“The plan was to bypass Atlanta altogether. The plan fell apart about three miles south of downtown.”
— Sam, at a debrief on the Georgia coast
Charles had spent some time working with the Russian organization that had engineered and sold the bio weapon now known simply as The Disease to a group of fanatics. It was a mutated version of this very disease that his colleague, Maria — who had working herself beyond exhaustion since Alex died — had been working to vaccinate before hell arrived at the doorstep of their Fort Knox compound six months ago. And it was the ensuing escape from that hell that eventually led Charles to his current predicament.
He stood in front of a window that had long since served its purpose. Glass lay scattered on the sidewalk below their perch on the fifth floor of a high-rise building on the southern edge of Atlanta’s downtown. An office chair and desk lay in pieces on the sidewalk.
Before him, the combined interstates of seventy-five and eighty-five formed a massive twelve lane gulch through the heart of downtown Atlanta. Strategically, Charles knew that it was both the interstate system and international airport in Atlanta that assisted in the propagation of the Disease across the entire world. But the utter lack of Diseased betrayed this fact. Charles knew the Diseased moved with a purpose, but he had thought there would be more to contend with in a larger population center. He had spent eighteen months encoding and broadcasting false promises of safety. He understood better than most what it meant for a signal to draw people in. Whatever Olympia was broadcasting, the crowd of uninfected people moving past his window had received it clearly and were marching towards their destination.
In the moonlight, he could just make out the shadows of the Georgia State Capitol building to the right just beyond a maze of overpasses. Above him, the absence of the once present light pollution and smog allowed him to make out some of the larger constellations. Except when he turned his attention towards the matter at hand. Although all of the skyscrapers and street lights were dark, the lights above and around the former Turner Stadium were filling the sky with a small halo of light in what would have been an otherwise beautiful, if not eerie, night sky.
Charles’ friend Sam had spent month after month listening to radio communications and mapping a safe route that would take Charles and his group towards the relative safety of the Georgia coast. Their intent was to get to a pocket of humanity that would enable Maria to finish her research on a vaccine for the Disease. The group had intended to bypass the problem they now faced, but their supplies had dwindled after a long stretch of searching, to no avail, for a replacement transistor that had burned out on Sam’s radio. As a result, they had been forced into making a stupid decision earlier this morning.
That decision led three of his group to be captured and taken prisoner. Imprisoned in what Sam had described as ground zero for some heinous shit.
And because of that stupid decision, Colby, Sid, and Marshall were now arguing with Charles in the darkness that overlooked the southside of downtown Atlanta.
“Listen, fuckstick,” Colby said. “We’re going in after them. If you don’t have the balls to help, that’s on you. They’re our brothers and we’re not leaving them behind.”
“Charles, he is right,” Maria interjected. “Even if he is not articulating his argument properly, it is not like we do not have time to wait on them. We still need to resupply before we move past Macon.”
“I do not buy that, Maria. We can resupply anywhere along the way to the coast,” replied Charles.
“No,” said Sid. “You can’t. You’re not from here. We know these back roads. There ain’t shit between Macon and Savannah and if we jump off interstate seventy-five before we get to Macon like you think we should do, there’s going to be less than shit. We need supplies to make the final push. That’s why Colin had insisted on coming this way in the first place.”
“What can it hurt,” Sam said calmly. “We’re six. Colin, Jackson, and Allen add fifty-percent to our numbers. That means less watch duty and more rest.”
“It also means fifty percent more mouths to feed,” Charles said. “And it has been more than twelve hours. Who is to say they are even alive?”
“You know the math as well as I do, Charles,” Marshall said quietly from the corner where he’d been listening. “Three more sets of hands is three more sets of hands. We know where you guys are heading. It’ll probably be easier for us to get in and out with less people. Just let us try it. We can meet you here or somewhere along the way if you don’t want to wait.”
Charles looked around at his travel companions. Over the last six months, all of them had been useful in one way or another. He could think of at least one time each of them had saved his life or the life of Maria or went out of his way to protect Sam.
Charles looked around to study his surroundings. After a moment he relented, “Okay. Fine. We will be waiting here in four days. While we do, we will scavenge the surrounding buildings for supplies and rest up. We will move out on sunrise of the fifth day with or without you.”
“That’s all we ask,” said Sid. “We’ll set out before dawn tomorrow.”
