But they had been able to help out to some extent with protecting the Trident HQ and those people trapped inside. A private security firm had been dispatched – the type used only when very, very important people visited the city on business. Austin had watched them sweep the building and dispose of anyone not on the nineteenth floor with the efficiency of an elite team, acting more like trained soldiers than anything else. Rudimentary barricades were installed on the lower levels and within the space of two hours, the building had gone from under siege to abandoned.
It was then that they had discovered Claire Manning, dead in her office upstairs. Upon that discovery, things had become a lot more sombre on the nineteenth floor. A large chunk of the people who had taken solace there after the initial reveal chose to leave, their routes home finally clear. Compared to how it had been; only about a third of people remained behind – those truly committed to making a difference and seeing out the disaster first-hand, or alternatively, those who had nowhere else to go.
Austin had been in touch with his husband on more than one occasion, encouraging him to take their little boy and flee the city. Dante was an incredibly resilient man and Austin didn’t have any worries or fears over him keeping their boy safe. They had both agreed that it was too dangerous for Austin to try and get out and join them, and that Dante would take their son to his mother’s house up in Poughkeepsie. They’d spoken several times since, with Austin planning to join them as soon as he could, but the urgency just wasn’t there while he knew that Dante and their son were safe.
In the meantime, Austin was going to play his part in getting to the bottom of this disaster and helping where he could. That was the only reason why when he looked down and saw people gathering outside Trident again, he felt a fleeting sense of regret. Should he have left? It was a question he would never know the answer to, but all he could do now was act in a way that suggested he had made the right choice. Walking back to his desk in a calm and collected manner, he picked up the receiver and dialed the head of the elite East Coast security team.
“Williams.”
Brandon Williams was as straight-talking as they came, everything that you could expect from a man in his position. He made Austin feel patriotic and inspired at the same time, like he was doing his duty for his country.
“Taylor from Trident here,” Austin responded. “We’ve got some trouble starting up again outside. How’s it looking down there?”
“We’ve expanded our coverage in the city,” Williams replied. “Working with what remains of law enforcement. Our reports match up – things have been quieter overnight, but we’ve got a fair few troublemakers of our own to deal with now.”
“Is there anyone you can send back here?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, Brandon Williams clearly considering the request. “I’ll send who I can. What number are you at on the disaster scale?”
Austin shuffled some papers around on his desk and found the Disaster Scale that Williams had informed him of. Apparently, it was something that was used by the Special Forces to determine how severe a situation was. Austin had found a copy online and printed it off. Analyzing it now he read the descriptions hurriedly, calculated how many lives were at risk in the building and to what extent, then chose a number on the scale. “Two.”
“Roger that. I’ll send who I can. Report back if you reach a five.”
“Will do,” Austin confirmed. “Thank you.”
Putting down the phone, Austin returned to the window and glanced down at the people outside. More of those who remained in the office were taking note now. Jasper, one of the more senior remaining employees who was working on trying to track down the hackers, even exited the room he’d been locked in for the last several hours to inquire about what was happening. Austin watched the exchange he shared with someone else, the two of them shaking their heads, glancing out of the window and gesturing unhappily. There were so many things happening on the nineteenth floor now, that it was difficult to keep track of what was most important. Seated at his desk, Austin picked up his phone again and dialed another number, a familiar one, with a comforting voice at the other end of the line.
“Hey angel, how’s it going?”
Just hearing his husband’s voice changed everything for Austin. His posture became more relaxed in his chair and his breathing slowed down, his body reacting subconsciously to Dante’s voice. Austin tried to remain strong but hearing him speak now made him wish he’d taken the chance to leave New York when he’d had it. Dante and their son were safely in Poughkeepsie and it could be many more hours – or even days – until Austin was back with them. He’d never forgive himself if something happened, but in the meantime, he trusted Dante and was happy just to be able to speak to him: on the hour, every hour, just like they’d agreed. It was five in the morning and New York was well and truly waking up, before he had to deal with another day of madness, Austin just wanted a few moments of peace with his husband.
***
In a meeting room across the nineteenth floor, four other
