Down the Brink Read online

  “Oh, I think they know that. But politicians can do stupid things when they don’t have the proper guidance.” Ed flipped through the report. “So let’s see. Are there any other line items we can work on reducing?”

  Steve leaned forward in his chair. “I’ve been thinking we could probably make some cuts in janitorial services. Even though it’s a reduced crew, I don’t think we really need a third shift, especially when you consider the pay differential they get.”

  “Then let’s work on cutting that. Start in Texas, see how it goes.”

  “I’ll get right on it.” Steve stood to leave.

  “And Steve? Pencil yourself in for a raise. You deserve it.”

  Steve smiled as he let himself out. “Thanks. How about one for you, too?”

  “I wouldn’t turn it down, my friend.”

  Ed folded his arms behind his head and propped his feet up on his desk. A little vacation would be nice, too. After a couple more snips to the budget.

  CHAPTER 14

  Third Thursday in July, 2021

  Elias, Texas

  Guards, all in black. Wielding vicious nightsticks, dark and hard as iron. Brandishing Tasers trailing white-hot sparks like sinister comets. Faceless guards wearing those terrifying end-of-the-world gas masks. They were coming. So many of them. All in a line. Solid, no opening. No escape.

  The screaming…the screaming…

  Gil snapped awake in his darkened cell, blind to his surroundings. For an instant, he thought he’d been screaming in his sleep. But he hadn’t. It was someone at the far end of the cell block. Again. He’d heard that guy before in the night, just screaming and screaming. Until he got tired—or until someone beat the screams out of him. He didn’t know, and he didn’t really want to know.

  He took a deep breath and tried to calm his pounding heart, to push away the panic from his nightmare and block out the screaming. Cast it all aside, like shedding a piece of clothing. It was the only way to stay halfway sane in this place, and he’d gotten fairly good at it.

  On paper, he was almost halfway through his sentence now. Hard to believe it. The conditions made it seem interminable. Daily existence held no checkpoints. Each day was precisely as degrading and miserable as the one before. Nothing ever changed. The grinding sameness destroyed any sense of the passage of time.

  Some days, it felt like he’d always been there. Like he’d always slept alone and cold on that paper-thin piece-of-shit mattress. He ached for Aggie, yet she seemed like she was from some other reality, maybe even a dream. He wondered how she was doing, so far away, alone in their house night after night. How was she holding up against her own nightmares? Thinking about her being all alone like that made him feel even smaller and more helpless.

  Gil rolled over, shifting his weight to allow his right hip the chance to ache from lying on the hard bed hour after hour. Why let his left hip have all the fun? Besides, when he lay facing the wall, the screams didn’t sound quite so loud. He could almost pretend he didn’t hear them. Almost.

  He drew his knees up into a fetal position. Something didn’t feel quite right. A tightening. A weight. A little bit of resistance when he took a breath. His heart thumped in his chest. Not now! He’d done so well, managing to avoid an attack since he’d been there, almost by sheer force of will. If only he had his inhaler, it would be no big deal to stop it in its tracks. But he didn’t.

  He sat up and leaned back against the rough cement wall. Slow, steady. He had to stay calm, not let the sensation build on itself and blow up into a full-on attack. He could get through this. He had to get through this. He focused on his breathing. Slow, not too deep.

  A catch. A cough. Gil panicked and tried to suck in air, even as his lungs fought to keep it out. Wheezing, he turned, running his hands along the rough wall, fumbling to find the call button in the dark. Where the hell was it? He bumped up against it and slammed it hard, as if hitting it harder would convey greater urgency.

  He had to have his inhaler now, and God knew how long it would take for someone to dig it up and get it to him. He slumped down on the mattress and struggled to get control of his breathing.

  Gil broke out in a sweat, coughing and gasping for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, a guard stomped up to his cell door and shone a flashlight in his face.

  “What is it?”

  “Need…help. Asthma. My inhaler.”

