Machines of the Dead by David Bernstein

slightly in his chair. “About that. I wanted to ask you something.”
    “Shoot,” the man said, enthusiastically, startling Jack a bit.
    “When you do find a way to stop the bots, a cure so to speak, and I know you will, how are you planning to get word to the outside?”
    Reynolds sat still, looking at Jack as if studying him. He sipped his tea, taking his time as if pondering something. Jack felt a shiver crawl over him, waiting for a response. He began to question if he should have kept his mouth shut. 
    “I have a way,” he said. “A way of communicating to the proper authorities.”
    Jack couldn’t believe it. So there was a way to reach the outside. Why had he kept it from him?
    “Only a few others know about this,” Dr. Reynolds continued, “and I’m counting on you to keep it to yourself. This includes your friend, Mr. Van Pelt.”
    “But why? Wouldn’t it make the others feel better, knowing they aren’t cut off?”
    “No. It would distract them. They’d constantly want to get word out to their families. Then they’d even want to speak to them, one on one. This can’t and won’t happen. Not on my end and not on the military’s. The channel is hardwired to a building in Brooklyn. Communication-wise, it goes directly to my bosses. They expect their soldiers to do their jobs, and not worry about home life. The same goes for when our troops are in the field overseas. No communication. No whereabouts known. It’s better to just have everyone believe we’re on our own, leaving the men and women here to realize that they must be up to their best. Bottom line, they need to concentrate on their duties.”
    “I’m surprised none of your people have brought it up. I can’t be the only person to wonder.”
    “I’m sure you’re not, but unlike you, a civilian, my men must follow orders. They don’t ask questions. So, again, I must insist that you keep this conversation between us.”
    Jack nodded. “My lips are sealed. It isn’t my place. I’m not a member of your team and I’m grateful to have a place here with you.”
    He might inform Zaun, just to tell someone, but then again he might not. Zaun wasn’t a member of Doc’s team and he had no one he’d want to communicate with. But Zaun could be a loose cannon, and Jack didn’t want the guy mouthing off, telling any of the guards what Jack and him had talked about. So as much as he wanted to, Jack needed to keep the information to himself.
    “Well, Jack,” Reynolds said, “I’m glad you’re back safe and sound with us.”
    “Me too. And thanks for giving me the tools to get it done.”
    “Not a problem.”
    Jack stood, the doctor doing the same. They shook hands.
    “Think I’ll head back to my room. I’m beat.”
    Reynolds was looking at Jack again, as if studying him. A grin formed on the man’s face.
    “Everything all right, Doc?”
    The man turned away. “Aside from my numerous failed attempts at finding a cure and the fact that the city is in total ruin, millions dead?” He laughed. “I’m fine.”
    Jack frowned. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
    Reynolds walked to the door. “I know. I’m sorry too. Sorry I wasn’t more diligent with my security. Sorry for the loss of your wife. This whole mess is my fault. It was my project that got so many killed.”
    Jack felt a tinge of anger bloom inside him at hearing the man say Jess’ name. It was ultimately Reynolds’ fault that his wife was dead. If the man had deliberately killed her, Jack wouldn’t hesitate to end his life. Screw finding a cure, he would let someone else worry about that. But Jack knew better; knew that Reynolds hadn’t set out to kill anyone, and was only sanctioned by the military, the same military that kept America safe, to perform a task. And Jack actually thought the idea sounded like a good one. Micro-robotic machines that could aid in a person’s recovery. If the doctor had figured out a way to make them work, it could have meant