Awakened

by James S. Murray

  She depressed a button and leaned toward the mic. “This is the command center. Say again, over.”

  The speaker crackled. “Sal Kirsch and Mike Esposito, engineers on diesel train 287-A. It’s about damn time you answered.”

  “The relays are down. You’ve just come into range.”

  Cafferty raced over to the console. “Mr. Kirsch, this is Mayor Cafferty . . . are you in the Jersey tunnel?”

  “It’s Sal, and you got it. We’re coming in to getcha out.”

  “My God,” Flament said. “They’ll blow us all to hell. Tell them to turn back.”

  “I heard that,” Sal replied. “We’re taking it nice and easy. We’ll couple the engine to the car and pull you right out.”

  “Our last readings before the power went out showed that the methane was not at the LEL yet,” Anna said to the group in the command center. “The tunnel explosion might have burned the level down further. If they get here soon enough, we could make it.”

  Cafferty inclined toward the mic. “Sal, I want you to listen to me very carefully.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Switch on every single one of your lights. Every single light. Do not stop that train until you reach the Pavilion. No matter who or what you see or hear on the tracks, do not stop that train. Any obstacles you come across, you barrel through. Do you copy?”

  “Roger, Mr. Mayor. We’ll smash through anything we see. Does this have something to do with that photo that got leaked?”

  “Yeah,” Cafferty said. “No matter what you see, for God’s sake, just don’t stop if you see any creatures.”

  “Creatures?”

  “Sal, remember: stop for nothing.”

  “Mr. Mayor, Jesus Christ himself couldn’t stop this train. Over and out.”

  Cafferty would believe this plan had legs only once the engine arrived in the Pavilion. But it was the second victory after a long string of defeats. Sal and Mike potentially gave them another fighting chance.

  “Anna,” North said, “can the spare IMAX projector run on battery?”

  “Anything can run on battery if the battery is big enough. So yeah, with the right wires and power, it’s technically possible.”

  “Think you and your team can rig that thing to the front of the train?”

  “We’ll give it our best shot.”

  “I trust you can handle it—Diego knows how to pick a good team.” Cafferty glanced around. “Where is he?”

  “He never came back,” Anna said. “We’re hoping he took the sub, but . . .”

  “You don’t know if Reynolds left?”

  “We lost connection with the docking station after the first explosion. I’m sorry, Mr. Mayor.”

  “I’ll send some guys from the train to help your team. Strap everything that lights up to the body of that car. Hell, strap the oxygen tanks on the side if it stops any sparks from igniting. I’m relying on you to get these people to safety.”

  “Of course. But where are you going?”

  “To find the missing passengers.”

  Anna forced a smile. “I hope you find her.”

  “Them. We’ll need three of your spotlights.”

  “No problem . . . Mr. Mayor, if you’re headed into that tunnel, there’s a breach near where the attack happened. Marker 119. We lost one of our men when he went inside. I’d stay away from it if I were you.”

  “Sounds like a good place to start, actually,” North said.

  Cafferty nodded, then turned to leave. “Where’s Lucien?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They ran back outside.

  Flament had crossed the Pavilion and was quickly walking toward the Jersey tunnel, brandishing a spotlight.

  “Lucien,” Cafferty called out, “what the hell are you doing?”

  “Testing to see if the light works.”

  Flament switched it off and fumbled for something in his satchel.

  “We’ve already done that,” North whispered to Cafferty.

  “He’s got my spider sense tingling, too, but forget about that. For now, we need his help. He’s saved our asses twice, remember? But, David?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Keep a close eye on him.”

  “Of course.”

  Assured that North was on it, Cafferty said, “Anna?”

  The young woman came over. “Yes?”

  “Grab two spotlights for David.” She immediately headed off to gather the lights. Cafferty turned to North. “Once you have them, go find Flament. I’ll meet you at the Jersey tunnel entrance.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Cafferty jogged back toward the train. A few people had disembarked and stared toward the tunnels with a mixture of fear and longing. He’d have to nip that idea in the bud. At least DeLuca and his team were continuing with their repairs, fortifying the subway car. Three of them crouched on the roof and placed a strip of the vinyl floor onto a section the creatures had ripped out. They tore off strips of duct tape to secure it down. One of them waved at Cafferty and he returned the gesture.

  He boarded to a host of relieved faces, and a round of applause rolled through the car. Even the cop with bandaged lower legs winced a grin.

  Cafferty raised his hands. “Settle down. Settle down. We’re not there yet. But I do have some more news: a diesel engine’s on its way to pull us out through the Jersey tunnel and should be here in minutes. But it’s still dangerous out there, so I need ten of you to report to Anna in the command center. We’re going to strap the tanks to the sides of the train for the return journey. Those creatures won’t know what hit them.”

  “But the train was originally attacked in the Jersey tunnel,” one of the MTA workers said. “The entire front car was torn apart, and you want to go back the same way?”

  “We haven’t got a choice. But now we know how to fight these things. We fought them back before, and we’ll do it again if we have to. Stick with the plan and we’ll see this through. Nobody has more faith in you than me.”

