Melt

by JJ Pike

  Alice stared at the windows. Could she smash those in and crawl between carriages?

  “I even have a fake baby bump at home. That’s good, too. But you can only wear that if you’re cool with people talking to you and touching you, so eventually I graduated to the doll. Had to be careful though, so the regulars didn’t catch on. You know, the people you see every day but don’t actually know. You just know them because you’re all in the same damned rush to get to a place you hate (that would be work) to pay for a place you can’t afford (huge mortgage) while you wait for your ship to come in (lottery ticket, anyone?).”

  Alice tuned her out though Barb kept on talking. Amazing how some people could say so many words with so little meaning.

  “I’m going to have to go back,” said Alice.

  “I already told you, I can help.” Barb was fiddling with her fake baby again.

  Alice wasn’t listening. She was already on her way to the rear of the train.

  The blast was deafening. Alice leapt a mile high. She couldn’t work out exactly where the sound had come from, but when she turned it was in time to see Barb putting a pint-sized derringer back under the plastic baby inside the sling.

  “Well, I’ll be…” she said. “I did not see that coming.”

  “Shhhhhh,” said Barb. “It’s not registered. But I was mugged a couple of months ago and my Aunt—she lives up in Beacon and collects antiques—said she thought I should have this and I didn’t see why not because a girl’s got to be able to defend herself, don’t you agree?”

  “Will you loan it to me?”

  “No way,” said Barb.

  “I’ll pay good money.”

  “Nope,” said Barb. “It makes me feel safe…”

  “Never mind,” said Alice. It was pointless waiting around. The girl was a loop-de-loop. She faked her pregnancy and her baby in order to sit down on her commute. There was no way of telling whether she had any bullets left or was simply stringing her along. She began jogging back down the empty compartment.

  “Wait,” said Barb. “How much money?”

  Alice stopped. Blasting her way through the locked doors would save her a lot of time. “Two hundred dollars for every door you help me open.”

  “That’s not much…” Barb was settling in to haggle.

  Alice had run out of time. She couldn’t argue the point any longer. She shrugged. “$400 per door, take it or leave it.”

  “Done,” said Barb.

  “This is very dangerous. We’re going towards a potentially lethal situation. I can’t guarantee your safety.”

  Barb grinned. “Lady, danger is my middle name.” She drew her gun and shot her way into the next carriage.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Bill had been wrong about the traffic. The roads were bumper-to-bumper crammed with people looking to get out of the city. At least they were all going in the other direction. The radio coverage had been spotty and repetitive: there had been a building collapse, there were reports of one fatality, the authorities were on the scene, now back to our regularly scheduled…

  Bill hit the dial, looking for an emergency broadcast. Either he wasn’t finding it or none of the decision-makers had given them the go-ahead to broadcast instructions.

  Clearly, the New Yorkers who were headed north had ideas of their own.

  “Guess they’re spooked,” said Paul.

  “Yup,” said Bill. “And why not? If there was a collapse in my back yard, I’d want to get some distance between me and it.”

  “We aren’t seriously coming back down here on Sunday to pick Mimi up, are we?”

  Bill had promised his mother he would pick her up after she’d gone to her beloved Yankees game, but Paul was right. They should go get her while they were down here. “She is not going to be happy.”

  Paul laughed. “She’s happiest when she’s complaining. She’ll be fine.”

  Bill eyed the traffic. It was going to be twice as bad getting out of Manhattan as it was getting in. While they were in Midtown looking for Alice, police could close off roads, bridges, tunnels, anything. There was no way of knowing whether they’d be able to get back up to the Heights in a few hours. It’d be better to go and get her now, bad temper or not.

  Bill pulled off the highway and eased his way towards his mother’s place. It was so familiar—the brownstones and bodegas, people sitting on their stoops, kids playing jump rope—it was almost soothing. Manhattan was a study in the American experiment. Where else could you get Polish paczki, real bratwurst, and gefilte fish all within a ten-block radius? Bill was proud of the city his mother called home. It had a lot to complain about, but a lot to be proud of, too.

  This far north they had no trouble parking. He eased into a space under a spreading London plane tree, its bark peeling in massive chunks and littering the sidewalk. He paused for a minute and considered the bandage on his hand. She’d fuss and want answers. He didn’t have time to explain about the bear or talk about antibiotics. He needed to get in, get her packed, and get out of there. He unwound the gauze from his hand and shoved it in the door compartment. The wound was still a pulsing, irritated tear of red, but if he kept his hand in his pocket she’d never notice. “Not a word,” he said.

  “My lips are sealed,” said Paul.

  The two of them trudged towards his mother’s apartment building in silence. They knew what lay ahead.

