Commodity (2 page)

Back inside the airport, it’s a madhouse.  Multiple flights have been cancelled, and there are lines of people all waiting to get new flight information and a hotel room for the night.

“I just contacted this hotel, and they don’t have any more rooms for the night!  How can you give me a voucher for a hotel that doesn’t have any rooms left?”

“Who’s going to pay for the hotel I already have booked for tonight, huh?”

“All my luggage is checked!  What am I supposed to do about clothes for tomorrow?”

Eckhart sends one of his crew with our boarding passes and passports to collect vouchers as he keeps me away from the crowd.  Everyone is so angry with the airline that they aren’t paying attention to me, which is good.

“They put you in different hotels,” the security escort says when he returns with vouchers for me and Eckhart.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“They said there wasn’t anything they could do—it’s all automated.”

Eckhart takes a step away from me, clenching his hands into fists for a brief moment before he stretches his neck to the left and then the right.  His chest expands as he takes in a deep breath, causing the button of his jacket to tighten against the fabric.

“Stay with her.”  Eckhart glares at the information counter as he stomps up to the front line, ignoring the other passengers.  I can’t hear anything he’s saying, but he’s leaning over the desk and flashing his identification.  The person behind the desk is wide-eyed and nodding a lot.  She hands him something, and he returns to the group.

“We’re in the Hilton,” he announces.  “You have the penthouse.”

He hands me a small plastic case with the airline’s logo imprinted on it.

“What’s this?”

“Toiletry bag,” he says gruffly.  He turns to one of the other guards.  “Is there a car waiting?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s go.”

I finger the little vinyl bag and let myself be led out of the airport to a black SUV parked next to the curb.  Eckhart opens the back door and I settle into the middle of the seat.  He speaks to one of the other men before sliding into the front.

I am left alone in the back of the car as the others climb into different vehicles.  Leaning back and closing my eyes, I try to pretend that none of this is happening.  I think back to one of the first interviews with the police and how they called me brave for coming forward.  I didn’t understand what they meant then, but I do now.

This sucks.

I stare out the window as light rain coats the glass.  Inside the car is warm, but gooseflesh still prickles over my arms as I remember another ride where I was tossed into the back of a windowless van.

Hudson is incarcerated right now.  No bond set.  They can’t get to you.

As many times as Paxton, my attorney, has told me this, I know it isn’t true.  The group that would like to silence me permanently has power and people.  If they weren’t so powerful, Paxton wouldn’t have insisted on the security detail.  I knew it wasn’t just to keep the media and curious people at bay though it did help with that as well.

I just want it to be over and done.

The car stops outside the hotel, and a valet comes to open my door.  There are people everywhere—how does the media know where I am all the time?  I’m ushered into the lobby, and Eckhart’s hand presses lightly against my back as he maneuvers me through the crowd.  I try not to flinch, knowing he’s only trying to do his job.  It doesn’t matter how attractive I find him; I don’t want his hands on me.

I glance over my shoulder at his face, trying to convey my thoughts with a look.  He glances at me and quickly drops his hand, and my back chills as the contact is lost.  Up closer now, I can see his eyes are deep blue, and he scans everything around us as we head for the elevator.  I shiver as the express elevator moves quickly to the top floor.

The room is huge and completely ridiculous for a single person’s one-night stay.  It’s not even the whole night—we have to be back at the airport in five hours.  I’ve always stayed at reasonably priced hotels, usually finding the best deal possible after consulting a host of internet travel sites.  I’m used to the kinds of rooms where normal people spend their nights away from home.  This seems more like something out of a dream.

A nightmare is more like it.

“Someone will be posted outside your room at all times,” Eckhart says.  He hands me a business card with his name and a phone number scrawled over the front of it.  “If you need anything, please let us know.  Contact me directly if you run into any issues.”

“Thank you.”

The door closes and I am blissfully alone.  I don’t partake of the in-room bar, but I do turn the television on.  The deep bathtub looks like it has jets built in, and a soak is tempting, but I’m afraid I’d pass out in the water and drown.  Instead, I kick my shoes off, drop to the bed, and open up the toiletry bag.

