Chaos (13 page)

He gave me a questioning look. “Well, gators are man-eaters, no question about that.”

Did that explain it? Were Kolen, Adcock, and the others attacked and consumed by a hungry alligator? The thought made me nauseous. “So a gator could survive on humans alone?”

“Not without being noticed.”

“What other food could it find in New York?”

“Rodents.” He tapped his jaw. “Pets. Fish too. But it would have to get outside to find them.”

His last few words rang a bell. “I remember reading a story in the New York Times about some guy who fished for carp in the basement of his building.”

“That’s a bunch of nonsense.”

“Assume that it’s not for a moment. Where would the fish come from?”

He sighed. “You’ve spent a lot of time researching New Amsterdam. Well, back then the rest of Manhattan looked quite different as well. Dozens of streams and brooks carved their way across the landscape. I couldn’t name them all. In fact, I’m not even sure all of them had names. But I remember a few. For example, Minetta Brook cut across what we now know as Greenwich Village and emptied into the Hudson. Supposedly, it was great trout fishing.”

“How about in midtown? What rivers ran through that area?”

Graham rose to his feet again and dragged himself to another bookshelf. He rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a large, colorful map. “Back in 1860, a civil engineer named Egbert Viele began tracing the remains of Manhattan’s original waterways. This map, the Viele Map, is the result of his efforts.”

Graham spread the map across his desk. “Viele’s primary concern was disease. He wanted to provide drainage for active springs covered up by construction. These days, engineers use it to avoid building on top of groundwater.”

Leaning over, I examined the map. Three separate streams ran southeast, intersecting around 42
^nd
Street and 3
^rd
Avenue. From there, the combined stream ran all the way to the East River.

I pointed at them. “What happened to these waterways?”

“They got pushed underground to make way for new construction. But they didn’t go away. They’re still flowing under the surface, fed by recurring springs. When the tide changes, they even wreak some havoc from time to time.”

“And yet you don’t think fish still live in them?”

“Fish don’t live underground. If a stream ran through a pond, I suppose a fish could get sucked into the current. But otherwise, it just doesn’t happen.”

“What about cave fish? Don’t they live underground?”

He looked thoughtful. “Good point. Still, for a population of fish to self-sustain under Manhattan, it would need some way to access food derived from photosynthesis. Either that or someone would have to feed them.”

“But it’s possible, right?”

“Unlikely. But possible.”

An alligator under Manhattan. The very idea seemed fanciful. And yet, between the tooth and the corpses, it was the only explanation that fit the facts.

“Are you going to hunt it?” Graham asked.

“Hunt what?”

“I’m not an idiot, Cy. You obviously think an alligator is living in the sewers and eating people. So, what are you going to do about it?”

I shook my head. “My role’s over. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“Do you really think a gator’s down there?”

I stood up. “I don’t know for sure. But something’s down there. Something evil. And it needs to be stopped.”

Chapter 20

My brow furrowed as I attempted to recall that once-familiar odor of fresh barbecue. My breathing slowed and my senses stirred.

I flashed back three years ago. I saw the litter on the sidewalk, the flowerboxes hanging from windows above. I heard the occasional screeching of tires, the chirping of birds. But try as I might, my nose just wouldn’t cooperate. The best I could manage to gin up was a dull, lifeless memory.

My lip curled in annoyance. That aroma had remained locked in my brain for the last three years. But now, I felt it slipping away.

It was frustrating yet comforting. I’d miss the memory. But if good memories could fade, perhaps bad ones could as well. Maybe someday I’d forget my sins. Maybe I’d forget all that transpired three years ago. Maybe I’d even forget the last few days.

Maybe.

Twenty-four hours had passed since I’d first set foot in New York. Twenty-four long sleepless hours. My limbs felt tired and my legs demanded rest. My body ran on fumes, yet my mind remained crystal clear.

I shuffled the facts in my brain, examining them over and over again. Hartek’s treasure. The mysterious homeless man. The alligator attacks. The diseased colony. Something connected them all. Something that continued to escape me.

But what?

Strong winds whipped down the block. The surging rainfall switched directions, drenching my torso. Never in my life had I seen a more ferocious storm. Even time itself couldn’t weaken it. If anything, the rain had grown stronger since I’d arrived in Manhattan. Ancient civilizations would’ve considered it a sign from above.

I considered it a sign to get indoors.

As I neared the intersection, I caught glimpses of morning traffic. Lines of cars, bumper to bumper, ran as far as I could see. I noticed furious faces, staring straight ahead. Clenched hands wrapped around steering wheels. Mouths working a mile a minute, spitting anger into Bluetooth devices.

My mind drifted to Kolen. Did an alligator really kill him? It seemed so unlikely and yet I couldn’t think of any other explanation that fit the facts.

I swallowed as I recalled his dead body. Saliva burnt my throat like battery acid. Quickly, I put him out of my mind.

I turned at the corner and started to walk down 78
^th
Street. Despite the heavy cloud cover, I could see the familiar apartment building. My eyes lifted toward her window, second from the left and four stories above ground. It shone brightly.