  “I can’t get to personal effects right now. Got this whole block to deal with by myself. You’re not the only one with problems.”

  “Then…get me a doctor.”

  “It’s six in the morning. They cut the medical staff a while ago. Business hours only. They can see you then, if you still need it.”

  “Then get my inhaler—please!” he choked out.

  “Can’t do that right now. Can’t leave the block.” The guard pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and peered at it in the dim light of the corridor. “I can send a message for someone from medical to come check you when they get in.” He tapped something onto the screen and put the cell back in his pocket. “Best I can do right now. No point in calling 911. Staff’ll be here sooner than they could get out here. Try to relax.” He turned and left.

  Gil stared after him, stunned. How could he just leave him like that, with no help at all? He lay back down, fighting for air. The more he thought about being abandoned during an attack, the worse it got. His fear grew on itself, heightening the spasms in his lungs.

  Darkness crept into the edges of his vision as he choked and struggled to breathe.

  Footsteps. Something metallic squeaking.

  Groggy, Gil forced his eyes open and wondered how he wound up on the cold cement floor. And for how long. Two men dressed in white rolled a gurney up to his cell. A guard unlocked the door to let them in.

  Rough hands grabbed him, hoisted him onto the gurney. The screech of the metal wheels on cement grated on his nerves as they rolled him down the cell block corridor. It dawned on him that they hadn’t cuffed him or restrained him in any way. But he was too weak to think clearly, let alone do anything about it.

  Moments later, they wheeled him into what appeared to be the prison sick bay, all blinding bright light and white walls. The stench of industrial disinfectant and human misery permeated the air, again making it hard to breathe.

  The orderlies drew the gurney up beside a bed, transferred him over as quickly and simply as if he’d been a sack of flour, then rolled the gurney away without another word. Probably had a list of men to retrieve, now that sick bay was open for the day’s business.

  Gil squinted against the painful light as another man in white—presumably a doctor—approached his bed with a clipboard in his hand and a distracted look on his face.

  “Tell me what happened.” The doctor spoke in a rushed, bored tone.

  “Asthma attack. Bad one. Passed out, don’t know how long. If I could have just gotten my inhaler—”

  “You have a history of asthma? How often do you typically have attacks?”

  “Now and then. My inhaler keeps it pretty much under control.” Gil took an unsteady breath. “Worse one I’ve ever had, and I don’t think it’s over.”

  “I’ll order medication to take care of it.”

  Without another word, the doctor turned and strode to the end of the room. He spoke briefly with another man dressed in white. The man nodded, disappeared into some sort of supply room, then approached Gil’s bed bearing a metal tray.

  “Doctor prescribed IV steroids. He’ll check back in with you mid-day, and if all looks okay, we’ll discharge you back to your cell. Make a fist.”

  Gil closed his eyes and clenched his hand. “And if all doesn’t look okay?”

  “You’ll return to your cell by end of day at the latest. Budget cuts. No medical staff to man the place after five anymore. Hold real still now.”

  “Ow!” Gil flinched in spite of himself. The needle felt thick and dull as the orderly jabbed it in. They probably reused them. He h
oped it was at least sterile.

  “That’s it.” The orderly stuck another needle into the IV port and pressed the syringe’s plunger. “And there’s your steroids. These work wonders. You should be breathing better in a few minutes. Let me know if it doesn’t help. Button’s up there by your pillow.”

  Gil closed his eyes and tried to relax so the medication could do its job. “Thanks.”

  No one answered.

  He opened his eyes. The orderly was already at the other end of the sick bay, tending to someone else. The doctor was nowhere to be seen.

  Gil tried to swallow his anger. He wouldn’t even have needed to see a doctor if they’d just let him have his inhaler. If the medical staff was so thin and overworked, who knew what other corners they cut—or mistakes they made?

  Not that anyone would likely ever find out.

  CHAPTER 15

  Fourth Monday in July, 2021

  Los Lobos, California

  “I’ll tell him.” The receptionist pressed a button on her headset and nodded. “He’ll be right down. Have a seat if you like.”

