by Tate, Harley
“I don’t—” Robbie still stared, overwhelmed with the horror of what might unfold. “I don’t think we should put you on the air.”
Lainey cocked her head. “Why not?”
“You’ll start a mass panic. People will lose their minds. Fights will break out. Riots. Streets will be impassable. You’ll be condemning people to their deaths while they idle on the highway.”
“Would you rather keep it a secret and ensure everyone within the blast radius dies?” The flat tone of Lainey’s voice hadn’t changed since she lifted her head from the library book, but Keith caught a hint of emotion on the last word.
He spoke up. “We have to give people a chance. Even if they can’t evacuate, they could shelter in place and try to ride out the worst of the radiation.”
Robbie pressed his fingers over his eyelids. His whole body shook as he inhaled. As he dropped his hands, he relented. “I might be able to get you on. There’s a guy in production who will probably go along. Maybe a cameraman, too.” He paused. “But if this is a false alarm…”
“It’s not.”
“I’ll need your help to get everything together.”
“Of course.”
They all stood at once, but Robbie paused, gaze raking over Lainey. “We’ll have to stop by wardrobe first. You can’t go on air like that.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
LAINEY
KTLA
Los Angeles, California
Saturday, 12:05 p.m. PST
They stood inside the conference room, Robbie’s hand hesitating on the door handle. She fought the urge to shove him back and run for the studio. Twenty-two hours. It had been twenty-two hours since the nuclear blast killed the power to the East Coast. And Robbie wanted hair and makeup and wardrobe?
She clamped her teeth down on her tongue. Ever since the EMP, she’d been fighting people in positions of power. First Trenton, then Matt, then the guards. Whoever killed Rick. She clasped a hand over her mouth. It took all of Lainey’s self-control not to scream.
Robbie held the power here, not her. Once again, someone else stood in the way. She’d sat in that conference room, reading about nuclear war, letting the horrible reality they were about to face seep into her pores. It was all she could do. How was she supposed to sit there and smile and present her story to a man who refused to comprehend his own dire straits? They were all about to be vaporized into ash or blasted with so much radiation their hair would fall out and their skin would melt off.
Her pulse hammered through her skull like a clock ticking down to the end of the world. If she didn’t get on air and give the country a fighting chance…
“We’ll have to hurry. I can’t risk being seen with the two of you.” Robbie frowned. “No one will believe me if I say you’re a new hire or here on a tour. Not with that ridiculous dog.”
Keith smiled, but his voice was tight. “Helps with the diabetes, remember?”
Robbie rolled his eyes before turning to Lainey. “Somebody might even recognize you despite the state you’re in.” He gave Lainey a once-over. “If anyone asks what you’re doing here, lie. Understood?”
Lainey sucked in a breath. Did she understand anything anymore? She swallowed down the fear and confusion and the sadness still roiling her stomach. Focus on the story. “I can manage.”
Her voice didn’t sound convincing or strong. She needed to fix that before the broadcast. She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath laced with tension. If only this were a nightmare and she could shake herself awake.
The door opened and Robbie ushered them out into the hall. With halting steps, Robbie guided them down first one hallway and then another, ducking into an empty conference room and behind a cubicle partition when coworkers walked by. All the time, Bear wagged and panted and acted like they were on the greatest adventure ever. Any attempt at easygoing satisfaction in Lainey’s life disappeared the day before. She would never be able to take life as it came or hope for the best or see where adventure carried her. That was over.
But the horror of the past few hours and Rick’s death receded the closer they came to the on-air studio and her chance to make a difference. I’ll get it together. I can be the reporter I’ve always wanted to be. She ground a fist into her palm. I’ll do it for Rick.
A door marked Wardrobe loomed ahead and Robbie eased it open. He ducked his head inside and after a moment, motioned for Lainey and Keith to follow. They hurried in and Lainey stuttered to a stop. KTLA was a significantly bigger operation than KSBF. While Lainey wore her own clothes on air, it appeared KTLA reporters had a wardrobe to choose from. Rolling racks of dresses, suits, and separates lined the space. Mirrors with Hollywood lights hung above hair and makeup stations. KTLA made sure every reporter put their best foot forward.
Two days ago, Lainey had such ambitions. Reporting the news for a place like this was the end goal. Now she just wanted to stay alive, find her sister and mother, and escape the chaos that was about to pull the country under.
Robbie pointed out the racks of clothes. “Find something presentable. Try to clean yourselves up. I need to find a production assistant willing to do this for me.” He eased his fingers up his neck and into his hair. “I don’t have many people that owe me a favor around here.”
Great. So this still might not work. Lainey waited.
“If I’m not back in half an hour, assume the deal is off. Get yourselves out of here. Keep that dog out of sight.” Robbie walked toward the door and left without waiting for a reply.
Lainey exhaled. It might not be her ideal situation, but this was their only chance. She crossed her fingers and wished for Robbie to come through before turning to Keith. “I guess it’s showtime?”
Keith walked Bear over to a makeup chair and tied his leash around it. “Bear, sit.” The dog eased to the floor, looking a little forlorn at being sidelined. “I don’t see why I should be changing. You’re the one on the air.”
