“If you don’t smoke it, you can use it to trade. It’s been the unofficial trade item here. Being the cook boss, folks hook me up so I don’t give them slop. One of the perks of the job.”
“Oh sugar,” Caitlin said walking up and giving him a kiss. When she broke it off, she stepped back leaving one hand on his chest. “I’m sure we can make use of it. Can we come back later on for more?”
The agent looked a little stunned, and Michael knew he was, but in his mind, he knew she was doing what he was doing, playing a role.
“Yeah, you’re welcome in my kitchen any time,” Agent Reynolds said. “But I have to run. Staff meeting…”
He said it reluctantly, and Caitlin pursed her lips like she was sad. She gave him a small finger wave, and he almost walked into the doorjamb walking out backward. Once he was gone, Caitlin started giggling quietly and turned to Michael.
“That’s how the game is played, hun,” she said grinning still. “Good job on playing the bumbling virgin with Agent Shannon something.”
“Um…” Michael said.
“Oh, she looped you with those big brown eyes?” she said taking the handles of a cart in her hands as Michael did the same.
“They were green with gold flecks,” he mumbled. “Plus, I’m pretty sure she’s eight or nine years older
than me.”
“You’re smitten?”
Michael shrugged and focused on the end of the kitchen where two chromed doors with inset handles awaited them. Caitlin had checked it out when she had first come in and found that it was, in fact, the dumbwaiter, but they hadn’t looked inside.
“I don’t know. She made me feel hot and cold at the same time. I couldn’t talk at first, it was like…”
“It’s okay, it’s what I do to get my own way,” she said batting her eyelashes, but more as a joke. “Just make sure she isn’t playing you. She came onto you pretty strong.”
“Yeah, I’ve never been around aggressive women before,” Michael admitted.
“Hun, you’re so young you probably have and didn’t realize it.”
They pushed their carts in front of the door. Michael went and slid the doors to the sides. A gleaming stainless steel box stood there. It wasn’t the size of a regular elevator, but it was almost five by five feet square. There were no controls on the inside, but rather on the side next to the door.
“We either go down with the food or one of us goes on top of the dumbwaiter and hopes for the best, right?”
“That one person would be me unless you know how to break into secure systems, sugar.”
Michael looked at her, his head tilted.
“What do you think they recruited me for?”
“Um… Your loo—”
“Noo……. All you men are the same. Chauvinistic pigs,”
Michael started stuttering, and she laughed. “I was kidding ya, hun. Let’s go. Caitlin backed into the chromed industrial sized dumbwaiter. Michael pushed his cart in straight and reached an arm out and hit the button for four. They were going to go for the mainframes first then to deliver the food…
There was a shudder, and the dumbwaiter started moving. Slowly. So slowly Michael was almost going to hit the button again when he realized that they were moving.
“Careful,” Caitlin said.
Michael looked back and saw that she had her back to an open void behind her. A thick cable was within arm’s reach. John had explained that if it was an elevator of any size, it’d have a counterweight somewhere. Since this wasn’t a normal military base, they would have to figure things out.
“I am,” he said, “this is just slower than I thought. Hey, that food smells good.”
“Lamb Curry,” Caitlin said, “Cooked it myself. Lots of good Halal food.”
“Halal?” Michael asked.
“It’s prepared and cooked for those who believe in the Muslim faith,” she whispered. “Now, I don’t think we were supposed to ride these down, so if there is anybody waiting, we tell them we’re new and we’re volunteers.”
“Yeah, as soon as the lights went out now that we’re between floors that should have been a clue for most people.”
“But we’re just some dumb volunteers, and we don’t know any better,” Caitlin told him. “They can even check the records.”
“Yeah, I really hope the records in the mainframes are better organized than things are upstairs.”
“That would help,” Caitlin said. “Shhhh… we’re…”
They passed the second floor. The only way they could tell was the light that seeped in around the closed doors. They saw shadows along the bottom edges as they passed it and then as the roof of the cramped elevator was passed they heard somebody.
“Darn, must be for the muzzies. Smells good.”
“Call up to the kitchen and have Reynolds get you some. You know how to get the good chow. He’ll just get you some at dinner instead of lunch.”
“I’m not even hungry, but that…”
The voices faded, and both of them let out a sigh.
“If we could hear them that easy…” Caitlin said.
“Yeah…”
The fourth level was much like the first level, but empty of almost all personnel. In fact, when they first stepped off the elevator there was nobody nearby. The level was separated by two hallways. One of them had a black tinted glass with racks and racks of servers. The other had a quiet hum. Everything down there reeked of exhaust, ozone, and damp.
Two men walked out of a door on the left about twenty yards ahead but didn’t give the two of them a second glance and walked down the hallway and went in another door. They were wearing the black DHS uniforms, but one of the agents was carrying a small toolbox and both had grease-stained hands.
“Let’s get to the server room,” Caitlin said quietly. “Remember, we’re on three or we’re lost.”
