well. Ramsey wasn't surprised that the vagrant knew of the private tunnel. The foreman had reported several cases of vandalism and skirmishes with the homeless during its construction. But now this man had told the others, and it sounded like Bates was planning on leading his people-Ramsey's people-down into the network of tunnels beneath the city. Leading them from the safety of the building.
He couldn't allow that. He needed to maintain control. He needed to prove to them all that both the building, and himself, were indestructible. Bates lack of faith was regrettable. Ramsey had enjoyed working with the bodyguard.
But now he'd have to fire him.
Ramsey picked up the pistol.
'Shoot me now,' Don muttered, 'and put me out of my misery.'
Quinn laughed as Don, Smokey, and Etta all folded, flinging their cards down onto the table. Then he raised and called. Leroy cursed, displayed his losing hand, and Quinn raked the pile of cash toward himself.
'That's another twenty-five grand for me.' 'Don't know why you so happy,' Etta grumbled, 'That might as well be Monopoly money we're playing with.'
'Yeah,' Leroy chimed in, lighting a cigarette. 'It ain't like you can go out and spend it, Quinn.'
'It doesn't matter to me if it's useless or not,' Quinn told them, pouring himself another glass of bourbon. 'I just like to feel the cash between my fingers.'
'Where did you guys get all this money anyway?' Don asked.
'The bank,' Leroy grunted, 'downstairs in the lobby.'
'You-you just took it?'
'It's not like the customers will be needing it anytime soon. And besides, it gets old, playing for cigarettes.'
'Shit,' Etta groaned. 'It gets old playing with this worthless cash too.'
'You guys ever think about how much money is lying around out there? Not to mention diamonds and shit?' Smokey pointed to the window. A zombie bird hovered outside in the darkness. They ignored it.
Don did not. He shivered, and then turned back to the new hand that Smokey had just dealt him.
'Are you guys sure those things can't get inside the building?'
'Sure,' Leroy said, and studied his cards.
'Absolutely,' Quinn confirmed. 'Aren't you?'
Don shrugged. 'I guess I just feel like a passenger on the Titanic. It just seems so unrealistic. Nothing is totally impenetrable. Seems to me there should be a contingency plan of sorts.'
The others were quiet. Finally, Smokey looked up from his cards, drained his glass, and spoke.
'We don't really like to think about it, Don. Not much we can do if they really tried, you know?'
'So you just sit in here and wait? Isn't that a bunker mentality?'
Quinn threw several thousand dollars into the pile in the middle of the table. Then he rolled up a hundred dollar bill, lit it, and then touched the flame to his cigarette. He stubbed the burning currency out in the ashtray.
'The world's gonna end anyway,' he said. 'Whether we're inside or out there on the streets. I prefer to wait in here and play cards and light my smokes with hundreds.'
'We're gonna have to start rationing food,' Etta said. 'Leroy and I took stock of everything in the restaurant and the cafeteria's freezers and storage rooms. And we got all the stuff from the vending machines and such. But it won't last us more than a month. I don't know what we're gonna do after that.'
'Maybe we can start eating zombies,' Quinn joked.
Smokey gagged. 'That's sick, man.'
'Hey, why not?' Quinn scowled at his cards. 'They eat us, right? I say we turn the tables and start eating them. Not the ripe kind, but think about this. Get one that's freshly dead and cook it up before the meat goes bad. Like if you drop dead of a heart attack tomorrow, Leroy cooks you up before you turn into a zombie.'
'With the right amount of spice,' Leroy grinned, 'I can cook anything. Even zombie.'
'That's just wrong.' Etta's expression was sour. 'You all are nasty.'
There was a soft knock at the door. Smokey opened it and Forrest and Pigpen entered the room. God trailed along behind them, darting through Smokey's legs and jumping into Etta's lap.
'What the fuck's he doing in here?' Quinn frowned, fanning his nose.
'Joining the party,' Forrest said. The big man looked uneasy.
'You play cards, Pigpen?' Leroy asked.
'No, God won't let me. But thanks anyway.'
Forrest walked over to the window and stared out into the night. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles popped.
'You want in?' Quinn asked him.
Forrest gave no indication that he'd heard him.
'Forrest? Forrest! Yo, big guy!'
