by Ty Drago
Once on Market, I followed the rain-soaked, shadow-filled line of burned down storefronts east, until I reached the next corner. Down this darkened street was a manhole. Its cover was suspiciously ajar, as if someone had removed it and then put it back just slightly off center.
Who else could have done it but William and Emily, making it easier for Helene and me—just me now—to follow them?
It’d been a risky move on their part; the Corpses might have spotted it. The dead could climb ladders too, and it wouldn’t do to have an army of animated cadavers navigating the underground waterway and attacking Haven from below.
A very risky move.
But they’d done it anyway, and I thought I knew why.
Because, at this point, what did it matter? The world was ending.
I managed to push the cover aside and slip down onto a rickety old metal ladder that descended into darkness. Then, I awkwardly pulled the cover back into place, fitting it correctly this time. It was a job that would have been much easier with a couple of Hugos.
After it was done, I climbed down the ladder and felt my way through the dark, eventually stumbling through a broken service door and out onto the catwalk that ran along the subway river. Once there, I groped along, trying hard to ignore the squeaks of what sounded like really big rats. Far ahead, I spotted a light—dim but steady, like a single star in an otherwise pitch-black night. I made for it, putting one foot in front of the other, keeping one hand on the old subway tunnel’s grungy wall and the other tightly around the Anchor Shard.
The catwalk groaned and creaked with every step.
Finally, I reached the ruins of the 8th Street subway station.
“Will!” Emily exclaimed, running up and hugging me. “You did it!”
Behind her, leaning against an old concrete pillar, as motionless as any Corpse, stood the chief. As his eyes found mine, he asked in small voice, “Helene?”
I swallowed and shook my head. “She killed the Queen.”
He nodded. “Of course, she did.”
“We need to go,” Emily announced, her eyes welling up.
So the two of us helped William into the canoe and put him on the middle bench. He looked worse than the last time I’d seen him. The gash at his temple had stopped bleeding, but I noticed that the white of one of his eyes had gone red with blood. And when he walked, he reeled, almost like a drunken man.
“You doing okay?” I asked him.
He nodded. But it was a “what difference does it make?” kind of nod.
Emily and I paddled. We were going upstream but, believe it or not, that helped. Turns out it’s easier to control a canoe when you’re paddling against the current rather than with it.
You learn something new every day.
It took a while, but we reached the 15th Street platform without incident. This time, when the two of us helped Maxi Me to his feet, he stumbled and almost went into the river. No sooner had we managed to get him safely onto the dock, then his knees buckled and he dropped onto his back on the concrete floor.
A trickle of blood bubbled out one corner of his mouth.
“I’ll heal you,” I said, readying the Anchor Shard.
He caught my wrist. “Please don’t.”
“Why not?” Emily asked, a sob in her voice.
But I knew why not.
“You’re not done yet,” I told him. “I’m sorry, but you’re not. We gotta get back up into Haven and grab the Rift Projector. Then you gotta send me home.”
“Emily can do it,” he said weakly.
“No!” my sister—our sister—exclaimed.
I looked hard into Maxi Me’s eyes. “You’re the Chief of the Undertakers. You don’t get to die. I know what you’re feeling. You know I know. You just want to lie down here and take whatever comes, maybe even throw yourself into that underground river, just so you can be with her again. But you’re not allowed to give up the fight. Not yet.”
He glared at me. And I glared back at him, this older, balder, more bearded version of myself.
“Okay,” he sighed.
I touched the Anchor Shard to his forehead.
The ugly gash at his temple closed and vanished. An instant later, the white of his eye cleared. And, more importantly, his whole bearing changed. His shoulders squared. His head came up. And light returned to his eyes.
When it was over, William stood and said to me, “I was going to get her, you know.”
“I know,” I told him.
“I mean it. It was never the plan. But, once we’d found the Anchor Shard, I was going to send Emily and Steve back with it and stay behind to find my wife.”
“I know,” I said again.
“How do you know?” he demanded.
I shrugged. “‘Cause it’s what I would have done.”
He turned to our sister, “Em? You solid? Or do you need a shot of Malum magic?”
“I’m good,” she replied. But I could see she wasn’t. Steve’s death was like a weight on her thin shoulders, dragging her down. William saw it too, and he wordlessly pulled her into a hug. I could see Emily trembling in his arms, trying to be strong. Trying so hard.
I hate this place.
My future self stepped back from our sister and turned to me. “Will? How are you doing?”
“Never better,” I told him. It was a lie, of course, and he surely knew it. But so what?
That’s when we heard sounds.
They came from the darkness on both sides of the old subway platform, upriver and downriver. Shuffling. Soft but steady. Too big to be even the biggest rat.
“Oh no …” Emily breathed.
“They followed you!” William exclaimed.
And, for a terrible second, I thought he was right. But then I listened again to the approaching footfalls and shook my head. “No. If they had, they wouldn’t be coming from both directions at once. This is worse than that. We need to get upstairs … now.”
Chapter 24
The LAST Last Siege of Haven
We climbed the long spiral staircase, often taking the steps two at a time, too stoked by adrenaline to worry about exhausting ourselves.
