Ash’s change from him. “Check the console of my car and see if there’s more. Otherwise I’ll only have a couple minutes.”
“Why can’t you just give him the payphone number and have him call you back?” Ash asked. “Or call collect?”
Elliot was too busy paying attention to the clang of coins causing the line to click to do more than point at the “no incoming calls” sticker affixed above the number pad. He vaguely remembered Brian trying to freak him out by telling him about payphones when he was younger and how antiquated technology had been before Elliot was born. He’d explained some of them were one-sided to prevent drug dealers from using the numbers anonymously in conjunction with pagers, which only doctors used now. A few seconds later, the strange ringing of a satellite phone began, interrupted by shuffling, a crash, and Elliot forgot all about the workings of payphones beyond that this one brought him in contact with his parents.
“Elliot? Is that you?” The anxious voice of Beth Davenport washed over Elliot.
“Yeah, Mom. I’m okay.” His knees went a little weak. He’d known they were likely fine, being on a cruise ship far away from New York, but there was no worry quite like an irrational worry. Speaking to her went a long way toward soothing his shredded nerves.
“Oh thank god!” she exclaimed. “Steven! It’s Elliot!”
There was more rustling, and Elliot’s father came on the line. “Son, are you okay?” It was rare when his father showed much emotion aside from what helped him on a global scale as the CEO and president of Davenport Oil, but here, in this empty parking lot, Elliot heard Steven Davenport’s relief all the way to his marrow. He nearly sagged against the payphone.
“Yeah, Dad. I’m fine. I helped a friend drive up to Auburn, New York, to get to his sister and her ten-year-old son when the city lost power.” Elliot swallowed, waiting for his dad to decide if that was idiocy or genius.
“You should have gone straight home and waited for Brian to come get you, but I suppose it’s better you’re out of the city sooner rather than later.” Was that it? His dad wasn’t going to pick apart his decision consequence by consequence like he usually did? Elliot’s shoulders dipped as he lost a truckload of tension. “Listen, son—”
“Please deposit one dollar and fifty cents to continue your call,” the recorded voice interrupted. Elliot picked out and deposited another six quarters, their drop into the hollow chamber inside the phone unsettlingly loud.
“I don’t have a lot of time, Dad. About another two minutes’ worth of change.”
“Why don’t I call you back? I have the number from caller ID.”
“Payphone sticker says no incoming calls. I have no other way to talk to you.”
“I’ll make this quick, then. Stay where you are. I’ll send Brian to you, and when he arrives, do as he says. I will give him instructions on how to get you to safety. I’ve spoken with Deputy Commander Oliver McGinn at Fort Hamilton, and the military is mobilizing.”
“Military?” Elliot asked dumbly, suddenly cold despite the pleasant, sunny afternoon. “Did the city get that bad already? The power’s been out less than twenty-four hours. Surely people can be patient for a day.” It was never a good idea to show confusion in his father’s presence, even over the phone, but Elliot couldn’t help it.
“Son, listen. It’s not just New York City, or even the state, that lost power.”
“I know. We drove through parts of Jersey and Pennsylvania, and the interstate was dark the whole way.”
“It’s the entire eastern half of the country, Elliot.”
A high, buzzing whine settled in Elliot’s ears, blotting out the conversation as he gaped at Ash, who looked at him in puzzlement.
“What did you say?” he said, voice cracking.
“They don’t know what started it, but the worst of the damage is in D.C. When the power failed in the capitol, it
“Why can’t you just give him the payphone number and have him call you back?” Ash asked. “Or call collect?”
Elliot was too busy paying attention to the clang of coins causing the line to click to do more than point at the “no incoming calls” sticker affixed above the number pad. He vaguely remembered Brian trying to freak him out by telling him about payphones when he was younger and how antiquated technology had been before Elliot was born. He’d explained some of them were one-sided to prevent drug dealers from using the numbers anonymously in conjunction with pagers, which only doctors used now. A few seconds later, the strange ringing of a satellite phone began, interrupted by shuffling, a crash, and Elliot forgot all about the workings of payphones beyond that this one brought him in contact with his parents.
“Elliot? Is that you?” The anxious voice of Beth Davenport washed over Elliot.
“Yeah, Mom. I’m okay.” His knees went a little weak. He’d known they were likely fine, being on a cruise ship far away from New York, but there was no worry quite like an irrational worry. Speaking to her went a long way toward soothing his shredded nerves.
“Oh thank god!” she exclaimed. “Steven! It’s Elliot!”
There was more rustling, and Elliot’s father came on the line. “Son, are you okay?” It was rare when his father showed much emotion aside from what helped him on a global scale as the CEO and president of Davenport Oil, but here, in this empty parking lot, Elliot heard Steven Davenport’s relief all the way to his marrow. He nearly sagged against the payphone.
“Yeah, Dad. I’m fine. I helped a friend drive up to Auburn, New York, to get to his sister and her ten-year-old son when the city lost power.” Elliot swallowed, waiting for his dad to decide if that was idiocy or genius.
“You should have gone straight home and waited for Brian to come get you, but I suppose it’s better you’re out of the city sooner rather than later.” Was that it? His dad wasn’t going to pick apart his decision consequence by consequence like he usually did? Elliot’s shoulders dipped as he lost a truckload of tension. “Listen, son—”
“Please deposit one dollar and fifty cents to continue your call,” the recorded voice interrupted. Elliot picked out and deposited another six quarters, their drop into the hollow chamber inside the phone unsettlingly loud.
“I don’t have a lot of time, Dad. About another two minutes’ worth of change.”
“Why don’t I call you back? I have the number from caller ID.”
“Payphone sticker says no incoming calls. I have no other way to talk to you.”
“I’ll make this quick, then. Stay where you are. I’ll send Brian to you, and when he arrives, do as he says. I will give him instructions on how to get you to safety. I’ve spoken with Deputy Commander Oliver McGinn at Fort Hamilton, and the military is mobilizing.”
“Military?” Elliot asked dumbly, suddenly cold despite the pleasant, sunny afternoon. “Did the city get that bad already? The power’s been out less than twenty-four hours. Surely people can be patient for a day.” It was never a good idea to show confusion in his father’s presence, even over the phone, but Elliot couldn’t help it.
“Son, listen. It’s not just New York City, or even the state, that lost power.”
“I know. We drove through parts of Jersey and Pennsylvania, and the interstate was dark the whole way.”
“It’s the entire eastern half of the country, Elliot.”
A high, buzzing whine settled in Elliot’s ears, blotting out the conversation as he gaped at Ash, who looked at him in puzzlement.
“What did you say?” he said, voice cracking.
“They don’t know what started it, but the worst of the damage is in D.C. When the power failed in the capitol, it
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