Authors: Adam Baker
‘One thing at a time. We’ve got to reach you first.’
Another gunshot crack. A fresh puff of rock dust fogged the water.
‘Get out of here, guys.’
‘Relax, Captain. You’re hurt. You’re not thinking straight. Let me make the calls.’
‘Seriously. Command decision. This debris pile could subside any minute. I’m ordering you to pull back.’
‘Rescue Four. We don’t pussy out, am I right? Shut the hell up and let me do my thing.’
‘Listen. Just listen. People are counting on us, understand? We are the last frigging hope. Forget about me. I don’t matter. Neither do you. Find Ekks, whatever the cost.’
‘Just rest easy, Cap. You know how this works. I’m the responder, okay? You’re the pin-job.’
‘I got water in my helmet.’
‘Can you reach your tanks? Can you increase suit pressure, force the water out?’
‘Go. Just go.’
Nariko clumsily reached behind her back. A sudden jolt of pain stole her breath. She let it subside, then gripped the regulator valve of her gas tanks.
She twisted the demand valve. Her wrist screen flashed brief amber, then glowed red. The depth/time readout was replaced by:
An alarm. Computer voice, calm but insistent:
‘. . . danger . . . danger . . . nitrogen toxicity warning . . . danger . . . danger . . . adjust levels now . . .’
‘Captain. What the fuck are you doing?’
‘Find the cure. Get it to Ridgeway.’
She twisted the valve full open.
‘
. . . danger . . . danger . . . nitrogen level critical . . . danger . . . danger . . . operate manual shut-off now
. . .’
Pounding blood-roar in her ears like crashing waves.
‘Captain. Hang on, you hear me? Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare fucking code on me.’
Nariko was back in the womb, enveloped in warmth, surrounded by the reassuring diastole/systole tidal surge.
Drooping eyelids. Drowsy smile.
‘.
. . danger . . . danger . . . nitrogen level critical
. . .’
She unplugged her wrist gauge.
She closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. And another. Her body relaxed.
‘You’re wasting time,’
she murmured.
‘Been in the water too long already. Get going. Go on. Get out of here.’
‘We’ll patch you up, get you back to Ridgeway. It’ll be all right.’
‘Good luck guys.’
‘Nariko, for God’s . . .’
She reached down to her belt and pulled the jack cable from her radio.
She coughed. A deep, guttural bark. She convulsed, arched her back. A last involuntary struggle. Her gloved hands pawed the walls of her concrete tomb then fell still.
Her breathing settled. Shallow respirations merged with the hiss of the regulator valve. Nitrogen flooded her body. It filled her lungs, infusing arterial blood, saturating every muscle.
Creeping euphoria. A chance to put herself on a tropical beach, or some other endorphin-induced paradise, but she fought it, determined to be present at the moment of her own death.
‘Never enough . . .’
Her consciousness contracted to a point of light that glimmered like a star. Then the light was gone, and there was nothing but the whisper of tanks bleeding lethal gas, smothering Nariko in cold bliss.
‘. . . Mayday, Mayday. Can anyone hear me, over? Hello? Is anyone out there? This is Bellevue Research Team broadcasting on emergency frequency one-two-one point five megahertz. If anyone can hear me, please respond . . .’
Ivanek trapped in the dark. No sense of time.
‘. . . Please, if anyone can hear me, answer this call . . .’
A voice, right by his ear. Deep, mellow, pure Tennessee:
‘How you doing, son?’
‘Doctor?’
‘Are you feeling okay?’
‘I’m cold.’
‘Yeah. Me too.’
‘I can’t see you. Why can’t I see you?’
‘Don’t worry. I’m right here.’
‘It’s so dark. I can’t see anything. I can’t see my own hands.’
‘It’ll be all right. You’ve just got to hold on.’
‘Where are we? I don’t understand where we are.’
‘It’s hard to explain.’
‘I’m scared.’
‘No reason to be frightened. Think back. What do you remember?’
‘I remember the train, the bomb. Are we still in the tunnel? Did the roof collapse?’
‘We are in a strange place, you and I. Nothing like it has existed before. Nothing on earth, anyway.’
‘Are we dead?’
‘No. No, we’re not dead.’
‘Is this hell?’
