New York Deep

by Andrew J. Morgan

'In the room? Like what? An animal or something?'

  Shaking his head, Josh said, 'No, like an object. A—a portal.'

  Slowly, Craig released his grip, stepping back to consider Josh. He seemed unsure. 'Are you messing with me?' he asked. 'Are you messing me around?'

  Quietly, Josh said, 'No.'

  'What kind of . . . portal?'

  These words Craig spoke, Josh didn't remember, but the ones before . . . he remembered them. He also remembered something else, something deep in his gut, a built-in knowledge he couldn't explain, like being able to breathe, or understanding how to digest food. It was there, in him, like it had always been there: he had traveled through time. 'It's a portal into the past,' he almost whispered. 'To now.'

  If Craig had thought Josh was trying to play a trick on him before, he definitely did now. 'This isn't funny, Josh. I was seriously worried about you. You can't—' He cut himself off, face falling. Josh hadn't laughed, or even smiled, and Craig must have realized that he wasn't lying. 'Maybe you should see a doctor,' he said, looking Josh up and down. 'The gas must have made you sick.'

  Josh didn't want to argue, so he just nodded.

  'Okay, let's get you out of here,' Craig said, leading Josh by the arm and waving the others to follow. As they stepped into the elevator, light trickling in from above, Josh caught a look at the long, caged ladder stretching way up high. His stomach fluttered with déjà vu.

  As the elevator began its ascent, Josh went to adjust the straps on his bag, when his heart skipped a beat as he realized it was gone. Wait a minute, he thought. What bag? He didn't have it with him now, but he remembered having it at some point before. There was stuff in it, tins of fruit, a—a video camera.

  A video camera?

  The elevator cage shuddered upward, bathing them in more and more light. The air started to turn fresh, and it helped to clear Josh's head. The others were muttering between themselves, probably about him, but he had tuned them out, too busy picking at the scab forming over the tick's burrow.

  He remembered another time, in the future. Before he'd come back. After now, many years after now. But before. His head thumped. The memory was laced with static.

  'Let's go and see Lionel,' Craig said to Josh as the elevator came to the end of its journey. 'You guys,' he said, addressing the rest of the group, 'you can hang back here while I take care of Josh.'

  They muttered agreement and took seats on rock and grass.

  'Come on,' Craig said, and Josh followed. They said nothing until they arrived at the site offices, where Lionel came out to greet them.

  'What can you report?' Lionel said.

  'There's a big chamber down there,' Craig said. 'Huge, separated with a seam of native titanium or something like it.'

  'Some kind of crystalline metallic,' Josh said. 'I don't know. I've not seen it before.'

  Lionel listened while Craig gave Josh a look of disbelief. Josh had known what Craig was going to say, and had beaten him to saying it. He knew, because it'd happened before. Not quite like this, but close enough.

  'Anything inside?' Lionel asked.

  'No . . .' Craig said, breaking his attention away from Josh to resume the conversation with Lionel. 'Just a hollow space. I think there's gas, though. Josh seems pretty light-headed.'

  'Methane, perhaps?'

  'No,' Josh interrupted. Both Craig and Lionel looked at him.

  'Then what?' Lionel said.

  Before Josh could talk, Craig stepped in. 'Josh isn't feeling too well. I think the gas is affecting him. He needs to see a doctor—'

  Looking irritated, Lionel said, 'Well is there gas or isn't there? I need to know!'

  'There is,' Craig said sternly, staring at Josh to keep him quiet. 'Josh needs an ambulance.'

  'I'm fine,' Josh said.

  'You're not.'

  Lionel, hands on hips, said, 'Okay, okay. Craig, thank you. That will be all for now.'

  'But—'

  'I said thank you,' Lionel repeated, cutting in.

  Craig looked between them with a disapproving expression. 'Fine. But keep an eye on him.' To Josh he said, 'You're not well. I'm saying that as a friend. Go to a doctor or something.' Then he turned on his heel and left.

  Lionel, who trusted Craig almost as much as he trusted Josh, looked to be mulling the strange conversation over. 'What's all this about then?' he asked Josh. 'Are you sick or are you not sick?'

  'I'm fine,' Josh insisted. 'It's—it's not what he thinks.'

  'And what does he think?'

