The Nothing (9 page)

She didn’t even flinch or look at him.
“One moment sir….” James stood there as the receptionist tapped a silver bluetooth earpiece. She mumbled something into the bluetooth, tapped the earpiece again, and closed the window. He grew impatient as the seconds turned to minutes.
I told her that this was important. Just let me the fuck in! This is bullshit. I am a Transcom employee being treated like a doctor’s patient. Do they want my help or not?
Three minutes passed before she slid the window open. “Mr. Featherworth, did you get in contact with HPD and notify them of the comtech failure?”

“Yes I did and I nee
d to brief Mr. Jones on the situation!”

“That won’t be necessary, you may go back to your station.
Thank you.” The window made a deep clap, as it slammed shut. Then it was quiet and still, except for soft music playing in the background.
Are they afraid of what I have to tell them? They need to bring me in because I have expertise that could help. They may all have advanced degrees and all kinds of experience, but I am from the streets and they need a soldier like me. I can think faster than they can. I am full of the knowledge they would need to survive whatever it is that is happening!
Instead of leaving, James stood there staring at her cleavage. She looked up and asked loud enough through the glass so he could hear, “Anything else?”

“No lady, just call me if you need me.”
James immediately turned around and walked back to the elevator. All of a sudden the need to cry began to fill him.
When I get back to my floor, I will go to the supervisor’s bathroom for a few minutes. They still don’t know I found a key. I need to cry.
Anybody would cry under these circumstances.

The journey to the bathroom
was long for James. It was tempting to pretend he was sick so he could go home and sleep. But he had done that too many times. People were gossiping about him being sickly. The supervisor’s bathroom was private and large enough that he could lie on the floor and take a nap or masturbate as he sometimes did. Once inside, he immediately pulled down his pants and sat on the toilet. James didn’t need to poop, but sat there to give his burning legs a rest. Then he began to cry. He knows he holds too much in. James has spent too much of his life trying to be the man he pretended to be, but couldn’t be. The less than eventful interaction with the receptionist reminded him of his place and that it wasn’t with the big shots. Usually he tells himself that it’s an effort by others to keep him from advancing far. With time, these thoughts have led to the delusions and awkward social situations that he tends to create.
Are people just afraid of me? I am really trying to be a good part of society. I could do so much good if someone will give me a chance. Let me take control and everything will be all right.

James decided to masturbate.
She had great cleavage! But she had a face that could crash a thousand ships. Oh well, you take what you can get.
When he was getting ready to ejaculate, he stood and aimed at the tile wall. It was a cream colored tile that was less likely to show semen. And he was careful to not let any fall on the floor for the fact that he takes naps there. Fifteen minutes later, and feeling more relaxed; James walked out of the supervisor’s restroom and headed back to his station. A coworker named Harold was under his console messing with the wires. “Harold! You’re going to screw up my monitors! I’m going to make sure Mr. Jones knows you did this.” Harold came out from under with a red and sweaty face.

“James, everyone’s
monitors are down, we can’t monitor anything! I was thinking it was crossed wiring but Barry came by and told me he was having the same problem too. And since when do you know Mr. Jones?”

“Don’t worry yourself,
he and I were working on something together. What do you think is the issue with all this?”

“
Radio feeds, shortwave, satellite, and everything else are all fucking gone! It is like every signal in the air just died. I advised years ago against using wireless streaming for the controller stations and to continue using the fiber optic cables. I swear most people don’t understand how much technology complicates things. Might be a solar flare or terrorists. Don’t know dude, this is sick…. Hey man you don’t look so hot…. You ok?” James had become oblivious to Harold and felt panic flowing from his stomach to his mouth. The room was beginning to spin around him.
I got to get out of here, I need to go home and sleep. This is all too much and I need to prepare for whatever is coming. “
Well sir I just got done puking in the restroom and I need to go home. Seems like there is nothing that can be done here anyways.”

“
Oh James you didn’t throw up! Everyone knows you are full of shit. We are in code 3 if you haven’t heard. All staff are ordered to remain at their stations.”

“I think I am seriously sick
dude. If you don’t want to believe me fine, I don’t care. But if it is contagious then you will suffer the consequences. If we are in code 3, then we will all be slurping and sucking everyone else’s germs and you don’t want to get what I got believe you me!”

“Whatever man.
We are supposed to meet in fifteen in the sixth floor conference room for a briefing. Do whatever you want. I got to go.”

Harold walked out and James was left in the silence of his controller room with forty small monito
rs that were useless.

Was that Bentley I saw running around Almeda’s earlier?
Hope not. He is a piece of shit, but I still wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to him.
James sat there debating on whether he should go home. Employees can be fired if they leave without authorization during a code. James even remembered hearing about criminal charges as well if the army is in charge. Code 3 is the highest alert level and that scared him.
I’m so tired.
Then he thought about the Delta Force soldiers he wishes he could be like every time he watched an episode of The Unit.

Those elite delta force guys can get by on little sleep, go kill a bunch of bad guys and come home to their families.
I can get to that point… I will start tomorrow.
But it is always tomorrow.
James had been watching shows like that for years and had ‘Planned’ many times to get lean and mean; to wake up early, exercise and lose weight. But it is always tomorrow.
Fuck it! I am going to stay and do my part. It is time to lean up and take the role I have been preparing for my whole life. I will lead everyone to victory and survival.

