North stood motionless, focusing his spotlight below a group of low-hanging stalactites. Cafferty freed his light from his belt, climbed to his feet, and shone it in the same direction.
“See that?” North said.
“What?”
“Pinned to the stalactites.”
“Christ, who is it?”
“I’m betting it’s the cop Anna told us about.”
Cafferty strained to hear any sounds above the distant creatures and running water: a scream, a cry, a call for help—anything that pointed toward someone being alive and trapped deeper inside the subterranean network.
Flament’s shoes thudded against the ground, his spotlight brightening the cavern even further, and he shuffled between them. “What now, mes ami?”
“We head under—”
Smaller creatures exploded out of dark passages on the other side of the stalactites, at least twenty, tearing forward at unbelievable speeds. They dodged between the lights and their shrieks engulfed the cavern.
The three men’s beams crisscrossed the area, breaking the momentum of the charge, but this time the creatures acted differently.
They didn’t retreat.
Some snaked between the stalactites, others darted behind rocks. As soon as a light moved away, they moved forward again.
“We can’t hold them like this,” North shouted.
“No shit,” Cafferty said. A creature leaped within spitting distance of him and hunched behind a boulder. He focused his spotlight on it, knowing one more leap and it would make mincemeat out of his guts.
But the creature didn’t jump out. Instead, its tail whipped over the boulder and slashed his right forearm, cutting his muscle deep.
Cafferty screwed his face, and blood quickly soaked his shirt. The pain seared through his arm, but he held his aim.
The tail whipped over again and hammered the edge of his shoe, splitting the leather.
North swept his beam from left to the right, concentrating on several creatures who had ducked behind a pile of rubble. Flament, however, had lowered his light and unbuckled his satchel.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Cafferty yelled. “We’re gonna die!”
“They’re evolving,” Flament said. “I haven’t seen them like this before.”
“You’ve never what? Never mind—put up your goddamned spotlight!”
The creature’s tail lashed the ground by Cafferty’s feet, splitting the rock.
“Get your goddamn light on those creatures!” North bellowed.
But Flament, almost nonchalantly, ignored them, reached into his satchel, produced a small silver sphere, and threw it into the center of the cavern.
Brilliant blinding flashes of light lit up the walls and ceiling.
The creatures screamed in pain and leaped toward the stalactites. They raced for the passages without looking back, trying to escape from the strobing light.
Within seconds, only the sound of the chattering sphere remained.
Cafferty and North stared at Flament. He drew an odd black gun out of his satchel. A green light winked on the top of it, and the transparent grip glowed pink around his fingers.
“You need to start talking,” Cafferty said. “Like now.”
“I saved our lives. The creatures don’t like flashing light.”
“That’s it? What about the sphere you conveniently had in your satchel, and that gun? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I’m helping you. You’re helping me. That’s all you need to know.”
North moved to the Frenchman’s side. “All you need to know is I’ll kick your ass if you keep lying.”
Flament’s face twisted into a scowl, breaking his near constant look of composure. “Don’t be an imbecile, Monsieur North. I’ve killed bigger and meaner men than you in a heartbeat. Try anything foolish like that and I guarantee you won’t see daylight again. This is how things are going to proceed: I’ll help you get deeper inside the cavern to find your friends and help you get back out. That’s all that matters. We haven’t got much time.”
“What?” Cafferty asked.
“I’m a benevolent man, unlike the other member of my team. Everyone deserves a chance to survive, including your wife.” Flament fished a digital timer out of his satchel, hit a button on the side, and a countdown started from twenty minutes. “The clock is now ticking, as you say. Nothing can stop the detonator automatically triggering the block of C-4 in my bag. I suggest we move.”
“C-4? Are you a madman?” Cafferty said.
“We’ll never make it out alive,” North said. “You’ve been playing us.”
“It’s true I used you as human shields, but that’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. I intend to leave the tunnel today. If you want to live, you’ll stop asking questions you know I’m not going to answer and follow me.”
Flament threw another silver sphere under the stalactites. It rolled to a stop in the next cavern, and light erupted from its surface.
“Follow you where?” Cafferty asked.
“To the nest. I’m destroying it. If any of the passengers are alive, they’ll be there.”
“A nest?” North said. “Who are you?”
“The man who will rid New York of these creatures.” Flament pulled a disc-shaped device out of his pocket, flipped it open, and thumbed the screen. “The other charges are primed. We don’t have long. Let’s go.”
“Wait,” Cafferty said. “What other charges?”
“Mr. Mayor, it takes more than one block of C-4 to destroy the entire Z Train subway system. Your choice is clear. Run now or search for your wife. Either way, your legacy will be destroyed. Ask yourself what’s more important: getting answers or staying alive. Because no matter what, these creatures cannot survive. It’s us or them, and frankly, I choose us.”
Nothing made sense, and North appeared in an equal state of confusion. Cafferty didn’t know whether to strangle Flament or thank him. He was leaning toward violence, though. Because Flament had known all along. The precise theories, the strobing spheres, the blocks of C-4, and the mention of a nest made it obvious. And by knowing and being here, it meant he had prior knowledge of the attack and hadn’t warned anyone.
