Dorsey’s eyes tightened around the edges, and he scowled. “You are willfully misunderstanding me.” He carefully pronounced every syllable. Liza was glad he looked pissed. How dare he turn off like a faucet. Why would he pull her along to the edge like that and drop her like a sack of potatoes? Her hands were still shaking. She knew there was no mistaking that look from the stairwell. It was the look of a man who absolutely knew what he wanted to do to her.

“Add that to your list.”

Then the room went black. In the windows, Liza saw the city go dark block by block.

“Ah hell,” David slurred.

“Surely this place has a generator,” Jennifer said.

“Only certain federal buildings get emergency generators. Besides, they evacuated this building at two p.m. for that very reason. Do you both remember when I suggested four times that we should leave if they decided to close the building?” Dorsey sounded like a bureaucrat nearing retirement.

“Thank you, Dorsey. We remember it and won’t be allowed to forget it,” David said.

“We should have listened to you,” Jennifer simpered.

Liza wanted to barf. Did anyone ever tell him anything he didn’t want to hear?

Liza turned to face everyone. Someone needed to herd these cats. “Congratulations on being right. Is that gonna keep us from freezing our butts off?” Jennifer’s head snapped in Liza’s direction. “It’s twenty-eight degrees outside. With no generator, it’s going to be twenty-eight degrees in this office soon. What are our choices?”

Dorsey’s turn to look at her; he nodded. “We need to scout the building for blankets.” He disappeared into the darkness with his cell phone light.

Liza paced the room like a drill sergeant. “The floor is going to be cold.”

“The floor is not happening,” Jennifer agreed.

Dorsey returned to the common space with a few decorative throws. “We should really spring for basic office furniture. All of this furniture disguised as modern art was a mistake.”

Liza took the folded throws from Dorsey. “Okay, the floor is not an option to sleep, and neither is the modern art, so maybe we can use tables?”

“Too unstable,” he said.

“Hey, when I went to the eighth floor, their offices had—”

Liza and Dorsey spoke in unison. “Nap pods.”

Liza turned back to the center of the room and addressed the others. “There are nap pods downstairs. We don’t have a ton of blankets, but we should generate enough heat if we keep the lids closed.”

“No, I don’t think heat will be a problem.”