Inside is the tiniest tube of toothpaste I have ever seen, a plastic brush that will never get through my thick hair, a razor, and a miniscule tube of shaving cream.  There is also an extra-large, white T-shirt that is so thin, it is completely see-through.  I shake my head and snicker at the whole assortment.

Dropping my head to the pillow, I stare at the shirt, wondering if I should put it on just to keep my other clothes from getting sweaty while I sleep.  The suit I’m wearing is going to be all wrinkled if I don’t, so I push myself out of bed and hang up my clothes, ditch the panty hose and my bra, and pull the thin, white fabric over my head.  I glance in the mirror, and there is absolutely nothing left to the imagination.

“Great look,” I mutter to myself.

“You got nice titties, girl!  Really nice titties!  Bigger than the ones we usually get to see around here!  Heh!  Heh!  Heh!”

Bile rises into my throat, and I rush to the bathroom, but nothing comes up.  I grab one of the soft, white towels and shove it under my knees as my stomach rolls around.

Paxton said I only have to get through this one more time…one more time, telling it all.  It shouldn’t take more than a day or two, and then I can put it all behind me.

Bullshit.

It’s never going to be over.  What exactly am I supposed to do afterward?  Find another job?  Who the fuck is going to hire the snitch?  What else does that leave me?  Stuck with selling the book and movie rights.  Or maybe just hiding out somewhere, away from the public, watching my picture appear in Facebook memes.

I squeeze my eyes shut and lay the side of my head on the rim of the toilet, refusing to cry.  Even though there’s no one here to see me, I don’t want to give the bastards the satisfaction.  I’m just going to wash my face and go get a couple of hours sleep.  Tomorrow is going to be a busy, busy day.

But before I can act on the thought, my vision blurs, and I’m out.

I’m awakened by a knock at the door early in the morning.  I’m still slumped against the commode, and my knees ache.  I pull myself off the floor and go to the door.  It’s Eckhart.

His eyes nearly bulge out of his head as he stands there with a small bag in his hand.  There’s a guy from the hotel behind him with a cart full of food.  I look at him for a moment, trying to understand why he’s looking at me so strangely, and then I remember how I’m dressed.

“Shit!”  I wrap one arm across my tits and use the other to push the door mostly closed, so I’m only looking at him through the crack.  “Sorry!  I…I…”

I don’t know what to say.

“We’ll need to leave in about twenty minutes,” Eckhart says.  “I thought you could use these.”

He shoves the small plastic bag through the barely open door.  I look inside to find a package of women’s underwear and a pink sweatshirt with “Atlanta” scrawled across the front of it.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “they didn’t have a lot of choices in the gift shop downstairs.  I thought you’d be hungry as well, but I didn’t know what you might like.”

“That’s fine,” I say quickly as I turn away from the opening to hide the blush I’m sure is covering my cheeks.  “I appreciate it.”

I hide in the bathroom so the cart can be brought inside, then pick at the pancakes on the cart and sip at strong coffee while Eckhart waits outside with the rest of his group.  There’s no time to shower, but I brush my teeth and manage to wash all the important parts with a washcloth and soap, conscious of the men just outside my door.  I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror and wonder if this is worth it.

Doesn’t matter if it is or not—it’s too late now.

“It’s only a short flight to D.C.,” Eckhart informs me as I leave the sanctuary of the hotel room behind.  I can’t look him in the face now that he saw me in that sheer getup, but at least he’s acting like nothing happened.  “We’ll have you there quickly.”

“Fantastic.”  I don’t even bother to hide my morose mood.  The closer I get to the destination, the more surreal it all feels.  My heart is beating too fast in my chest, and I feel like I’m going to start hyperventilating.  I consider asking Eckhart for a paper bag, but I don’t think he’d find the humor in it.  This guy is all business.

The elevator shakes once during the fast descent from the twenty-first floor, and I have to grab onto the railing of the car to keep my balance.  Eckhart starts to reach out for me but pulls his hand back when he sees I have a hold of the railing.  He looks from me to the lighted display at the top of the elevator car and scowls.

As soon as the elevator doors open, it’s obvious something is going on.  In my paranoia, I think it’s about me, but I quickly see that it’s not.

There are about thirty people in the lobby, all pressed up against the glass doors.

