Chaos (11 page)

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Call me Ghost.”

“Ghost? The real Ghost?”

“The one and only.”

“Prove it.”

“I don’t have to.”

Good point.
“Okay Ghost.” I shrugged. “I’m Cy.”

“I know. Your companion told me that.”

Swiftly, I scanned the area and spotted Beverly kneeling on the ground. Despite the faint light, I saw long red scratches on her arms and purplish welts on her neck. “Quite the welcoming committee you’ve got here. I’m guessing you don’t get a lot of repeat visitors.”

“We don’t like visitors.”

“And I don’t like people attacking me for no reason.”

“You trespassed on our property.”

“It’s city property.”

“We live here. That makes it our property.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

He waved the gun at me. “This is our home. We’re not vacating it for anyone. I suggest you leave at once and don’t come back.”

“If you don’t get that thing out of my face, we’re going to have a problem.”

His eyes tightened and he stared at me with quiet anger. I returned the glare. After a minute, he relaxed and lowered the pistol.

I widened my gaze. Off to one corner, I saw the giant sitting on the ground. A brief smile crossed my face as I watched him clutch his arm, grinding his teeth in pain.

Rotating my head, I saw a ring of seven other people surrounding me. Their faces looked gaunt and their bodies showed signs of malnutrition and abuse. “What is this place? Who are you people?”

“This is our home,” Ghost repeated. “As for your second question, we’re a colony of like-minded individuals. A family if you will. No different than any other family.”

“Yeah, you’re just like the Joneses.”

“I’m sure we seem strange in the eyes of a surface dweller like you. For your kind, normalcy is endless war, consumerism, and perpetual debt.”

I stood up and eyed his band of ragtag starving colonists. “This is the best alternative you could manage?”

“Try to understand –”

“Understand what? That you’re hiding a zombie colony down here?”

He paused for a few seconds. Then, he gave me a peculiar look. “What do you know about Peter and Mary?”

“Who?”

“Peter Dask. Mary Kantz. What did you do to them?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Did you kidnap them?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why are you here?”

I didn’t want to alarm him by talking about people disappearing in the tunnels. Instead, I chose to focus on my secondary objective. “We’re looking for a man who lives in these tunnels. His name is Jenson. Fred Jenson. You can see his photo in my satchel.”

“I saw the photo when we searched your stuff. What do you want with him?”

“He visited a pawn shop a few weeks back. He tried to sell something that didn’t belong to him.”

“Well, I’ve lived in these tunnels for a long time and I’ve never seen him.”

“Would you tell me if you had seen him?”

“Probably not.”

“You’re a big help. So, who are these two people you mentioned? Peter Dask and Mary…?”

“Mary Kantz. They’ve lived with us for years. A few hours ago, they took a walk down the Lexington Avenue Line. They never returned.”

Lexington Avenue Line? How come I didn’t see them?

“Maybe they got sidetracked,” I suggested. “Or maybe they went somewhere else altogether.”

“I doubt it. We’ve lost five people in similar fashion over the past few months.”

“Maybe they got sick of the crappy existence your colony seems to offer. Seriously, what the hell happened to you people?”

He clenched his fists. “It’s just a bug. The worst of it has passed. Maybe the others weren’t so lucky, but the rest of us are going to make it.”

“Wait, are you saying that people died down here too?”

“That’s enough questions. You need to leave.”

I tried to read his face but it was a mask of blankness. In my travels, I’d seen other communities with similar characteristics to his colony. Most of them functioned just fine in good times. But when things got tough, they tended to put their faith in the wrong sort of leaders. They chose smooth-talking charlatans who promised easy answers and quick fixes. More often than not, those things led the people into even greater disaster.

Was that the story behind Ghost and his colony? It made sense. Outcast by society and ravaged by disease, the survivors would’ve been tempted to turn to a charismatic leader. Ghost, with his fame, strong presence, raspy voice, and lively eyes, was a natural choice. As he consolidated his power, some people left on their own volition. The ones who stayed behind lost the capacity to act on their own.

