Manhattan Transfer

by John E. Stith

  Rudy said calmly, "You already know what the meeting is going to decide, don't you?"

  "Yeah, I think so. If in fact this ship does grab cities and then destroys the planets, the only way I can think of to keep Earth from being destroyed, if it hasn't been already, is to disable this ship."

  #

  St. Patrick's Cathedral was a bewildering mixture of calm and turmoil. As a round–the–clock prayer vigil continued, the crowds were heavier than ever before as five to ten thousand people vied for the space meant for 2500. Around the perimeter of the church had been established prayer centers for people who couldn't fit inside the church, under its enormous vaulted ceiling.

  A group of at least a thousand people sat in a huge circle around the statue of Atlas that stood between St. Patrick's and the Rockefeller Center. The deacon who stood on the statue's base as she read prayers and talked to the crowd was convinced that well over half the crowd wasn't Catholic, but she didn't care. Sometimes it took extraordinary events to get people's attention.

  #

  Abby's legs were getting tired. She guessed that Matt was even more tired, but he hadn't complained and she wasn't about to.

  They'd been running more than an hour through the tunnel back to Manhattan. The low tunnel ceiling prevented long, high strides and forced them into a leaning–forward–almost–falling gait that also made her neck sore. Fortunately, running in the tunnel was easy on the feet, like running on an endless strip of cork. Matt ran in front and Abby matched his pace. They'd still heard nothing more from Manhattan.

  "Uh oh," Matt said.

  Abby slowed as quickly as she could. By the time she was stopped, she realized that something was wrong with the tunnel floor. The entire stretch they'd run along had the normal circular shape, like a huge pipe. Here, the bottom of the tunnel was flattened.

  Just as she realized what the problem must be, Matt confirmed it. "The tunnel must have a leak up ahead."

  Abby's hardhat light penetrated the dark tunnel. Where they stood, the circular passage was flattened on the bottom, like a coin hit by a hammer on the bottom edge. The goo spreading along the floor looked deeper ahead. "It looks like the tunnel dips down."

  Matt looked behind them, and then ahead again. "I think you're right. The extra mass of the goo that's in the tunnel makes it heavier than normal, so it's sinking."

  "So that might pull the ventilation pipes below the surface."

  "If it sinks very much, that's true. I just hope the tunnel isn't blocked completely."

  Matt started moving ahead again, more slowly this time. Abby followed.

  The level of the goo on the tunnel floor gradually grew higher. At the same time, the tunnel dipped slightly deeper. Within a minute, they reached the point where the goo filled the bottom half of the tunnel, and they had to start crawling on their hands and knees. Abby felt her lungs grow colder as they moved forward and the clearance diminished to not much more than a half–meter. She could no longer see past Matt to tell what it looked like ahead.

  "Stop," Matt said. "It's getting even tighter ahead."

  Abby stopped, extremely grateful they weren't going any deeper. Now that she was no longer moving forward, she was aware that her body trembled.

  Matt reached for his walkie–talkie and started speaking. "Rudy, this is Matt."

  A moment of silence was followed by, "I read you. What is it?"

  "The tunnel has sprung a leak. We're maybe a kilometer from Manhattan. I'm guessing the breach is around one of the ventilators; that's what the odds suggest anyway. I'm hoping there's still enough clearance for Abby and me to get through it. If we get stuck, we can try to use our knives to cut to the surface, but it would be better if you could back us up. If you don't hear from us in fifteen minutes, get back here double–time and help us out, all right?"

  As Matt spoke, Abby's chill began to spread again. She was already squeezed far tighter than she ever wanted to be. Wherever she looked, she saw the image of that trunk lid closing. She imagined getting stuck right where she was as the goo moved in ultra–slow motion to fill in the tunnel completely.

  "You got it," Rudy said. "I can start now if you want."

  "No, I think I can see far enough that the gap begins to get bigger on the other side of the leak."

  "All right. Standing by."

  "Thanks." Matt called back to Abby. "I'd suggest you hang your walkie–talkie around your neck, to make sure you can get to it. It's going to get a little tighter before we're through." Matt hesitated. "Are you going to be okay with this?"

