by Amy Cross
"Are you sure?" Chloe asks, standing just behind me.
"Hey!" I call out. "John!"
The man turns to look over at me, and finally I see that I'm right. It is him. He's staring at me with a look of confusion on his face, and it's clear that he doesn't recognize me at all, but it's definitely him. After all this insanity, we've finally found John Lydecker at last!
Dr. Stef Grant
Today
"It's male," Cooper says, crouching next to the corpse. "Definitely male."
I breathe a sigh of relief. After the initial shock of seeing the body being washed down the stairs, I'd begun to worry that by some huge coincidence Gretchen's body might have been carried here by the flow of water. I guess her remains have probably been washed away by the storm, which is still raging above ground, but at least we don't have to see her again. This body, bloated and rotten, is a stranger, and in some strange way that's much less disturbing.
"He looks like he's been dead for a while," I say, staring at the yellowed, bruised skin of the man's face.
"Hard to give an exact time of death," Cooper continues. "We don't know what kind of environment he's been in since he died. Still, there's no sign that he's been consumed by any kind of rodent, which is odd." He turns to me. "You'd think that a body, left somewhere outside in New York, would have been chewed to pieces by now. It's as if humans aren't the only creatures that have abandoned the place."
Before I can say anything, I hear the sound of Lacey vomiting nearby. Glancing over at the other side of the ticket hall, I see that she's bent over one of the barriers.
"Great," Cooper says, "that's all we need."
"She really shouldn't be here," I mutter.
"Help me move him," Cooper says, already pulling a set of latex gloves from his pocket.
"Are you sure?" I ask. "What if he's infected? We still haven't ruled out some kind of disease from this scenario. He might be carrying some kind of virus or bacteria, either on his skin or inside his body."
"I'm not asking you to lick the corpse," he says somewhat testily, as he passes me a set of gloves. "I'm just asking you to grab the feet and help me move him to that ledge over there. I need to examine him more carefully, and it'd be a lot easier to do if we can get him flat on his back and out of the water." He stares at me for a moment. "Please, Stef. We need to get on with this. It's not much, but right now it's the only lead we've got."
Sighing, I put the gloves on before grabbing hold of the large boots that the guy is wearing. Although the corpse seems to be in a bad way, it stays together as we lift it and start struggling to get it onto a nearby ledge. There seems to be some considerable extra weight, probably from water that has built up in the remains, but eventually we manage to get the body onto the ledge, at which point I take a step back. The dead man is dressed in what appears to be a haz-mat suit, just like ours, and there are no obvious signs of injury. It's his face, though, that has my fullest attention, with his mouth seemingly open in a kind of half-scream, and his eyes intact as they stare straight up.
"Why's he suited up?" I ask.
"I guess he was investigating whatever was happening," Cooper replies.
"It couldn't be..." I stare at the dead man's face, but it's clear that this isn't Sutton.
"Fascinating," Cooper says, stepping back to get a better view.
"That's not the word I'd use," I reply, unable to stop staring at the corpse's yellowed eyes. There are several dark red-blue blotches on the face, which I assume must have come from impacts during the body's journey through the flooded streets, but overall the body seems to be in remarkably good condition given that he might well have been dead for two whole weeks. Then again, if he died more recently, we might have our first indication that the entire population of the country didn't just vanish all at once.
"We have to find out how this man died," Cooper says, moving closer to the body. Still wearing his gloves, and after a moment he pulls the top of the haz-mat suit down to reveal what appears to be a tattoo on the man's neck.
"Be careful," I warn him. "There's still a risk of infection."
"I think a few risks might be unavoidable right now," he replies as he leans closer. "Jonathan A. Lydecker," he says after a moment. "That's what it says. I guess the guy had his name tattooed on his body. Convenient, I guess. Well, Mr. Lydecker, I must thank you for joining us. Let's hope you've got plenty to tell us about what's going on here."
"What did you call him?" Lacey calls out from the other side of the ticket hall.
"I was just -" Cooper starts to say.
