Giovanni rolled forward onto his feet. “I will have Nico drive you—”
Jess opened her mouth to object, but Giovanni held up one hand. “—I insist. And please, stay in touch with an email or text. Update me if you hear anything more.”
“Of course.” She stared at Giovanni, then looked away, her shoulders slumping. “I need to go.”
“Of course.”
Jess smiled weakly and turned for the staircase. Getting to the top of it, she found Enzo staring up at her, his pork pie hat cocked back at an angle.
“Your mother wants to see you,” Enzo said, hovering.
This guy really creeped her out. “Thank you.” She jumped down the stairs, pushing past him. At least it would be the last time she’d have to see him.
NOMAD
Survivor testimony #GR4;
Event +47hrs;
Survivor name: Daly James;
Reported location: Alice Springs, Australia
What the hell happened, mate? Christ, you’re the first person I’ve spoken to in weeks.
Okay, okay, I’ll start. I was on my walkabout, mate, spring every year I piss off into the outback. A month by myself, you know, keeps the head straight. Anyway, two weeks out of Alice Springs and I’m taking a nap when a stampede of wallabies going like batshit tears into my tent. Never seen anything like it. Maybe ten in the morning, and when I’ve finished yelling at the bastards I look up. Blue skies, but these snakes of white light are coiling around the sun, all around it. Had to rub my eyes, thought I was losing it, too much grog the night before, yeah? I decide that’s enough and pack up, start heading back.
About mid-afternoon, these rivers of light in the sky are almost touching the ground, the fear of God rising up in me, and it shakes. The ground I mean. Knocked me clear off my feet, had to be ten minutes before I could stand, it shook that long. When it stopped, I damn near started running. But big cracks opened in the ground, everywhere, like chopped up with a mountain-sized meat cleaver, the ground shaking again. So I got back into Alice Springs, and the place is a ghost town. Nobody here. And the skies, they’re getting dark. Not clouds, mind you, but just dark, like God pulling the shades. Temperature’s dropped twenty degrees in a day. Found this shortwave in the postal station, so I turned it on, and there you are, mate. Now can you tell me what the hell is going on? (laughs nervously) Is this it, mate? Armageddon? Where is everyone? What happened?
pgs 112-114 for complete transcript. Freq. 7652 kHz./LSB/USB
OCTOBER 19th
11
FIUMICINO AIRPORT, ITALY
“THEY ANNOUNCED THE boarding gate,” Celeste said to Jess, nudging her shoulder.
Jess nodded and looked up at the departures board: New York 10:00 AA1465 - Go to Gate C23. She looked back at her phone.
The man sitting beside them looked up at the board as well, then folded his newspaper and stood, smiling at Celeste and Jess. He walked off. A young woman in heels and a short skirt immediately took his place. The food court waiting area of the International Terminal of Fiumicino Airport was packed with people buzzing around. In front of them was an empty Gucci store, its sales staff standing at attention next to the entrance. The recycled air smelled of carpets and coffee, the same as airport terminals the world over.
Celeste put her latte down and unzipped her suitcase. “Call him again.” She stuffed her Economist magazine into her carry-on.
“I just did, he’s not answering.” Jess dialed her father’s number again anyway. She’d arrived with Celeste at the airport the evening before and stayed at the Hilton next door. One ring, then two. It went to voice mail. She jerked the phone away from her ear, hung up and threw it into her purse.
Jess’s father, Ben, was supposed to meet them at the Hilton last night, but he called to say he would arrive in the morning. Then he sent a text and email saying he’d meet them in the International Terminal food court. Now he wasn’t answering his calls or messages.
“Maybe he’s at the gate,” Celeste suggested, standing to knock the crumbs of her croissant breakfast off her blouse and jeans.
A man pushing a baby stroller eyed Jess and Celeste. He wanted their seats. Jess shrugged aggressively at him, what?
Celeste saw it and smiled at the man. “Yes, we’re leaving.” She turned to her daughter. “Come on, let’s go.”
Shaking her head, Jess stood and grabbed her carry-on. “Fine.”
She ran a hand through her hair and rubbed the back of her neck. She’d left most of her things at a friend’s house in Rome, said she would call when she knew where she was headed. This didn’t surprise anyone. After nearly a year in Italy, all she was leaving with was this one small carry-on. And that didn’t surprise her, either.
“Grazie, grazie,” said the man with the stroller, angling in behind them to get the seats.