Mechanical Equipment Space

Authorized Personnel Only

I look over my shoulder to see how we’re doing. Down the hallway, Janos tears around the corner like a wounded tiger. He’s got the golf club in one hand and the black box in the other. Even with the limp, he’s already charging fast.

“Move…” I say, tugging Viv toward the open door. Anything to get us out of his line of vision.

Inside, the concrete room is narrow but deep – I can’t even see the end of it – filled with row after row of buzzing ten-foot-tall industrial air-handlers, exhaust fans, and air compressors, all of them interconnected by a crisscrossing jungle of spiral ductwork that snakes out in every direction like the tendrils of a 1950s robot. Overhead, gas lines, copper tubing, and electrical work combine with the various pipes and ducts as they weave their way across the ceiling and block what little fluorescent lighting the room already has.

By the door, there’s a wall full of circular glass pressure gauges that haven’t been used in years, as well as two rolling garbage cans, an empty box of air filters, and an empty, filthy mop bucket with a few random tools stored inside. Behind the garbage cans, a dark green army blanket sits crumpled on the floor, barely covering a row of six metal propane tanks.

“Hurry… C’mere…” I whisper to Viv, clutching her shoulder and tugging her toward the tanks.

“What’re you-?”

“Shhhh. Just duck.” Shoving her downward, I grab the blanket and drape it over her head.

“Harris, this isn’t-”

“Listen to me.”

“But I-”

“Dammit, Viv – for once, listen,” I scold. She doesn’t like the tone. But right now, she needs it. “Wait till he runs past,” I tell her. “When he’s gone, go get help.”

“But then you’re-” She cuts herself off. “You can’t beat him, Harris.”

“Go get help. I’ll be fine.”

“He’ll kill you.”

“Please, Viv – just get help.” Our eyes lock, and she stares straight through me. When Viv first saw me speaking to her page class, and then heard about the Lorax story, she thought I was invincible. So did I. Now I know better. And so does she. Realizing what I’m asking, she starts tearing up. After everything we’ve been through, she doesn’t want to leave.

Kneeling down, I give her a tiny kiss on her forehead. “Viv…”

“Shh,” she says, refusing to listen. “Say a prayer with me.”

“What? Now? You know I don’t believe in-”

“Just once,” she pleads. “One little prayer. My last favor.”

With no choice, I lower my head. Viv’s is already down. She grabs my hands as I close my eyes. It doesn’t do any good. My mind’s racing too fast, and then… as the silence seeps in… God, please take care of Viv Parker. That’s all I ask. I’m sorry for everything else... My brain empties, and my eyes stay shut.

“Now was that so bad?” Viv asks, breaking the quiet.

I shake my head. “You’re an amazing person, Vivian. And you’re gonna make a great Senator one day.”

“Yeah, well… I’m still gonna need a great chief of staff.”

It’s a sweet joke, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I haven’t felt this bad since my dad died. I feel the pregnant lump at the center of my throat. “I’ll be fine,” I promise, forcing a smile.

Before Viv can argue, I pull the blanket over her head, and she disappears from sight. Just another hidden propane tank. Convincing myself she’s safe, I go for the tools, searching for a weapon. Needle-nose pliers… electrical tape… a tape measure… and a box of industrial razor blades. I grab the razor blades, but as I flick open the box, the blades are gone. Needle-nose pliers it is.

Darting deeper into the room, I clang the pliers against the side of every metal machine I pass and make as much noise as possible. Anything to keep Janos moving past Viv. I keep telling myself this is the best way to protect her. Stop the ride and let her off. As I turn the corner behind an enormous air-conditioning unit, there’s a scraping sound back by the door. Italian shoes skid to a stop.

Janos is here. Viv is hidden. And I’m ducked behind a metal grille that comes up to my chin. I pound the grille, pretending to hit it by accident. Janos starts running. C’mon, Viv, I say to myself, mouthing a final silent prayer. Now’s your chance...

74

THE SCRATCHY, STAINED army blanket reeked from a mixture of sawdust and kerosene, but as Viv ducked her head between her knees and shut her eyes, the smell was the last of her worries. Tucked underneath the olive green cloak, she could hear the scratching of Janos’s shoes as he entered the room. From the noise Harris was making – banging on what sounded like sheet metal in the distance – she figured Janos would run. And for a few steps, he did. Then he stopped. Right in front of her.

Holding her breath, Viv did her best to remain motionless. Instinctively she opened her eyes, but the only thing she could see was the tip of her right foot sticking out from underneath the blanket. Was it covered up, or was that what Janos was looking at? As a slow grumble rippled through the air, Janos pivoted slightly, bits of concrete grinding beneath the tips of his shoes. Knowing better than to move, Viv gripped her knees, digging her nails into her own shins.

“Hurry…!” Harris whispered in the distance, his voice echoing down the concrete hall.

Janos stopped, twisting back toward the sound.

Viv knew it was Harris’s lame way to distract, but as Janos started running, it was clearly working.

Counting to herself, Viv was careful not to rush it. Don’t move an eyebrow until he’s long gone. Once again, she held her breath – not just to hide, but to take in every sound. The rumble of the air-conditioning units… the buzz of the overhead lights… and most important of all, the light rasp of Harris’s footsteps fading in the distance… and the gnawing, quick shuffle of Janos’s shoes as he gave chase right behind him.

Even when they were out of earshot, Viv still took another few seconds, just to be safe. Finally peeking out from below the blanket, she scanned the entryway. Nothing anywhere. Just some garbage cans and her fellow propane tanks. With a sharp snap, she whipped the blanket off her shoulders and sent it flying toward the trash.

Scurrying for the door, Viv burst out into the hallway and followed it back around to the left. “Help!” she cried. “Someone… we need help!” As before, the piles of discarded office furniture were the only things to hear her call. Mapping her way back to the Capitol police, she raced for the short staircase up on her left – but just as she turned the corner, she smacked flat into the chest of a tall man in a crisp pinstriped suit. The impact was hard – her nose collided with his magenta Zegna tie, pressing it against his chest. To Viv’s surprise, the man managed to backstep and roll with it. Almost as if he heard her coming.

“Help… I need help,” Viv said, her voice racing.

“Take it easy,” Barry replied, his glass eye staring just off to the left as he put a hand on her arm. “Now tell me what’s going on…”