Colin could hear the announcer’s heavy southern accent over the loudspeakers before they got to the end of the tunnel that led to a baseball field that had been serving as a combat arena for the last two years. The announcer’s voice reminded him of a caricature of a southern lawyer wearing suspenders sweating in a hot courthouse while he told the judge that he’s no big city lawyer.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Olympia, for our final bout this evening, we have a special celebration to kickoff our second annual Triad of the Martyr festival that will commence this very midnight,” the announcer paused as an applause began to climax before tapering into silence. He kept the crowd in suspense a moment longer before switching to a more dire tone.
“Three non-believers were caught ransacking and rummaging ’round our domicile. ‘Round our home! In blatant disregard and disrespect of our domain. And so, they will be put to the test.” He paused again for dramatic effect as the crowd yet again began to express their distaste. “Now, I don’t believe I have to remind y’all that under the code of conduct written on page three, paragraph four, sub paragraph two of your citizenship contract, that each and every one of you agreed wholeheartedly and without hesitation that you would no longer scavenge for food around our little sanctuary.”
As Colin approached the final gate before the arena, he turned back to Jackson who was helping Allen to the gate. None of the men spoke. They all wore the same terrified look on their faces.
Colin reached behind Allen to tighten the loose fitting catcher’s chest protector.
Most of the unclaimed gear that they had been able to find in the cages was either in bad shape or practically useless. Jackson had found a wooden broom handle and managed to crack one end at just the right angle. Other than his pointy stick and his shirt that he had tied around his face as a makeshift mask, Jackson was unarmed.
Colin and Jackson had both agreed that Allen needed the most gear since he was in the worst shape of the three. Allen had suffered some bruised and cracked ribs while they were being detained. His eyes were still out of focus. Colin assumed he had sustained a decent concussion. So they had wrapped Allen in borrowed catcher’s gear: a chest protector, a face mask, and four knee and shin guards — two on his legs and two on his arms. And even though they did not think he would be able to swing it effectively, Colin and Jackson had insisted Allen take a bat with him.
Colin was the most armed. He was able to convince Miller, the man that had given them a windshield tour of the cages after their imprisonment, to borrow some equipment. Even though Colin had a lean, muscular frame, he still found the shell of a car door that Miller had been wielding effortlessly to be more than a little cumbersome. Nonetheless, Colin saw the benefits and ingenuity of the weapon.
The aluminum sheet metal had been fashioned in such a way that it covered his entire right arm with a slight bend at the elbow and a handle towards the inside end of the apparatus for gripping with plenty of padding around the edges to avoid stray cuts to its wielder. The end of the weapon had been moulded and sharpened into a slicing tool and was still wet with the blackened, viscous blood of the Diseased that Miller had killed earlier in the evening.
“How do you want to handle this?” Jackson asked Colin.
“I’ll do the dirty work,” replied Colin. “Just keep this asshole safe.”
Colin nodded towards Allen who was still unsteady on his feet. Allen raised his middle finger towards Jackson.
“I’m over here,” Colin said.
The three men laughed for a moment until the gravity of their situation crept back to the forefront of their minds.
Jackson checked the binding on his stick one last time. Allen adjusted his face mask. Colin rolled his wrist inside the car door blade and felt the weight settle. No one said anything. They had done this enough to know that what came next would either work or it wouldn’t.
“And now,” the arena’s announcer continued. “Without further ado, it is with great pleasure that I present to you tonight’s feature event. Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for the Ret-ri-bu-tion!”
As the announcer strung out each syllable of his last word, the stadium lights switched off with a loud click and the audience went wild.
The gate in front of the three men swung open and guards forced them out into a dugout. The men were fitted with a collar of lights around their neck pointing towards the ground. These lights allowed them to see about fifteen feet in any direction; but with the stadium lights of the arena off, a spattering of lights throughout the stadium seating threw wild shadows across the ground in front of them.
They were forced out of the dugout and onto a baseball field whose turf had been long neglected. Large divots pockmarked the field and made it hard to walk without tripping.
As Colin began to circle in search of attackers, Jackson followed suit and guided Allen around with him. The three men slowly made their way towards an outfield wall in an attempt to keep a solid barrier on one side of them. As they did, spotlights around the arena began to slowly click on and off in a circular pattern around the arena until they built to a crescendo and focused on the left field wall that was now only about ten feet from Colin.
