Wipeout: Wipeout Book 1 Read online

  “I – I can’t do it,” Graham managed to stutter. “They’ll crucify me.”

  “What?” Samuel couldn’t believe what he was hearing. If it wasn’t Graham, then who was going to do it? People were tearing through the walls of Trident as they spoke and if they didn’t do something quickly, there was a very real danger the building was going to be burned to the ground. “Graham, come on. We need to do this. We have a duty to fulfil.”

  Graham looked at Samuel with a terrified expression, quivering in his shoes and causing a number of people to step away from him. “I can’t, Sam,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  “Graham!” Samuel’s cry was pointless, unable to stop the older man from running from his post. He headed the same way many others had gone before him, toward the stairwell and hopefully to safety. But with people filling the building from the ground up now, who knew where was safe anymore. Someone had to think of something, and it had to happen fast.

  “Oh jeez, this is bedlam,” Austin pressed the heel of his palms to his forehead, heaving a deep breath as he tried to think on his feet and be of some use to the situation. The way he saw it, there was only one thing for it, the issue was, he doubted whether anyone – Samuel especially – was going to like it. “Come on, man,” Austin pushed forward and grabbed Samuel by the arm, “it’s up to you now.”

  “What? Get off!” Samuel detached himself from Austin, though the younger man could definitely overpower him if he needed to. This was not the time for a struggle and Austin knew it, he just didn’t see another way around what needed to be done.

  “What are you doing?” Samuel asked. It wasn’t like the floor was silent any more though, people were shouting and trying to decide what to do. Looking down at the scenes below the window and trying to decide whether it was safer inside or out.

  “You know the speech, right?” Austin asked, raising his eyebrows and taking a no-nonsense stance. It was the sort of thing he did when his son was acting up, the parental gene inside him kicking in and coming out where he least expected it to. “There are loads of news crew’s outside. Let’s take the story to them. We don’t need Graham. You wrote it. You can tell everyone.”

  “What? No way,” Samuel refused. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not? We’re not going to get anything done stuck up here. We’re done for and you and I both know it. But those guys out there? They’re still searching for answers. They still believe that they might be able to get their money back. We have to set the record straight so we can figure this thing out. That’s never going to happen if no one knows the truth.”

  Samuel couldn’t deny that Austin made a very good argument and – had the shoe been on the other foot – he would likely be doing the same thing. But it was different when it was him expected to stand in front of the camera and tell the country that they were broke. Where was the President now? Or someone from the Board of Directors? Samuel looked around the room in desperation, willing there to be anyone else who could take this burden from him. But there wasn’t. He was the only choice. Thinking back through everything that had happened since the crash, Samuel realized that everything had been leading up to this moment. He could’ve stayed at his parents’ house in Freeport, he could’ve avoided coming back into the city and returning to the Trident building. He hadn’t had to do any of this, but he had, because of his loyalty to the company and his need to do the right thing. He might not want this job, but he had it now and there was no getting out of it. He could either run like the coward Graham had turned out to be or face up to the music and play his part.

  “There’s a camera crew coming inside now,” someone called from over by the window, drawing Samuel’s attention. “I think they’re live streaming.”

  “Someone get it on the television. What channel?”

  There was another pause as all the screens around the room which normally showed the stock markets skipped through various channels, landing after a couple of changes on the scene in the lobby of their building. It was worse than they’d all imagined. The place was a wreck, windows smashed and graffiti sprayed on all the walls, but beyond that it was the people that truly terrified the Trident employees. They looked bloodthirsty, searching for someone to blame or put an end to everything. Just to the side of the camera, two men fought each other with their bare knuckles, punching the lights out of each other. Samuel winced. The last thing he wanted was to walk into that, but he knew he didn’t have a choice.

  “Are you sure about this?” he asked, turning to Austin and biting his lip. This was a man he had never met before and yet for some reason, Samuel was now willing to stand by his side as they ran into the madness downstairs. His newfound courage was slowly amassing inside of him and although he was still terrified about what might happen, Samuel was determined to see this task through now and at least try to make a difference.

  “Nope,” Austin shrugged. “But come on. I think we’re better off getting to them before they get to us.”

  That was something Samuel couldn’t agree with more, forcing himself to jog toward the stairwell before he looked back and changed his mind. Cries from a number of people to wait rang out behind him, but he refused to answer them. There was hardly anyone left on the nineteenth floor now and unless they all acted fast, Samuel feared that they were all going to end up dead.

  The minute he was out in the stairwell and rushing downwards just ahead of Austin, Samuel remembered what it had been like in the building just after the news about the crash broke. He had been frightened then, but this was something else. Heat rose up the stairwell like there was a fire burning below it and that spurred him on, the thought of being trapped in a burning building more horrific than anything else he could imagine. Shouts, screams and banging echoed up the stairwell as he hurtled downwards, wondering when the staircase would finally come to an end.