  Abby shut her eyes and forced herself to say, "Sure." Now she had a terrifying image of herself stuck in the tunnel, not totally unable to move, but too traumatized to go forward or backward.

  "That's good. Depending on how tight this gets, I may need you to help pull me back out."

  Abby bit her lip.

  "All right," Matt said. "Let's go."

  Abby followed Matt as they were reduced to crawling though the nearly blocked tunnel. Her head kept hitting the tunnel roof, and she imagined Matt was already meeting resistance from both the floor and ceiling. She closed her eyes and tried desperately to imagine she was crawling across a desert, sand below her, and nothing but miles and miles of sky above her. It didn't work. Her breath came in ragged spurts.

  Ahead of her Matt grunted. "I think we're almost at the tightest spot. It does look like a leak from around a ventilator tube." He made audible straining noises as he pushed himself farther into the narrowing fissure. Abby's heart beat at double time. If he was taking this calmly, then she could, too. She had to.

  Finally Matt said, "Yeah, here it is. I'm going to use my matches to try to seal it as long as we're here."

  Abby could hear him hacking with his knife, no doubt clearing some of the leaking goo away from the pipe. She tried to think about a hot bath or a run through Central Park, but all she could focus on was one morbid thought. Even with the leak sealed, the extra goo in the tunnel might make the tunnel heavy enough to sink right here. The more the tunnel floor dropped, the more the goo could start pulling closer to the center of the depression, forcing the tunnel to sink even faster, and further accelerate the process of the goo flowing toward the middle.

  A match flared ahead of Matt. Light flickered through the gaps around his body and off the narrow walls for several seconds. The match went out, and Matt lit another. After what seemed a long span of minutes, he finally said, "All right. I think that's got it."

  Matt crawled forward again, his straining noises even louder. After moving another half–meter into the gap, he called back and said, "I think I'm almost through, but I can't quite make it. Can you brace yourself and put your hands against my feet so I can push just a little farther?"

  At first Abby couldn't speak. "But what if you get stuck?"

  "I'm hoping that won't happen. And I'm hoping that now the leak is sealed, if I do get stuck, it'll only be a matter of time until the goo flows far enough that I can get free. Just make sure you don't go so far that you get stuck, too. One of us has to have our hands free."

  "You're certain you want to do this?"

  "No," Matt admitted. "But I've got to. And I really think we can make it."

  Abby wanted to scream, but she couldn't. She was petrified, her muscles suddenly locked in a terrifying self–imposed rigor mortis. The image of Matt stuck ahead of her in the tunnel and the tunnel closing in behind her as she struggled to get free was horrifying.

  "Abby! Abby!" She finally heard Matt's voice over the ringing in her ears. Suddenly she was able to breathe again, and she took in a gasp large enough to make her feel even bigger in the confined area.

  She deliberately bit her tongue and the pain cut through the haze. She tried to force everything but Matt out of her mind and did her best to ignore her fears. She moved forward and felt Matt's shoes. "Okay," she said a moment later, her voice shaky.

  Matt's shoes pressed into her hands, hard, harder. She tried not to think about dying
. And finally the pressure went away.

  "I think that did it!" Matt shouted.

  Abby craned her head and saw Matt's feet move ahead another half–meter.

  "I'm through the worst of it. Come on ahead!"

  Abby didn't need that request repeated. She scuttled forward, having to pull in her elbows to clear the worst of it, wondering how tight Matt had felt.

  She crawled forward, her arms outstretched, pulling herself along by sticking her knife in the goo, and pushing herself forward, sometimes with the tips of her shoes on the tunnel floor, sometimes with her heels against the ceiling. She was smaller than Matt; surely she would be able to get through a space he had managed.

  The ceiling was low enough that she was sure she was forming grooves as she pulled herself along. The roof and floor felt like the jaws of a vice, and for an instant she was completely unable to speak, unable even to draw air into her lungs. Oh, God, please no, don't do this. Please let her breathe again.