  He wasn’t wrong about her being cheesed off at them. She was madder than a hornet. “You told me Sunday. I’ve got plans with my friends, you know. I have a life and, if you want to know the truth, I don’t want to go with you.”

  “Mom, there’s a chance we won’t be able to get back here on Sunday.”

  “Fine,” she said, “I didn’t ask to come with you”

  “Paul, would you go pack a case for your grandma, please?”

  “Don’t you even…”

  Paul was stuck. Bill felt for him. He obviously didn’t want to disobey his father, but neither did he want to enrage his grandmother. “How about this,” he said, “how about I stay with Grandma while you go get Mom, then we’ll head out of town together?”

  Margaret marched up to Bill, jabbing him in the chest. “What in the name of blazes is going on here? First you tell me that we have to leave on Sunday, then you turn up with no warning and tell me we have to leave right now. What is it that you aren’t telling me?”

  “The explosion that was on TV,” said Bill “there’s a possibility that happened in Alice's building.”

  “Well, that’s terrible,” said Margaret, “but that doesn’t mean I have to leave town. I mean no disrespect to Alice or anything. I love her like a daughter, but…”

  “Mom…” He didn’t mean to whine but being around her pushed the clock back 30 years.

  “In fact, it might be better if I stay here. If I stay, I can go see her if she’s in the hospital. She came to see me all the time. I couldn’t have made it without her. She was just wonderful.”

  There was nothing for it. He was going to have to tell her the whole story. “Alice called me yesterday morning. Something happened at the lab. There was an accident I think. She told us to get rid of all the plastics.”

  Margaret stopped playing with the fringe on the edge of her couch protector. “You should have told me that first.” She was serious now, the mom he remembered from so many years ago.

  “Do you know something, Mom?”

  “She used to talk to me,” she said. “She thought I was asleep all the time but I wasn’t. Sometimes I would just let her get it all off her chest by lying there with my eyes closed. She was raised a Catholic for the first eight years of her life. They like that kind of thing. They want someone behind a curtain, someone they can’t see, to unburden themselves to. I allowed her to make me that person.” She looked at her son, then her grandson. “There was no harm in it, no matter what you two think. Sometimes a woman—a mother, whose burden is unlike anything you will ever understand—needs to talk t
o someone without fear of being judged.”

  Bill was nauseated. Alice could’ve said anything to Margaret. Who wanted their interior monologue to be laid bare to another person, let alone a mother-in-law? “What did she say?”

  “She was so excited. She had these big plans. Talked about how K&P was going to change the world. She said she would cut back on her hours once this new thing they had in the pipeline was launched. She missed you guys so much but she didn’t think she could quit. She had to see it through to the end. It was like there was some other driving force behind her decision to work. I can’t explain exactly. I was on a lot of morphine.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before, Mom?”

  “Why would I tell you all of that? They were her private thoughts. I don’t just go around blabbing other people secrets. But…now you’re telling me there might have been an accident and she might be in trouble, I figured I might as well tell you that woman will never give up. Never.”

  Bill knew. “So, will you? Will you come and help us find Alice?”

  Margaret stood. “You’re not hearing me, son. My point is she won’t come with you if there is work left to do. She loves you like nothing I’ve ever seen; more than your father, God rest his soul, loved me, but she’s driven to help people in crisis. You can’t get in the way of that.”

  Bill knew exactly what his mother was talking about. Alice had seen depravity, violence, the meaningless loss of life and it had shaped her. She was a good woman. She was the best woman. But she didn’t know when to stop. She would put herself in danger in order to do the right thing. He couldn’t let her do that. He had to get her out of there.

  “Why don’t I make us a cup of coffee?” said Margaret. “I've got a nice box of cookies in the cupboard. You can have a cup of coffee and be on your way. I won’t be coming.”

  Margaret headed for the kitchen to forestall any pushback.

  Bill could see that she was in pain. She masked it well but there was a slowness about her. As if the joints weren't just creaking but actually straining. He knew she had pain meds that could take the edge off but he also knew that she didn’t want anything to dull her wits

  The kettle whistled on the stove while Margaret messed with cups and creamer and the sugar bowl. Why she insisted on bringing a miniature jug of cream and sugar cubes with tongs, he didn’t know. Perhaps it soothed her to have this ritual rather than putting their coffees together in the kitchen like any normal person.

  He didn’t get up when she shuffled back into the room with a tray. She wouldn’t have thanked him for it. She prided herself on her independence.

  “I’ve made a life for myself. And now I plan to die the death I want to die.”

  Paul jerked forward in his chair. “Mimi you can’t do that!”