"What did you call him?" she says again, suddenly seeming surprisingly animated as she splashes her way across the hall and reaches us. Pushing Cooper out of the way, she stares at the body for a moment, almost as if she can't believe what she's seeing. All her daintiness and caution seems to have vanished, replaced by a steely, determined expression.
"You heard of him?" I ask, glancing at Cooper and seeing a look of concern in his eyes.
She doesn't reply. In fact, she seems totally mesmerized by the body.
"Lacey," I continue, "do you know something about this man?"
"No," Lacey says after a moment, still staring at the tattoo as if it's the most shocking thing she's ever seen. I swear, it's almost as if she's got tears in her eyes.
"You sure?" I ask. "You seemed to react when -"
"I misheard you," she replies, even though she still seems shocked. She sniffs, and it's clear that she's trying very hard to act as if nothing's wrong. "I'm sorry, I thought you said something else." She stares at the corpse for a moment, seemingly in a state of shock. Whatever's worrying her, she's doing a terrible job of hiding her true reaction.
"Apparently his name's Lydecker," I continue, convinced that Lacey isn't being entirely honest. I don't know her very well at all, but something seems to have changed in her countenance over the past minute or so, and having been avoiding the corpse since it washed down here, now she suddenly seems to be completely focused on it, to the extent that she seemingly can't take her eyes off its blotchy face. "It's an unusual name," I add, hoping to elicit some kind of acknowledgment from her. "Are you sure it doesn't ring any bells?"
"Why would it?" she asks after a moment, turning to me with a forced smile. "He's obviously just some poor individual who was caught out in..." She pauses. "Well, in whatever this is." With that, she turns and makes her way back across the ticket hall.
"Is it me," I whisper to Cooper, "or was that a little weird?"
"I think she's a little weird full stop," he replies.
"Yeah, but..." I pause. "Come on, you saw her reaction, right?"
"We need to focus on the task at hand," he continues, as thunder rumbles above us. "The storm might be settled in for the rest of the day, but at least we can do some useful work down here if we focus on undertaking a forensic analysis of Mr. Lydecker's body. Granted, we're lacking even the most basic tools, but we can't overlook this opportunity." He pauses. "I could really use your help here, Stef. Are you willing to help me?"
"Sure," I mutter, glancing over at Lacey and seeing that once again she's vomiting over at the other side of the ticket hall. "For fuck's sake," I add, "how can she even have anything left in her stomach to bring up?" Turning back to Cooper, I see that he's already started to carefully unbutton Lydecker's shirt; moments later, he pulls the fabric aside to reveal the corpse's bloated, yellowed belly.
"He's been in the water for a while," Cooper says, placing a hand on the belly and pressing down. Moments later, there's a clear hissing sound as air starts to escape through Lydecker's mouth, almost as if he's letting out a long, deep sigh. "Cause and effect," Cooper adds with a faint smile. "Something happens in one place, and there's a result somewhere else."
"Another coincidence, though," I point out.
"How so?"
"Of all the subway stations in the whole city, he just happens to get washed down into ours? Don't you think that's a little weird?"
"There must be other bodies up there," he continues. "Maybe the storm dislodged them, or maybe for some reason they were all gathered in one part of the city. I'm sure there'll be plenty of others once we get back out into the open, unless they've been washed into the river." He removes his hand from Lydecker's chest, and the hissing sound stops. "Unless you're suggesting that Jonathan A. Lydecker was the only corpse left in New York," he adds with a smile, "and that he just happened to come floating down to us?"
"I have a scalpel," I reply, opening the utility belt around my waist and pulling out a small rubber case. "We might as well cut him open, right?"
"There's not much else we can do," Cooper replies, taking the scalpel. "If nothing else, we might be able to work out how long he's been dead. It'd be useful to know whether anyone survived after the initial shutdown of communication." He pauses. "You ready?"
I smile awkwardly.
He places the scalpel against the skin on Lydecker's chest, and then he pauses for a moment before pressing the blade down deep and starting to cut the man open.
Caroline Jones
Fifteen days ago
"Can I help you?" Lydecker asks, standing at the top of the stoop and staring down at us.
