***
"If I ever have to do that again, I am simply going to put a bullet in my head."
It was close to midnight and Casey, Artorius, and Monson were walking with Mr. Gatt through the massive reception hall.
"You did well." Mr. Gatt navigated the hall at a leisurely pace, but it was obvious he was tired, and with good reason. Mr. Gatt had spent most of the night helping Monson dodge any sort of personal questions, and doing so with such poise and charm that it was impossible to take offense. The man had obviously played this sort of political game before.
Monson shot a skeptical expression at Mr. Gatt. "I did well? I didn't do anything. You were the one insulting people in a brutally polite manner. You gonna tell me what all that was about?"
"Dude, I thought you were smart." Casey showed Monson one of the many well-known Internet search engines on his phone. "You'd probably guess if you took half a second to think about it."
Monson looked at the most commonly searched term of the hour, day, week, and even month. "Baroty's Bridge" lit up brightly for all eyes to see.
There were millions of searches on that term within the last hour alone.
"It must be a slow news week," Monson commented. "Baroty's Bridge happened months ago."
Casey asked incredulously, "Dude, have you been living in a box? Look at the headlines."
He pulled up a news feed search highlighting every story, article, or blog mentioning Baroty's Bridge. He put his phone up to Monson's face as they reached the doors leading outside, where they were greeted with a blast of surprisingly cool air. Monson grabbed Casey's phone and scanned the most popular results. There were millions of hits. Apparently Baroty's Bridge was a hot topic. If that was the case, why was everyone making such a ruckus about him?
"Speculation," Casey answered, as if he were reading Monson's thoughts.
Monson stopped dead in his tracks. Mr. Gatt gave Casey a reproving look. "Cassius, must we speak of such—"
Monson cut in. "What do you mean, speculation? Casey?"
Mr. Gatt and Casey looked at each other. Casey answered hesitantly, "Monson, no one has any idea what happened at Baroty's Bridge. If you were to read all these stories, blogs and newsreels, the only thing you'd get is frustrated. There has been no new information in months as to what left everyone on the bridge—all three hundred people—dead. All except you."
Monson's breathing became heavy, and inevitably his thoughts turned to Molly. No wonder she didn’t tell him about this.
"Guys," Artorius said, oblivious to the seriousness of the conversation. "Is it just me or is it really dark out here? I mean, like, zombie apocalypse dark."
Casey snickered and he launched into baby talk. "Ahh, Arthur, you don't have to be scared of the dark. Cassius will protect you.
His voice switched back to normal. "Oh, and as for the inevitable zombie apocalypse, if you'd just read that book I gave you, you'd be totally prepared."
Artorius scowled. "Please, I could have gotten better zombie protection . . . . "
His voice drifted off. He seemed to be listening to something.
Casey laughed. "Sure, Arthur—"
Mr. Gatt interrupted this time. “No, Cassius, I hear something— Monson, look out!"
Monson looked up just in time to see a flash of bright light and a massive dark object hurling toward him.