But even as I considered the scenario, I found myself rejecting it. Despite his prickly attitude, I sensed that Ghost wasn’t interested in acquiring power. Instead, he seemed legitimately concerned for the welfare of his people.

I decided to extend an olive branch. “Are you sure…?”

“Go. Now. And don’t come back.”

“I’m not leaving without my stuff.”

He considered me for a moment. Then, he shrugged and handed me my gun and machete. After returning them to their rightful places, I retrieved my satchel from the ground.

At Ghost’s nod, the two men holding Beverly released her. Slowly, we backed out of the layup yard, keeping a close watch on the colonists.

“You okay?” I asked her.

“A few bruises but I’ll manage. You?”

“Nothing a couple of shots won’t fix.”

“They look sick. What do you make of it?”

“No clue. Let’s just hope they aren’t contagious.”

“Agreed.” She glanced at me. “Do you think we should get checked out?”

“Not yet. I want to take another look at the Lexington Avenue Line.”

“Now?”

“Especially now. Ghost mentioned that two people recently went missing while walking through the tunnel.”

“So what? They probably fled this hellhole.”

“Communities like this one are built on longstanding relationships and trust. People don’t just leave, even if they are sick. No, I think they vanished. And if we find them, we might just find Kolen and Adcock too.”

“Do you think something bad happened to them?”

I thought for a moment. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

Chapter 17

Inch by inch, I worked my way through the tunnel system, examining every single crack, cranny, and nook. I knew I was missing something.

But what exactly?

My foot splashed in water. My gaze shot to the ground. Under my boots, I saw a small stream running next to the tracks. It wasn’t deep enough to reach the third rail. Still, I didn’t feel particularly comfortable standing in it.

Beverly pointed her flashlight to the other side of the tunnel. “It’s over there too. Where’s it coming from?”

“The storm,” I replied. “The rain must’ve raised the water levels in the Hudson and East Rivers. That overwhelmed the pumps, assuming they’re even still operating. Probably parts of the sewer system too.”

She edged to the side, as far away from the third rail as space permitted. I followed suit. I didn’t know what would happen if I accidentally splashed water onto the third rail. Maybe nothing.

Maybe something.

Stooping down, I examined another section of concrete. I needed to squint to see every detail and it struck me that visibility had diminished within the tunnel. Seeing nothing, I stood up again.

For what seemed like the tenth time, I strode past the Grand Central platform, taking time to examine both the local and express tracks. My nerves tingled and every now and then, I’d check over my shoulder to make sure that we weren’t being followed. I wasn’t the paranoid type, but a little extra caution seemed in order. Assuming that Ghost told me the truth, seven people had recently vanished from the colony, two within the last few hours. Adding in Kolen and Adcock, that number rose to nine.

Nine disappearances.

All within the same general area.

It was too much of a coincidence to ignore. And unfortunately, only one explanation seemed to fit the facts. An explanation that chilled me to the bone.

Someone killed them.

All of them.

And that someone was most likely nearby.

“What happened back there?” Beverly asked.

“What do you mean?”

“During the fight with that psycho, your face turned purple and you looked like you were in pain. I thought you were going to pass out.”

“You must’ve been seeing things.”

“Are you sure? I’ve seen that sort of reaction before, back in my military days. The doctors call it post-traumatic –”

“Leave it alone.”

“But I –”

“I said leave it alone.”

“You don’t like me very much do you?”

I glanced toward her. Her hands rested defiantly on her cocked hips. Her nose was set, tilted slightly in the air. Her eyes, locked upon mine, blazed with intensity. She looked cool and calm, yet incensed at the same time.

“Did it really take you this long to figure that out?” I asked.

“Everything I did to you, I did under orders.”

“Oh, that makes it much better.”

“Anyway, Tasers are perfectly acceptable non-lethal weapons. Police officers use them all the time.”

“My favorite part was when the electricity actually entered my body. I love foaming at the mouth.”

“You weren’t in any danger.”