‘It’s too cold for hell.’
‘I want to leave. I want to get out of here. How do we get out?’
‘We have to be patient.’
‘I want to go home.’
‘Where is home?’
‘Bushwick.’
‘It’s not there any more.’
‘Please.’
‘There are men on the way.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I just know. A rescue party has entered the tunnels. They are coming for us. They will be here soon.’
‘How soon?’
‘Soon. Hold on, son. They are almost here. It won’t be long. All we have to do is wait.’
The tunnel followed a gentle upward gradient. Cloke and Tombes swam, then waded, as the water level diminished. Chest high. Waist high. Knee high. They dragged the backboard behind them like a sled.
They trudged clear of the flood water. They were robbed of buoyancy, suddenly burdened by the full weight of their diving gear.
They unbolted lock-rings and removed their helmets. They released their back-tanks, shut off gas valves and lowered them to the dead track.
‘We can’t abandon the mission,’ said Cloke.
Tombes didn’t reply. He looked back at the dark waters from which they had emerged. Deep shock.
‘We’ve no choice but to proceed. What would she say if she were here right now? Focus. Keep your shit together. People depend on us. Finish the damned job.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’
Cloke switched on his flashlight and surveyed the tunnel walls. Ancient brickwork. Gang tags.
Water splashed his face. He looked up. Seeping groundwater. Calcite hung from the ceiling in petrified drips.
Tombes unclipped his radio. He checked for signal bars.
‘Donahue, do you copy, over?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Nariko is dead.’
‘Say again.’
‘She’s dead. The Captain. The Captain is code one.’
‘How?’
‘A rockfall. The rubble shifted. She got trapped.’
‘Oh Jesus.’
‘We did our damnedest to reach her. There was nothing we could do.’
‘You actually saw her die?’
‘She’s dead, Donnie.’
‘Are you guys okay?’
‘We’re fine.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Other side of the rockfall. We’re out of the water, north near Canal.’
‘Any sign of the Bellevue team?’
‘Not yet. Listen. We’re trapped in this section of tunnel. Our route back is sealed. Check the charts. Check the schematics. There must be a way out of here. Some kind of utility pipe, sewer tunnel, whatever.’
‘Okay.’
‘Our flashlights are good for a few hours. After that, we’ll be stumbling in the dark. We’re depending on you. Check every map, every survey you’ve got. Get us out of here.’
The ticket hall.
‘Nariko’s dead,’ announced Donahue. She listened to the harsh echo of her voice. Wade lay on the bench. He instinctively reached for the cyanide cylinder in his pocket, gripped it like a talisman. His ride. His ticket out of this world. A guarantee he would not be marooned sightless and starving in the tunnels.
Galloway sat on the entrance steps. He stared down at his hands, overwhelmed by the horror of infection and his own imminent death.
Sicknote ignored her. He remained crouched on the floor, coaxing the last ink from the Sharpie, obsessively mapping the cosmic void, the horrors in his head more real to him than anything taking place at Fenwick Street.
‘Guess I’m the only one that gives a shit,’ murmured Donahue.
She turned her back on the ticket hall and re-entered the office.
Donahue hurriedly unravelled nicotine-yellow charts and spread them on the table.
Lupe joined her.
‘What happened? How did she die?’
‘There was a rockfall,’ said Donahue. She didn’t look up from the charts. ‘Some kind of landslide. Cloke and Tombes got clear. The Captain didn’t.’
‘Christ.’
‘The rescue went bad. Could happen to any of us. Comes with the job.’
‘What about the guys?’
‘Trapped. No way back.’
‘So who’s in charge of this cluster-fuck?’
‘Cloke. The mission was his idea.’
‘So I guess that makes you the boss right now.’
‘Yeah,’ sighed Donahue. ‘I guess it does.’
‘Sorry,’ said Lupe. ‘Sorry about your friend.’
They examined a tunnel schematic.
‘Can they walk north to Canal Street?’ asked Lupe.
‘They can try. But I doubt they would get far. If that section of tunnel is dry, it must be sealed both ends. The blast probably collapsed Canal Station. Our guys are trapped in an air pocket. No maintenance exits, no junctions. No way out.’
‘Do they know?’ said Lupe.