  “I don't mean that. I’m not gonna take my own life. I’m not stupid. But I have lymphatic cancer. It’s going to take me eventually and it’s not going to be pretty. I’ve got a one-way ticket to Oregon. It’s a ‘right to die’ state. My lawyer’s already drawn up the papers. When the time comes and I’m in too much pain and I know that there is nothing that anyone can do for me then I’m going to have a goodbye party.”

  Bill’s mouth hung open. He had no idea she had been so organized.

  “Close your mouth, there’s a train coming.”

  He laughed. It was something she used to say when they were young. “Are you sure about this, Mom?”

  “Sure as eggs is eggs,” she said. She pushed herself up out of the chair.

  “You sure you don’t want to think this through?” he said.

  “Nothing to think through. It’s already done. Cecily is coming with me.” Cecily was her best friend. They’d been in grade school together and never lost touch. They’d been on cruises, tours, to the Vatican, they’d even gone to the Galapagos Islands. “She is going to be the mistress of ceremonies. It’s not that I don’t love you, son. It’s that I don’t trust you to let me do this my way.”

  Bill nodded. “I wasn’t clear. What I meant was, if there really is some kind of disaster unfolding in Manhattan, don’t you want to get off the island?”

  “Honey, if there is a disaster happening in Manhattan I might as well go down with the ship.”

  Bill had nothing to say to that. She was determined. She was either going to fly to Oregon so that she could die a dignified death without pain or she was going to stay in her beloved city until it succumbed to whatever was coming at them

  “I love you, Mom.” He stood in the doorway, waiting.

  Paul wrapped his arms around his grandma and squeezed her tight.

  She kissed him on the cheek and pressed something into his hand. “Off you go then.” She closed the door behind them. Bill was sure that was the last time he would see his mother.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The tunnels were dark, wet, oppressive. Alice didn’t want to use her headlamp any more than she needed to, so she was glad that Barb had offered to lead the way with her phone. The nattering, though, was absolutely incessant. Could she say something to make Barb shut up? She was a distraction and Alice could brook no more distractions. They were almost there. She knew it.

  “Here’s what I need you to do,” said Alice. “I need you to think very carefully about the next few minutes. I told you this was dangerous. What I didn’t tell you is we might already be inhaling a pollutant that will kill us.”

  “Too late, sweetie. This is New York and what we are breathing in? It’s death itself. The only time you’re not breathing it in is when it’s done its job and you’re good and dead.”

  She was being flippant and clearly didn’t understand the grave danger that they faced. “No,” said Alice. “What I mean is there is a compound that might be in the air down here that could burn the flesh from your bones. I’ve seen it happen. That’s why my jacket is over my head, to protect me from anything that might drip down on us from above. I’d recommend you do the same.”

  “I thought you would be cheerier than Jeff,” she said, “but you’re quite the downer.”

  “You can go back any time you like,” said Alice. “Here’s my card.” She rummaged around in her skirt pockets. She didn’t bother with her jacket; she’d been through those pockets less than an hour ago. She had no cards. “Do you have something I could write on? I’ll give you my numbers. You can find me when this is all over and I will give you your money. What I need now is for you to be quiet and follow my instructions.”

  Barb seemed to consider it for a moment, then shook her head. “Nope, I’ve been screwed over one time too many. You offered me $400 dollars for each door I blasted open for you and I counted eleven doors.”

  On they went, one foot in front of the other as fast as they dared.

  It was something of a marvel that the young woman had so much ammo on her, but as Alice had learned in their 2-mile trek under the city, Barb also had a can of mace (“not legal, but who’s going to report me? Not the burglar I just blinded”), a switchblade (“Also illegal in the good State of New York, but see my earlier statement about any idiot who tries to come near me. Not going to happen. And if it does, I will just say it was his to begin with because believe me lady, I am not going down that path again”), and three magazines of bullets (“my aunt has a shop; all the swanky collectors go there. She has to keep this in stock or she’d lose half her trade. Did you know that women at the turn of the last century carried these little derringers in their hand-warmers…”) and on and on and on.

  The gun was gorgeous: mother of pearl inlay, a name engraved down the side of the barrel, someone had gone to a lot of trouble when they had that gun made. Barb wouldn’t let her hold it, but she had flashed it at her a number of times. She might as well keep the girl with her just in case they came upon another locked door or, if Barb was to be believed, bands of roving miscreants just waiting to rob them at knifepoint.

  They passed through an interchange, tracks heading this way and that, tunnels snaking away
from them into the pitch blackness. It was the third time Alice had had to choose which way to go, but her sense of direction was so well honed the kids joked that she could see the Earth’s magnetic field as well as any bird. She went to the left. The lights flickered but held. The water drip-drip-dripping down onto the tracks made her nervous. There were rules about mixing electricity and water for a good reason.

  “My feet hurt,” said Barb.