My gaze hardened. “That’s easy for you to say. You weren’t the one getting Tasered.”

“You’re overreacting. I had orders not to harm you under any circumstances. You were perfectly safe.”

I snorted. “That’s comforting. Let me ask you this…what if your orders were the opposite? What if Chase told you to shoot me?”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“But what if he did?”

“He wouldn’t.”

Her answer didn’t reassure me, not by a long shot. But I decided to let it go. It occurred to me that a little bonding might be in order. So far, our collaboration had proven contentious. And with a possible killer stalking the tunnels, the last thing I needed was a hostile partner.

I cleared my throat. “You said you were in the military?”

Her face, framed in a shifting pattern of multi-colored shadows, contorted. “My dad was in the navy so I was a brat pretty much since birth. While the other girls played dress-up, I read books on military strategy and tactics. I memorized everything I could find on the greats. Sun Tzu. Hannibal. Alexander. Patton. Eventually, I went to West Point and then served in the Marine Corps for a couple of years.”

“How’d you get involved with ShadowFire?”

“I met Jack while serving in Baghdad. I was disillusioned with the Marine Corps. He was recruiting new personnel. It didn’t take him long to sell me on a career with his company.”

“Is he a good boss?”

“He’s a brilliant boss, decades ahead of his time.”

I nodded. “Okay, your turn. What do you want to know about me?”

“I know more than enough about you already.”

“Is that so?”

“Your given name is Cyclone Reed,” she replied. “But you prefer to be called Cy for some reason. You were born in this city and lived here pretty much your entire life. Your dad died in rather horrific fashion when you were little and your mom never remarried. When…”

For the next minute, she proceeded to peel off facts about my life as if I were some kind of onion. It was startling, disturbing even. Clearly, my life was an open book.

Even worse, she’d memorized every word of it.

Patiently, I listened for a little longer. But when she started to reel off names of former flings, I had to draw the line.

Raising a hand, I stopped her in mid-sentence. “That’s plenty. I never thought I’d say this but I’m bored with myself. Is this what you do all day? Sit around and memorize people’s files?”

“Sometimes. But files only take you so far. If you truly want to know a person, you have to walk in their shoes, spend time with them, study their reactions.”

“Is that why you’re here? To gather intelligence on me?”

She laughed. “Not at all. You heard Jack. I’m here to help, nothing more, nothing less.”

I thought about responding but returned my attention to the tunnel instead. I could banter with Beverly later. For the time being, I needed to focus my attention on tracking down Peter and Mary. The trail was hot but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Not with water flooding into the tunnel.

Beverly walked ahead of me, her gaze and flashlight beam firmly attached to the tunnel walls. Although she continued to rub me the wrong way, I was beginning to appreciate her presence.

As she passed farther into the tunnel, her light dimmed. I felt strangely protective of her.

If something happened…

If the killer appeared…

I didn’t want to think about that.

Something splashed. My arm swept to the side, casting light on the opposite wall. Nothing. My imagination was playing tricks on me.

“Cy, come look at this!”

I broke into a run, covering fifty yards in less than eight seconds. Not exactly world-class time, but considering the environment, not half-bad either.

I slid to a stop, splashing water onto her boots. “What?”

Silently, she pointed at the ground.

I knelt down and took a closer look. At first, I didn’t see anything of interest. Other than a pile of debris, the lower half of the wall appeared no different than any other section.

Then my flashlight beam skipped over some rotten wood and rusty broken tools. It looked like there was something behind them. Something dark. Gently, I brushed the debris aside.

A hole appeared before my eyes.

It was large but well covered by garbage and slime. Its jagged, yet smooth edges indicated that tools hadn’t carved it. Rather, it looked like time and pressure were to blame.

Bending over, I saw a partially submerged passage lying behind the hole. It appeared to curve up and to the right and I guessed that it was a natural fissure in the bedrock.

Carefully, I examined the area just inside the passage. It didn’t take long for my light to catch a red smear. I brought my eyes right up to the mark and studied it. From up close, it looked more like a splatter than a smear.