‘Of course. They’re screwed. They’ve got no food, or water. Their flashlights are good for a few hours. After that . . .’
‘Fuck that shit. Give me the map.’
Lupe grabbed the scrolled chart. She checked the legend.
‘Department of Transport. City engineers schematic. This thing is twenty years old. Plenty of underground construction since then. Give me everything you’ve got.’
Cloke and Tombes kicked off flippers. They unzipped and stripped out of their drysuits. They left their dive gear piled on the tunnel floor next to their tanks and helmets.
They shivered in T-shirts and shorts.
‘I wish we had time to say a prayer,’ said Tombes.
‘Nariko?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Maybe there’ll be time, later.’
Cloke crouched by the stretcher. He cut ropes and opened a holdall. Combat fatigues taped in polythene.
They ripped the bags with their teeth. They dressed. They jumped and swung their arms to get warm.
Cloke unzipped a canvas tool bag. He took out a couple of hammers. He tossed one to Tombes.
‘Tuck this in your belt.’
They laced boots, shouldered equipment and headed down the tunnel.
Cloke took a Geiger reading.
‘We better watch the numbers. Closer we get to Canal, more chance of a radiation spike. If the tunnel is ruptured, open to the street, we might have to mask-up in a hurry.’
Their breath fogged the air. Their footfalls echoed in darkness.
Distant rustle.
‘You hear that?’ asked Tombes.
‘Relax. It’s just rats.’
‘Hello?’ shouted Cloke. His voice reverberated through the cavernous tunnel space. ‘Anyone down here?’
He listened. Silence.
‘Hello? Anyone?’
Nothing.
They kept walking.
‘What about that kid on the radio?’ asked Tombes.
‘Maybe he was a recording. Think back. Did he actually talk to Nariko? Answer questions? Did they properly interact?’
‘I don’t recall.’
Their flashlights lit a track-bed scattered with garbage.
A dead rat.
Cloke crouched and examined the rodent. He prodded the rat with his hammer.
‘Strange that this strain, this parasite, never jumped species. Won’t attack any other mammal, any other primate. Pops out of nowhere. Super-evolved. Super-lethal. Almost as if it were created with humans in mind.’
‘Honestly? I don’t give a damn any more. Escaped bio-weapon. Weird-ass flu. Kind of academic at this point. The disease won. Game over. It owns the planet. We should have made for the hills. A damn sight more sense than this hero bullshit. Nariko buried for ever under a pile of rocks back there. For what? Because the Chief gave an order.’
They kept walking. Their flashlights lit ancient brickwork.
‘Over there,’ said Cloke. ‘Human remains.’
A jumble of burned bone by the tunnel wall.
‘I count three, four skulls. Army fatigues. Couple of lab coats.’
‘Infected?’
‘Can’t tell.’
‘Let me take a look.’
Cloke crouched by the jumble of scorched bone.
‘Got a knife?’
Tombes handed him a pocket knife.
Cloke flicked open the blade and probed the ashes. He lifted a wide, metal bangle from the debris. Cyrillic lettering stamped into the ring.
‘What’s that?’ asked Tombes. Cloke ignored him.
A steel box. Cloke scraped ashes from the metal. A weird half-skull symbol embossed on the lid.
‘Give me the backpack.’
Tombes passed him the pack. Cloke unzipped a side pocket and pulled out a digital camera. He took pictures of the box. Each flash lit the tunnel like lightning.
Tombes kicked a skull.
‘Ekks?’
Cloke shook his head. He lifted a scorched scrap of lab coat with his knife.
‘Ekks didn’t wear a coat. Insisted his team wore pristine medical whites, even down here in the tunnels, but he always wore a linen jacket like he’d been sipping mint juleps on a Hampton veranda. Kept his hands clean. Gave orders. Let his guys do the work.’
‘How will you recognise him?’
‘Fifties. Grey hair. People say he wore a silver ouroboros ring. A snake eating its own tail. Never took it off.’
They walked further into the tunnel.
‘Check it out,’ said Tombes. ‘Something big up ahead.’
Glint of silver. Something large blocking the passageway.
The steel hull of a subway train.
Cloke trained his flashlight on the motorman’s cab. Cracked windshield glass. A red line designation:
3.