  “Hey!” Austin’s voice in particular cut through the din and Samuel looked up briefly, taking his eyes off of the stairs he was running down and catching sight of Austin just about to slam into a camera crew. “Hey!” Austin repeated. “We’ve got a story for you. We’ve got a proper statement.”

  “What?” The producer of the crew asked, looking at her main camera man who had his gear switched off for the time being, but looked ready to film in an instant. “Who are you? What are you talking about?”

  “We’ve got the official statement from head office,” Austin explained, his mannerisms changing slightly as he answered the question with the professionalism he had been taught to use. “This is Samuel,” he paused for a second as Samuel caught up and Austin dug his surname out of the back of his brain. “Westchester. He’s the head of marketing and he’s got a statement to give you.”

  “Is that true?” The producer asked, looking sceptically at Samuel who stood in front of her catching his breath, his shirt half untucked from the sprint downstairs. “We need answers from the very top, or this building is going to go up in smoke before you know it.”

  “Yes,” Samuel nodded. “That’s where we’ve come from,” he held out his hand to shake, though it wasn’t accepted by anyone. Glancing at the floor they had reached, he was certain his access pin would let them inside. “Let’s get off the stairs, and I’ll tell you exactly what’s happened.”

  Having no idea where this strange confidence was coming from, Samuel keyed in his access code to the sixth floor and held the door open for Austin and the three-person news team. More footsteps were thundering up to them as he shut the door, shuddering as he remembered the run in with the two thugs and their crowbar from the day before. Things quieted slightly for the five of them there, the producer looking at both Samuel and Austin expectantly.

  “Well?” She asked. “What have you got for us?”

  Chapter 17

  Samuel stood in front of the camera and quivered. He still didn’t know how he had got himself into this predicament, but he knew there was nothing for it now but to speak and tell the world the truth. He looked
to the producer, Sandy, who was stood just to the left of the camera, counting him down silently. Every second that one of her fingers disappeared, Samuel felt the patch of sweat on the small of his back grow larger and larger. This was it. He was going to be live in three, two, one…

  “Err, hello,” he started, immediately regretting his opening choice of words. Thankfully as his eyes drifted to Sandy, he saw her offering him an encouraging nod, spurring him on to tell the public the truth. It was exactly what he needed and with a burst of his newfound courage, Samuel continued.

  “My name is Samuel Westchester and I am coming to you live from the Trident HQ in New York City. I have worked for Trident for almost twenty years and currently hold the position of Head of Marketing, a job I have loved with all my heart for several years now. I understand that everyone is confused and angered by what has happened, and I hope that I can shed some light on the situation and tell you all the truth about it.

  “The truth is,” Samuel paused, this next bit taking a lot more effort to actually say out loud. “All the money is gone.” He paused again, letting the magnitude of what he had said sink in. It was strange addressing so many people and yet only delivering his speech to four of them and a camera. All he could hope was that what he was about to say made some difference in the world. If it did nothing else, knowing the truth would at least give people a solid ground to base their actions on.

  “Trident has been hacked by an unknown entity which we believe to be located outside of the United States. The current number for what we have lost is unknown, but it is believed to be somewhere in the area of several trillion dollars. We have a team that are working on tracking down the culprit of this cyber attack, but whether that is actually possible or not is still unclear.

  “What we do know is that this isn’t just going to go away overnight. We – the United States of America – will be without funding for the indefinite future. The government,” Samuel paused once more, this being the part of the speech he was the least confident about. Thankfully Austin and the camera crew were all nodding along, the producer showing him two thumbs up and it was just enough to keep him going. He was almost done. Just a few more lines and then he could get out of there.

  “The government,” he repeated, “is doing everything that it can to help us. But in truth, that just isn’t enough. Unless we can get aid from another global superpower, the US will be plunged into a recession like nothing we’ve ever experienced before. In fact, we’re already basically there. I can’t speak for the long-term effects of this disaster, but I urge everyone to do what they can to help their fellow Americans. There is no turning back from this now, we need to look forward and do everything we can to survive. The money may be gone, but our humanity doesn’t have to be. Thank you.”

  Heaving a huge sigh of relief, Samuel pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart pounding away inside it. That had been the most nerve wracking and exhilarating thing he had ever done, the sensation of talking to the world unlike anything he had ever experienced. Even though mere seconds had passed, he had already forgotten almost every word he had said. He just hoped it had been good enough. He hoped it had been successful.

  “Great work Sam,” Sandy grinned, walking forward and shaking Samuel’s hand. “Do we have any estimated viewing figures?” She then asked the man on her team who wasn’t behind the camera, Eric scrolling frantically away on the tablet he held in his hands. As he started to show his producer the statistics, Austin walked forward, clapping Samuel on the back in congratulations.

  “That really was fantastic pal, you did an amazing job.”

  “Really?” Samuel asked, now filled with nerves about how he’d performed. “You think it sounded okay? You think I said the right things?”

  “You said everything that could’ve been said,” Austin nodded. “It’s up to everyone else now to see how they react to it.”

  “Uhh, guys?” The cameraman, Devon, had put down his gear now and was standing next to the window. “It doesn’t look good.”

