actually wanting to get into Jersey.”
“I don’t think we should take the lower deck,” Ken said. “Might be cooler, but who knows how much light there will be by the time we get there. Don’t know who’s going to be waiting in the dark. You ask me, it seems like a good place to set up some ambushes, deprive the fair citizens of Manhattan and the outer boroughs of their goods as they try and make it out, if you know what I mean.”
Vincenzo nodded. “I get it. So it’ll be the upper deck, then. You have any trouble on the way up?”
Ken shook his head. “Not really. Some skeevy-looking people out scouting the area, but no one really took much interest in us. Carla thinks it’s because of the babies, but I think it’s because they’re looking for easier pickings. Singles, like you.”
“Got jumped by a guy, a white Rasta,” Vincenzo said. “I guess he thought I was the weakling type.”
Everett grunted. “You shoot him?”
“No. Knocked him down and somehow managed to beat the hell out of him. That’s how I got the second gun.” He paused for a moment. “Ken, would you know a service weapon if you saw it?”
Ken frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I think the guy might’ve had a piece lifted from the NYPD. It’s a Glock Seventeen.”
“Popular firearm. Standard issue for a lot of the NYPD, but there are some variations out there. Only difference I know of is the cop trigger requires a twelve-pound pull. Doubt I could tell just from looking at it. You really think this guy lifted it from a cop?”
Vincenzo shrugged. “I don’t know for sure.”
“Well, if you were able to beat the hell out of a cop killer, then maybe you aren’t such a lightweight, after all.”
“Maybe not, but it sure is hell on the knuckles,” Vincenzo said, rubbing his left hand.
8
A crowd had gathered at the approach to the upper level of the George Washington Bridge. All races and all walks of life were present—wealthy, indigent, white, black, Latin, Asian, and everything in between. People had brought their possessions any way they could: on their backs, in children’s wagons, in shopping carts, and strapped to bicycles. Vincenzo even saw one family with a boy pedaling a Big Wheel and another being pushed on a Kettler trike by his father. The little tricycle’s yellow plastic storage bin was full of Diet Pepsi.
The aid stations at the bridge had been dismantled. Only the remnants of tattered cardboard, shredded plastic bags, and mountains of discarded water bottles were any indication that they might have actually existed. The NYPD was present in substantial force, as were EMS and fire department personnel. Passersby shouted at them, screaming for them to provide the promised water and food. The police and firemen stared back with hard faces, while the EMS treated those who were suffering from heat exhaustion.
An undercurrent of desperation was palpable in the hot, humid air. Vincenzo’s thirst started to manifest with gusto, but he didn’t want to crack open the Hydro Flask just yet. At the same time, he also didn’t want to open a bottle in front of Everett and his family. They might ask him to share, and he didn’t know how he could refuse. The things you have to think about when the electricity stops flowing…
“Okay, this could get a bit rough,” Ken said. “The cops, they’re not asserting themselves. That’s a bad sign.”
“Why is that?” Carla asked. She sounded exhausted. She was drenched in sweat, and she looked pale.
If Everett noticed her condition, he didn’t give any indication. “They’re here, but they’re not doing anything other than standing around. They’re relying on their numbers to keep the peace. That’s not going to hold. People are already pissed off and scared. Can you feel it?”
“Heck, yeah,” Bobby said.
One of the triplets began mewing softly, and a moment later, all three of them were in full-on cry mode. Vincenzo
“I don’t think we should take the lower deck,” Ken said. “Might be cooler, but who knows how much light there will be by the time we get there. Don’t know who’s going to be waiting in the dark. You ask me, it seems like a good place to set up some ambushes, deprive the fair citizens of Manhattan and the outer boroughs of their goods as they try and make it out, if you know what I mean.”
Vincenzo nodded. “I get it. So it’ll be the upper deck, then. You have any trouble on the way up?”
Ken shook his head. “Not really. Some skeevy-looking people out scouting the area, but no one really took much interest in us. Carla thinks it’s because of the babies, but I think it’s because they’re looking for easier pickings. Singles, like you.”
“Got jumped by a guy, a white Rasta,” Vincenzo said. “I guess he thought I was the weakling type.”
Everett grunted. “You shoot him?”
“No. Knocked him down and somehow managed to beat the hell out of him. That’s how I got the second gun.” He paused for a moment. “Ken, would you know a service weapon if you saw it?”
Ken frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I think the guy might’ve had a piece lifted from the NYPD. It’s a Glock Seventeen.”
“Popular firearm. Standard issue for a lot of the NYPD, but there are some variations out there. Only difference I know of is the cop trigger requires a twelve-pound pull. Doubt I could tell just from looking at it. You really think this guy lifted it from a cop?”
Vincenzo shrugged. “I don’t know for sure.”
“Well, if you were able to beat the hell out of a cop killer, then maybe you aren’t such a lightweight, after all.”
“Maybe not, but it sure is hell on the knuckles,” Vincenzo said, rubbing his left hand.
8
A crowd had gathered at the approach to the upper level of the George Washington Bridge. All races and all walks of life were present—wealthy, indigent, white, black, Latin, Asian, and everything in between. People had brought their possessions any way they could: on their backs, in children’s wagons, in shopping carts, and strapped to bicycles. Vincenzo even saw one family with a boy pedaling a Big Wheel and another being pushed on a Kettler trike by his father. The little tricycle’s yellow plastic storage bin was full of Diet Pepsi.
The aid stations at the bridge had been dismantled. Only the remnants of tattered cardboard, shredded plastic bags, and mountains of discarded water bottles were any indication that they might have actually existed. The NYPD was present in substantial force, as were EMS and fire department personnel. Passersby shouted at them, screaming for them to provide the promised water and food. The police and firemen stared back with hard faces, while the EMS treated those who were suffering from heat exhaustion.
An undercurrent of desperation was palpable in the hot, humid air. Vincenzo’s thirst started to manifest with gusto, but he didn’t want to crack open the Hydro Flask just yet. At the same time, he also didn’t want to open a bottle in front of Everett and his family. They might ask him to share, and he didn’t know how he could refuse. The things you have to think about when the electricity stops flowing…
“Okay, this could get a bit rough,” Ken said. “The cops, they’re not asserting themselves. That’s a bad sign.”
“Why is that?” Carla asked. She sounded exhausted. She was drenched in sweat, and she looked pale.
If Everett noticed her condition, he didn’t give any indication. “They’re here, but they’re not doing anything other than standing around. They’re relying on their numbers to keep the peace. That’s not going to hold. People are already pissed off and scared. Can you feel it?”
“Heck, yeah,” Bobby said.
One of the triplets began mewing softly, and a moment later, all three of them were in full-on cry mode. Vincenzo
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