Awakened

by James S. Murray

  A young cop with a bloodstained face approached. “Mr. Mayor, I think you could use an extra pair of hands.”

  “Stay and protect the people,” Cafferty replied, scanning the sea of nervous faces in the car. “We don’t need to give the creatures a bigger target.”

  “But there’s only two of—”

  “The good citizens of New York and New Jersey, officer. Those are your priority.”

  Lieutenant Arnolds muscled through the crowd. “We can spare Officer Spear. Take him along, Mr. Mayor. You need the help, and he’s one of my best.”

  “Okay, but no more.”

  North removed the final plate from the car’s set of doors, revealing its battered outer side and fragments of shattered glass on the platform. Officer Spear held a steel pipe over his shoulder like a baseball bat. Cafferty drew in a deep breath, ready to make his move, until someone tapped his shoulder.

  “I’m coming with you, too,” Lucien Flament said.

  “This isn’t your fight. Help the police protect the car.”

  “It’s everyone’s fight. Is anyone else here ex–special forces?”

  “Probably not. Still—”

  “Mr. Mayor, don’t be stupid. You’ve seen I can handle myself, and we clearly work well as a team. God forbid something happens to those spotlights, I’ll cover you with my camera’s flash.”

  It was hard to deny the Frenchman’s points. Flament’s reasoning had definitely aided in their survival, and the injured cop lying in the aisle owed him his life. He was also highly trained and had proven how fast he could think on his feet. Something about him irked Cafferty, though, and it wasn’t just the fact that his initial two-person team had doubled in the space of a minute.

  “Let him come,” North said. “He’s the type of guy I want by my side.”

  “You’ve changed your tune,” Cafferty said.

  “The game changed after the creatures appeared. If it boosts our chances of success, I’m all in.”

  “Honestly,” Flament said, “I don’t really care what you think—I’m coming. I must insist.”

  “You must what?” Cafferty said.

  Flament stepped closer. “If my old colleagues find out I stayed on the train and did nothing, I’ll be shamed throughout the French special forces community.”

  “That’s not the real reason, is it?”

  “It’s a part of the real reason. The other parts are mine to know. I told you, though, I aim to live, and right now, your plan is crucial to making sure that happens. So the most important thing we do is making sure you succeed. I’m your best chance at that.”

  “You’re pretty sure of yourself.”

  Flament shrugged. “What can I say? I’m pretty extraordinary.”

  Cafferty actually laughed at that. Or maybe it was just his nervousness. “All right, Lucien. Get yourself ready and stay by my side. Spear, cover us.”

  Flament talked to Officer Spear, who directed him to another cop, and after a brief exchange, the Frenchman was stripping down to a fitted undershirt and pulling on black body armor. Once he’d donned the vest, he slung his leather satchel over his shoulder and removed his glasses. It wasn’t quite a Clark Kent transformation, but for the first time, Cafferty noticed a steely determination in the man’s eyes. His previously baggy shirt had also hidden a muscular body. He was starting to warm to the idea of Lucien joining them.

  Cafferty stood on one of the seats and waved his hand to draw the passengers’ attention. The car fell silent, leaving the hissing oxygen tanks and snarls and grunts outside as the only sounds.

  “Attention, everyone,” he said. “We’re heading to the AV room and configuring the IMAX. In a couple of minutes, we’ll have this whole place lit up like Times Square, driving those creatures out of the Pavilion for good. Do what you have to do to stay safe in here.”

  “Won’t the creatures smash the IMAX when you light it up?” DeLuca asked.

  “It projects from over the command center. They’d have to cross a large, well-lit space to reach it. This could be the chance we need to survive.”

  “I agree,” Flament added. “The creatures seem to be getting better at avoiding the light. The first one we saw raced directly into it before backing away. But then they wised up and smashed the nearest set of the Pavilion’s overhead lights from the confines of the tunnel. The ones attacking our car only dipped in and out briefly so as to avoid direct contact with the light. They are getting smarter, and quickly. Bathing the area in light is a better bet than the concentrated beams we have right now.”