  Moving with Austin, Samuel stepped closer to the window and looked down. The crowd of people down below had become a mob, the news bulletin Samuel had just given doing little to calm them down and apparently having the opposite effect. People were shouting and screaming, throwing things at the Trident building in anger. Most terrifying of all, smoke was billowing out of the smashed windows on the ground floor, suggesting that something was blazing within.

  “Oh jeez,” Sandy exclaimed. “This isn’t good.”

  “Have they set this place on fire?” Eric asked frantically, craning his neck to try and get a better view of what was happening down below. “They can’t have.”

  “I think they have,” Austin nodded. “Shit. Does anyone have a phone? Mine’s upstairs. Oh man,” Austin started to panic, as Eric handed him a cell phone. “What is his number.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “There’s this guy,” Austin explained as he slowly typed numbers into the cell phone uncertainly. “Brandon Williams. He’s the head of this security firm that was helping us. I just can’t remember his number,” he paused and held the phone to his ear, trying the combination he had just dialed. “Ah man. I don’t know what it is. I can’t remember it.”

  “Okay,” Devon tried to take control of the situation. “Forget that. We need to get out of here.”

  “Do you think we can still get down?” Samuel asked, reluctant to move any further forward to see what was happening outside. He could hear it all though. The angry shouts of hundreds of frustrated Americans, banging, burning, rioting. It was terrifying. They needed to get out of the building; he couldn’t believe how wrong that speech he’d just given had gone. And his face would now be recognized by everyone. All of a sudden, he had become the face of Trident. The scapegoat. The one that everyone would blame.

  “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Okay, agreed,” Sandy nodded, her persona having changed somewhat after the failure of her report. “Devon, get that camera and let’s get out of here.”

  “Wait!” Austin stopped the group, just as they were heading for the stairwell door. “The last time I spoke to Williams and mentioned fire, he said to use the elevator shafts to get out. They’re fireproof, and they go all the way down to the underground parking lot. We should use them instead of the stairs.”

  “What?” Samuel didn’t like the sound of that. “I thought the elevators weren’t working.”

  “Not the elevators themselves,” Austin shook his head, heading toward the elevator doors. “Just the shafts. We can climb down. They must have ladders inside or something.”

  “Why don’t we just use the stairs?” Eric argued, not a fan of climbing down a dark elevator shaft. “We should at least give it a try.”

  “Yeah,” Sandy nodded, “this seems a bit much.”

  “Go and check the stairwell then,” Austin encouraged, trying to open the metal doors of the elevator to see inside. “But if there’s a fire down there,” he trailed off, Sandy and Eric walking away and heading toward the main stairwell door. Samuel and Devon hung back, neither of them sure what to do. “Can you give me a hand?” Austin asked, struggling with the elevator doors. “We need to find something to wedge in here.”

  “How come they stopped working?” Samuel asked as he moved beside Austin, remembering the elevators all being stuck on the nineteenth floor when he had been in the building. “Did you turn them off?”

  “Yeah,” Austin grunted, his fingers just in the crack of the doors as he tried to prise them apart. “Didn’t want anyone just zipping up and finding us all. This is useless,” he sighed, dropping his arms by his side. “We need leverage.”

  Just then Sandy and Eric returned, both of them with pale expressions on their faces. “We need to get out of here now,” Eric murmured, “this whole place is going to go down.”

  “What is it? What did you see?”

  Eric looked at Devon and visibly shuddered, the sight
of the lobby and the stairwell burning in front of his eyes singed into his brain forever. The flames were almost at their doorstep, the fire catching at a terrifying rate. “The place is on fire. They’re trying to kill us all.”

  “Find me something to leverage these doors open with,” Austin demanded again, realizing that the elevator shaft was now their only way out of the building alive. “I need something like a crowbar, or a long metal pole. Something that won’t bend or break if we put pressure on it.”

  “What about the camera stand?”

  “No!” Sandy was quick to shoot down Samuel’s suggestion, moving protectively to stand in front of the camera gear that Devon had put on the carpeted floor. “You can’t.”

  “Look, do you want to get out of here alive?”

  Austin’s question was blunt and brash, the man getting increasingly frustrated by his situation. He wished he had left Trident like everyone else when he had the chance. Suddenly the idea of being in Poughkeepsie with his husband and son lingered in front of him like a tempting carrot, teasing him for not taking the opportunity to go when he had the chance.

  Sandy didn’t know how to respond. There was only one answer to Austin’s question and yet she was still reluctant to hand over the camera equipment. It was worth thousands of dollars and the fact that all money was wiped out now still hadn’t really sunk in with her. She didn’t want to damage the gear; despite how much she knew they needed to get out of the building. She hadn’t seen the lobby in the same way that Eric had – waiting for him by the door for the sixth floor – perhaps if she had, things might be a little different.

  They certainly were for Eric, who stepped around Sandy and detached the tripod from the camera. “Here,” he handed it to Austin, “what do you need us to do?”