  “Thanks.”

  Zach Winters chose the sleek black leather chair nearest the reception desk and did his best to look laid-back, as if landing a job at the hottest gaming company around was no big deal. He still wasn’t sure how he’d managed it. Despite despising everything about GSI, he’d left on good terms, so his references were good. But he had zero formal experience in gaming app development. Hell, he wasn’t all that terrific at playing MoonPop, the flagship product.

  He was beyond ready to leave GSI behind and looking forward to working on something fun. And if the lobby was any indication, this would be a fun place to work. Spectacular MoonPop graphics graced the walls. Natural light streamed in through floor-to-ceiling windows made of some lightly tinted glass, giving the lobby a relaxing, outdoor feel. It seemed impossible to get depressed in a place like this.

  A trim man who looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties strode up to him with a broad smile on his face and an outstretched hand. “Zach! Welcome. I’m Russ Simpson, your supervisor.”

  Zach stood and shook hands. “Good to meet you.”

  “Let’s head upstairs and chat. I can answer any questions you may have before you get started. Sound good?”

  “Sure.”

  Russ led the way to the elevator bank with a relaxed, yet purposeful, gait. He seemed young to be supervising an entire development team on a product this important and complex. Zach took that as a good sign. Maybe he’d have a shot at moving up here. GSI was run by ex-police and ex-military types. You were either one of the good ol’ boys, or you weren’t. So your chances for advancement were either excellent, or non-existent.

  The elevator doors shut and Russ leaned against the wall, hands in pockets. “So, why’d you want to leave GSI? I hear they pay pretty well.”

  Zach chose his words carefully, not wanting to make the wrong impression right off the bat. “They did pay well, but the work was becoming…repetitive. I wasn’t learning anything new anymore, and there was no real career path.” Too stereotypical. Better say a little more. “And it was, well, hard to get excited about GSI’s business. I’m looking forward to working on something people like and want.”

  Russ chuckled as they stepped out of the elevator. “Then you’ve come to the right place. Everyone here works hard, but they have fun doing it.”

  Zach hoped he didn’t have to demonstrate his MoonPop prowess to show his worthiness to work here—at least not right away. He enjoyed playing the game when he had time, but hadn’t progressed nearly as far up the levels as his GSI coworkers who spent endless hours playing it.

  “And here’s your office.” Russ swung open the door to a glass-walled office containing a matte-black combination deck and bookshelf, a computer with a huge flat-screen monitor, two leather guest chairs, and a small matching work table. “That envelope on your desk contains all the system access instructions you’ll need, benefits forms, all those first-day things. And the gift box contains your own dedicated MoonPop device. All our employees get one—a perk of the job. It’s faster and has more features than the web-based public version.”

  This was even better than Zach had imagined. Back at GSI, he’d been lucky to get cheap, broken-down office furniture in a three-walled cube jammed at the end of a heavily trafficked aisle. He could barely think for the noise half the time, which made him hate his job even more. Now he’d have a sweet little office of his own—with an actual door. And his own special MoonPop device. Maybe he could actually get really good at it.

  “If there’s anything else you need, just let me know and we’ll take care of it.”

  “Can’t think of anything right now, thanks.”

  “Fine. Just let me know anytime you do think of something.” Russ stepped to the next glass-walled office. “And here’s your work partner, Sammy Douglas.” He knocked briefly, then opened the door. “Hey Sammy, let me introduce Zach Winters, your new partner.”

  Sammy, a whip-thin twenty-something with an electric blue ponytail and an emerald-green silk tank top that revealed an awesome half-sleeve peacock-feather tattoo, smiled as she rose and offered her hand. “Great! Looking forward to working with you.”

  “Same here, thanks. Can’t wait to get started.”

  Zach wondered if he should up his game in the tattoo department. All he had was a small turquoise parrot on his right deltoid. And dyed hair like Sammy’s would never have flown at GSI. Maybe he’d give that a try, too. Why the hell not?

