by Anton Strout
“It sank?”
Godfrey flipped ahead in the book. “It’s attributed to a fire that started on board,” he said. “That, and there was little in the way of working lifeboats or flotation equipment at the time. Most everyone either burned or drowned.”
“That seems like the kind of life trauma that could leave a lot of spirits roaming the material plane,” I said. “Is there any mention of a woman in green?”
Godfrey read on, and then after a moment shook his head. “Nothing in here,” he said. “It could be possible that she was one of the leaders of the St. Mark’s Lutherans who arranged the outing, but she wasn’t on board.”
“I’ve encountered that woman,” I said, “and she’s no Lutheran. She struck me as something much older than that.”
“Which would make sense,” said Godfrey, tapping the page where he was reading. “The Slocum wasn’t the first ship to go down there. Hundreds had sunk well into the latter half of the nineteenth century, all blamed on the harsh currents and dangerous rocks below. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers started blasting away what lay beneath the surface in the mid-eighteen hundreds. Looks like it has clearance now, but I don’t think anyone has messed with the area since the 1920s.”
“A dangerous place with a dangerous name, it seems,” I said.
“So it appears,” Godfrey said. “But let me make this clear. This stuff I’m looking up is just regular plain ole New York history. There’s nothing paranormal associated with it in our records …”
I turned around and started heading back through the stacks to the stairs leading up to the offices above. “Those hundreds of ghosts didn’t get there themselves, Godfrey,” I said. “And they’re afraid of a woman in green who I think is responsible for Mason Redfield’s death. There’s more to the Hell Gate Bridge than what is in your history books.”
“Where are you going?” Godfrey said, but I didn’t hear him following. He was probably taking the time to put the book back using a little caution.
“I need to know more about what’s happened at the Hell Gate Bridge, the stuff that’s not in the history books, and for that I’ll need to find something from one of those sunken ships,” I said. I could already feel the electric tingle of my powers inside my gloves. “Something I can get my hands on. Hopefully the F.O.G.gie boat’s ready, or else it’s going to be a long swim.”
19
From the bow of the Fraternal Order’s converted cabin cruiser-turned trawler, the East River was a mix of creepy and calm, a dark canyon of water that lay between the lights of Manhattan and Queens. For once, the sky was clear, and I was thankful for the break from all the rain. Connor steered from inside the closed-off cabin, but Jane and I couldn’t help but ride up front like tourists on the Circle Line. Jane’s face practically lit up as she stood there, gripping the railing, eyes closed and wind flapping her ponytail back and forth.
“You look like you’re feeling better,” I said.
“I don’t know what it is,” she said. “Being on the water just makes me feel almost normal again.” Jane reached up and pulled the band from her ponytail, letting her hair fly loose in the wind like a sexy blond Medusa.
“Good,” I said, “but if you shout out that you’re queen of the world, I may have to push you overboard.”
Jane laughed out loud, her voice ringing out over the sounds of the water and the low, constant hum of the boat’s engine.
“I’ll try not to,” she said. She leaned forward over the prow and I reached out to grab her.
“Easy,” I said. The last thing I wanted was to fish her out of the East River. Her arm was freezing in the warmth of my hand and I pulled her to me, holding her. “You didn’t have to come, you know.”
“Yes, I did,” she said, looking deep into my eyes. “You don’t understand. I had to get out of the Department for a bit. I was getting claustrophobic in the offices. Wesker and Allorah were driving me nuts, running all these tests on my mark.”
“I can certainly understand Wesker driving someone nuts,” I said. “Prolonged exposure to him can also cause a rash.”
The wind blew Jane’s hair across her face, but it wasn’t enough to hide her look of worry. “I know,” she said. “I just needed a break from all the poking and prodding.” She looked into the wheelhouse where Connor stood at the controls. “You sure he’s okay with me tagging along on this?”
“Who cares?” I asked, smiling at her. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”
Jane spun around in my arms, putting her back against me. “I never realized how much I enjoyed the open water. Growing up in Kansas didn’t exactly offer much in the way of water-based activities.”
