There’s nothing left to do but continue running, and Emma reaches inside her bag for her phone. She touches Matt’s phone number and presses the phone to her ear. It doesn’t ring but goes directly to an automated message about being unable to connect the call at this time. Panic rises to her throat and she shoves the phone into her purse, clutching it to her chest, and running toward the next subway station, hoping it’s open.
Brawls are breaking out as people try to push their way down the stairs for the subway. A growing fear sets in when word spreads that the entire subway system has been shut down. An elderly man and woman lose their footing in front of Emma and fall to the sidewalk. “Here,” Emma says, helping the woman to her feet before reaching for her husband. “Get away from this crowd,” she yells, grabbing the woman’s arm and leading them away from the stairs. She maneuvers her way to the front of a building and looks at the old man and woman. They are shaken and stunned, and Emma wonders what in the world will happen to them.
“What’s going on?” the old man asks. Emma shakes her head. The lump in her throat claims her voice. The old man’s voice is trembling as he says, “How will we ever get out of here?”
Emma is knocked from behind and falls toward them. “You can’t try to walk through this right now. Stay here. Tight against this wall,” she says.
The old couple looks so vulnerable and afraid. She touches the woman’s purse. “Tuck your wallet under your bra.” She stands in front of her and the woman’s wrinkled hands shake as she lifts her wallet from her purse and slips it under her shirt. Emma helps remove the woman’s sweater and moves the purse so that it is behind her back instead of at her side, then pulls her sweater over the strap so it can’t be seen.
“Now it’s harder for someone to get your purse, and even if they did, your wallet won’t be in it.” The woman’s eyes are wide as she looks at her. “The crowd will eventually thin out and then you get home as quickly as you can.”
The old man nods and grabs her hand. “Thank you. We’ll be fine.”
He said that for her sake and for the sake of the old woman, and she covers her mouth to keep from screaming as she turns away from them.
As soon as the doors closed on the subway, the entire system was shut down and evacuated, forcing everyone off the trains. Elliott found himself among the stampede for the stairs leading up to the streets. It is a madness he’s never seen before. Fear has gripped the entire city. Chaos and confusion have erupted in the streets; people are fighting over abandoned cars and battling for taxis. Elliott gasps for breath as he races toward the next block. If he can just keep running from one block to the next, he’ll make it back to his apartment, he tells himself. The streets are sheer pandemonium, and it doesn’t take long before people begin to plunder businesses and restaurants. This isn’t a simple case of confusion or disorder. It isn’t even rioting, but anarchy. Police are trying to control the situation, but even they don’t know what the situation is or what’s happening. Elliott has a hard time breathing, and he realizes he can feel his heart pounding in his ears. He stops for a moment to take a breath.
Another fight breaks out, this time as a man tries to drag a taxi driver from behind the wheel of the cab. Elliott watches and in moments seven or eight people are in the melee, extracting the driver and his passengers and waging war on one another for ownership of the taxi. One man lays crumpled and bloodied on the ground as the riot accelerates around him.
Elliott backs away but as he turns to begin his race to the end of the block, a man with the composition of a steel post runs into him, leveling him to the ground. The side of his face grinds into the asphalt, making his glasses fall off; in his mouth he can taste blood. In the charge he is kicked and stepped on, and he struggles to get to his feet. Elliott shouts into the pavement, scrambling to put his glasses back on. He feels arms swooping in from behind him, lifting him to his feet, and setting him on course to run again. There is no chance to see who helped him or to shout out a word of thanks. More and more people are trying to commandeer taxicabs and other vehicles. His left eye and mouth are bleeding and his ribs ache with every step, but he tells himself again, Just one more block. Go one more block.
Israel
Zerah looks up from his notes at the sound of the door opening. It’s Gila, one of the administrative assistants for the department. “Apologies for the interruption,” Gila says. Her voice has lost all inflection. “Several people are missing from the building.”
“What do you mean people are missing?” Dr. Benjamin asks, a tinge of annoyance in his voice at being interrupted.
Her face looks stricken. “I don’t understand it myself, Dr. Benjamin,” she says, her voice losing strength. “But many staff and patients are gone.” The team around the table jump to their feet.
“Dr. Haas!” Zerah whispers, looking at Dr. Benjamin.
“It’s on the news. It’s happening all around the world,” Gila says, her voice quivering now.
“What?” Dr. Benjamin says, clicking on the television. When the images on the screen are in view, each doctor stands and walks closer to the TV.
“Change the channel,” Zerah says, hoping that this is nothing more than a TV publicity stunt. But the coverage on every channel is the same: a horrible, unimaginable scenario is taking place all around the world.
“All nonessential personnel have been asked to evacuate,” Gila says.
Zerah has the frame of mind to grab his computer before running for the door. “Who else is missing?” he asks Gila as the others in the room scramble past them.
She shakes her head, fear filling her eyes. “I don’t know.”
“Dr. Haas wasn’t here for the meeting. Is she one of them?”
A tear falls down one of Gila’s cheeks and she swipes it away. “I don’t know,” she says again, her voice breaking.
He nods. “Get home, Gila. Go be with your family.”
As Gila runs down the hall, Zerah can see her shoulders shaking. He makes his way down the hall that leads to his office; when he passes Dr. Haas’s door he stops, pushing it open. Stepping to her desk, he scans the top of it for anything that might be out of order, but the books and files and computer are all in their usual places. He opens the drawers of the desk and of the credenza behind it. Her purse is in one of the credenza drawers. He opens it and spots her car keys inside before closing it and shutting it back inside the drawer. People hurry past the door and he walks to it, looking for any familiar faces. “Amsel,” he says, waving at one of the young computer techs for his department.
“Dr. Adler,” Amsel responds, crossing through people to get to him. His large brown eyes are dark with fear and his eyebrows furrowed in worry.
Zerah pulls him into the doorway. “Amsel, have you seen Dr. Haas?”
Amsel shakes his head. “Not since this morning.” The realization settles on him. “Is she one of the missing?”
“I don’t know. Do you know of any others who are missing from the department?”
Amsel’s voice breaks. “Dr. Sokolof was testing a new patient when…” The young man gropes for the right words.