  Josh shrugged. 'He thinks there's gas down there, I guess.'

  Sitting on the edge of his desk and folding his arms, Lionel asked, 'And what do you think?'

  'I—' Josh began, then stopped. He knew how Lionel would take it—the same way Craig did. 'What if I told you I knew what was going to happen?'

  Confused, Lionel blinked. 'I'm sorry, what?'

  'What if I could tell you what was going to happen, you know—in the future?'

  Lionel didn’t seem to be able to comprehend the question. 'I'd say you were bullshitting me. Why, what are you getting at?'

  Josh took a quick breath. All or nothing. 'I can tell you what's going to happen. Today. The future.'

  Standing, Lionel picked up the phone on his desk and began to dial. 'That's it,' he said. 'Craig was right. I'm calling an ambulance.'

  Josh leaped across the room, snatched the receiver from Lionel's hand and slammed it back onto its cradle. 'No!' he shouted. 'No. Give me a chance to prove it first.'

  Taken aback, Lionel said, 'I really think you should see a doctor . . .'

  'I'm fine,' Josh said. 'I told you. And you can't force me. But I'll give you this: let me have a chance to prove myself, and if I'm wrong, I'll go to the doctor.'

  Lionel considered the offer. 'How long do you want?'

  'A few hours. Three at the most.'

  They stared at each other for a while, Josh pleading, Lionel with suspicion.

  'Okay . . .' Lionel said. 'I'll let you have a chance. But for the record, I think you've gone batshit crazy.'

  'I know you do, and I understand why, but we've been friends a long time and I need you to trust me.'

  Lionel resumed his arms-folded position, looking at Josh with narrow eyes. 'All right then, Madame Reed, what have you got for me? Lottery numbers, I hope.'

  'It's not like that,' Josh said.

  'Oh, of course it's not.'

  'Give me a minute.'

  Lionel gestured for him to take that minute. Sitting down on the desk opposite, Josh shut his eyes. What he saw was a churning storm of information, rushing by so fast he couldn't understand any of it. Somewhere in there was the truth, the key, the reason he was there.

  'It's been a minute,' Lionel said.

  'Shh!'

  A light, dim at first, sparkled in the melee. Josh tried to pin it down, but it winked in and out of sight as he attempted to close in on it. Every time he thought he was near, it would wink out and he'd have to start the search again. There was no direct path; perhaps he could try something else.

  The room, that was where everything was focused around. Deep below New York, it held the answers. The light winked brighter. The light was the answer. The light was the room. But how to get to it?

  They had dug, had found the room. Josh had entered the room. It was familiar. He had not spent more than a handful of minutes in there, yet somehow he felt like it had been his home for a lifetime.

  'Two minutes.'

  'Lionel, shut up.'

  Did he travel somewhere from that room? No, that wasn't right. He'd traveled back to the room. His mind flared, filling him with pain. He flinched.

  'Are you all right?' Lionel sounded concerned this time.

  'Fine.'

  There had been fear. Who or what had he been afraid of? An animal? The light winked brighter still. A—a bear? No, that couldn't be right. But it was. A bear. He could see it. Gaunt and matted. Phantom pain twinged in his leg.

  But t
hat was not where the fear came from. The light dimmed, the information speeding by so fast it burned the backs of his eyelids.

  'Josh, whatever you're doing, I think you should stop.'

  'I'm nearly there . . .'

  The zoo in central park, the pizzeria across the road from his apartment, Georgie's front door, the picture frame . . . they all flashed by, glimpses of things he knew brought that same fear, that same primal urge to run. But what was he running from?

  A suit, brown.

  'Josh, I'm phoning the ambulance.'

  Neat hair.

  'Just a minute . . .'

  Plain features.

  'No, Josh, now.'

  He looked like an accountant.

  'One more minute, I swear . . .'

  The light exploded into brightness, outshining everything else. He stared into it, mentally shielding himself from its power, clear and bright and certain. The man's name was Edwards.

  'The CIA are coming,' Josh said. He opened his eyes. Lionel had the receiver in his hand and his fingers ready to dial, frozen in mid-air.

  'The CIA?' he repeated.

  'Yes.'

  Lionel slowly replaced the receiver, not taking his eyes off Josh. 'What makes you say that?'