  The crowd murmured its approval.

  Cafferty waved Lieutenant Arnolds over to the platform. He glanced around to ensure nobody else was listening, and when he felt confident everyone else was on task, he said quietly, “I’m heading into the tunnels to look for the passengers and don’t have time to answer the questions it’ll provoke. If the engine comes and I’m not back, go. Don’t even think about waiting. I’ll make my own way out.”

  “Are you crazy? You’ll die.”

  “If the creatures get me, and you’re all safe, then I’m okay with that. But a small group needs to search for the passengers before we depart. I’m not sacrificing anyone’s safety for my personal decision.”

  “Mr. Mayor, I don’t mean this to sound critical, but you’re running out on us. Do you know how this looks after what we heard on the train?”

  “I’m not denying his accusations, but I can’t walk out of here with a clear conscience if we don’t try to find the passengers.”

  “And your wife . . .”

  “Yes. And my wife. It’s the right thing to do, even if it costs me my life.”

  “You can’t possibly believe they’re still alive.”

  “There’s only one way to find out. You’re in charge now, Lieutenant. When that diesel train gets here, you promise me you’ll head off immediately. And don’t stop.”

  “I will. Jesus, Mr. Mayor, looks like I picked the wrong day to quit drinking.”

  “I plan on starting again when we get out. Stay safe.”

  A stream of people walked across the platform toward the command center, heading to carry out his plan. Cafferty felt confident he was leaving them in capable hands, and they’d execute his orders to the best of their ability. He couldn’t shake the feeling, however, that their ultimate survival remained uncertain. He could only hope Lady Luck watched over the diesel engine, and the devil kept any sparks to himself.

  North and Flament waited for him at the mouth of the Jersey tunnel, now wearing gas m
asks and aiming their spotlights into the darkness. Anna had gone above and beyond, apparently. He jumped onto the track and approached, searching the area beyond them for any signs of the creatures.

  “You ready?” North handed him a spotlight and a mask. “I sent three of the command center team to the train. Thought we’d be needing these.”

  “Good idea.” Cafferty pulled the mask over his face, and the sound of his breathing elevated inside the enclosed space. “What’s our plan?”

  “We stay in a close group and cover all angles. Shout if you see trouble coming. That’s it.”

  “What if we meet the invisible force again?”

  “Let’s pray we don’t.”

  Wasn’t much of a plan, but then again, there wasn’t really anything they could do about it but pray. So with a quick sign of the cross, Cafferty followed as North advanced, punching his spotlight into the darkness, watching as it sliced across the width of the tunnel. Flament moved to the left, shining his around the walls. Cafferty took the right-hand side of the track. He passed the ripped remains of an NYPD uniform and spatters of blood on the rail ties, but, thankfully, nothing else.

  Raised voices came from the Pavilion, Arnolds’ being the loudest of them all, but nobody looked back as the group pushed farther into the tunnel, away from the safety of the IMAX.

  Distant shrieks echoed from the direction they were moving toward, and Cafferty’s heart pounded against his chest. It would be so easy to go back and cower in the protective light of the IMAX. He was already finished in politics—even with Fields dead, there were enough reporters who would be compelled to spread his confession to the world. And the truth was he never considered himself the adventurous type. If he was being truly candid, he never thought he had the balls to do something like this. In an almost ironic twist, he couldn’t help but think President Reynolds would have been way more suited for this kind of mission.

  Yet here he was, step after step taking him farther from the lighted sanctuary of the Pavilion and closer to creatures that wanted to turn his body into ribbons of bloodied flesh. All because, as dangerous as all this was, Ellen was somewhere ahead, and he’d be damned if he’d sit around when there was a possibility of finding her. Especially if the Z Train was going to serve as a constant reminder of how much damage he had already caused to their lives. To other people’s lives. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

  They pressed on.

  When they passed a curve in the track, the light behind them dimmed, until the wall completely eclipsed the Pavilion and the only light came from the ones in their hands. Cafferty swallowed hard but forced himself not to look back. The almost total darkness meant they were back in the creatures’ territory, and he could sense both North and Flament tense as the same thought dawned on them.

  As if on cue, a gleaming black creature dropped from the ceiling and screamed, revealing its three rows of bloodstained teeth. Its tail lashed out, not quite in range, but fast enough—and powerful enough—to make Cafferty flinch.

  Flament, though, didn’t hesitate and drove forward, locking it in his beam of light. The creature shrieked once more, but lurched back and bounded into the darkness. Somewhere in the inky tunnel, it waited for them.

  And not just that one. Cafferty knew they faced thousands.

  But he had known that from the moment he came up with this plan. He was thankful North and Flament had agreed to come with him. He wasn’t sure he could do this on his own. Just the sight of that one had made him lose his cool. Still, he moved forward as the team pressed on. The darkness weighed heavy on him, and Cafferty clutched his spotlight with the fervor of a priest wielding a cross during an exorcism.