As the spotlights remained focused on the wall, a door swung open to reveal three freshly turned, snarling Diseased with chains around their necks. Bloodthirsty cheers and applause roared from the crowd who managed to double their decibel output.
“Look out,” cried Jackson as he began to pull Allen away from the wall.
In his surprise, Colin stumbled over a divot in an attempt to retreat. The illuminated field around him quickly shrank to just five feet as the band of lights around his neck fell with him.
The spotlights on the wall flashed out and Colin managed to hear the chains of the Diseased being unlatched and the monsters let loose. As he rose to his feet and his light field grew, Colin could see the faces of Diseased on a mad dash towards him. He quickly turned and ran towards Jackson who had managed to retreat fifteen yards infield.
“On three,” Colin screamed at the top of his lungs. As he did, he saw Jackson and Allen’s light rings stop and move apart leaving a gap for Colin.
Colin managed a one-eighty pivot in what had to have been his best shuttle-run exercise since middle school track practice.
The cheers of the audience rose to a deafening level in anticipation.
All three Diseased came into the light rings at the same time.
Jackson lunged at the head of his assailant and pierced its eye socket. Colin swung his armored arm upwards as fast as he could in an uppercut motion timing the swing almost perfect. The sharpened edge of his weapon sliced into the Diseased’s chest and caught the bottom of its chin. As it did, the forward motion of the Diseased carried the weapon further into its skull and Colin felt the body go limp on the edge of his blade.
Allen had gotten into his best slugger’s stance and lined up a swing of his bat. The bat missed its intended target — the temple of the skull — and struck the Diseased in the neck with a wet thud. Allen’s attacker staggered, but continued its pursuit.
Jackson was quick to dispatch the last Diseased as he whirled around Colin and swung his stick into the base of the thing’s skull.
“I know you’re hurting, man, but we’re gonna need a little more out of you than that,” Jackson said.
“I know, man. I know,” Allen replied.
“I guess they’re disappointed,” Colin broke in as the cheering of the crowd began to switch to jeers of disapproval.
“Was that it,” asked Allen.
Just then, the spotlights of the arena began their circular motion again and landed on the center field wall where five more Diseased stood chained. As the Diseased were unlatched, the lights went out and the crowd went wild once again.
“Get to second base!” yelled Colin. “If these things are coming from the walls we need to be in the center of them all!”
The three men broke into a sprint in what they assumed was the direction of second base. As they did, spotlights began to flick on and off from all angles tracking the motion of the five Diseased. Colin could see the Diseased match their angle of pursuit with the three men. Just before they reached the edge of the infield, Colin called for them to stop and brace for attack.
As they came to a stop, the lights tracking the Diseased winked out. The three men stood panting and waiting with anticipation. They could hear the snarling Diseased approaching.
“I’ll go wide right and try to take out two or three,” Colin said as he swapped places with Jackson. “Allen, stay in the middle. Go defense if you have to. Jackson—”
“I’ll do what I can,” interrupted Jackson.
As he trailed off, Jackson saw four Diseased materialize into their light rings. He made for the leftmost one and planted a spinning heel kick to its head knocking it into the next one before it tumbled to the ground. Allen brought his bat over his head and managed a direct hit to the top of the skull of the Diseased that was knocked off balance from Jackson’s target. There was a loud crack and the Diseased in front of Allen went soft. Finishing his attack, Jackson jabbed his broomstick into the soft tissue beneath the chin of the Diseased that he knocked to the ground.
As Jackson and Allen were taking care of their two Diseased, Colin took a wide step to the right in order to line up a clean slice with his weapon. He managed to completely decapitate the rightmost Diseased and guide the weapon into the neck of the next. The blade portion of the weapon caught on the spine of the second Diseased, but did not complete the kill. Colin struggled to keep his balance and the Diseased kept trying to press forward.
Just then, the face of the Diseased exploded into red gore as Allen’s bat finished what Colin had started.
“You’re welcome,” stated Allen with a smirk.
“Thanks, but what happened to the other one?” asked Colin.
“Shit,” Allen exclaimed as he noticed for the first time that only four of the five Diseased that came out of the wall had actually attacked them.
“Back to back,” Colin exclaimed.
The three men moved to a triangular formation and faced outwards while they constantly circled searching for the remaining attacker. The noise from the crowd was blocking any sign of the lone creature.