“Who sent you here?” Cafferty snapped.
“We don’t have t—”
“People are dying down here, and you want to keep playing games? Who the hell do you work for?”
“My employer is irrelevant.”
“I’d say it’s very fucking relevant,” North said. “We want to get out of this alive.”
“This? You still don’t get it. This is nothing. This is just one more moment in a series of moments. Don’t think you’re a special case. It’s a global problem and I’m merely a defender of our species. I wish to remain that way, so stop asking questions and do as I say.”
Cafferty shook his head, trying to parse it all. “Why should we trust you?”
“Il vaut mieux être marteau qu’enclume, Mr. Mayor. It’s better to be a hammer than a nail. Don’t let the creatures or the C-4 drive you into a wooden box.” With that, Flament keyed something else into his device, flipped the lid shut, and ducked below the stalactites.
“I don’t think we have choice,” North said to Cafferty.
There’s always a choice, but he knew what North was saying. Sighing, he said, “You’re right. Creatures and passengers are our concern, and he’s got the weapons to beat them back.”
Cafferty ripped the arm off his shirt, wrapped it around the wound on his forearm, and followed Flament underneath the stalactites toward the dark passages. As if he had expected them to come with him, Flament was waiting not too deep in the cave. He simply nodded and led them to where multiple passages split off from the one they were in. Without hesitating, the Frenchman entered the left one, pulled out another sphere, and activated it, brightening the way ahead. He extended his gun in his right hand and moved forward at a fast pace, aiming at any dark corner or large boulder, but alway
s efficiently progressing into the blackness.
Shrieks echoed in the distance, growing louder as they plunged deeper into the underground network, and yet Flament led them ever closer to those brutal sounds through a series of small caverns. As they slid through the dark, they passed a handheld radio, a broken MTA lantern, pieces of ripped clothing, and, not unexpectedly, impressive spatters of blood over the walls.
North spun and aimed his spotlight back at regular intervals, but he didn’t seem to ever see anything.
They moved on in silence.
Eventually, though, Flament said, “Something else has them distracted.”
“What?” Cafferty asked.
“They’re territorial and defend their nests with their lives. But they aren’t attacking us in this cave. Another threat is in the cavern.”
“I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean. What could possibly be threatening these things?”
“Does it matter? Whatever it is that’s drawing their attention, it’s helped clear our path.”
Cafferty thought it mattered a great deal. There were already too many deadly secrets in these tunnels, and this new one made him even more nervous. It didn’t help that the air was growing thicker, more difficult to breathe even with the gas mask, and his headache had returned again. Sure, every step took him closer to discovering Ellen’s fate, but he was also following a man whom he now not only heavily distrusted, but one he suspected might turn on North and him at any moment.
And that mattered.
Chapter Thirty-One
Munoz lifted himself through the hatch into the subway tunnel and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Freezing water dripped from his pants, pattering against the ground. He scanned the area for any signs of life in the immediate vicinity.
Reynolds was taking no chances. He grabbed another strobe from his pocket, squeezed the sides, and tossed it onto the track.
Bright flashes flooded the tunnel, highlighting three distant creatures. They howled and bolted out of view, back toward the breach.
“I can’t believe the train didn’t stop,” Reynolds said.
“We’ve got a good chance of making it from here. People in the Pavilion haven’t—I say we go back down with the laser.”
“We’re not going back. It’s too dangerous.”
“We could at least try.”
“You heard Samuels and saw the blast door report in the docking station. The chances of anyone in the Pavilion being alive are slim at best. Someone needs to make it out to tell the story. That’s you and me.”
Unlike Reynolds, Munoz liked the fact that the diesel engine had roared past without stopping. It meant his team had a plausible means of escape . . . if they were still alive. Of course, he had some serious doubts on that score. But hope was a powerful thing, and right now, he wasn’t prepared to give up on them. “I thought you didn’t want to look like a coward,” he said. “We know people on the train are alive.”
“Do we? They’ve just ridden into hell—”
Munoz’s pocket vibrated and let out an electronic ping.
“What was that?” Reynolds asked.
“Samuels’ phone.” He’d forgotten about it. He was actually pretty amazed the thing still worked. Then again, this was the same guy who had a laser pistol in his jacket, so . . . Munoz pulled out the disc-shaped device and flipped it open.
“One unread message” displayed in bright green text. The screen unlocked with the push of his thumb, the device’s lack of security showing Samuels’ level of cockiness. He tapped his finger on the envelope, which unfolded to reveal the text. “Holy shit.”
“What?”
“It says, ‘Planting C-4 in nest. Other charges primed. All tunnels to blow in 19 mins. Your status? LF.’”
“They rigged every tunnel?” Reynolds asked rhetorically. “With the methane that means . . .”
“The whole place blows. No, the whole place probably fuses together in a mess of molten rock. Either way, anyone inside these tunnels is dead.”
