“I guess Galena is pretty far away, huh?” Allison said, picking at the table harder.
Kathleen closed her eyes. Uprooting Allison from their Chicago home in her sophomore year of high school had been a decision full of promises: more family time, an investment for all of them, a place to build their future. Still, Kathleen knew that in Allison’s mind, it was a betrayal of the highest order: making her give up her friends and activities in exchange for being the new kid in a new school.
“It’s far away for Max,” she said, her tone stern. “We’re only two hours away for you.”
Allison grunted and crossed her arms. She had the same light coloring as her father: sandy blonde hair up in a ponytail, same blue eyes narrowed in annoyance. How many times had Matthew shot her that look when they were in a fight?
“Tell me about the hotel,” Max said softly, drawing Kathleen’s attention back to him. “I want to hear all about it.”
Kathleen gave him a warm smile and spoke about how the run-down hotel was nestled in the slope of a mountain, how the sun cascaded over it in rays of white and gold, how the air smelled clean and good. She explained about the work to get the place running, how she and Matthew had invested their savings, how Ruth and David had contributed some of their retirement funds. How she’d crunched the numbers in a ledger, keeping meticulous records of profit versus loss, kept a close eye on her own personal records of hope versus expectations.
“It sounds beautiful,” Max said. “I bet Matt is excited about the whole thing. You guys have talked about doing something like that for so long.”
Kathleen faltered. “He wishes he could be here.”
Max gave her a wistful smile. “Sure, Kathy.”
“I hate it there,” Allison piped up. “It smells like a retirement home. All dust and mold. I don’t know why we didn’t invest in a high-rise in the city. That would have been a better idea, not something as far away from culture and human interaction as possible.”
Kathleen shared a look of exasperation with Max. The windowless visitation room had blank gray concrete blocks that felt like a cage, but Kathleen hoped she’d brought a spark of cheer to Max’s internment. For a moment, it almost felt like the past year hadn’t happened. Around them, other inmates and their visitors smiled and chatted happily, some wiping away tears. Above, the long industrial lights that usually sent a garish yellow glow flickered—and then suddenly went out, plunging the room into darkness.
Instinctively, Kathleen gripped her daughter’s shoulder as a ripple of fear shot through her. Around her, shouts and exclamations filled the room, paired with the sharp and authoritative tone of the observing guards. Even though they’d arrived at the prison with the sun shining brightly outside, the lack of windows in the lounge made Kathleen acutely aware of where they were, and the people they were locked in with.
“Mom?” Allison asked. “What’s happening—?”
“Keep calm, everybody,” one of the guards commanded from a corner of the room. He had the loud booming voice of someone used to giving orders. “The generator will kick on here momentarily.”
“No need to panic,” another guard added, somewhere near Kathleen’s left. She heard him yank something from his waist, followed by a mechanical device being clicked, and a button pressed repeatedly. “Things will go back to normal soon as soon as the generators start. Please be aware that we’re on temporary lockdown until then. Come in, come in, do you read me?”
“It’s true,” Max whispered from out of the darkness. “The power has been unstable lately. Lots of outages happening all the time. I think we had three last week. Don’t worry, okay?”
Kathleen swallowed hard. “Of course,” she said, still holding on to Allison’s shoulder.
“We’ve lost power,” the authoritative guard said into what must be a walkie-talkie. The click filled the air followed by the silence of waiting. “Is anyone there? Can we get a status update? Over.”
“I’m not hearing anything,” the guard closest to Kathleen whispered to his co-worker. “Not even static.”
“Are the batteries dead?”
A scoff. “Figures. Wouldn’t put it past night shift not to replace them.”
“Seriously, though. The generators will kick on within minutes. Don’t worry.”
Kathleen tightened her grip on Allison. Then, with a sudden hum of electrical surge, the industrial lights overhead flickered back on, bathing them all in an off-yellow light. A collective sigh of relief ran through the room. Kathleen blinked hard to clear her vision, saw how a shaved-bald man with a row of tattoos running up his neck was studying Max. Another man at a table kitty-corner to them had gotten close to his wife—girlfriend, maybe—and whispered into her ear.
“Phew, that’s a relief,” the authoritative guard said. Kathleen briefly glanced at him to see he wore the classic military cut that Matthew’s father tended towards. Her own dark hair, so like Max’s, sat in a braid over her shoulder. She met eyes with Max and knew he was listening intently to the guards near them.
“We’ve got to get that work order filled. These power outages can’t keep happening. Something is clearly glitching. Come in, is anyone there?"
"Just go by protocol. They'll get in contact. I'm sure there's some issue they're working out," the guard said and nudged his partner. “Pay attention. Boss-man is speaking.”
“Okay, people.” The military-inclined guard addressed the room. “This is a lockdown situation until we’ve gotten the all-clear from the higher-ups. No one in or out. I’m sorry you won’t be able to leave for the time being, but it’s protocol to keep everyone safe. Thank you for your understanding.”
Allison uttered a soft, disbelieving grunt. “Propaganda to keep us safe, they mean. You heard that guy. They don't know anything.”
“Allison, please.”
“You said we’d have time to stop and say goodbye to my friends,” Allison shot back hotly, and Kathleen wondered how long she’d been keeping that inside. “You