“It must have been an earthquake,” someone in the crowd says.  Others seem to agree.

“That wasn’t an earthquake,” a man argues.  “Not enough to shake the building.  Not around here.”

“A fire?” a woman questions as she holds a school-aged boy’s hand tightly.  “Did a plane crash?”

“I don’t see anything outside.”

“Get out of the way and let me look!”

Hotel security appears and tries to move everyone away from the doors as they quote fire codes.  Eckhart sends one of his guys to get information from the hotel security group before he brings me off to the side.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“No idea,” Eckhart says with a sharp shake of his head.  “Let’s just give everyone a minute to clear.”

He takes position behind me and slightly to the right.  He keeps his right hand hanging close to his hip, and when I look down, I can see the bulge of a gun there.

I close my eyes.  I have never liked guns, have never been around them, and don’t know anything about them.  Knowing one is so close to me makes my skin crawl, and I can’t help but wonder how many times Eckhart’s used it.

There’s a rumble from outside, and the floor shakes.  It is what I would imagine an earthquake feels like, but in Atlanta?  Don’t those only happen on the coast or something?

“Do you think it’s an earthquake?” I ask dumbly.  Eckhart obviously has no more of an idea than I do and doesn’t bother to respond.  He keeps his eyes forward, watching the short interaction between hotel security and the man he sent over to talk to them.

The conversation ends, and the security guard from Eckhart’s team turns to head toward us.  As he turns, he makes eye contact with Eckhart and shakes his head slightly.  Eckhart starts to speak, but I never hear his words.  They are drowned out as a massive explosion rocks the building and sends me crashing into him.

My ears ring and my head throbs.  I’m barely aware of Eckhart’s arms around me as he helps me back to my feet.  I hear screams, but they’re muffled.  People are pushing past us, and Eckhart’s team is trying to steer them all away from me as they scramble past.

A large wooden support beam falls from the ceiling of the lobby, crashing onto the marble floor.  More people scream, and I think I see someone trapped underneath the rubble.

What the hell is going on?

“Outside!” I hear Eckhart say as he pushes at my back, directing me toward a shattered glass door.  “Be careful.”

He keeps his hands close to me but not quite touching as I step over the glass and out of the hotel.  Eckhart stays near me as we head out into the street with many of the other hotel patrons.  There are people everywhere, running around the cars and heading to our left.  Eckhart looks to the right and the mass of people running in our direction.  There’s another blast from that vicinity though it’s not as close as the previous one.

In the distance, there’s a massive rumbling sound, and we all look up as a twenty story building collapses a few blocks away.  There are more screams from the crowd, and Eckhart grabs my arm.

As soon as he comes in contact with me, I tense everywhere.  He had only touched me lightly on the back before, but now his fingers grip my arm as he pulls me off to the side near the brick wall of the hotel.

“Sorry,” he mutters as he releases my arm.  “Just stay close to me.”

I nod, unable to answer with words.  People are running everywhere—screaming.  There’s another explosion in the distance, and the ground beneath me shakes.

“Brand!  Offner!  Head north and report back.  Miller and Hester—south towards that last blast.”

“On it.”

Each pair heads off in the given direction. As they disappear into the surge of panicking people, Eckhart holds his hand up to his ear and listens intently.  He scans the area, taking everything in as he listens.

Several police officers try to organize people, telling them not to panic.  It’s not working.  The police officers look as confused as everyone else.  There’s another blast close to our right.  From the alley between buildings, a man runs into the street.  His clothing is on fire, and he screams as he burns.  One of the police officers runs toward him, but they disappear behind a car, and I can’t see what’s happening.  The building on the far side of the alley suddenly collapses into rubble, sending bricks and glass everywhere.

“Oh my God!”

“Air or ground?  Well, figure it out!”  Eckhart turns to the last remaining member of his security team.  “Keep contact with both groups.  I want to get Ms. Savinski out of the way.”

“What’s happening?”  My voice is shaking as I speak.  I look up into the air, not sure what I’m hoping to find.  “Are we under attack?”

My question is ignored.

“We’re headed in there,” Eckhart says as he points to a wide staircase leading down inside one of the buildings.

“You taking her underground?”

“You see a better option?”

“No, sir.”