  'When Craig reported in the evacuation, you called the Department of Safety and Health, didn't you?'

  'Well, yeah . . .' Lionel said uncomfortably, 'but that's procedure, not a prediction.'

  'They passed on the message higher up, right the way to the top. The CIA wants what we found. They're on their way.'

  Lionel went to speak, but couldn't.

  'I know it's hard to believe,' Josh said, 'and I barely believe it myself, but in a few hours a load of police cars will show up, looking for you. Then the CIA will follow.'

  Lionel was shaking his head. 'You've got to be kidding me . . .' he said.

  'I'm not.'

  'And how exactly do you know this?' There was suspicion in Lionel's voice, but also curiosity.

  'I've—I've done it before.'

  'Done what before?'

  'This,' Josh said, gesturing all around him. 'I've done all this before.'

  Lionel still didn't seem to follow.

  'I've come back in time,' Josh said. His stomach turned saying it. 'I've already lived this.'

  Lionel sat motionless on his desk, a dumbfounded expression slapped across his face. 'How am I supposed to believe that?' he said, almost in desperation. 'Why are you doing this to me? Do I look stupid?'

  'You don't have to believe what I'm saying. You'll see it soon enough.'

  'In a few hours, right?'

  'Right.'

  Lionel huffed, standing up. 'Well, I've got a whole load of paperwork to do because of this nonsense, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to be getting on with that in the meantime.'

  'Sure.'

  'And you,' Lionel added, pointing at Josh, 'are to stay there, you got it? Don't you even think about moving.'

  'I won't.'

  Lionel eyeballed Josh one last time before rounding his desk and sitting down. 'Good,' he said. For the next few minutes he slapped paperwork about, hacking at his keyboard and scratching with his pen. Josh could see Lionel was annoyed, but he realized it wasn't because Lionel was cross with him, but because he thought Josh was trying to take him for a fool and didn't understand why. It was understandable. They'd been friends for years—Lionel was godfather to Joseph—and now it seemed like Josh was abusing all that over a stupid joke.

  But he'd done what he needed to do. And now they'd have to wait. What would happen when the CIA came, when the man called Edwards came? He wasn't sure.

  He thought of Georgie while he waited, wishing he could go further back in time; there was so much he'd do differently. He almost found it hard to believe he'd let them go at all, but the person he pictured doing that seemed so different to the one he was now. Now he'd sacrifice everything for them.

  The phone rang, jarring Josh from his thoughts. Lionel picked it up.

  'Hello? Yes, it is. Uh huh. Okay. Right, right.' He listened for a while, before saying, 'Okay then, we'll see you soon.' Then he hung up. He didn’t say anything more for a moment, staring into space. Then he looked up at Josh, as pale as an African American could be. He opened his mouth to speak, and his lips crackled with dryness as they separated. 'Well,' he said, his voice strained, 'It looks like you might be right.'

  Chapter 19

  Before long, sirens wailed over the site. After the call, Lionel had sent the others home. Josh stayed with him. As they waited outside the site gates, Josh told Lionel, 'Whatever happens, go with it. Pretend I never said anything.'

  Lionel, uncertain, nodded. The sirens in their number became too loud to talk over, and they both waited as no less than five cars pulled up in turn, each with red and blue lights pounding the backs of their retinas. They shared a glance.

  The sirens shut off, and with the lights still twirling, the officers of the law disembarked. After a huddle, most of them headed to the site, brushing past Josh and Lionel without so much as a nod, while a single officer approached. It was mid-afternoon, and the air was balmy. Josh could feel sweat beading on his scalp. He ran a sleeve across his brow.

  'Good afternoon, gentlemen,' the officer said, politely but firmly. 'I take it that one of you is running the site here?'

  'You can,' Lionel replied, stepping forward, arms crossed. 'Can I ask what it is you boys need?'

  The officer halted his approach, drawing a sheath of papers from the folder he was carrying. 'Everything you need to know is in here,' he said.

  Lionel took the papers, but didn't read them, keeping his eyes affixed on the lawman.

  'We've been instructed to secure the perimeter and extract any and all personnel not related to this investigation.'

  Lionel glanced at Josh. Josh gave him a small nod. Go with it.

