Page 38 of Girl, Empty (Ella Dark #27)

The antechamber to hell, Kevin Wolfe had long ago decided, was the sound of kids playing board games.

Unlike video games, something about board games ended up with them getting physical. He’d watched his son lose at NFL a million times, watched his daughter die on Tomb Raider constantly and then have to restart the whole level – and neither of them uttered anything more than a frustrated ugh.

But set up a board game, and voices raised, arguments broke out, and Kevin was all but convinced that blood would be shed before the day was out.

‘Alright, let’s call it there,’ Kevin said.

He was spread out on the floor in sweatpants and slippers.

Today was Martin Luther King Day, and that meant nobody did anything.

Work was far off his mind, and he aimed to keep it that way.

Time with the kids was a rarity, especially as for an older man his kids were young. Kevin Wolfe had been a late bloomer.

‘This is a ridiculous game anyway,’ Chloe said.

'It's not our fault you suck at it,' replied Liam.

‘It’s just Monopoly, guys. No need to cry about it.’

Chloe stood up and dropped her pile of fake money in the middle of the board. The 14-year-old had clearly reached her breaking point. ‘I’m done. I’m going to play something less… capitalist.’

Kevin’s wife, Sandra, popped her head around the door. Until now, she’d been crafting one of her mixed meat concoctions that was more meat than carb. Kevin was alright with that.

‘You shouldn’t know what capitalist means at your age,’ Sandra said.

‘Well, I do.’

‘I’ll call you when dinner’s done. It’ll be about 20 minutes.’

Liam said, ‘Fine, I’m out too.’

With the treaty declared, the fragile peace accord held.

Chloe and Liam abandoned the geopolitics of the living room floor and retreated to the neutral territories of their bedrooms. Kevin gathered the small plastic houses and pastel-colored money and put everything back in the box, then he followed the scent of roasting garlic and thyme into the kitchen and found Sandra dripping honey onto a cooked chicken.

‘Is that what I think it is?’ he asked.

‘This is a Sandra Special.’

‘Huh. It’s been a while since I’ve had one of those.’

‘Ha. You couldn’t handle a real Sandra Special anymore. Not at your age.’

'True,' Kevin admitted. There was a fifteen-year age gap between him and Sandra, but after 40, the numbers didn't really make a difference, no matter how far apart they were. 'But I'll give it my best shot.'

‘Maybe later. Keep the kids busy while I finish this, will you?’

On cue, Liam walked into the kitchen holding a basketball. ‘Dad. Hoops. What do you think?’

‘Now?’

‘I know what you’re going to say. It’s dark and cold outside.’ Liam threw the ball hard at Kevin’s chest but he managed to scoop it up. He still had it, even in his sixties.

‘We’re about to have dinner.’

‘So? Sounds to me like you’re scared.’

Kevin inspected the ball, tested the weight. ‘No, it’s not that. It’s just…’

‘Just what?’

He gave his son the eyebrow, then the smirk. ‘Just that no one’s called NASA to request a liftoff.’

‘Oh yeah?’

Kevin threw the ball back at him. ‘Meet you outside in five. Be ready.’

‘On it.’

He turned back to Sandra, who rolled her eyes and slid the roast back in the oven. Days like this didn’t come often enough, he thought.

And then his phone buzzed somewhere on the kitchen table.

Not the ping that came with texts or the buzzing that came with calls. It was an ugly shriek.

‘That’s not work, is it?’ Sandra asked.

‘Dunno,’ Kevin said. He found his phone, and there was an alert he’d only seen once before plastered on the screen.

CRITICAL ALERT - Mainframe Coolant Leak Detected - Server Room 42A.

‘Yeah, it’s work.’

‘Uh, what did we say about work calls on days off?’

‘No, look. It’s an alert from the security company.’ Kevin showed Sandra the screen. ‘Something’s wrong with 42A apparently.’

‘Sounds serious. Which one is that?’

‘The main one.’

‘Is it a big deal?’

Kevin wanted to say no. He occasionally got false alerts from this app, and it was usually because the network connection had dropped or something equally ridiculous. ‘Yeah it is, but…’

‘Call IT?’

‘Come on. I can’t call anyone in on MLK day, can I? Imagine that. It’s taken me 20 years to convince people I’m not a complete bastard. I can’t undo that now.’

Sandra clapped her hands. ‘You better go then. Chop chop. If you’re quick, you can get back before this gets cold.’

‘Tell Liam I won’t be long. It’s probably just the network crashing.’

‘Less techno speak, more fixing. Go.’

Kevin found his keys in the ceramic bowl by the front door. He walked out into the cold and got in his car, annoyed but not worried. It was a glitch. A loose wire. An idiot. All things he knew how to fix.