“Come with me,” Eckhart orders as he turns me around and directs me to the long staircase heading down below the main floor of a shopping center.  There are signs all around, but he whisks me away too fast to read them.  The stairs lead down into darkness, and my chest tightens.

“Where are we going?”

He doesn’t answer—just urges me forward.  He stays behind me and to my right as we head down the stairs against a sea of people heading up.  When we reach the bottom, the lights are flickering, and a train is stopped next to a concrete platform.

“I don’t think the trains are running,” I start to say, but my words are interrupted by the loudest explosion yet.  I’m thrown forward, and I feel Eckhart’s arm around my waist as he stops me from landing head first on the concrete.

“Move!” he orders as soon as I’m upright.

I have no idea where he’s taking me, and I can’t think straight.  The explosion still rings in my ears, and my feet are cramping up in my heels.  I can’t make sense out of anything that is happening and can only follow unwittingly as Eckhart brings me to the edge of the platform in front of the train and jumps down to the tracks.

“Come on!” he orders as he reaches for my hands.  “Don’t think!  Just do what I tell you!”

I glance over my shoulder once, hesitating.

“Move!” he screams.

My hands are shaking so badly, I can hardly hold on as I crouch down and sit on the edge of the platform.  Eckhart takes my hands to help me down.  His skin is warm and his grip is sure, but it doesn’t comfort me.  For a moment, I consider getting caught in the explosions behind me might be better than being touched by this man I don’t know at all.

I tense, my muscles frozen.  Suddenly, all I can see is the stained, metal ceiling of a van, and tears burn my eyes.  I can hear Eckhart speaking softly to me, but it takes a minute to hear what he’s saying.

“Come on, Hannah,” Eckhart says quietly.  “You can do it.  I’ve got to get you somewhere safe.”

“Safe?” I echo.

“Come on now.”

I swallow once and push myself off the ledge with my heels against the concrete.  I land steadily next to the track, and the ground crunches under my heels.  Eckhart releases my hands immediately.

“There you go,” Eckhart says.  “Just head that way, and don’t get close to the center rail.”

I balance on the slender walkway that goes into the subway tunnel.  Eckhart keeps close to me as we go deeper into the passage.  I hear more explosions, but they’re muted.  Dust falls all around us as the ceiling shakes.

“It’s going to collapse!”

“Not on us, it won’t.”  Eckhart’s voice is so calm and sure, I can’t help but believe him.  “Just keep moving.”

Eckhart speaks into his radio, but there’s no answer.

“Are we too far away to reach them?” I ask.

“There must be something in the tunnel that’s blocking the signal.”

“Maybe we should go back.”

“Not until the explosions stop,” he says.  “You’re safer here.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, the tunnel starts to shake all around us.  The lights flicker and then go out, but Eckhart produces a flashlight from God-knows-where and shines it ahead of us.

“Run!”  Eckhart grabs my hand and pulls me alongside him as he hastens farther down the tunnel.  The ground is sloped, and I can barely walk in these shoes, let alone run.  I stumble, and Eckhart holds tightly to my hand, but I still fall to my knees.

“Kick them off!” he orders.  “Get rid of the fucking shoes!”

I look around at the ground where the light shines, trying to figure out how I’d be able to step anywhere without cutting my feet.

“There are rocks down here!”

Another loud crash from further up the tunnel is followed by a low, escalating hum.  As we look in the direction of the train, part of the tunnel begins to collapse.  Chunks of cement and metal begin to fall from the ceiling.

The hum increases, and I hunch my shoulders to block the sound as I try to keep up with the man in front of me.  It doesn’t help.  The noise grows louder and louder until my head pounds, and I can’t think.  My skin vibrates.  For a moment, it feels as if I’m being lifted off the ground by the sound itself.

The sound cuts off abruptly, and my knees suddenly buckle under me.  As my hand slips from Eckhart’s, I fall against the rocks near the track.  He has to stop and come back for me.

“What was that?” I cry out.

He ignores my question as he yells, “Come on!” and pulls me back to my feet.

I hear a sharp pop from above my head.  I start to glance upward, but Eckhart grabs me around the waist and hauls me off to the side.  The movement isn’t fast enough, and a large chunk of concrete hits my leg, tearing through the panty hose and the skin beneath.