Jane let her head fall against my shoulder. I loved the mood she was in. Days of sniping at each other over the whole drawer debacle melted away, but there was still more than enough to worry about, thanks to the mark.
We rode along the river in our own mini version of the Love Boat until I spotted the Hell Gate Bridge just past the much larger Triborough. Connor angled our boat into the waterway between the shores of Astoria Park and Wards Island. He slowed as the boat passed underneath the bridge and killed the engine entirely when we were at the sweet spot between the two stone towers that sat on either shore. Jane and I headed toward the back of the boat via the narrow walkways on either side of the cabin. Connor was already at work on the newly mounted set of winches, pulleys, and metal draggers that had been added to the back of the boat.
“Sorry to interrupt your pleasure cruise,” he said when he saw us walking toward him.
“You could have at least provided some drinks or hors d’oeuvres,” I said.
Connor stood and looked at me. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Who captained us here again?”
“Fine,” I said. “You drag something nice up to the surface with all the equipment that I can use my psychometry on out here, I’ll buy the drinks. Fair enough?” I worried that I might get another visit from the rageful tattooist if I did use my power, but with Jane’s spirits improved, I hoped that would help quell it. Besides, I couldn’t avoid using them as much as I had been, not when there was a real chance of making headway in the case.
Jane stared at the contraption Connor was readying.
“What is that thing?” she asked.
“A dredger,” Connor said.
“Oh,” I said. “So it dredges.”
Jane laughed, but Connor didn’t. He just shook his head at me.
“You know how to use that thing?” she asked.
“Hey, ask your boyfriend about it,” Connor said. “It’s his boat.”
“Technically it belongs to the Order. I just commandeered it. I didn’t say I knew how everything worked on it.”
Connor stripped off his trench coat and laid it carefully aside on the back bench of the port side. “Don’t worry, kid,” he said. “I’m Greek and Irish. I think I’m genetically predisposed to knowing how to operate all seafaring equipment… unless you want to volunteer to do a night dive out here instead?”
I looked down into the murkiness of the East River. The smell coming off it made my eyes water a little. “I’m not even sure I want to get splashed by that water, let alone immerse myself in it.”
“I didn’t think so,” he said and threw the winch lever next to him. Its motor whined into action, the lights in the cabin flickering. As the coiled cable began to unwind, the business end of the device lowered itself into the water.
“So, what are you hoping for here?” Jane asked.
“An abnormal number of boats have gone down in these parts,” I said. “Some blame it on the currents, some fires… but if Professor Redfield was working on a film about this location, I want to know what he discovered, because there’s a connection between him, the woman in green, and those ghosts up on the bridge. If I can get my hands on any pieces of the boats down there, maybe I can get some insight into at least just what the hell really happened to those people here.”
“There has
to be something more to this location than the mundane,” Connor added. “All those ghosts wouldn’t still be here unless something terribly traumatizing had happened to them.”
“So we’re floating over a mass grave,” Jane said, looking a little sick. “Nice.” She gave me a forced smile. “You take me to the most romantic places.”
“It was this or the mutant alligator cleanup in the sewers that Shadower Division got stuck with,” I said.
“Good choice,” she said. Jane wrapped her arm around me while we waited on the winch to unwind, leaning her head on my shoulder.
Connor killed the switch after a few minutes of running it, and an eerie silence filled the air. “This is the creepiest fishing trip ever,” I said.
Jane giggled and Connor turned to her. “Why don’t you two go run the engine? We’ll trawl back and forth until we hook something, and then haul it up.”
Jane saluted him. “Aye, aye, Captain,” she said, her chipperness bordering on sickeningly sweet, before she skipped off to the cabin.
I left Connor fussing with the winch and headed to the cabin after her. I hit the engine and the boat chugged to life. I eased it up to speed, not wanting to tax the poor boat too much, not with the way the budget stacked up against us. I feared that if anything broke or needed repairs, it might have to come out of my own pocket at this point.