I look over at Chloe, and then at Reed, and it's clear that all three of us are totally speechless. I guess that in all the madness, we'd kind of lost track of the fact that we originally met while we were looking for this guy. Now he's here, standing right in front of us.
"Okay," Lydecker says uncomfortably. "This is a little unusual, so I'm just gonna go inside and leave you folks to have a great night. Or morning, or whatever it is."
"What are you doing here?" I ask, walking over to the foot of the stoop.
"I live here," he replies with a frown. "I just finished a night-shift." He stares at me for a moment, then at Reed, and finally at Chloe. "I'm pretty sure you're not here to mug me, but at the same time, you're kind of freaking me out. So I'm just gonna go inside -"
"Do you remember me?" I ask.
He pauses. "Should I?"
"What about me?" Chloe asks. "Chloe Atkins. We work together on the magazine."
"Huh?"
"You have dandruff on your glasses!" she says.
"Excuse me?"
"It's true, isn't it?" she continues. "If we've never met before, how do I know that you always have a thin layer of dandruff on your glasses! You take them off several times a day and give them a quick wipe, but you always end up with more. You've had the problem all your life! The keyboard of your laptop is encrusted with the stuff too. It gets under the keys and you end up having to take each key off individually so you can -"
"Okay!" he shouts. "Enough! You clearly..." He pauses. "I don't know who the three of you are, or why you're here, or why the hell you're talking to me, but I'm tired, so while I appreciate the effort, or the prank or whatever it is, I'm afraid that I really would like to just go into my apartment, get into bed with my wife, and not have this conversation. So no offense, but whatever drugs the three of you are on, maybe you should lay off them for a while." With that, he steps through the door and turns to push it shut.
"No!" Reed shouts, running up the stoop and barging the door open, knocking Lydecker to the ground. "You're not getting off that easy! You're going to tell us what's going on, and you're going to do it right now!"
"Jesus Christ!" Lydecker shouts, struggling to get to his feet. "You people are maniacs!"
"You want to see a maniac?" Reed asks, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him up, before pushing him against the wall. "I can show you a maniac," he continues, sounding as if all the frustration has finally built up to a point at which he can no longer contain himself. "Which apartment do you live in? Go on, tell me. The weird thing is, with the way this night is going, I'm starting to think I can already guess." He pauses, waiting for a reply, but Lydecker seems to be absolutely terrified. "It's apartment 5C, isn't it?" Reed continues after a moment. "You live in apartment 5C. Am I right?"
"I'm calling the cops!" Lydecker splutters.
"What's your wife's name?" Reed shouts.
"None of your -" Lydecker starts to say, before Reed pulls him closer and then slams him back against the wall.
"What's her name?" Reed shouts again.
"Emma!" Lydecker shouts.
Stepping back, Reed releases Lydecker and lets him slither back down to the ground.
"This isn't going to solve anything," I say, pushing Reed aside before kneeling next to Lydecker. "John, it's okay. Reed's just angry and scared. I know we must seem like we're insane to you, but I promise, we're just in a weird situation. We just need to talk to you."
Lydecker stares at me with a look of shock in his eyes. I don't blame him. From his point of view, we're three random strangers who have suddenly turned up on his doorstep, demanding to know what the hell's going on. I don't claim to understand everything that's happening, but I'm pretty sure that Lydecker isn't some kind of mastermind who's laughing at us behind our backs. Somehow, he's as helplessly caught up in the whole mess as the rest of us.
"Some strange things have been happening lately," I continue. "Some really strange things that we can't explain, and we're hoping that maybe you can help us understand the situation." I wait for him to reply, but it's clear that Reed's more direct approach has left Lydecker almost stupefied with fear. "Is there somewhere we can talk?" I continue. "I promise, John, we just have some questions about all the weirdness, and I'm guessing that you don't really know what I'm talking about but I'd still like to just get your side of the story, 'cause maybe it can help us in some way. As you can probably tell, we're getting pretty desperate here. It's been a very long night, and we don't know what we're supposed to do next. Right now, it feels as if our lives are slipping away from us."