I scream as searing pain runs up and down my leg.  I can’t see how bad it is in the dark, but I can feel blood running down my ankle.  Eckhart grabs me by the waist and holds me sideways as he pulls off my shoes.  He sets me back down again and yells.

“Run, dammit!”

“I can’t!  My leg!”

He flicks the light to my calf but moves the light away again before I can really see it.

“Shit!”

Chunks of concrete fall behind us as he suddenly grabs me around the waist and throws me over his shoulder.  I can barely breathe with his shoulder pressed into my diaphragm.  There’s dust in my lungs, and the pain in my leg is nearly unbearable.  Another piece from the ceiling plummets right behind us, shattering and sending shards into my arms as they dangle at Eckhart’s back.

I jiggle and bounce as Eckhart runs, dodging falling chunks of the tunnel.  He skips over the tracks to the other side, and my chin bangs painfully against his back.  I try to grip the back of his jacket, but it doesn’t help.  All I can do is close my eyes and press my lips together to keep from screaming.

Thankfully, we only go a little farther before Eckhart slows and then stops.  The tunnel behind us is silent now as he lowers me to the ground and shines the light from his flashlight back toward the way we came.  There’s dust obscuring the view, but I can’t hear any additional sounds of collapse.

“Did it stop?” I ask.

“Shh.”  He cocks his head to one side and listens intently.

There’s nothing to be heard but our own panting breaths.  We stand there motionless, me on one leg, using him for support for what feels like forever before Eckhart silently takes my hand and helps me limp farther away from where we came.  I follow, occasionally glancing back into the darkness, but I hear nothing.  After several more minutes of walking, the tunnel begins to slope upward, and Eckhart stops.

“Sit,” he says, using his flashlight to indicate the indentation in the concrete next to the track.  “I need to look at your leg.”

“We’re not going to keep going?”  My body wants to comply with his demand, but my mind is racing.

“This is the lowest point of the tunnel,” he says.  “It’s the best place to be right now.”

“How are we going to get out?”

“I’ll worry about that after I check you out.”  He looks me over.  “Are you hurt anywhere besides your leg?”

He shines the light at me, and I look over my arms.  There are only a few scrapes there.

“I don’t think so.”

“Let me look.”  Eckhart crouches beside me and holds my ankle gently in his hand.  I tense at the touch, and he looks into my eyes and speaks softly.  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I swallow and nod, allowing him to examine my leg.  There’s a long, bloody gash over half of my calf.  The skin is split wide open and dried blood surrounds the opening, but fresh blood seeps out of it slowly, too.

The sight nauseates me.

“I don’t have anything with me to treat this,” he says after a moment, “but it’s not too deep.  Your leg is going to tighten up on you, though.”

He sits back on his heels and pulls the end of his shirt out of his suit pants.  He undoes a couple of the buttons at the bottom and then pulls the shirt up to his mouth, tearing the fabric with his teeth.  He rips off a strand of fabric and quickly wraps it around my leg.

“Just to keep it from bleeding more,” he says.  “We’ll need to get it properly bandaged when we get back to the surface.”

He releases me and stands as I rub the skin near the wound.

“How long will we stay here?” I ask.

“Until the explosions have definitely stopped,” he says, “or until I hear from one of the other guys.”

“The radio still isn’t working?”

“No, but it really should be.”

“Phone?”

“No signal down here even on a good day,” he says.  “We’re going to have to wait it out.”

“What if a train comes?”

He raises his eyebrows at me, and I realize how ridiculous my question is.  Without bothering to answer, he sits beside me and leans against the cold wall.  I glance over and see the light reflecting off the sweat on his temple.

“What do you think is happening up there?”

“I don’t know,” he says slowly.  “I can only speculate.”

“Guess, then.”

“Invasion,” he says.  “I don’t know who, but that was definitely an attack.  A big one.”

“But who?” I press.  “Terrorists?”

“I don’t know who has that kind of power.  I never saw any planes, and I didn’t hear any tanks.  I don’t know how anyone would get that far into the middle of the country without some kind of warning.”

“What else could it be?”

He turns his head to look at me.  His eyes are dark and solemn.

“I don’t even want to guess.”