“Which means we’ve barely got time to get out ourselves, Diego. I know it’s hard, but we need to head for Jersey City. The train might already be on its way out.”
Reynolds’ simple truth hit Munoz hard. It seemed they would be the two sole survivors of this mess and had only one obvious way to go from here, not that the president needed the extra motivation. He’d already decided to cut and run.
Munoz scanned the message again. “What does he mean about a nest?”
“I’m guessing it’s where these fuckers come from. But what interests me more is that someone else is down here working against us—someone allied with Samuels.”
Great—two of those assholes. He snapped the phone shut. “Then let’s hustle. And pray the train comes back with everyone from the Pavilion on board.”
Munoz offered his hand and hauled Reynolds to his feet. They headed up the deserted tunnel toward the station, taking a wide berth around the scattered corpses of smoldering creatures.
As they walked, Munoz tried to go through everything he’d been learning ever since they’d tied up Samuels. The more he mulled the conspiracy, the more it chilled him. He thought back to surprise election results around the world, to the heads of state who had lost their lives in violent ways, to the seemingly stable, democratic countries erupting into chaos. And he wondered if they all connected to this shadow organization. The existence of these creatures was shocking enough. But that just seemed to be the tip of the iceberg.
“What are you thinking?” Reynolds asked.
“Just how deep this thing goes.”
“That’s the first thing I’m going to look into when we get out of here. Because this madness ends today. Starting with Blake fucking Mansfield.”
The anger in the president’s words echoed off the tunnel, almost masking the sound of multiple footsteps hammering against the ground ahead of them. But Munoz heard them: too loud, too heavy, and too fast to be human. “Strobe,” he shouted.
Reynolds dug a fresh one from his pocket, crushed the sides, and held it forward.
Flashes brightened the smooth, circular concrete walls.
Shrieks split the air.
Munoz sprinted forward a few steps and raised the laser.
Three small creatures bounded around the corner, screaming, heading directly for him—small being a relative word, as they were still all bigger than any human. Their tails whipped in the air, and they raised their claws. They were more tolerant of the strobe lights than their bigger counterparts.
He dropped to one knee, fixed the closest one in his sights, and fired.
A red beam shot out of the barrel and scorched a hole in the creature’s chest, and he moved his aim down, cutting through its stomach. Blood sprayed from the creature’s torso and spattered the wall. It staggered forward with a gargling wail and crashed onto the track.
Munoz quickly switched his focus to the next, blasting a chunk out of its head with a red-hot laser beam. The creature lurched backward, and it slammed against the concrete.
The last creature hadn’t stopped, though, and had closed to within yards of Munoz. With a snarl, the black horror lunged for the kill.
“Shoot it!” Reynolds yelled.
Not that Munoz needed the advice. The problem was these things were just so fast and it took so much to even disable one, let alone kill it. He fired again anyway, barely aiming, hoping to at least slow the last creature down. If he could at least give the president a chance to escape . . .
He’d underestimated the concentrated power of the laser, though. When the beam connected with the creature at close range, it ripped the thing’s arm right off, twisting its body sideways. Encouraged, he cut the beam across its shoulders, slicing across its thick neck.
The creature’s headless body skidded to the ground and stopped inches from his feet, giving him his first close look at its razor-sharp claws.
Those claws were almost buried in me. Dios mio . . .
; With a shuddering breath, Munoz snapped himself out of his daze and swept the laser over the three twitching corpses, searching for any other creatures. As his heart started to slow down, he almost smiled. Slicing and dicing these sons of bitches to bloody pieces gave him a sense of satisfaction, no matter how small, knowing he had some payback for Donaldson and his team.
And the dark part of him he had abandoned as a teenager enjoyed the fuck out of it.
The stench of burning flesh hung in the air, but the tunnel had returned to near silence.
Reynolds gave Munoz an openmouthed stare. For a former marine, the action apparently rocked him. But maybe that was being unfair to the president. Even a leatherneck wouldn’t be inured from fighting monsters.
Finally, Reynolds said, “Nice shooting.”
“I guess I still got it,” Munoz said with a wry smile.
“Maybe when we get out of here, you’ll tell me how you learned to handle a gun like that.”
“You already know.” Munoz grabbed him by his jacket’s shoulder pad and dragged him forward. “And I’d like to get outta here in one piece.”
“Diego,” Reynolds said between heavy breaths, “you’re a goddamn hero.”
I left my whole team behind.
And then Munoz remembered, adding to his guilt: The diesel engine. He had no way of warning whoever was on board about the impending C-4 detonations.
I’m not a hero, but someone has to tell the story of the people who are.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Bowcut and Captain Dumont had handed their gas masks to the women, telling them to share every few minutes, allowing each some respite from the methane-clogged air. She took the lead in their attempt to escape and moved forward with conviction. Her eyes stung as she scrambled through the narrow passage, but she didn’t slow, drilling her beam of light ahead and forcing back the creatures who packed the route. Luckily none of the small ones was ahead of them.
She didn’t hold out a lot of hope for how long that luck would remain, though.
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