  With her eyes squeezed closed in fear, she tugged herself forward, trying to breathe, but afraid that if she filled her lungs she'd be stuck here forever in a sweltering, dark coffin. She started to cry, but controlled herself as soon as she had sobbed only once. Her body was hot, far too hot. No air could circulate around her. She gritted her teeth and made herself keep moving forward.

  She traveled a meter and then another. Thank God. He was right. The tunnel was getting slightly wider again. Suddenly she moved even faster, afraid there might somehow be two leaks and that somewhere ahead the tunnel would begin to narrow again, and they'd never be able to back out all the way though that closing gap.

  The tunnel grew wider and taller until before she realized it the passage was a half–circle, the leaked goo blocking only the bottom half of the tunnel, and the top half was totally clear. She kept following Matt, willing her heart to slow down. When finally the tunnel was two–thirds clear, giving them almost enough room to stand up and run, her hardhat light revealed a perfectly round tunnel ahead in the distance.

  Matt stopped. Abby stopped right behind him and put her head down so he couldn't see her face. Her body shook for a long moment, and finally she felt herself getting back in control.

  When she looked up, Matt was sitting cross–legged, his back to the tunnel wall, breathing deeply, his hands over his face. He put his hands down and looked at her. "Are you all right?" he asked softly.

  "Yeah," Abby said.

  His voice shuddered. "I haven't been that scared in a long time. Damn!"

  Abby moved closer and sat beside him. "I thought it was just me."

  "No, it wasn't just you." Matt's breathing finally started to relax. He picked up his walkie–talkie and pressed the talk switch. "We're through, Rudy."

  Rudy acknowledged, and Matt leaned his head back against the tunnel wall.

  Abby said, "I figured you never got scared."

  "I probably get scared every day of my life. That's just a little worse than normal."

  "What do you get scared of?"

  "Lot of things. Growing old alone. Making the wrong decision."

  "I didn't know you were scared until we got here."

  Matt looked at her now. He seemed to be feeling much better. A glimmer of his smile had returned. "I'm the designated leader. I've got some responsibilities."

  Abby nodded. "Well, I was scared, too. Scared—I was terrified. I just knew I was going to die back there."

  Matt nodded, then reached one arm around Abby's shoulder. She leaned toward him and for the first time was aware that she was trembling. Gradually she relaxed.

  They sat there fifteen or twenty seconds before Matt squeezed her shoulder. "We've got to get back. Are you okay now?"

  "Are you?" she asked.

  "Yeah. I think so."

  "Then let's go."

  They duck–walked for a few meters until the floor was low enough to allow running again. Matt in the lead, Abby following, they ran. The rhythm of air filling then leaving Abby's lungs moved into a familiar pattern, and within a minute or two she realized that she felt very good. Good to be alive. Good to be running. Good to be with Matt.

  #

  Seeing the airlock door in the distance filled Matt with relief. "We're almost there," he called to Abby, who ran behind him.

  "Thank God."

  Matt was tired of the lean–forward gait, but he still wasn't as tired as he would have been if he'd just run several kilometers in Earth gravity. He slowed down, and by the time he neared the chamber housing the airlock doors he was walking.

  The first airlock door frame was jammed to fit into the gap defined by the chamber walls and ceiling. It held a half–width sliding door that could be opened from either side regardless of the relative pressures.

  Cautious since communications had been cut off so abruptly, Matt unlocked the door and slid it open just a millimeter. Air whistled through the gap for a few seconds, then slowed. Matt slid the door all the way open.

  Matt and Abby stepped into the airlock, and Matt slid the door closed and locked it. Matt unlocked the inner door and slid it open just a crack. Air whistled in.

  "That's funny," Matt said, worried.

  "What is?"

  "When I opened the outer door, air was forced out. I assumed that meant the space between the doors was at Manhattan pressure. So when the inner door to Manhattan opened, there shouldn't have been any change. But the air on the far side of the door is at a higher pressure."

  Matt put a hand near the gap and felt the air blowing in. A moment later his ears popped. Finally the inrush of air slowed and stopped. Matt looked at Abby, then opened the door all the way.