  Cafferty glanced down at the verbose Frenchman. Flament’s logic felt too precise, too surgical to come up with based on the few interactions they’d had with the creatures. His suspicions about the reporter resurfaced, but those questions could wait. Right now, he was certain he needed the man, no matter what he was hiding.

  This isn’t over, though. Not by a longshot.

  “Let’s move out,” North said. He forced open the doors and slipped between the gap, raising his makeshift shield and sweeping his flashlight around the Pavilion.

  Cafferty jumped down from the seat and followed. His shoes crunched on the fragments of glass spread across the polished stone floor. Flament quickly moved to his side, aiming his camera around but saving the battery on his flash for the time being. The young Officer Spear came out last, twisting from side to side, searching for signs of movement.

  They headed toward the command center’s powerful glare to complete the first leg of their journey. Cafferty’s heart pounded against his chest, and he tensed, expecting a tail to lash down at any moment. He told himself to stay cool—easier said than done—but somehow he was able to keep moving forward, his confidence growing with each step down the middle of the twenty-foot-wide shaft of light.

  The light blinded his peripheral vision, but he could still hear the creatures surrounding him, taking guttural breaths, matching his stride as he reached within fifty feet of the command center. Once again, his fear crashed against him, knowing how close the nightmares were from tearing the life from him, North, Spear, and Flament. It was a claustrophobic feeling, the weight of all those bodies pressing in from the sides, and for the first time since he’d come down here, he was aware of how trapped they really were. Their breathing, their occasional shrieks, screamed, We’re going to slice you open and pull your organs through the holes . . .

  But none attacked.

  The plan was working.

  The plan is working. We can do this. Just stay in the path of the light. Stay in the light . . .

  The creatures’ footsteps grew more frantic when he reached within twenty-five feet of the command center, hammering through the darkness at an incredible speed, as if they were throwing a temper tantrum at being outsmarted, as if they understood Tom’s plan.

  They’re learning, Flament had said.

  That might have been the scariest thought of all.

  And then the Pavilion fell completely silent.

  Cafferty had no idea what game the creatures were playing, but for some reason, their feet no longer thudded alongside the group. Their acrid stench and their faint wheezes betrayed their continued presence in the blackness, though.

  Something’s wrong . . .

  North reached the command center and turned into the next shaft of light, leading toward the AV room’s short corridor. He paused and looked back toward the battered entrance. “Is everyone all right in there?”

  “We’re okay,” Anna shouted.

  At least they had survived, and Cafferty raised his arm to wave. His body veered to the left, as if somebody had shoved him, and he broke into a stagger toward the edge of the light. He skidded to a stop and quickly stepped back, wondering if a nervous twitch had propelled him toward certain death.

  “Be careful, Mr. Mayor,” Flament said.

  “No shit. It won’t happen again.”

  He wasn’t exactly sure why it had happened in the first place. Shaking his head, Cafferty rea
ched the second spotlight’s path and followed North toward the AV room, quickening his stride . . .

  . . . and his body veered to the left toward the darkness again. He planted his feet firmly against the ground and glanced around.

  What the hell?

  Twice in under a minute he had come within a foot of the creatures’ tearing him to shreds. He told himself to focus. It had to be the methane. Nothing else had ever affected his body in this way. Cafferty cautiously took another few steps and, again, veered to the left. He threw himself to the ground to stop his momentum and clutched the floor.

  Flament crawled to his side, taking slow, deliberate movements, as if at the bottom of a swimming pool. The Frenchman’s usually blank expression had transformed into a wide-eyed look of terror.

  “It’s not just me?” Cafferty asked.

  “I don’t understand. It’s like we’re puppets on strings.”

  North dropped to his hands and knees and looked over his shoulder. “Keep moving. Whatever this is, it’s getting stronger.”