  “I’ll leave you to it then. If you have any questions, let me know.” Russ nodded and headed back down the hall.

  “Will do.” Sammy turned to Zach and rubbed her hands together. “Well, let’s dig in, shall we?”

  Zach gnawed on another turbocharged chicken wing, then gulped some more cold beer to quell the burn. The Modernistic Bar knew how to make a mean wing. And it was only a block away from the MoonPop building. How very convenient. It was packed with fellow MoonPop employees, and on a Monday, no less. Day One of the new job, and so far, it was everything he’d hoped for—the complete opposite of working for GSI.

  Sammy slouched on a tall stool next to him at the bar, nursing an IPA. “So, how’d you like your first day?”

  “So far, so good. A lot to absorb. Very different from what I’m used to.”

  “What is it you used to do, anyway?”

  Zach hesitated, already wishing he could forget that he’d ever worked for such a place. “I was in production support at GSI. For-profit prison systems. Mostly production control and accounting apps, that sort of thing.”

  Sammy made a sour face and sipped her beer. “Sounds grim.”

  “It was.”

  That was the Reader’s Digest version, anyway. The systems he worked on tracked all sorts of grisly metrics he’d rather not think about, let alone talk about. Like number of prisoners in, number of prisoners out—whether by release or by death. No one ever talked about why prisoners died. Capital punishment had been banned for years, and it couldn’t all be natural causes. That left a number of gruesome explanations. Neglect, abuse. Perhaps suicide. Even murder. But the systems only tracked the death count. Never the cause. Probably good reason for that. If you don’t track it, it doesn’t exist. And no one can dig it up and expose it.

  “I think you’ll like it here. It’s a young crowd. Very little turnover. Everyone really loves what they’re doing.” Sammy inclined her head. “People hang out together a lot after work, and there’s not the politics and infighting you see at other places. I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather work.”

  “I can’t, either.” Zach sipped his beer and took a deep, satisfied breath as he glanced around the bar at his new colleagues.

  What a great first day. He could already tell he would enjoy working with Sammy. She was smart as hell, really into tech, and had a wry sense of humor. With her help, he’d tackle the learning curve here in no time.

&n
bsp; Yep, life was good now. He’d landed the perfect job.

  CHAPTER 16

  Third Tuesday in August, 2021

  Los Lobos, California

  “Is there something wrong?”

  Zach fidgeted in his chair. Russ hadn’t called him into his office like this before, and it made him nervous. Up till now, all meetings had been among the team itself, or with Russ presiding over the whole workgroup. Never alone. He wondered what he’d done to earn the scrutiny.

  “No, no worries. I always do each new employee’s first code review one-on-one. After this, peer reviews will suffice. I just like to personally make sure everything’s on track the first time around.”

  Zach tried to distract himself while Russ scrutinized his computer screen and made a few more notes. The office was full of the usual MoonPop-related paraphernalia: graphic artwork from the game itself, copies of promotional materials, framed articles trumpeting MoonPop’s dominance in the gaming world.

  The company had built quite the empire on just one product—and a free one, at that. Not for the first time, Zach wondered about the business model. How did they make their money without at least running ads? MoonPop paid well and offered great perks. How—

  Russ made one last note, turned toward him, and smiled. “Your code is very high quality. Tight, well-organized, meticulously documented. You’ve caught on fast.”

  Zach allowed himself to breathe. “Thank you.”

  “But there’s one thing. Easy to fix. Our new developers often miss it.”

  “What?”

  “Wherever you have code that executes when a player reaches a new level or goal, there’s a module you must call: Payoff. There are two versions, one for the public game and one for the proprietary game, the one that runs on your dedicated MoonPop device.”

  “Oh, sorry I missed that. What does it do?”

  “Telemetry. It’s a tracking routine that helps us adjust the game’s difficulty level. If too many players advance too quickly, we make it harder—or vice versa.”