“Even if you’re just standing nearby, we need to keep up appearances. You are a cameraman. You could claim to be a sub helping out for the week or a contract employee or someone training.” Lainey pointed to the racks of men’s suits. “But you won’t convince anyone unless you change into something not covered in dirt and grass stains.”
Keith stared down at his filthy clothes. “Fine. But we need to pick something practical. Easy to move around in.”
Lainey nodded. She turned toward the racks of women’s clothes while Keith approached the men’s. Practical. Maneuverable. She avoided the racks of power dresses and skirts, looking for anything in her size that fit the criteria. Most of the clothing was geared toward looking professional and authoritative while sitting behind a desk or standing in front of a green screen. Not helpful.
At last, she settled on a black pant suit and a simple, dark pink blouse. Not the best choice for either anchoring a major news item or running through the streets of Los Angeles, but it was the best she could do. As she tugged it off the rack, she sneaked a quick glance at Keith. He held a pair of simple trousers up to his waist, judging the size.
Lainey looked away, shrugging off her stained and wrinkled dress before easing the blouse over her head. What she wouldn’t give for a shower. She rushed into the pants and blouse before pulling the jacket off the hanger. She hung it on the back of the closest makeup chair before sitting down.
One glance in the mirror and her mouth fell open. She looked like she’d been in a car accident. Her cheeks shown red and blotchy from racing all over town on no sleep. Greasy hair matted around her ears and stuck up in tangles in the back. A gash marred her forehead. How could she clean herself up in time?
She smacked her chapped lips together. What was she going to say when she got on air? The horror of the situation rose up inside her and she covered her collarbone with her hand. If she thought about how she was going to break the story, she would lose it.
Keith’s face swam into view in the mirror. He stood behind her wearing a pair of slacks
and a button-down. She snorted. “We look like a pair of contestants on an end-of-the-world dating show.”
His expression remained grave. “Do you really want to do this?”
She stared at him, eyes locked on his motionless face. “Do we have a choice?” She pressed her fingers to her splotched cheeks.
“There is always a choice.”
Lainey wished he would tell her what to do. That someone would take the burden off her shoulders. “What if Robbie’s right? What if this makes everything worse? What if this is a mistake?”
“Does it feel like a mistake?”
“No.” The word rushed out, unbidden, but it was the truth. Deep down, Lainey knew she had to tell the story. She couldn’t run. She couldn’t hop in the KSBF van and hightail it out of Los Angeles and leave all these people to their deaths. Not until she gave them a fighting chance.
Lainey appraised her reflection. Maybe it wasn’t hopeless. She picked up a hairbrush and tore it through her hair, brushing out the tangles until it hung limp against her shoulders. She reached for a blonde hair tie that matched her hair and fashioned a low bun at the nape of her neck. A bit of hairspray to lock it all down and she picked up a handheld mirror to check the back for flyaways. Not the typical anchor hairstyle, but it beat what it looked like before.
Keith stepped away and gathered up their dirty clothes, shoving them into his backpack while Lainey turned to makeup. She ran a wipe across her face, removing the dirt and sweat before rifling through the rolling cart to her right. Ignoring her usual qualms about sharing makeup, she did her best, applying eyeshadow, mascara, and a bit of powder to cover her uneven skin. A layer of lipstick and she stopped to assess the effect. Not her best work, but it would do.
As she slipped her feet back into her sneakers, the door to the wardrobe department opened and Robbie appeared with two men behind him. They both stood awkwardly in the space, one pushing glasses up his nose, the other wringing his hands.
Robbie made the introductions. “Lainey, Keith, this is Jerry and Owen. They’ve agreed to help.”
Lainey stepped forward. “Did Robbie fill you in on what we want to do?”
Owen glanced at Jerry. “He did.”
“And you’re still willing to help?”
“Hell, yes. It’s about time this station reported on what matters.”
Lainey smiled. Owen was close to her age, with a hop in his step and animated eyes, rendered larger by his thick glasses. She turned to Jerry. “What about you?”
The older man scratched the back of his graying head. “I’m already retired. Only here today to help out on a contract basis.”
“So—”
“There’s not a damn thing they can do to me.” He dropped his hand. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to be a rebel.”
Lainey shook her head. She didn’t have time to explain the ramifications. If these two were willing to stick their necks out to help her broadcast, then she wasn’t going to talk them out of it.
Robbie interrupted. “Keith, can you man one of the cameras if we need you?”
“Don’t see why I can’t.”
“Okay.” Robbie grimaced like he was on the verge of throwing up. “If we hurry, we can sneak on air. We only run a half an hour news show at noon, and that’s just wrapped. We’re set to go back on at one for continuing coverage, but the national network won’t give up the 12:30 spot.”
“What’s on then?”
Owen flashed a rueful smile. “A soap opera. Highest ratings we get all day. The network needs the advertising money.”
Lainey checked her watch. “So you would preempt it?”
Owen nodded. “We have three studio spaces and the morning show studio should be completely empty. With any luck, I can get you on air for all of Los Angeles, maybe feed you direct to other working cities. You’ll have a chance to reach millions of people.”