  Cafferty stifled a cough and rubbed his eyes. Coming back into the methane-filled Pavilion this time felt twice as hard physically. His joints ached and his pounding headache had returned in spades. Even in his prone position, the unseen force pulled at his entire body, as if the creatures had attached invisible ropes around him and were hauling him toward their claws. Spear had also dropped to the ground and leopard-crawled forward, grimacing with each shuffle.

  “We need to move swiftly,” Flament said anxiously. “The creatures’ power has increased. This is something I haven’t seen before.”

  “You haven’t seen before?”

  “We need to move now while we still have our strength,” Flament replied, ignoring the mayor’s question.

  North reached to within ten yards of the corridor. He veered hard to the right, straining to counter the force. Flament copied his technique and advanced. Cafferty also followed suit, moving closely by the Frenchman’s side. It was easier said than done: the muscles in his arms and legs burned as he fought the increasingly strong pull. Fight it, fight it, he said to himself, forcing himself forward. It felt like he was on the edge of a cliff with a howling gale blasting his side. He couldn’t think of anything that could have this effect on him, and that was as frightening as the image of what would happen if he succumbed.

  A metallic rattle broke the silence. Spear’s pipe clattered past Cafferty and raced out of the light.

  “Dammit!” Spear yelled.

  “Forget it,” Cafferty said. “Just keep moving.”

  Flament collapsed again and his leg flipped into the darkness. He quickly spun on his back, raised his camera, and let out a series of blinding flashes.

  Three creatures, all squatting in the shadows, had been reaching for his ankle. They shrieked and lurched away, scurrying back to the rest of the group, which had collected in a tight circular formation in the center of the Pavilion.

  “They’re doing this,” Cafferty said. “There’s no other explanation.”

  “You’re right,” Flament said. “But never this strong.”

  “How, though? And how do you know so much about it?”

  Before Flament could respond, North scrambled to his feet, sprinted down the corridor—looking all the while like he was running along a banked track, doing everything in his power to not fall over—and flung open the AV room door. He backed inside and waved in encouragement toward Cafferty, Flament, and Spear, shouting, “Get your asses moving!”

  Cafferty steeled himself and then pushed on toward the beckoning door. He strained every sinew as the pressure against his body increased. His knees slipped sideways every time they hit ground. He felt sure any more force would send him skidding out into the shiny black mass of creatures.

  Strangely, it was at that moment that images of Ellen flashed through his mind:

  Excitedly discussing the inaugural run with her last night after agreeing to their new pact . . .

  Sharing a glass of wine to toast it . . .

  Waving her blouse in front of him this morning for an opinion while he sat up in bed and ate eggs, home fries, and bacon . . .

  Kissing her good-bye outside the subway station . . .

  It gave Cafferty the strength to lunge forward and stretch out his arm . . .

  . . . only for North to grab it and drag him into the AV room.

  The pressure instantly left his body and he crawled toward the servers, feeling a mixture of relief that he had made it and shock at the sinister power deployed by the creatures to stop them.

  Flament closed in. Sweat soaked his hair and trickled down his face, and he reached out a hand. North clasped it and yanked him inside.

  Officer Spear muscled his way forward . . . only to stop within eight feet. The young man thrust out a quivering arm, only to roar in agony as his body flipped over at an unnatural speed.

  “On your front!” North shouted. “Keep moving.”

  Cafferty edged to North’s side. “Spear! Don’t stop! That’s an order!”

  The force took hold of the mayor’s body again, threatening to drag him outside, and he, Flament, and North lurched back into the room.

  Spear’s arms and legs stretched out to his sides, and his star-shaped body lifted a few inches off the ground. He roared once more, struggling to combat the overwhelming force.

  Cafferty frantically scanned the desk and opened a cupboard for a rope, a pole—anything to help. North’s mutual expression said it all, though: if they headed out attempting to save the cop, they’d end up with the same fate, caught in the collective power of the creatures. “Hurry—configure the IMAX,” Cafferty said. “That’s the only thing that’ll save him.”

  North rushed to the workstation and hit the keyboard. The monitor burst to life.