Below us, the Corpses had navigated the rusted riverside catwalks as quickly and smoothly as sewer rats. By the time we reached the top of the staircase, I could already hear them climbing after us. The dead are good climbers. Look at the way they’d scaled City Hall’s exterior wall.
A winding wrought-iron staircase wasn’t going to be a problem for them.
With Maxi Me leading the way, we got past the camera in the door and stepped into a Haven already swallowed by fear. Some of the refuges were shouting at Alex, who was trying to maintain some degree of calm. Others were huddled together in little groups—men, women and children—all crying and trembling, looking at the three of us as if we’d come to either save or devour them.
“Get up to the lab,” William told Emily. “Make sure the projector’s programmed and ready.”
The two of them swapped another of those looks, the ones I’d learned meant something like: “We’ve got a big problem, but don’t tell the kid from the past yet.”
Great.
As my big little sister headed for the central elevator, Alex Bobson spotted us and rushed over. “Chief! Thank God you’re back! Some of these folks are ready to bolt out the door. Did you pull it off?”
I held up the Anchor Shard.
“Yes!” he exclaimed. Then, looking concerned, he asked, “Steve? Emily?”
“I sent Emily up to thirteen,” William told him. “But Steve’s … gone. Helene, too.”
“Damn. I’m sorry.”
“Me, too,” Maxi Me replied. “Listen, the deaders are right behind us. I need you to set the bolts in this door and weld it shut.”
“They found the waterway?” Alex asked, looking suitably horrified.
“I think they’ve known about it for a while,” I replied. “This w
as what the Queen meant when she said the saltwater nozzles on the outside walls wouldn’t stop them.”
“Right,” he said, his hands moving to the heavy tool belt he wore. “I’m on it.”
While Alex worked, William found a rusted old folding chair and, setting it up near Haven’s only entrance, climbed atop it. Then, in a booming voice, he called, “Listen to me!”
A few of the frightened refugees turned his way. Then a few more.
“Listen to me!” he called again, waving his arms over his head. He didn’t scream. He didn’t even yell. He just spoke—loud and forceful.
I had no idea my voice could do that.
It took a few more moments, but finally the entire floor took notice. The refugees stopped crying and talking and gave Maxi Me their attention. Meanwhile, more of them came from around the far side of the elevator, grouping together within sight of the chief.
Seeing this, William nodded, his arms still raised.
“As most of you already know or have guessed,” he said, “the Corpses are coming. Right now, they’re moving up the spiral staircase and toward this very door.”
More frightened murmurs.
But the chief didn’t give their fear a chance to take hold. Panic is kind of like fire: If you want to stop it, you have got to stop it early, before it gets too big to contain. “We all knew this day would come!” he announced, loud and strong and brave. “And we’re as ready as we can be. Right now, this door is being sealed. Meanwhile, those of you who have already offered to fight with us will be issued weapons.
“We’re going to begin an orderly retreat up to the twentieth floor … children and the elderly first, with the more able-bodied men and women guarding their retreat. You’ll use the stairs, so that we can keep the elevator clear for emergency use only. We have protocols in place on every floor that will slow the Corpses down.”
He pointed to Alex Bobson, who was working on the door with what looked like a kind of futuristic, portable welder’s torch. “All of you know Alex. He’s going to take point. Follow his instructions. Stay calm. We have a plan in place, one that can turn this whole terrible situation around. But for that plan to work, I need everyone’s full cooperation.
“I know you’re frightened. I’m frightened too. But I’ve always found that fear can be a friend. Fear keeps you sharp. Fear pushes you further. Fear makes more of you than you were, as long as you make sure it knows who’s boss! Together, we can use our fear to strengthen us! Together, we will fight … for ourselves, for our children, and for our world!”
There was no applause, and William didn’t seem to expect any. But, as he climbed down off the chair, the general mood in the room seemed more settled. These people were still scared, and who could blame them? But now it was a slow-burn kind of scared instead of animal panic.
Believe me, you can work with slow-burn scared.
I do it all the time.
“We’ve got other problems, Chief,” Alex said, not looking up from his work with the welding torch. “About an hour ago, I checked the saltwater system. Looks like someone cracked the main pipes, probably with a hammer. Sabotage.”
Amy, I thought but didn’t say.
“And they’re on the street, too,” he added. “The Corpses, I mean. Way more than this afternoon. Thousands of them. The whole building’s completely surrounded. I tried to reach you guys by radio, but didn’t get a reply. Then we got a glimpse of something happening down in Old City. Some kind of power surge.”
The EMP I’d fired off.
“That was us, causing trouble,” William told him. “But we don’t have time for long explanations. When you’re finished with that door, I want you to hand out everything we’ve got … water pistols, baseball bats, crowbars, whatever … to as many of these people as will take them. Then start moving them up the staircase. Evacuate and seal off every floor on your way up to the twentieth.”
“Got it, Chief,” Alex said. “Consider it done. But, you know, all we’re doing is delaying the inevitable.”
