Previous Story: 91. Settling Affairs - “Up to No Good” - Crime Pays
Standing in one of the corner offices, a mug of green tea in her hand, Crimson stared down at the city. But she wasn’t thinking about San Lazaro, or Cynfo Tech, or Ryder or Goddess.
She was thinking about her husband, Troy. When she had last spoken to him all those weeks ago, he’d been on a business trip to Los Diablos. Troy hadn’t been permitted to leave once the virus began to spread, and they’d been apart ever since. Crimson couldn’t even remember what they’d said during their last phone call.
Now that there was a chance of escaping San Lazaro, her thoughts turned to her old life once more. She had been able to keep up her usual façade of cold professionalism while enduring the crisis, but now felt herself weakening.
The previous day, she had come across a CyMS standing on a bench. From distance, it had looked like Troy — a tall, handsome black guy with a shaved head. Though she knew it wasn’t possible, Crimson was drawn to him. But, as she got closer, she realized that the man was at least 10 years younger and nowhere near as muscular as Troy.
The CyMS was telling jokes, even though only Crimson was listening. She usually shot CyMS on sight, but this time she didn’t — or couldn’t, perhaps due to the resemblance. The jokes weren’t funny; then again, not much seemed funny these days. She listened for a few minutes, until the CyMS abruptly stopped.
Instead of surveying his imaginary audience, he suddenly gazed at Crimson with an expression of confusion and horror. Then he looked down at himself: his bloodstained sleeve, his torn trousers, his missing shoe. Then, his previous state returned and he continued in his comedian’s voice:
"Everyone keeps making fun of me because I don’t know what the word ‘apocalypse’ means. What’s the big deal? It’s not like it’s the end of the world."
And now she found herself laughing at the joke, even though so many hours had passed. She glanced at the floor, where her bloodstained telescopic baton lay — but the laughter continued. In fact, it soon became uncontrollable: her head shaking, her body shuddering. Crimson set the mug of tea down and slumped into a chair. She sat there for some time, and it took awhile for her to realize that she was no longer laughing, but sobbing.
Next Story: 93. Flatbed to Freedom