All of the
analysts, secretaries and supervisors were packed into the main conference room on the sixth floor. Even custodial, maintenance, and security staff were present. Seemed to James that everyone in the building was there. Most had to stand. The conference room could hold one hundred people, but today there was probably three times or more than that. Chatter throughout the room sounded serious. Mr. Jones and a tall hard looking man in a dark silver business suit walked in. James quickly approached Mr. Jones. “Sir I took care of that problem for you and…” The tall man put his arm out and blocked James, “Not now son, take your seat.” The tall man reminded James of an army general or combat hardened soldier. His face had a thousand edges on it and his short gray flattop screamed respect. James turned around and saw several pairs of eyes on him. Now he wishes he had gone home sick. Harold was standing nearby giggling.

“Yo dude, thought you were sick.”

“I’m feeling better and felt that I could be of help to Mr. Jones and
his associate.” Harold Smirked, “Dude, that is Mr. Jones’ boss Frank Holt! He is the Executive Director of Transcom. You don’t speak to him unless he speaks to you first. Surprised you don’t know him dumbass. You really need to stop calling in sick so much.” Harold was sarcastic in his tone, which made James feel small. Harold figured James would eventually pretend to be buddies with Mr. Holt. James seemed to be ‘buddies’ with anyone who is important. James walked around to the back of a corner behind a group of people when Mr. Jones began to speak.

“I’m pretty sure by now many of you have heard of the technical issues that we have been dealing with.
We have been able to make contact with HPD despite the lack of cellular, satellite and radio. But we have technicians working on the problem as we speak. We have decided, based on information received from city services, to enact a Code 3. Which means we shelter in place and be in position for any assistance needed. Mandatory stations are now in effect. I can’t give you any estimate of how long of a haul this will be. There are numerous issues that Police and Fire departments are dealing with also. I will be frank; those situations are becoming quite complicated and dangerous. And these technical issues are not exclusive to Houston. There seems to be issues as far away as Vegas and L.A. We do know that at this point, there is not a cell phone signal, Wi-Fi signal, satellite connection or radio frequency operating in this city. Rest assured that resources are being mobilized to deal with the problem. Be advised, personnel stationed as lookouts on the roof have observed smoke around parts of the city and are hearing sporadic gunfire. Without 911 services, it can be assumed that emergency response is compromised. Sorry to say, there is no other information. We have staff members attempting contact with various government agencies from our line in the server room but have been getting busy signals for the last twenty minutes.
I was there dipshit. Worked fine for me. You should have listened to me cockface.
We will make announcements through the PA system when there is more information to share and we will routinely be meeting in this room to discuss any new information with you. We haven’t used the system in a while but it still works. We do have enough personal items, food and water to sustain us. And I am serious when I say, no one is allowed to go home at this time.”

Mr. Jones stood back from the end of the long table and stared at a skinny man sitting in a chair to his right.
After five seconds, the skinny man got the hint and offered his chair to him. Mr. Holt walked forward. “I am Frank Holt, a few of you I have met. Many of you I have not. We all have jobs to do and my expectations are that you will do what is needed and take this situation seriously. We may not be FEMA or the Pentagon, but we are an agency that is utilized in the event of a serious incident here in the city. I know many of you would like to go home and be with family or loved ones. But our mandate, the one you signed upon being employed with Transcom, states that we fall under the jurisdiction of Houston Emergency Management in the event of a Code 3. And I am to inform you after being recently briefed, that the South Central Operations Command of the United States armed forces is going to take command of all municipal emergency centers in the coming hours. What that means in regards to a Code 3 is this; you will face federal charges for post abandonment, much like in the military, if you leave. Mr. Jones did request that short reprieves be allowed for employees to go home and get personal effects and such. He is a family man that understands each and every one of you. As Executive Director here, I cannot afford such luxuries of understanding. It is my decision that no one leaves under any circumstances unless it is a medical emergency. This isn’t a drill. Let’s do our part. That is all.”

Everyone slowly filed out of the conference room.
James walked behind a very pretty woman. Her smell made him feel like masturbating again. Without thinking, he said, “Hey there.” She turned around; her beauty made James blush. “Hey there yourself.” James straightened his stance. “Been through stuff like this before? We can make it if we all do our jobs.” She smiled slightly, turned away, and kept walking.

She
is frightened. I probably should be there for her so she isn’t afraid anymore. She probably has needed a man like me to take care of her.
It doesn’t take much for James to forget where he is. At that moment he was thinking of saving this woman from the chaos. When they reached the conference room exit, the woman quickly walked off. James wasn’t a fast walker or fast at anything. But he quickened his pace and was able to catch up with her. With a tap of the shoulder, she stopped and turned around. James was out of breath, and with his first words he breathed Burger King straight into her face. “I’m James by the way. I wanted to say that I know you are scared. But if you want, I can protect you. I’m in station 3F on the third floor. Come to me and you will feel safe.”
God I’m good!
She smiled and nodded. “Very kind of you sir. I was a Marine Corps Staff Sergeant with three tours in Afghanistan. Mr. Holt is a retired Special Forces Colonel. My office is two doors from his. I have a concealed handgun license, a Glock, and a really sharp knife. Oh by the way, I’m Chief Financial Officer Gloria Stevens. Worry about yourself and do your job. Good luck James.”

Now h
e wished he had gotten himself lean and mean years ago more than ever. James backed away from her bashfully. “No problem, I got your back…. Good luck to you Staff Officer Gloria!”

It never really turns out good for me.
I am trying. But what am I missing? What is it that I’m not understanding? I’m always doing good things and doing my part for this civilization. Do I need to do more? What more can I do? People never say wow when they see me. They never come to me when I walk in. What can I do to change that? I wish I would have gone home and had my mom rub my back.
With that he turned around, slumped and walked no faster than a grandmother pushing a cart full of groceries. James felt depressed and wanted to get back to his station.