“That’s all we’ve been doing for a while now,” Maxi Me replied. “We just have to keep delaying the inevitable for a little while longer. Will and I are going up to the professor’s lab. My radio’s gone, but there are spare ones up there. I’ll grab one and check in with you in five minutes.”
Alex nodded his understanding, and the chief and I hurried for the elevator.
“Now what?” I asked as we clattered our way up to the thirteenth floor. “You gonna send me back as soon as we get to Steve’s lab?”
Something told me it wasn’t going to be that simple.
I mean, is it ever?
And, sure enough, Maxi Me shook his head. “Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Not enough room.”
“What?”
But at that moment we reached our stop and, instead of answering, he pushed the latticed door aside and led me out. The only person there was Emily, who busied herself at one of the work tables. As she turned to face us, I saw fresh tears in her eyes. I didn’t have to ask what they were for.
This had been the late Professor Steve Moscova’s personal space.
“It’s ready,” she said, holding out the familiar white cube.
Maxi Me nodded and accepted it.
I said, “William tells me we can’t use it in here. Something about not enough room.”
Emily absently wiped away her tears. “He’s right. In order to make a Rift large enough and stable enough to let a person pass through safely, the light from the sliver inside the Rift Projector has to be at least fifty feet from a smooth vertical wall. We don’t have the space in here, not even if we could somehow remove the central elevator shaft.”
I frowned. “That’s why you guys set up the ‘temporal clean rooms’ at CHOP.”
She nodded. “The original plan was to sneak you back there. They were old emergency room surgeries. Their size is the reason we picked them. Well, that and the simple fact that they were intact.”
Maxi Me added, “Philly’s in ruins. Smooth vertical walls big enough and with enough open space around them are pretty hard to come by.”
I could see that. In fact, I had seen that. But it left us with one big honking problem.
“No way are we getting back to CHOP!” I exclaimed. “Not now that the Corpses have control of the waterway!”
“I know,” William said. He sounded calm about it, but I could read the despair behind his eyes. Now I understood the look he and Emily had shared downstairs. They must have realized this the minute we first heard the deaders converging on the 15th Street subway platform.
City Hall Tower had become a deathtrap.
Without another word, William handed me the Rift Projector and took a radio from one of the shelves that lined the walls. Picking a frequency, he said, “Alex, come in?”
Alex Bobson’s voice boomed, bathed in static. “I’m here, Chief.”
“Status?”
“The stairwell door’s bolted and welded, but it won’t hold them forever. I’ve recruited some of the healthier refugees to help me get everyone up to the twentieth floor. But Chief …”
“Yes, Alex.”
“They’re going to start climbing the outer walls. And, without the saltwater nozzles, we’re wide open!”
“Amy,” I said.
“I know,” Maxi Me replied. Then to Alex: “Just keep those people moving. I’ll go up to the Observation Deck and hold off the climbers.”
His voice was rock steady. I wondered if, given what he was facing—his grief over Helene and his friends, his own inescapable death, and the final and total extermination of humanity—I could stay that solid.
Well, apparently … yeah.
“You gotta get that boy back home, Chief,” Alex said anxiously.
“We’re working on it. Call me when everyone’s been moved.”
He lowered the radio, his shoulders slumped.
Emily and I stood side by side, watching him.
He looked back at us, his face drawn.
“I’m sorry,” he said miserably. “I’m out of ideas.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
He blinked. “What’s what?”
I pointed to the shelf behind him, right beside where he’d picked up the radio. There was some kind of bundle there, wrapped in what looked like nylon rope. Below it, just like everywhere else on the many shelves, a masking tape label had been stuck to the lip, written in Steve’s careful block printing.
PROJECT EMERGENCY ESCAPE
“Sounds promising, doesn’t it?” I said.
William looked at it, his brow furrowing. He touched the bundle. “Emily? Do you know anything about this?”
Our sister shook her head and joined him at the shelf. “One of Steve’s little side projects,” she guessed. “He always had a half-dozen of them going at any given time.”
“Don’t suppose he wrote down something about it anywhere,” I suggested.
The Ritter kids—because, let’s face it, that’s who they were—swapped a thoughtful look. Then they said at once, “V-blog!”
“Huh?”
Emily explained, “Steve keeps …” She swallowed. “… kept a video blog on his computer. Said it was faster than journaling.” We followed her around the elevator shaft to an old wooden desk with a slightly newer laptop computer sitting on top of it. Dropping into the chair, Emily worked the keys with frantic precision until a list of files appeared.
“There!” she pointed. Maxi Me and I leaned close and read the words on the screen.
PROJECT EMERGENCY ESCAPE (NEEDS BETTER NAME)
“Play it,” the chief said.
Emily played it. Steve’s face appeared, captured by the laptop’s webcam. He looked tired but alive. At the sight of him, my sister had to turn away.
On the screen, Steve said, “This is a last-ditch, ‘all hope is gone’ protocol for escaping City Hall Tower. At present, I only had sufficient material to create a single prototype, and even that’s untested. The subject can weigh no more than one hundred and ten pounds, which would seem to make it impractical for use by most adults. But it may have some viable application where Project Reboot is concerned …”