  Spear’s roar transformed into a gruesome scream. His arms cracked out of their sockets and hung loosely by his sides. His legs followed, as if he’d been stretched to the breaking point on a medieval rack, and he let out a howl more bloodcurdling than any creature.

  “Mon Dieu,” Flament said, and bowed his head.

  Cafferty grabbed a small metal case from the desk and hurled it into the darkness. It did nothing, because there was nothing he could do except watch while hoping the tapping of keys behind him brought about a quick result.

  “Not long,” North shouted. “Hold on, Spear.”

  Spear’s arms tore free of his body, thumped against the ground, and slid out of the light, leaving two glistening trails of blood.

  “Jesus Christ,” Cafferty gasped.

  The cop’s head flopped back as he lost consciousness. His legs ripped free and veered into the darkness, leaving his dripping torso still suspended off the ground.

  “For fuck’s sake,” North said. “It’s rebooting.”

  A moment later, Officer Spear’s body hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, and the imposing silhouettes of creatures moved to the edge of the light.

  Cafferty whipped his head away, unable to look at the horrifying sight of the young officer torn to pieces by forces he didn’t understand.

  Lord help us . . .

  The Pavilion grew quiet again, as if the creatures were satisfied for the moment with their collective carnage.

  Flament, Cafferty, and North sat on the ground, their backs against the cabinets, and took a few moments to catch their breath as the computer restarted.

  Cafferty had never expected a straightforward mission, but he shuddered at the thought of the creatures’ frightening new complexion, and its result. Their physical superiority was obvious, but this latest power was beyond anyone’s understanding.

  Or perhaps not everyone’s.

  “Why are you staring at me like that?” Flament asked.

  Cafferty narrowed his eyes. “I think you know something about this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t be coy, Lucien. I can accept you maybe figuring out the light and oxygen as their weaknesses�
��that made a certain sense. I might even believe that you are ex–French military. You’re certainly trained. But out there, you said you’ve never seen this before, and you were scared as hell. I think you’re lying to me about what you actually know.”

  Flament gave his Gallic shrug—a gesture that was starting to infuriate Cafferty. “You’re overreacting, Mr. Mayor. I meant no one has ever seen anything like this before. Maybe it’s my English, something lost in translation or misinterpreted.”

  “I don’t believe you. There’s a cop lying dead outside. Start talking.”

  “Think this through, Mr. Mayor. If I knew anything about those creatures, why the hell would I be down here? Why would I let anyone else be here? Why would I join you on this mission?”

  Cafferty eyeballed him for a moment, searching for the hint of a lie. He had learned to spot the signs in politicians: looking to the right, pursed lips, rapid blinking, eyes darting back and forth—all classic symptoms of spewing bullshit.

  But Flament’s face had returned to his neutral expression. “I’ve helped you, and you accuse me of lying?” he asked. “That is not how you thank someone, Mr. Mayor.”

  Cafferty didn’t like the man’s tone, but he also couldn’t deny Flament’s reasoning. And besides, the reporter had indeed helped him and saved lives. He couldn’t shake that he was missing something crucial about Flament, but finding out his real motivation and background would have to wait. Right now their priority was clearing the creatures back into the tunnels and taking back the Pavilion before anyone else died.

  An MTA logo screensaver bounced around the IMAX projector’s control screen, showing the deep blue that projected onto the wall. North hit the return key, brought up the configuration screen, and switched it to test mode. He selected the background color as white, changed the range to cover the whole Pavilion, and accepted the changes.

  An hourglass spun on the screen, and for a moment Tom was afraid it wasn’t going to reboot, scuppering his plan. But then the MTA logo disappeared and the screen flicked to white.

  Piercing shrieks rang out.

  Cafferty inched toward the door.

  The projector pumped out fifteen thousand watts of brilliant light, spearing it to all areas, illuminating the train, the platform, the command center, and the shattered front of the Starbucks. What mattered most, though, was that it also illuminated the creatures as they escaped from the fierce glare, siphoning into the tunnels at breakneck speed.