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The morning starts like almost any other. Molly wakes up with her alarm, makes coffee, gets together some of the papers she'd left scattered in the living room the night before, curls her hair and puts on a little makeup once she's gotten dressed, a routine she's largely kept for a long time. It hasn't been a particularly long week, per se, not more than any other, but she's glad even so that it's coming to an end, which also tends to be the case. She loves what she does, and that she gets to do something at all, but that doesn't mean it isn't exhausting, or that she isn't grateful when the weekend rolls around. She could use the break.
Once she steps outside, though, she isn't thinking about that anymore, nor does the morning seem like a typical one. The streets are fucking empty, filled with cars that are stopped in their tracks, abandoned, barely a person visible. The couple others that she does glimpse look about as confused as she feels, which doesn't tell her anything except that they won't be helpful, so there's no point sticking around to ask. The sight alone is unsettling, but not knowing what it means is even more so, her heart hammering in her chest as she walks, somewhat faster than usual, the few blocks to City Hall.
All she can think, like an instinct, something she can't recognize the lack of logic behind, is that they've got to be in major crisis mode, trying to figure out what the fuck this is, so busy that no one's gotten in touch with her, based on the lack of messages on her phone. It's not as if she's that important anyway; she doesn't need to know what's going on when it's not like she can do anything from the sidewalk.
What she sees when she gets there, though, is a hell of a lot worse than any emergency she could have imagined. City Hall is empty. Not quiet, and not just the lobby, either. Molly looks, yells out some names, just in case, tries calling a few of her co-workers with no response, checks the goddamn mayor's office, and there's no one in the building at all, as far as she can tell. At the thought alone, never mind how deeply eerie it seems, it's hard not to panic. She can't say this is the most afraid she's been since she got here, not even close, but it feels a little like being in a fucking horror movie. None of this is right, and still, she doesn't know what it means. Not everyone is gone, she can tell that much, but it's close enough to it, and, God, this isn't all supposed to be on her shoulders. Something has to be done, for those of them who are left, and she doesn't see how she could be the one to do it on her own.
In a way, it reminds her of the early days in Darrow, when the city was still all but empty. Not exactly, it hadn't seemed so frightening then, because people weren't just gone, but as far as she can tell, there's as much left to them — whoever that may be — as there was two and a half years ago. Back then, it had been exciting, the reason she'd gotten back into politics in the first place. She still remembers the way Stephen sold her on it, talking about a government from the ground up, a once in a lifetime chance. It isn't really either of those things anymore, but it's just as much a necessity. While that ought to be all the more reason for her to step the fuck up now, it's hard to get past how freaked out she is, to figure out where to even start. She's known for a long time to expect the unexpected here, but this isn't something she could have ever prepared for.
When she finally thinks to pull her phone out of her pocket again, scrolling through her contacts, it's abrupt, like she knows what she's doing before she can entirely piece it together herself. There are other people she'll have to try to call later, but it's Lee's number she finds now, holding her breath as she brings the phone to her ear and listens to it ring, practically fucking praying that he picks up. Of all the people she knows here that she doesn't work with, who clearly aren't around, he's the one most likely to be able to help her with this. They've talked politics enough for her to know that. Besides, she needs to know if he's still here, or if he's just vanished like most of the city seems to have.
Hearing his voice on the other end of the line comes as even more of a relief than she's expecting, something she tries not to focus on for the time being. There are more important things at hand: asking him to come to City Hall, telling him there's no one here. Given that she doesn't know anything else yet, that just about covers it. Then there's nothing for her to do but wait, pacing anxiously in the lobby until the door starts to open, and she stops and whirls around to face it. "Lee?"
Once she steps outside, though, she isn't thinking about that anymore, nor does the morning seem like a typical one. The streets are fucking empty, filled with cars that are stopped in their tracks, abandoned, barely a person visible. The couple others that she does glimpse look about as confused as she feels, which doesn't tell her anything except that they won't be helpful, so there's no point sticking around to ask. The sight alone is unsettling, but not knowing what it means is even more so, her heart hammering in her chest as she walks, somewhat faster than usual, the few blocks to City Hall.
All she can think, like an instinct, something she can't recognize the lack of logic behind, is that they've got to be in major crisis mode, trying to figure out what the fuck this is, so busy that no one's gotten in touch with her, based on the lack of messages on her phone. It's not as if she's that important anyway; she doesn't need to know what's going on when it's not like she can do anything from the sidewalk.
What she sees when she gets there, though, is a hell of a lot worse than any emergency she could have imagined. City Hall is empty. Not quiet, and not just the lobby, either. Molly looks, yells out some names, just in case, tries calling a few of her co-workers with no response, checks the goddamn mayor's office, and there's no one in the building at all, as far as she can tell. At the thought alone, never mind how deeply eerie it seems, it's hard not to panic. She can't say this is the most afraid she's been since she got here, not even close, but it feels a little like being in a fucking horror movie. None of this is right, and still, she doesn't know what it means. Not everyone is gone, she can tell that much, but it's close enough to it, and, God, this isn't all supposed to be on her shoulders. Something has to be done, for those of them who are left, and she doesn't see how she could be the one to do it on her own.
In a way, it reminds her of the early days in Darrow, when the city was still all but empty. Not exactly, it hadn't seemed so frightening then, because people weren't just gone, but as far as she can tell, there's as much left to them — whoever that may be — as there was two and a half years ago. Back then, it had been exciting, the reason she'd gotten back into politics in the first place. She still remembers the way Stephen sold her on it, talking about a government from the ground up, a once in a lifetime chance. It isn't really either of those things anymore, but it's just as much a necessity. While that ought to be all the more reason for her to step the fuck up now, it's hard to get past how freaked out she is, to figure out where to even start. She's known for a long time to expect the unexpected here, but this isn't something she could have ever prepared for.
When she finally thinks to pull her phone out of her pocket again, scrolling through her contacts, it's abrupt, like she knows what she's doing before she can entirely piece it together herself. There are other people she'll have to try to call later, but it's Lee's number she finds now, holding her breath as she brings the phone to her ear and listens to it ring, practically fucking praying that he picks up. Of all the people she knows here that she doesn't work with, who clearly aren't around, he's the one most likely to be able to help her with this. They've talked politics enough for her to know that. Besides, she needs to know if he's still here, or if he's just vanished like most of the city seems to have.
Hearing his voice on the other end of the line comes as even more of a relief than she's expecting, something she tries not to focus on for the time being. There are more important things at hand: asking him to come to City Hall, telling him there's no one here. Given that she doesn't know anything else yet, that just about covers it. Then there's nothing for her to do but wait, pacing anxiously in the lobby until the door starts to open, and she stops and whirls around to face it. "Lee?"
