Saving Max

The screen blips off and the room goes dark.

Danielle freezes, hands poised over the keyboard. Someone must have discovered that the card is gone and is trying to flush her out by scaring the hell out of her. She jumps up and rams her hip into the corner of the desk. “Damn!” She puts her ear to the door; opens it a crack; and peers outside. The hallway is crushed charcoal. Danielle hears and sees nothing. She closes the door softly and ducks under the desk. Even if her heart is in cardiac arrest, her brain has not entirely deserted her. She turns off the power switch to the CPU. She doesn’t want someone to come in for a mop tomorrow and see Max’s information on the screen. She snaps off the flashlight; grabs the scarf; and shoves the card back into her pocket. She ventures into the hallway—no one.

Danielle creeps down the dark corridor, using her hand on the wall as her guide. When she reaches the door, she pokes her head cautiously outside the metal door and scans the landscape. Apparently no one is out to get her. The lights all over Maitland are out. There must have been a massive power outage. It is pitch-black, except for a few buildings that give off a greenish glow. Must be the emergency generators. Danielle slips outside and tiptoes to the corner of the building. She hears voices. The nurse runs from the trees, her white skirt billowing behind her—a neon sheet hung in a high breeze. Her priapic Lothario is nowhere to be seen.