230 - drill

roken shards of glass rained down upon the floor of the control house. Karen shielded her face with her arms and crouched down. She thought they might be using tear gas or something worse to finally flush her out. She waited, clenching her eyes shut, holding her breath, and bracing for some kind of explosion.

The seconds ticked on, and the room remained free of any kaboom or noxious gas. Cautiously, she peeked through barely-opened eyelids, trying to ascertain the nature of the projectile that had been launched through the window.

Karen saw an ordinary black cell phone laying on the floor amidst the silicate debris. It began to ring. Still on high alert, she inched her body over toward the broken window, exposing herself from cover for just enough time to outstretch an arm within reach of the phone, quickly snatching it.

The caller ID displayed as "UNKNOWN," and Karen felt like that could describe the whole world for her right now. She inhaled, collected herself as best she could, and pressed down on the glowing green button to accept the call.

"Yeah? What do you want?" she blurted into the receiver. She didn't have any idea what to say in a situation like this, and a simple "hello" seemed unlikely to suffice. She did not intend to come off as overly confrontational, but she figured it would be better than sounding weak.

"Hello, is this Karen?" asked the person on the other end of the line. His voice was calm, deep, and reassuring. It carried no strong sense of urgency, like a telemarketer just trying to get through his quota of calls.

"Well, who else would you expect it to be?" Karen shot back.

"Of course, I just wanted to make sure," the voice responded. "Karen, I'm Greg. Greg Cooper, with the police department. Sorry about the unconventional method we had to resort to in order to get in touch with you, but I think it will be beneficial to everyone here if we are able to talk."

Karen immediately disliked the way he talked. Not the tone, she thought, but the slow, delicate pace. Each syllable was taking conscious effort on his part to push past his lips. She wanted to call him out on how patronizing it sounded, but she was certain there was no point in doing so.

"Oh yeah? Talk about what?" she asked, trying especially hard now to show how little of an effect his cool demeanor was having on her.

Greg did not hesitate on the other side of the line, as if the whole conversation were part of a well-rehearsed script. "About how we can resolve this whole situation in a way that is in everyone's best interests," he answered.

"Do you have my letter?" Karen asked impatiently. "If you do, then you already know my demands."

"Yes, Karen, we have your letter right here. I'm holding it as we speak, in fact. I can see your points Karen, and I think most of them are valid. I really do. But, as for what you want, I think even you know that some of them are a little unrealistic, don't you, Karen?" Greg asked.

"If I thought they were unrealistic, I wouldn't have asked for them. What do you think, I'm nuts?" she responded.

"No. No one here thinks you are nuts, Karen. But what I mean is, it will be extremely difficult to get everything you've asked for together in a short time. So, all I'm suggesting is, perhaps you show us a small sign of good faith while we work on putting all your requests together. What do you think," Greg paused, "can you do that for me, Karen?"

"Good faith," Karen repeated. "What did you have in mind?"