"Caroline is that you?."
The deep voice crackled through the static of the dying phone. It was strong and steady. It did not sound like a man suffering in the freezing dark.
"Dad we are dying," Caroline wept into the cracked screen. "We are trapped in the Grand Hotel lobby."
"Calm down and speak clearly," Richard Mercer commanded. "Who is with you?"
"Just Mom and Victor Hargrove," Caroline stammered. "Everyone else is dead or gone. My foot is rotting Dad. It hurts so much."
Richard let out a short dark laugh that echoed through the small speaker.
"Of course your mother survived," Richard said. His voice dripped with old bitter resentment. "Only cockroaches survive a freeze like this."
"Please Dad," Caroline begged. "You have to send a car. The temperature is dropping again."
"I do