“Got it,” Michael said.
Acting like they were supposed to be there, they started walking down until they stopped outside a glass door that separated the hallway from the server room. Caitlin tried the handle and found it unlocked.
“Keep an eye out,” she said and ducked in.
“So I’m just supposed to wait,” Michael said to himself.
Through the glass he watched Caitlin move quickly. She ducked down a row of servers when somebody walked past at the far end, and emerged at the edge of Michael’s sight. It was nerve wracking. He saw her fold down a keyboard from a tray and start typing. He watched for people and almost shouted out a warning when several people walked by. They paid no attention, and she kept going. After a moment, she pulled something from her pocket and put it in the computer. A USB drive, Michael knew. He was about to mentally do a fist pump when a voice startled him.
“Who’s that for?”
Michael didn’t literally jump out of his skin, but it was a close thing. It was one of the men from earlier who was standing on the other side of Caitlin’s cart. He’d been so wrapped up in looking out for her that the man had walked up on him unseen and unheard.
“Food delivery from the kitchen. We don’t know where we’re supposed to take it.”
“Well, what floor?”
“Third. It’s the special Halal food.”
“Damn, it smells good. You new here?” the man asked.
Michael was considering breaking the man’s neck and stashing his body somewhere, when he saw the man wasn’t armed.
“Yeah, we’re with the group that came in under fire.”
“I heard about that. Crazy stuff, man. Glad I got a noncombat job. Listen, though, you’re going to get your ass wrote up or worse, this is the fourth floor. The elevators must be on the fritz again. Did it make you use a key to get down here?”
“No?” Michael said, cold sweat running down his back. “Just hit the button.”
“Huh, I’ll put it on my list… oh wow, would you look at that?”
The agent was pointing, oblivious that the wall was glass. Michael turned to see that Caitlin was walking toward them, a smile on her face. One hand was on her sweater, pulling it away from her chest back and forth to fan herself.
“Oh yeah…”
“That’s what you were watching. I was wondering for a second. It was kinda suspicious but...”
“Hey, sugar, did you find out where we’re supposed to be?” Caitlin asked Michael as she came out the door.
Her face was flushed, and a trickle of sweat was beaded at the side of her head. She brushed it away and looked at the man Michael had been talking to.
“Yeah, apparently I hit the wrong button on the elevator. We’re on the fourth floor.”
A mock look of horror filled Caitlin’s face, and she looked to the maintenance agent, “But we’re not supposed to be able to—”
“It isn’t the first time it’s goofed up. Personally, I think they skimped when they built this shithole. Me and my crew are barely staying ahead of the repairs and maintenance. No worries, just get back on the main elevators and hit the button for the third floor. Easy peasy. Or you can send it up on the dumbwaiter.”
Michael almost choked. This is where the narrative fell apart. Why didn’t they just use the dumbwaiter?
“We couldn’t get the one in the kitchen to work. Could you check it out for us? I don’t want this food to get cold or go to
waste.”
“Yeah, sure!” he said, and Caitlin dropped Michael a wink when the agent turned to start striding toward the end of the hallway.
They followed him in silence. He got to the double doors, pulled them open, and pushed the carts in. He closed the doors and then hit the button to three.
“That’s all there is to it,” he said as they all heard the elevator moving up.
“Thanks,” Michael said, “you saved us from getting our butts chewed.”
“Yeah, no problem. Just head in there and hit one if you’re heading back to the kitchen. It’ll work without your card.”
“Thanks,” Caitlin said before Michael could slip up and say they didn’t have one. “I appreciate it.”
She pushed the up button, and the elevator door opened up with a ding. She stepped in, and Michael saw the maintenance man give her the once over and grin at Michael. Michael smiled back and stepped in, hitting the button.
“Hey, uh are you going to be busy later on? After dinner I’ll—”
The elevator door closed before he could finish his sentence.
“Is it always like that with you?” Michael asked Caitlin.
“You know, it’s a stereotype, but I wish I was born butt-ugly some days.”
Michael looked at her and saw she wasn’t kidding.
“Because the extra attention makes your job harder?” he asked.
She turned, and there was a tear rolling down the side of her cheek. “No, hun, cuz I’m more than a pretty face. I have a Masters in computer science and, even in the spec ops world, people don’t take me seriously. Oooh, gotta protect the girl. Hun, I wouldn’t wish this on anybody.”
She wiped her cheek clear and sniffled.
“Sorry, I never thought that…”
“No, no it’s okay. I just wish people would take me serious sometimes.”
“I do,” Michael said.
“Oh, not you. The world in general.”
“You’ve never met Sandra, have you?” Michael asked her suddenly.
“No, but I hear she’s hell on wheels.”
“King trained her,” Michael said grinning. “She’d come up to your shoulder, but from what the old man said, she knows more ways to kill an enemy than any operator alive. Even John.”
The World Counters: A Post-Apocalyptic Story (The World Burns Book 10) Page 8