  'What investigation?' Lionel asked the officer. His voice wavered. 'Are you here about the gas?'

  'I'm not at liberty to say, sir.'

  'What does that mean? When can we get back on-site?'

  'I do not have that information, sir.'

  The immense feeling of repetition made Josh's skin crawl. It felt unreal; the quicker he could break the loop, the better, but for right now, it had to continue this way.

  Lionel held his hands up in protest. 'That can't happen. This can't happen. We've got work to do, a schedule to keep and a budget to stay on top of. I can't have the police crawling all over this site for God knows how long, getting in the way of things.'

  The officer peered into his folder, then back at Lionel. 'You're Lionel Parker, correct?'

  Lionel puffed up his chest. 'I am.'

  'Then you'll know it was you who informed the authorities of the situation here—'

  'I called the Department of Safety and Health, not the state police!' Lionel interrupted. 'You think I want all of this going on at my site? You think I want my ass handed to me by my boss for putting us off schedule? Hell no!'

  'Sir,' the officer said, holding up a hand, 'you need to remain calm. I'm just doing my job. The Department saw fit to call in the relevant authorities, so we're here until the federal officers arrive—'

  'Federal officers . . .' Lionel repeated, glancing at Josh. If he had any doubts about Josh's prediction, they would now surely be gone. To the officer—and to Josh, subtly— Lionel said, 'Do you mind telling me something about what's happening? Federal officers? Are you sure this isn't some big misunderstanding or something?'

  The officer, taking a step back, cradling his folder under his arm, looked resigned. 'I've told you, sir, I'm not at liberty to tell you anything more, and to be honest, I don't know anything more. I've just been told to come down here, secure the area and find you. That's all.' The officer looked over Lionel's shoulder to another officer emerging from the site. 'Ramirez,' he told the man, 'I need you to stay with this gentleman until the CIA arrives. They have a few questions they'd like to ask him.'

&
nbsp; 'Sir.'

  The officer addressed Josh. 'You can go.'

  'I'm staying,' Josh said.

  'He's staying,' Lionel reiterated.

  The officer shrugged, nodded and left, heading for the site. The officer called Ramirez stayed with them. His rank was junior, and he avoided eye contact with either of them. Josh could see that Lionel had spotted this weakness, and planned to use it to his own advantage.

  'Josh,' Lionel hissed, nodding Josh closer. They turned their backs to Ramirez, who didn’t seem to care. 'You've got to tell me what's going on here. I've played your games, you’ve had a good laugh, and now shit's getting real. Talk.'

  Josh knew he still had some convincing to do, but at least now the foundations had been laid. 'In that room is a portal. A time portal.'

  'Bullshit—'

  'No, Lionel, it isn't.' Josh held Lionel's frustrated and angry stare until Lionel had to blink. 'I'm telling you the truth, I swear to God.'

  Lionel grunted, but did not interrupt.

  'It's like a—a time well. I think the hole we drilled—well, its effects are leaking out, spreading. I'm the only one who can go in there, go back in time.'

  Lionel's lip twitched. Josh could see that he was poised somewhere between wanting to believe Josh, and thinking that Josh had gone completely off-the-wall crazy. 'So you've—' His voice crackled, and he had to clear his throat. 'So you've come back in time? That's what you're saying?'

  A memory flashed in Josh's mind. 'I was here, in Manhattan, but it was decades into the future. Everyone was gone. The city had been abandoned.'

  'What?' Lionel said in disbelief, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

  Josh nodded. 'The only people I saw were dead.'

  Lionel teetered.

  'Maybe you should sit down?' Josh suggested, helping Lionel keep his balance. Lionel pushed him away, almost as though Josh's touch burned.

  'I'm fine,' he said.

  'You're not fine.'

  'No, well . . . I'll be fine.'

  A pause. Then Josh said, 'Do you believe me?'

  Lionel shrugged. 'I don't know. How can I?'

  'Why would I lie?'

  A bead of sweat ran down Lionel's brow. 'I don't know.'

  'Then believe me,' Josh urged. 'The man from the CIA—Edwards—will be here soon. He looks like an accountant. Face is real familiar. He'll tell you he's sorry about the whole thing, and that we weren't supposed to be held back. If you ask him about what we've found, he'll tell you he doesn't know.'