“Are you sure it will work?”
Robbie pressed a fist against his sternum as he nodded, his skin paling by the second. “It’ll work. It’s the after I’m worried about.”
“How long do we have?”
Owen checked his watch. “Ten minutes, at most.”
Lainey steeled herself. “Then let’s hurry. We won’t have another chance.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
KEITH
KTLA
Los Angeles, California
Saturday, 12:40 p.m. PST
Lainey eased behind the desk and clipped a corded mic onto her blouse. “Testing, testing.”
Owen held a thumbs-up high enough for them to see from behind the glass in the production area. They were a bare-bones crew: Robbie and Lainey behind the desk, Owen managing all the boards and the feed, Jerry on the camera.
Keith stared at the endless sea of controls. “You sure you can do this all by yourself?”
Owen grinned. “I could run this studio with one hand tied behind my back.”
“What about breaking into the live feed? That sounds complicated.”
“Nope. We’re still running on technology that’s been around for forty years, at least.” He waved his hands at the equipment. “This might look new and shiny, but it’s the same basic premise as it’s always been. I flip a switch and we’re on.”
Keith glanced up at the studio. “How long before someone comes knocking?”
Owen’s good humor vanished. “Two to three minutes, tops. With any luck they won’t call the police right away and we’ll only have to deal with building security.”
“Same guys as downstairs?”
“That’s them.”
Keith thought it over. At a brisk walk, it would take the guards at least five minutes to reach the studio, maybe more. Add in call time and they were looking at seven minutes. Plenty of time to get the broadcast out, but not enough time to escape. Now he understood Robbie’s concern. They could get on the air, but they couldn’t get away.
He motioned toward the door. “Is that the only way in and out?”
“Afraid so. Controlled access, you know?”
“Any way to lock it?”
“Management has the key.”
Keith frowned. “Any way to tape this segment and then set it to go on?”
“Not and guarantee broadcast. The only way to ensure it gets out is to do it live.” Owen pushed his glasses up his nose. “If I were in the main control room and could use the program override—”
Keith waved him off. They couldn’t break into a place swarming with employees. “So this is the best shot.”
“Yep.”
I wish it were better. They were trapped in a room with only one exit and had to stay there until security would be breathing down their necks with guns, radios, and an inflated sense of importance. Not a comforting thought.
Keith left Owen to his work and strode over to Jerry. “You sure you’ve got this?”
The older man nodded from behind the camera. “Easy-peasy. We aren’t switching views, so it’s a point and shoot.” He pulled back long enough to give Keith the once-over. “You should man the door. We’re gonna need your muscle.”
Keith glanced behind him. The single studio door was an old one made of insulated metal for soundproofing. The rectangular window reminded him of an elementary classroom. Was it shatterproof? He had no idea.
As he strode toward the door, Bear loped up to his side, dragging his leash behind him. Keith gave him a scratch behind the ear. “Someone comes, you let me know, okay?”
Bear looked up, mouth open in what could have passed for a smile.
“Good boy.” Keith reached the studio door and cupped his hands around his face to peer through the window. All clear. He turned and leaned back against the metal. Robbie had already wedged a chair beneath the handle, but that wouldn’t keep a determined person out and definitely not two or three. “Bear, down.”
The dog turned around twice and settled into a spot beside Keith facing the news desk.
Robbie held up a hand. “Are we ready?”<
br />
Everyone nodded in turn. Robbie closed his eyes for a moment, then turned to Lainey. Keith couldn’t hear what he said, but Lainey leaned over and responded. Keith braced himself. Jerry held up a hand, counting down from three. Owen held up a finger.
Showtime.
“Good afternoon viewers, my name is Robbie Buckel and I am an investigative reporter here at KTLA. We are interrupting your regularly scheduled broadcast for a special news bulletin. I am joined here by Lainey Sinclair, a fellow reporter here in Los Angeles.” He turned in his chair. “Hi, Lainey.”
“Hi Robbie. Thanks for having me.” She turned toward the camera, face composed and solemn. “As you know, America suffered a massive blackout yesterday that crippled the entire eastern half of the country. I am here to explain that this blackout is not the end, but only the beginning.”
Lainey’s eyes flicked up, past the camera, to Keith. He encouraged her with a nod.
“The United States is under attack. Nuclear bombs are en route to the twenty-five largest US cities, including Los Angeles, San Francisco, and San Diego. We believe these bombs are as large as those detonated in World War II, possibly larger. When they detonate, the force of the blast will essentially vaporize everything within the immediate half-mile vicinity. Buildings within a two-mile radius will be turned to rubble, streets will buckle, and trees will be ripped from the ground.”
She swallowed before continuing. “Within an eight-mile radius, buildings will suffer structural damage, windows will shatter, and car alarms will deploy. In short, it will be complete chaos and destruction.”
Robbie shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“It will be as if a major earthquake and the strongest tornado on record hit all at once in the heart of the city. But that’s not the worst. Thanks to the radiation inside the bomb, all the buildings and streets and trees turned into microscopic bits at ground zero will irradiate. As they fall back to earth, they will land on every surface. You can’t see them, but they will be there.”