Runners [The Walking Dead]
Chapter One: The Meaning of Life
Ace Henry punched the numbers into the phone with a quick purpose. He shook his dreadlocks away from his ear and brought the phone up so he could hear. Not even a dial tone. His parents had left days ago. They should have been back by now. But he could not even get his phone to work, let alone enough service to call them.
He tossed the phone onto the couch and called for his mother's assistant. The small and mousey woman bustled into the room, carrying a large bundle of papers. "Have you heard from them?" He asked. The woman shook her head.
"I can't reach your mother. Have you tried your brothers?"
"I can never reach Chuck, Iraq tends to do that to phones."
"How about Harry?"
"No. Even if he didn't ignore my calls, I still wouldn't be able to reach him."
"So… What are you thinking about doing?" She turned to look at him knowingly over her thick glasses.
"What… What do you mean?" Ace asked, holding his breath from hope and suspicion.
"Well… You are eighteen… I can't stop you legally from doing anything." Was all she said.
"You're the best Mrs. Collins. I'll… Let you go home early, yeah?"
"Most welcomed, Mr. Henry." She winked and Mrs. Collins exited the room. Ace headed for his closet and pulled down an old bag of Chuck's. It was military in style and color and could fit a lot. Ace packed it full of clothes enough for the journey, along with his car and wall charger for his phone, iPad and laptop. He packed a small cooler full of drinks and food and then selected a set of keys from the ample selection in the apartment.
The elevator, like all other electric run things, was not running, so Ace started the long walk down the thirty something sets of stairs that made up the infrastructure of his apartment building. He headed into the basement, noticing the freakish absence of staff. The apartment doubled as a swank hotel, and Ace's family rented the penthouse suite. It was only fitting seeing as they owned the building as well as the block.
He punched the unlock button on the keys and the car's horn honked, reverberating in the concrete space. Ace threw his bag into the back seat of the car and then climbed in himself. He started it and revved the engine, before peeling out of the parking garage. He climbed a short incline and emerged onto the New York street. He turned into traffic like a race car driver and opened the GPS unit on the car. No connection to the satellites. Of course.
Ace was extremely glad the map he needed was already downloaded. His parents used it frequently enough. He punched in the address, selected the map he wanted, and started it up. He didn't need the annoying lady to tell him when to turn. He just needed a map to get him there in a reasonable amount of time.
He did this all while driving, barely glancing at the GPS as he pounded away on the touch screen. Ace was very capable of managing the technologies his family had always seemed to own. He was heading for Atlanta. The Amsley Academy for Gifted Students had been the illustrious private school to receive Charles Bay-Henry's one hundred grand a year tuition for his two youngest children, Louis and Felicity. Ace had been dumped at a Brooklyn school for troubled youth. Just because he wore dreads and facial piercings he was considered troubled by his parents and the psychologists they paid.
When everything had gone down, his parents immediately took off to go rescue their precious babies. They just up and left Ace to deal with things alone. Not even a note or message from his mother's assistant. Harry and Chuck probably got full length reports about every minute of the journey. Ace pressed down on the gas and blew through a red light in the deserted street, which he found odd.
He wondered where everyone had gone to.