Doomsday

he came to an intersection, started to turn, and slammed on the brakes.
Ahead was trouble. A man with a rifle was waving it at every vehicle. Drivers had stopped, some hunched over their steering wheels in what Ben took to be fear, as the man screamed and raved.
Ben had no idea what was going on but he couldn’t afford a delay.
He gave Semper Fi gas. The man heard him and raised his rifle. Ben waited until he was close enough to be sure and then braked. He smiled to give the impression he was friendly. His window was already down so all he had to do was lean out and holler, “What’s going on, “I shot them and I’ll shoot you if you’re not careful!”
Ben looked at the stopped vehicles again, at the drivers hunched over their steering wheels, and a sick feeling came over him. Blood dripped from the chin of an elderly woman. A man had had one eye and part of its socket blown away. “Why?”
The man cackled. “Haven’t you heard? It’s the end of the world.” And with that, he aimed his rifle at Ben.
A Pale Horse
New York City
Deepak Kapur was as astonished as everyone else when Patrick Slayne drew a pistol. Deepak had no idea what kind it was. His knowledge of firearms was limited to those he saw on TV and at the movies. Most of the time he had no idea what they were.
A woman was the first to find her voice. “Are you a policeman?”
“No.” Slayne punched a button on the elevator panel. “Then what gives you the right to tell us we can’t take the elevator?” the same woman demanded. Slayne wagged the pistol.
A man with thick sideburns shoved to the front. “I have half a mind to take that popgun away.”
“You’re right,” Slayne said. “I
am?”
“You have half a mind.”
The man took a half step, clearly tempted to try. But then he locked eyes with Parick Slayne and something he saw made him step back and lower his fist.
The elevator arrived with a ping, and the door opened. Slayne beckoned to Deepak.
“Let’s go. The streets will be a madhouse soon if they’re not already. We must get out of the city before we’re trapped here.”
Deepak felt he had to say something to show his disapproval.
“I can’t say as I care much for your methods.”
“My job is to get you to the compound any way I can. You’re considered essential.”
“No one told me.”
The people cramming the hall started to mutter and whisper.
Hostility was writ on nearly every face.
Slayne beckoned again. “If you please, Mr. Kapur. We don’t have all night.”
Reluctantly, Deepak started toward the elevator, only to be violently shoved by another man who tried to slip past. Slayne’s arm moved too fast for Deepak to follow; there was the sound of a blow, and the man folded at the knees and sprawled onto the tiles, unconscious.
Some of the onlookers covered their mouths in shock. Deepak stared, aghast. He believed that violence was the last resort of those too feeble-minded to solve their problems a better way.
More muttering occurred. A big man shoved to the front and said in a loud, brave voice, “Are we going to let one guy stop us?
Or haven’t you heard that the news has been saying New York is going to be nuked?”
“Let’s rush him!”
“I’m with you!”
Slayne pointed his pistol at the instigator. “If they try, you’re the first one I’ll shoot.”
Deepak and everyone else heard a click. The brave man suddenly wasn’t as brave and backed off. “We’re wasting time.”
Slayne grabbed Deepak’s wrist and pulled him toward the elevator. They were inside and the doors were starting to shut when Alf Richardson stuck a hand in front of one. Instantly, Slayne trained his pistol on Alf.
“Don’t shoot me!”
“No!” Now it was Deepak who grabbed Slayne’s wrist. “He’s a friend of mine. He works in the same department. Let him come.”
“Your call.”
Deepak didn’t know what to make of the man. He moved aside so Alf could join them.
Slayne stood barring the doors until they closed, then he pressed a button and the car pinged into motion.
“That wasn’t the lobby you pressed,” Alf said. “I need to get off at the lobby.”
“We’re not stopping until the underground garage.”
“What is your problem?” Deepak came to Alf’s aid. “Press the L and we’ll let him out.”
“No.”
It was rare for Deepak to lose his temper. As a child in New Delhi, living on the raw edge of poverty, he had learned the importance of self-control. When his belly had been so empty it wouldn’t stop hurting, he had learned to ignore it. When he had become so sick he couldn’t stand up, he had learned to endure it.
When he had been told by an uncle that he would never amount to much, he had quivered with the need to be someone. “You just said you’d do whatever I want.”
“What you want to do,” Slayne clarified. “Not what your friend wants to do.” “But what can it hurt?”
“A naval task force has been obliterated by a nuclear missile. There’s a report San Diego has been hit. The National Guard is being called up, and the president is expected to go before Congress tomorrow and ask for a declaration of war.” Slayne put a hand to his ear and seemed to listen intently.
“What are you doing?” Seepak had to know.
“Adjusting the frequency.”
“The what?”
Slayne moved the hair that hung over his left ear, revealing an earpiece. “I’m listening to emergency services.”
“You’re sure full of tricks,” Deepak said, and not by way of praise.
“It’s my job.”
“Cool,” Alf said. “You’re some kind of security guy, right? That’s why you have the gun and stuff.”
Slayne held up a hand for quiet. He was listening to his earpiece. “It’s starting to unravel,” he told Deepak.
“What is?”
“The infrastructure. People are on the verge of panic. They’re being told to stay in their homes. But a lot of them don’t have any food. Or they don’t