  They stepped through the opening. Lights on the other side were still on. They walked a few steps to the end of the chamber and stopped at the opening to the tunnel leading downward to where it joined the barrier outside the Battery Tunnel.

  The tunnel didn't look right. The string of lights led downward just the way they had the last time Matt had seen them, but now just this side of where Matt had expected to see the opening to the Battery Tunnel, a dark barrier cut across the tunnel.

  "What's going on?" Abby asked.

  "I don't know. Let's take a look."

  Matt and Abby walked down the tunnel, stepping from one plastic beam to the next. They were almost to the dark barrier before Matt realized what it was.

  "It's water," he said. "The tunnel is flooded."

  "You're right. God, I wonder what happened."

  They came even closer and a discoloration on the surface finally became clear.

  "It's a body," Matt said.

  He moved closer. Floating face down in the dark liquid was a uniformed body, probably the guard who'd been in this tunnel when it flooded, the man who'd been talking with him at the time. Matt stepped on the lowest dry beam and braced himself against the wall. With his free hand he was able to grab the victim's belt.

  He pulled the body from the water, and Abby helped drag the victim up the tunnel until the man's feet cleared the water by a meter. They let the body down gently on its back. The man's forehead showed a vicious bruise, but the water had washed away the lost blood.

  "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do for this guy," Matt said.

  One glance at the wrinkled face told Matt the time for artificial respiration was long past. The man had probably drowned about the same time they lost communications with him.

  Abby took several deep breaths and finally said, "Well, we know why this man quit talking to us. But what happened?"

  "You got me. Maybe our captors found out about our tunnel. Maybe one hell of an accident."

  "I guess I'd prefer an accident."

  "Me, too." Matt lay down on the sloping tunnel floor, his head near the water level. Submerged lights still shone dimly in the water. A moment later, Matt said, "The level's going down."

  Abby knelt next to Matt. "Any idea how fast?"

  Matt watched a little longer. "It looks like about centimeter every five s
econds." He stood up and thought. "I'd guess a couple of hours."

  "Maybe we're low enough and near enough that our walkie–talkies will reach inside."

  "Good thinking." Matt took his unit from his belt. "Rover calling Manhattan. Do you read?"

  After a few seconds the reply came. "This is Manhattan. Are you all right? What happened with the aliens?"

  "We're all fine, but the guard you left in the tunnel up to the airlock is dead." Matt decided to say nothing about what they had learned until he saw the mayor.

  "God, that makes four. Some crazies flooded the Battery Tunnel. Some of the water is draining naturally through the drains that still work. We're also pumping it out as fast as we can."

  "How soon do you expect we can get through?" Matt asked.

  "A few hours from now."

  We have to schedule an emergency session with the mayor to start just as soon as we get out of here."

  "No can do. She's announced that she's going on the air to talk about this at 8 P.M."

  "Patch me through to her. It's important."

  "More important than this? Guaranteed?"

  "Guaranteed."

  Several minutes passed but finally Matt heard Dorine Underwood's voice on his walkie–talkie. "This is the mayor."

  "This is Matt Sheehan. It's vital that we talk."

  #

  The mayor's conference room in City Hall was packed with almost every senior surviving member of city government. At the perimeter of the room were numerous journalists, including Julie Kravine.

  From where Julie watched, she could see Matt Sheehan, Abby Tersa, and Dorine Underwood engaged in a private conversation. As soon as they finished, Dorine made her way through the crowd toward Julie.

  "Miss Kravine?" Dorine said.

  "Yes, Ms. Mayor."

  "The ground rules have changed. Live coverage of this meeting is no longer possible. I'll make a statement at the conclusion, but I don't want the meeting itself on the air. I anticipate some strong arguments, and I think at this point it's better to wait until we can show everyone a united front. You're probably as aware as I am that just in the last day we've had as many suicides and new admissions to mental clinics as we had in that first day. People already have enough stress. Waiting an hour on this meeting will add to it, but not as much as getting a direct connection to what I expect will go on in here. Is that clear and can you and the others abide by those terms?"