The Gathering Dead by Stephen Knight

stairway with his MP5K until the door was closed.
    The darkness on the other side was not absolute. Some lights were still on. McDaniels saw they were in a corridor that ran along one side of the building with doors at either end. The door to the stairs had been tied shut with a fire hose that was stored on a reel on the wall opposite the stairway. In the center of the corridor was another elevator bay, just like on the fifth floor, although minus the glass entry doors. He worried about that, and the short man beside him followed his gaze.
    “Don’t worry bout the elevators. I got em turned off.”
    McDaniels looked back at the man, and saw he wore a green uniform. The nametape on one breast read EARL in red embroidered letters on a white background. His shoes were scuffed but sturdy, and on his belt were a huge key ring and a large flashlight in a holder. At his kidney was a walkie-talkie.
    “You must be Earl,” McDaniels said.
    “Earl Brown. I work here. Used to work here. Well, whatever.” Earl extended his hand.
    McDaniels shook the proffered hand. “I’m Cord McDaniels, and this is Sergeant Finelly.”
    “How you doin, sergeant,” Earl said, and shook Finelly’s hand. Finelly smiled and nodded, trying to look as friendly as possible since he practically dwarfed the man.
    “You a maintenance worker, Earl?” McDaniels asked.
    Earl nodded. “Yessir. Been workin here at Verbatim for almost twenny years.”
    “‘Verbatim’?”
    “The name of the hedge fund group that was in this building. One of the oldest ones in the city. Used to be an investment bank, but got bought out by another bigger bank and the principals started a hedge fund. This was their building. One of the partners lived here in the Upper East Side, and he didn’t want no long commute downtown.” Earl smiled. “Me, I come across from Queens, and it takes me an hour to get here.” The smile suddenly vanished from his face, and he looked at the two soldiers before him.
    “Sorry. Guess I was ramblin.”
    “That’s okay,” McDaniels said. “So, the cafeteria’s on this floor?”
    “Yessir, that’s right. You gen’lmen hungry?”
    McDaniels smiled. “You know Earl, now that you mention it, I think I’m damned hungry.”
    Earl smiled, revealing a large set of nicotine stained teeth. “Den you came to the right place.”
    ###
    The lights were on in the kitchen, and they were bright and antiseptic. The main serving area was empty, but there were stocked refrigeration units filled with soda, tea, milk, and specialty drinks, as well as ready-made sandwiches and takeaway meals that the sign declared were “Grab-N-Gos”. On both sides of the area were serving stations with refrigerators under the counters; Finelly walked behind one and notified McDaniels he had found the sandwich station.
    “Complete with roast beef, salami, tuna, turkey, you name it,” he said.
    “Bread too,” Earl added. “An all the condiments a man might want.” He swung an arm wide, indicating the rest of the kitchen. “We got a grill, we got a pizza station with ovens, we got a sushi station if you like eatin dead fish, we got Fryolators, we got gas ranges, we got ovens big enough to cook turkeys in, we got chips, cakes, pies, fries, cookies, gifelte fish... whatever you want, it’s here.”
    McDaniels nodded appreciatively. “You certainly have everything laid out, Earl.”
    The praise seemed to please the small maintenance worker, and he smiled and nodded. McDaniels caught a whiff of tobacco clinging to the man’s green uniform.
    “So who else is up here? You said ‘we saw your helicopter crash’.”
    Earl shuffled his feet a bit, head held low. For a moment, McDaniels wasn’t sure he was going to answer, and he wondered why that was.
    “Just me... and my two daughters,” he said finally, his voice so low that McDaniels barely understood the reply.
    Daughters. Ah. That explained the reluctance on the maintenance worker’s part, and McDaniels