"Keep that fucking animal away from me," he says, staring at Reed.
"Reed's not going to hurt you," I reassure him. "No-one's going to help you. That was just a bit of a misunderstanding."
"It wasn't a misunderstanding!" Lydecker hisses. "He's a barbarian! He's no better than an ape!"
"He's just angry," I continue. "He's angry because something's been taken from him, and right now he's not sure how to get it back. None of us knows what's happening, and we need to somehow work out where to go from here. I know you must think we're insane, but we need your help. Please, is there somewhere we can talk?"
"No fucking way," Lydecker replies. "Why the fuck would I help someone who tried to beat me to death?"
"Bullshit!" Reed says, stepping toward us. "If you think that's what I was doing, you're insane."
"It's okay," I say, getting to my feet. "I've got an idea."
"Here's an idea," Lydecker says, staring up at me with undisguised venom in his voice. "Why don't you three psychotic assholes fuck off before I call the cops and have you arrested for assault, huh?"
"Sure," I reply. "We're going."
"No way," Reed replies. "After everything we went through to find him -"
"We're going," I say firmly, turning to him. "Trust me. We're going to leave Mr. Lydecker here, and we're going to walk out that door."
"No, we're -" Reed starts to say, before I see a moment of realization in his eyes. "Sure," he continues finally. "That's exactly what we're going to do."
The three of us hurry out the door and down the steps of the stoop, and then we pause for a moment.
"If this works," I say to Reed, "you have to stay calm. Running at him like a goddamn bull isn't going to make him talk to us, okay? It's clear that he doesn't know anything about what's going on, but at least we can talk to him like adults rather than trying to squeeze the truth out of his with brute force."
"Did you hear what he said?" Reed replies, barely able to constrain his anger. "He lives in apartment 5C. That's Emma's apartment. He said he's married. He's stolen my life!"
"I'm sure it's not like that," I tell him.
"My son!" he continues. "What if..." He pauses, and for a
moment he seems to be on the verge of getting choked up at the thought of his son living with another man. "What if my son thinks John fucking Lydecker is his father?"
"I'm sure he doesn't," I reply, even though it might well be the case. "Either way, we're not going to get any answers if we keep going like this. You need to calm down, and if you can't do that, you need to wait outside while Chloe and I go in to talk to him."
Reed stares at me, and it's clear that he's struggling to stay calm.
"You need to promise me you can do this," I tell him.
"Sure," Reed replies.
"Do you think Lydecker's telling the truth?" Chloe asks.
"I do," I reply, before turning and making my way back up the stoop. "Or at least, he thinks it's the truth."
Once we get inside, there's no sign of Lydecker, but footsteps can be heard heading upstairs. The three of us hurry after him, and finally we reach Lydecker just as he's unlocking the door to his apartment. He looks tired, as if all the drama of the past couple of minutes has been wiped away and, once again, he's just a guy heading home after a night-shift.
"Mr. Lydecker?" I ask.
He turns to face us. "Hi," he says, a little blankly, clearly not recognizing us. I guess I was right: by stepping away from him for a couple of minutes, we managed to reset his memory of us. There's no fear in his eyes, no suspicion or concern.
"This is going to seem a bit weird," I say, taking a deep breath, "but we were wondering if we could have a word. You don't know us, but I think you might be able to help us out."
Dr. Stef Grant
Today
"He didn't drown," Cooper says, as he examines the dead man's lungs, "and there's no sign of any trauma. He doesn't seem to be particularly thin, either, so I doubt he starved." With the tip of the scalpel, he cuts into the left lung. "Any ideas, Stef? What do you think accounted for Mr. Lydecker's death?"
"Hard to say," I reply. So far, we've managed to open his chest and spread his ribs, but apart from a quick top-up on basic anatomy, we've learned nothing. "I keep coming back to the possibility of infection," I continue after a moment. "I know you don't want to hear it, but what if he caught something. Some kind of disease, maybe viral or bacterial. That'd account for the lack of obvious injuries."