The circular motion of the spotlights started once again, this time stopping on right field. Three more Diseased materialized and began their charge once the stadium lights blinked out.
“Four,” Colin reminded his friends. “We still have to take out four.”
The three men stopped circling when Jackson and Colin were facing right field leaving Allen to protect their backs.
As soon as an attacker appeared in his light ring, Colin lunged forward with his bladed arm and managed to disembowel the rightmost attacker. He swung his boot high and aimed his heel at the skull of the attacker. Colin felt it connect and was tackled to the ground by the stray attacker left from the previous wave.
Spit and blood and pus covered the clear mask over Colin’s face as he struggled to keep his unprotected arm underneath the chin of the thing on top of him. Just when his arm was ready to give out, Jackson’s broomstick went in and out of the temple of its skull.
As Jackson helped him to his feet, Colin saw that the two men had both managed to dispatch the other Diseased.
“Thanks,” Colin said exasperated. He tried to catch his breath. As he did, the announcer came over the loudspeakers and all of the spotlights flared on at once.
“Boy-howdy, ladies and gentlemen,” he began. “These sure are some stubborn sons of guns aren’t they.”
The crowd’s cheers had turned to boos once the safety of the three men was assured and now the crowd once again expressed their hatred for the three men with a deafening noise.
“Well, now, don’t be too upset,” the announcer continued. “I have just heard from our glorious leader Constance herself. She has informed me that these three boys will join Miller himself to be central in the upcoming celebrations. We get to punish these sorry sons of bitches for three more days!”
Boos switched to cheers.
“If they last that long…”
The cheers switched to laughter and the noise began to dwindle to a relative murmur.
“We are gonna let these boys take it easy the rest of the night. If any of you Pats would like to meet these fellas, Constance will have them on display this evening at the Patrician’s kickoff celebration. But you Plebs won’t have to wait too much longer. These men will be the centerpiece at tomorrow’s kickoff event of the Triad!”
Guards armed with firearms and body armor came from both dugouts to secure the prisoners. They led Colin, Jackson, and Allen back to the dugout on the third base line. The three men could see tens of thousands of people filling the stadium. Only in the playoffs had the Georgia natives ever seen this many people in these stands.
Colin was the last of the men to enter the dugout. Before he did, he glanced up to the box seats behind home plate and saw a single shadowy figure staring at him. He paused for a moment as the figure turned away from him and retreated into the darkness of the box. Whoever it was, they had not looked away until they were ready to.
The guards shoved him down the steps.
“I knew enough about Roman history to know that patricians thought a little too highly of themselves. Turns out that was the least interesting thing about them.”
— Colin, at a debrief on the Georgia coast
Constance turned away from her window and walked to the door where her personal attendant was waiting.
“Have them washed and brought to my atrium before sending them to the Patricians. I want to speak with them personally before they go into the wolves’ den.”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied her attendant before turning to fulfill the request.
“One moment,” Constance said.
The attendant turned and stood in silence. Constance’s eyes were closed, and she appeared to be meditating. Her eyes began to flutter beneath their lids. Her attendant had seen this behavior in Constance before, but over recent weeks these meditative states had begun to increase. After a full minute of silence, Constance opened her eyes.
“Nevermind,” she said. “Take them directly into the Pat’s reception hall. I will not be able to attend this evening.”
Rae replied with a confused “Yes, ma’am,” before turning to exit Constance’s chambers.
“Shoot boys,” Miller congratulated them. “That was some good work out there. From what I saw, you guys might be gunning for my title.”
Colin dropped his borrowed weapon at Miller’s feet and began to rub feeling back into his tired arm.
“Title?” Colin asked.
“I’m the reigning champ. Well, least in the cages. Those ungodly things over in their stocks have their own ranking system, but here in the cages I’ve got the most kills. Usually just means I get to kill the most of those quote-unquote believers over there.”
“Believers?” Jackson asked this time.
“You boys really aren’t from around Olympia-way are you?” Miller queried.
Miller was a large man, both in personality and physical stature. Colin could tell he was from Georgia like his friends, but he placed Miller’s accent more towards the mountains of Georgia. Colin had not seen the man without a smile on his face since they arrived earlier in the day and Miller seemed eager to make sure Colin and his two friends felt at ease in what he called the cages.