I worked the boat back and forth across the area underneath the bridge, the steady sound of the engine and roll of the boat luring me into a very sleepy state. Only when the boat jerked to a halt and the two of us fell to the floor of the cabin did I snap to.
I scrabbled to get back on my feet, but it was difficult to do with my flailing girlfriend trying to do the same. The boat tossing back and forth only added to the chaos in the wheelhouse.
“Kill the engine, kid!” Connor shouted from somewhere at the back of the boat.
I finally managed to get to my feet, reaching for the support of the cabin wall, but the boat lurched once more, throwing me against the opposite wall, pressing me up against the back window.
Through it I watched as Connor wrapped himself around the cable using his whole body, but his weight wasn’t enough to shake the line free. It pulled against the power of the boat, the back of it sinking down from the calamitous physics of it all. I pressed away from the window, but until the boat reversed pitch, I wouldn’t be able to move.
“Jane!” I shouted, but she was already working on stopping the boat. She was down on the floor once again, but she didn’t need to stand to use her powers. She slammed her hand against the base of the control console and whispered her strange electronic voice to it, her technomancy killing the whining engine. The boat fell silent and settled, allowing Jane and me to get to our feet. We walked out onto the back of the boat where Connor held on to the nowslack cable.
“Well, we found something,” he said.
Jane walked over and flicked at the loose cable in his hand, watching it wobble. “Did we lose it?” she asked.
Connor tugged on the cable, pulling against the slack. The line went taut in his hand. “No, I think we still got it,” he said. “ I’m pretty sure we freed it up. Whatever it is.”
Connor threw the lever back on the winch, but nothing happened. The power was still off. Connor looked over to Jane. “If you wouldn’t mind …”
“Sorry,” Jane said, and touched her hand to the mechanism. Sparks flew from where the flesh of her fingers pressed against it. At her techno-whisper, the winch creaked to life once more, this time at a slow, labored crawl. No one wanted a repeat of what had just happened with almost capsizing the boat.
Connor tested the line. It was coiling up onto the reel, tension still on it.
“Whatever it is,” he said, “it’s heavy.”
I looked at him, hopeful. “You think we’re pulling up a whole boat?”
“Doubtful, kid,” he said. “It’s probably just caked in weeds and river bottom… maybe some old, dead gangsters in cement shoes, even. All of that is making the going tough.”
I watched the surface of the water in fascination, waiting for our catch to unveil itself. Pockets of air rose to the surface and bubbles filled the water, increasing until the water was white with foam all along the back of the boat.
Moments later, a solid rectangular shape broke the surface, roughly the size of a man.
“A door,” I said, not all that enthused with our find.
“Hey, a door is a part of a boat,” Connor said.
I shrugged. “Just not a particularly exciting part.”
Connor looked at me and shook his head. “At least it’s something you can hopefully get a read on. Help me haul it in.”
The two of us leaned over and began wrestling with the cable as we struggled to get a grip on the bobbing door. It was harder than I thought with the boat rising up and down as well. The door, as Connor had suggested, was covered with enough river bottom slime that I couldn’t get a good grip on it. I was about to start swearing when Jane spoke up.
“Hey, guys…” she said.
“Hold on,” I said, fighting for my grip on the cable itself as I leaned out over the water. “Trying not to go swimming here.”
“I’ve got some swimmers for you,” she said. “We’ve got company on the railings.”
The mention of company got our interest, and the two of us forgot about the cable and door as I pulled myself back onto the boat and turned. At first I didn’t notice anything, but then I saw them. Rotting, waterlogged fingers were grabbing for purchase along the edge of the boat in several spots on both sides.
Connor noticed them as well. “What the hell… ?” he said, and ran over to the right side of the ship.
I joined him, stopping short of the railing. I craned my neck out a little farther, looking over the side. The ancient, bloated remains of a human were recognizable as one of them pulled himself out of the river, the water soaked into it like a sponge instead of rolling off it.