  Step after step, they made their way down the tunnel until they hit the steady incline and started their ascent toward marker 119. One step after another, they came closer to the dream of Ellen, to potential death, and to certain evil.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Munoz had wrapped his finger around the laser’s trigger as soon as he heard the creature’s chilling howl from behind the Jersey tunnel’s maintenance door. Every one of his natural instincts urged him to run, but they had nowhere safe to go. One way or another, he and the president had no other choice than to fight for their lives.

  Reynolds held the conventional gun in a two-handed grip, aiming back up the passage, mumbling to himself about his administration.

  “Put that goddamned gun away, Mr. President.”

  “We might not have any other option.”

  “We’ve got two options, but realistically neither involves a gun with bullets: face the creatures and a flood, or face the creatures in a methane-filled subway tunnel. I vote for the second option.”

  “I don’t think it’s much of a choice at all—that’s our only option.”

  “I—”

  Munoz didn’t get a chance to finish his thought, because a series of incredibly loud metal clanks drummed from somewhere overhead. Coupled with the shrieking, the sound led him to the conclusion that the creatures had followed through the engineering bay and were battering their way through the hatches, descending the levels and bringing a deadly amount of seawater with them.

  Meaning they might not have any options at all.

  Munoz raised his laser, aimed at the wall, and fired. A short red beam zipped from the barrel and blasted chips out of the concrete with tremendous power. At least the Foundation’s weapon had passed the Samuels bullshit test.

  “Christ, Diego,” Reynolds said, instinctively ducking. “How about a warning next time?”

  “Had to know if it worked before opening the door,” Munoz said. “Let’s move fast along the maintenance tunnel. I’ll shoot anything that moves. You carry a strobe grenade.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  The clanking overhead grew louder. Munoz imagined the creatures methodically smashing through the hatches and swirling down the passage at high speed on waves of ice-cold water.

  He passed his strobes to the president, wondering if they had enough to reach safety, and turned for the maintenance tunnel door.

  An extended boom groaned down at the end they had come from. Then another boom. And another.

  A thin layer of water spilled around the corner and pooled at the far end of the tunnel, and it wasn’t long before the flow increased to a steady stream.

  Munoz’s hand hovered over the keypad. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  Munoz keyed in the code and extended his laser. His pulse pounded in his ears and his hands shook, but this was their only way out. He mentally readied himself for action. Reynolds moved to his side, holding a strobe between his fingers.

  You got this, Diego. Remember, you’re the crazy pendejo who charged Sanchez’s crew that Halloween . . .

  The door opened with a metallic screech, knee-high water rushed around them, and distant shrieks rang through the pitch-black maintenance tunnel.

  “Why is wet down here, Diego?” Reynolds asked.

  “Cracks in the infrastructure. It’ll only get worse because the pumps aren’t working. If the explosion compromised the whole place, there’s a risk of it imploding, including the Pavilion.”

  “So one more thing, I guess.”

  “Exactly.” Munoz stepped through the open entrance, sweeping the laser’s aim across the darkness. “Mr. President, now’s a good time to activate the strobe.”

  Reynolds squeezed the sides of the silver sphere.

  Blazing flashes lit up the immediate vicinity, silhouetting the stocky frames of four creatures within much too close a proximity. They roared, jumped out of the water, and raced away along the sides of the walls.

  It worked. It fucking worked. An explosive sigh escaped Munoz, and he realized he had been holding his breath. It fucking worked, he thought again. And that means we might actually get out of here. Because from here, they had a relatively easy route along the maintenance tunnel to beneath the Jersey City station. Of course, that was if they had enough
strobes to keep the creatures at bay. And if the ones behind them didn’t catch up. And if . . .

  And if . . .

  And if.

  Any elation he felt at seeing the Foundation weapons work quickly dissipated. There were just too many things that could go wrong before they made it to the surface, and it was way too early to be optimistic. One look at Reynolds, who was peering slack-jawed at the scene ahead, confirmed he wasn’t the only one calculating their odds.

  First things first, then. Munoz keyed in the code and the door rotated closed.

  Reynolds held the strobe forward and leaned away from its dazzle. “Seems like Samuels told the truth for once in his life—”

  A creature burst out of the water and howled, blasting out a fine damp mist.

  Munoz staggered back.

  Reynolds froze, feet away from the towering black figure.

  The creature whipped its tail at the strobe and missed. But it did catch part of the cable housing, which sent shattered pieces of plastic flying across the tunnel.

  Somehow ignoring the strobe, it spun to face Reynolds, growling, and crouched in preparation for a strike.

  It was all talons and teeth. With the pitch-black background of the deep tunnel, it was almost impossible to differentiate where the creature ended and the blackness began, as if the creature were darkness manifested in murderous, chitinous flesh. So close, it was pure terror for anyone unprepared for such a horrific sight.

  Munoz’s heart pounded, but not all that differently from when he had knelt in front of Malcolm Smith’s crew in an abandoned warehouse in Gowanus, guns in his face, after a drug deal gone bad. He had survived that somehow—at the same moment vowing to get out of the game and turn his life around—and he was damned if all that was for nothing.

  If this motherfucker was going to come after him, then all he could say was I’m right here, puta.

  He composed himself, leveled the laser, and pulled the trigger.