“No,” Colin replied. “Well, we’re from Georgia before the Disease, but we’ve spent most of that time up in Tennessee and Kentucky area.”
“Yeah, I heard rumors of Fort Knox still having a military presence,” Miller added. “Any truth to that?”
Jackson and Colin belted out laughter as they turned towards Allen.
“Fuck y’all,” Allen said in reply.
“I’ll just say this,” answered Colin. “We heard the same rumor. And despite our current predicament, we are better off being locked up here than anywhere near Fort Knox right now.”
A guard towards the front of the cages swung the door open to allow a sharp dressed man carrying two fifty caliber revolvers, one each hip, to enter the room.
“Hey, look everyone! It’s Captain Harding,” Miller said in a mocking tone. “To what do we owe this distinguished pleasure, Captain, sir?”
“Can the shit, Miller,” Harding said. “You and these three fucks come with me. The Pats are having a reception for the Triad kickoff and you poor sons of bitches are the centerpiece.”
“You hear that fellas!” Miller continued mocking the guard captain. “We get to be poked and prodded by a bunch of yuppie weirdos whose shit don’t stink!”
“I said stifle it, Miller. I can tell them you were injured and send you over down to the pens instead. I’m sure there are some believers down there that would love to have a piece of your big ass. That sound more appealing to you?”
Miller’s demeanor shifted to a more serious tone and posture. The abrupt change caught Colin’s attention. Believers obviously meant the Diseased, but he filed that word and as well as pens away something they would need to know more about if he were to understand this place.
“Didn’t think so,” Harding continued. “Show these three newbies over to the washroom. Take them up to the reception hall after. If you give my guys any shit, I will personally escort you down to that hell. You get me?”
“Yes, sir,” Miller said defeated.
Miller followed Harding out of the cages. He was trailed by Colin, Jackson, and then Allen who was still struggling to regain his faculties. The men were led into a shower room, and Harding left them to the care of his subordinates.
They were stripped of their clothing, sprayed with scalding water, and doused in delousing powder for good measure. Guards threw them towels to drape around their waists and escorted them to an elevator.
“Where do they get the electricity to run this place,” asked Jackson.
“There are hundreds of acres of solar fields just south of here,” Miller said. “I helped install most of them during the first few weeks a couple years ago. Last I knew they were pushing out a few megawatts of power.”
“First few weeks of what,” asked Allen.
“First few weeks of Olympia. I’m not sure how, but two years ago, right after the outbreak, Constance managed some kind of truce with those things and established Olympia as a safe haven. The believers typically stay out of our way for some reason. The hordes that do stray too close to us are kept in the stocks to fight. Some of the ones in better shape are sent to the pens.”
“What are the pens,” Colin asked. “I couldn’t help but notice your distaste for that word when Harding said it.”
The elevator stopped and more guards forced them into a waiting room.
“Look, I’ll give you the run down later tonight or tomorrow morning. Just know that not everything here is what it seems. There’s some fucked up shit going down,” Miller cautioned. “Pardon my language. For now, if anyone up here asks if you will accept their reward, just say no.”
The four men were dragged in different directions and left to wait alone behind closed doors.
Colin stood behind a closed door in darkness as the room in front of him filled with what he assumed were the people calling themselves Patricians, or Pats, coming to their reception. He knew enough about Roman history to know that the word implied that these people considered themselves aristocrats. And if not aristocrats in the classical sense of the word, they would definitely the people that make the rules.
As he peered through a crack in the double doors, Colin could see people wearing togas and other makeshift robes. Most of the men were bare-chested regardless of physique and several of the women allowed at least one breast to be exposed. A group of women came giggling up to his door to peek, but they were shooed away by a guard on the other side.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” began the arena announcer from before. “May I have your attention, please.”
The murmurs of the crowd died off and they turned to listen to the announcer.
“It is with great sorrow I inform you that our beloved savior will not be able to join us this evening. She has had some disturbing news and will need to contemplate in solitude tonight.”
The mood became somber.
“Fret not, my dears, for I, Charlie Dean, Junior himself, will be the host for tonight’s festivities.”
Applause arose and chants of “Junior, Junior,” began in the crowd.
“Now, please enjoy tonight’s Triad Martyrdom kickoff reception. I encourage you all to spread the love this very evening. And without further ado, I present to you our entertainment.”