“The door…” Connor started, but couldn’t finish as he stepped back and got into a fists-raised fighting stance.
“When God closes a window, he opens up a door,” I said, pulling my bat from its holster and hitting the button to extend it, “a door from the bottom of the river that releases aqua-zombies, apparently.”
The rotting creatures were coming up on all sides of us now. Connor shoved at the one nearest him, and thankfully he was still wearing the work glove he had been using on the cables. His left hand sank into the creature’s chest, but the force was enough to send it toppling overboard, but not before it sucked the glove clean off. Connor snatched his hand away from the next creature and stepped back.
“What’s grosser than gross?” he asked. “Now I know.”
The squelching sound of the glove pulling off was still fresh in my ears and I did my best to keep from vomiting from the ick factor of it all. I turned to Jane. Nothing had come up on her side, but I could see the movement of more hands clawing for purchase along the side of the boat. It was only a matter of time before they came up.
“Jane!” I shouted. “Go to the front of the boat!”
“I can help,” she insisted.
“I know you can,” I said, “but this isn’t me being chivalrous. We’ve got enough baddies for all of us to fight. Just check and see if we’re okay up there.”
“On it,” she said. Jane kicked into motion and dashed off toward the thin walkway that led around the wheelhouse to the bow of the ship.
Connor grabbed up his trench coat, balling it around both of his hands. “I’m gonna miss this one,” he said. “A good trench is hard to find.”
“Maybe it’s time to trade up to a better coat,” I said. The two of us moved to the center of the deck back there, positioning ourselves back to back.
“Yeah, right, kid,” he said. “Soon as you give up the leather.”
“It works like armor,” I said. “Not like that dangly death trap you wear.”
Connor dodged out of the w
ay of one of the creatures. “I prefer mobility,” he said. “Jesus. There’re a lot coming up on my side of the boat.”
“Mine, too,” I said.
“Screw it,” Connor said, stepping away from my back. I heard a meaty crack behind me followed by a splash. “We don’t have to fight ’em if we just knock ’em off, kid.”
I went to move, then stopped as a horrifying thought hit me.
“Wait a second,” I said. “Did I just send Jane up to the front of the boat… alone?”
“Yes,” Connor said. “Yes, you did. Now go!”
“Right,” I said. I pulled out my bat and ran for the front. I stepped with care around the slim walkway to the left of the cabin. The head of one of the creatures came up over the side and I flashed my foot out at it, catching it square in the center of its face. The tip of my Doc Martens sank into the flesh like I was kicking a Nerf football, the sound of snapping bone cracking out from it. The body let go of the railing, but didn’t fall now that my foot was holding it up by its face. I shook my leg, fighting down the urge to vomit, before the creature came free and fell back into the water.
The other aqua-zombies were still working their way up the sides, but they were no danger… yet. I pulled myself forward along the outside of the cabin, pausing only to grab a four-foot-long gaffing hook. I continued on, making sure my grip was secure on both that and my bat, and then jumping down onto the bow of the boat. I landed on both feet, dual wielding and ready for a fight. Jane was surrounded by a ring of rotting aquatic humanoids as she fell to her knees on the deck, her hands clawing at the back of her shoulder about where the mark was.
“Jane!” I shouted.
She looked up, her face straining as she struggled against whatever the mark was doing to her. Without pausing, I grabbed the long shaft of the hooked pole arm and tossed it to her. It clattered to the now-slime-covered deck and Jane wrapped both hands around it, using it to help her stand before menacing the creatures around her with it. Now that she was armed, I didn’t hesitate. I leapt into action, slamming my bat into the closest creature. The tip of it caught up in its guts, but it crumbled the monstrosity over, leaving me struggling to regain control of my bat. When I pulled it free, I moved on to my next target, but I noticed something strange out of the corner of my eye. Jane wasn’t moving. She was just standing there, stock-still, clutching the pole in both her hands like she was waiting to swing on a trapeze.