Head On (Lock In, #2)

by John Scalzi

Where are you, my mother had texted me, once the game had started. Stuck on the Metro, I sent back. The train stopped fifteen minutes ago. We’re all looking at each other deciding who to eat first. I think you’re safe, she replied. Don’t be too sure, I sent. I can see some of them sizing up my threep to part it out for battery power. Well, if you survive, try to hurry up, Mom texted.

Eventually the train decided to move again, and ten minutes after that I was heading into the stadium, threading my way through other Metro stoppage victims, rushing to see the second half of the game. Some of them were in Boston Bays white and blue, others were wearing the Toronto Snowbirds purple and gray. The rest were wearing Washington Redhawks burgundy and gold, because this is Washington, D.C., and why wouldn’t they.

I guess the Redskins were finally phased out.

It’s team gladiatorial combat, on a football field, with a nerdy scoring system. It’s all the violence every other team sport wishes it could have, but can’t, because people would actually die.

Basically, Hilketa is both representation and alienation for Hadens.

I found out what that meant when I caught up with Dad and his visitors in the trophy room. It was the room in which Dad kept the memorabilia from his NBA career and his business life. The point of it was to humble the millionaires and billionaires he met with. It usually worked. Sure, you might be a billionaire. But were you a billionaire with four NBA championship rings, like Dad? Probably not. Sit down.

That Chapman’s death was the work of terrorists trying to destroy the American way of life (and one assumed, tangentially, the Canadian and Mexican ways of life, as the NAHL had teams in both countries).

I’ve asked the Philly PD to do us a favor and pick him up for questioning.” “Why not the Philly Bureau branch?” “I’m not there yet. You’re interrupting again.” “By all means continue.” “So that’s the good news.” I waited. “That was a prompt,” Vann said. “You have me very confused about what I’m supposed to do here,” I said. “Now you ask me what the bad news is.”

“I told you that cat was trouble,” Tony said. “Actually it was Tayla who said the cat was trouble,” I reminded him. “You were the one who complained we had not had a house meeting about the cat.” “I stand by that,” Tony said. “And also my complaint about the twins hogging the cat.” “It’s a cat,” I said. “If Donut wants to spend time with you he’ll show up in your room and sit on your important things.”