The doors in front of Colin opened and he was ushered onto a platform where he was told to stay put. He glanced around the room and saw that three other platforms formed a square with his. They were occupied by Miller to his right, Allen to his left, and Jackson behind him.
Throngs of groping Patricians walked around the room squeezing, probing, and prodding each man as they conversed amongst themselves. Colin noted that more than a few of these people had discolored eyes. Their eyes reminded him of those he had last seen outside of Fort Knox. One in every three prodding sets of eyes were a pale white. Eyes that were clouded over with what reminded Colin of the Disease.
As the night dragged on, more Patricians came and went. None of them were shy about touching or caressing Colin’s body as they did the same to each other. Many of the guests waited patiently to speak with the man named Junior while he laughed and told jokes behind an ornate table with equally impressive furniture towards the front of the room.
Colin was looking at Junior when he felt a cold, soft hand beckon his face forward.
“Hello,” a woman said in a husky voice. She was completely nude from her waist up except a pair of dark aviator style sunglasses despite the lack of sunlight, and she was wearing little more than that below her waist.
“Hi,” Colin managed, caught off guard.
“Aren’t you a fine specimen?”
“Specimen? That’s a funny descriptor,” Colin replied.
The woman tipped her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose. Colin spotted her pale, almost white eyes.
“What’s your name, sugar,” she whispered into his ear.
“Colin Motney.”
“Motney,” the woman mulled the name over. “Motney. Motney. Motney. That’s a funny name. Where you from, Mr. Motney?”
“I’m from Georgia. The name is Scotch-Irish. Call me Colin.”
“What brings you here to Olympia, Colin?”
“Coca-Cola Museum. Son of a bitch was closed though.”
The woman let out a hearty laugh. “Well, aren’t you just to die for.”
“Can the small talk. What do you want?”
The woman gave a polite chuckle. “It’s not what I want, but what I offer, Colin.” She took her sunglasses off her nose and tucked one arm into the band around her waist that seemed to strain from the small weight of the sunglasses.
“And what can you offer?” Colin asked.
“Everything,” the woman said as she began to stroke Colin’s leg from the knee up towards his crotch. As she continued, she abandoned the false charm from her accent for a more matter-of-fact tone. “You just have to accept my reward.”
Just then, Junior called everyone’s attention towards the front of the room and the woman lost interest in Colin quicker than she had found it. Relieved, Colin let out the breath he had been holding.
“Ladies and gentlemen, can I please have your attention,” Junior began. “It has been a wonderful evening, but the hour is drawing near. Tonight we celebrate the rebirth of our savior, Constance who two years ago this very evening, was bestowed an everlasting gift. She took this gift and established Olympia to keep us safe. It was that very gift, that in her wisdom, she saw fit to pass onto the best and the brightest that our town has to offer.
“Now if you would all be so kind as to join me down below, we’ll get the,” the pudgy man hesitated for another well-timed pause to give the audience the slightest hint that he had not already rehearsed his speech in his mind countless times before this moment. “…festivities started.”
A cheer arose from the crowd and the woman in front of Colin gave him a wink before she followed the crowd descending the stairs.
As the number of Patricians dwindled, Colin saw that Miller had been flanked by two guards armed with rifles. He looked back at the three men still standing on their pedestals as the guards pushed him through the doors behind the last of the Patricians.
“Don’t wait up for me, fellas,” Miller shouted with a smirk. “I’ll find you when I’m back in the cages.”
Colin, Jackson, and Allen watched the smirk fade from Miller’s face. The smirk was replaced with a more stern, fearful look that aged the man by decades.
The remaining guards corralled the three men and forced them back into chains. As they were being escorted from the room to the elevator that led to the cages, Colin looked back to see a few children milling around in the room. One of the girls had a teddy bear that reminded Colin of a teddy bear he had seen before Fort Knox was attacked. Back in Lebanon Junction when he had met a girl named Rae and her sisters. He saw a bear like the one that girl was swinging. Colin had given Rae his Scout Leader’s insignia to get supplies from their stores right before they were ambushed by Russians. Colin fought to look back towards the children. As he did, he made out a small Cub Scout patch on the chest of the bear just before the elevator doors closed.
As the elevator dropped, Colin turned to faced the doors and told himself it was nothing.
Deus ex Morbus 