A sudden gust of wind blasted into my side. My body tipped. Fighting hard, I managed to regain my balance without a spill.

I glanced upward. Storm clouds churned in the sky. The tempest seemed to worsen by the minute.

I started walking again. My boots stomped across the slippery pavement, sending small puddles of water flying into the air. After reaching the exterior of her building, I stepped underneath the overhang.

Cupping my hands around my eyes, I peered through the doors. A small lobby sat on the other side of the glass. Although nothing fancy, it appeared clean and well kept. A dark brown rug covered the floor, its color and texture hiding any traces of wet, muddy boots. Off to one side, I saw a wall of mailboxes, a set of crooked stairs, and an elevator.

A list of names with corresponding buttons was mounted on the wall next to me. I ran my finger down the list to Apartment 4H and read the name.

D. Blair.

I pressed the appropriate button. A faint buzzing noise hissed from the wall, followed by static.

“Who is it?”

I took a deep breath. “It’s Cy,” I replied into the metal speaker. “Cy Reed.”

Silence followed. After a few seconds, I tried again. “Can we talk for a few minutes?”

More silence followed.

Finally, she coughed. “I don’t have time for this right now.”

“I can come back later.”

“I won’t have time then either.”

“I understand. Say the word and I’ll never contact you again.”

Once again, silence fell over the area. As I waited for her answer, I stared hard at the door, as if my gaze could somehow cause it to magically open.

“Cy?”

The faraway voice lacked static and seemed to come from above. Venturing out from underneath the overhang, I saw the silhouette of a face looking down at me. I squinted, trying to peer between the raindrops, but her features were impossible to distinguish.

“I’m here,” I called back.

“Why?”

“I wanted to clear the air.”

“That makes one of us.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I owe you an apology. I was a jerk to leave the way I did. You deserved better.”

Lightning flashed across the sky and I caught a tiny glimpse of her face. It looked blank. But I could sense the emotional struggle just underneath the surface.

“You never said goodbye.”

My mind flashed back to that fateful night. I remembered walking into her apartment, pretending that nothing had changed. We talked. We ate. We slept together.

Late that evening, I snuck out of her room, packed my bag, and left New York. Just like that, my life changed forever.

“You left me in the middle of the night.” Her voice changed. “You didn’t even have the guts to tell me to my face.”

“It seemed like the easiest –”

“Well, it wasn’t,” she said, practically yelling now. “You never said a word to me. You just left me this lousy note.”

She reached her hands out of the window. I saw a spark and a flash of light. A brief flame erupted into the dark sky.

As the ashes drifted toward me, Diane turned away. The glass slammed down to the sill and I suddenly felt very cold. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I watched her window for a few seconds, searching for her silhouette.

But it never appeared.

I backed away from the building. Then I turned and retraced my steps. I crossed slabs of concrete, feeling numb both inside and out.

Thunder crashed across the sky and the rain picked up speed. Hunching down, I struggled through the stormy weather.

I decided to make one more stop at ShadowFire’s headquarters. Despite Beverly’s threat about yanking my payment, I needed to tell them about the alligator. Once I did that, I’d leave Manhattan.

This time for good.

A loud pop deafened me.

And then, everything went black.

I looked around. All nearby artificial lights had been extinguished. It looked like a power outage. And judging by the blocks of dark buildings in all directions, it was a massive one.

Seconds passed and I became aware of another light, a smaller one and far more distant. My eyes drifted to the sky. High above, I saw the sun’s rays peeking through the thick cloud cover. It was beautiful, breathtaking even.

There was something strange in the air. I could sense it. It made me feel small, but at the same time, free.

The sound of rain splattering against the sidewalk disappeared. I no longer tasted salt in the air. One by one, my senses faded away until only my eyesight remained.

And as I stared at the wonders of nature, something changed within me. I couldn’t leave New York, not yet. Last time I faced adversity, I’d tucked tail and ran away. I’d spent the last three years running. And all I had to show for it was a trainload of guilt and endless bouts of anxiety.

I didn’t want to run any longer, not from New York, not from Diane, not from anything else. I needed to make peace with my past. I needed to take charge of my future.

Abruptly, a thought hit my brain. It happened so fast that I never even saw it coming. And after it passed, I finally understood.

I adjusted my direction, steering myself back toward the subway tunnels. I just hoped Beverly had left them unlocked. I needed to gather proof before I went to her and Chase. And I needed to do it fast.

If my theory was correct, the Grim Reaper wasn’t done yet.

And that meant that there was more death to come.

Lots of death.

Chapter 21

Sidling up to the wall, I took a quick peek into the layup yard. The space was dark and muted. In the dim light offered by a small, crackling fire, I saw a single shadow. It was large and shaped just like the giant I’d fought the previous night.

Terrific. Just what I need, another round with that monster.

The giant swept across the yard and back again, evidently keeping watch over the area. As my eyes adjusted to the quality of light, I noticed a second person. He seemed to come out of nowhere, a fact I found intriguing. The man walked a couple of yards and disappeared into the far end of the layup yard.

It made sense that the colony lived in that part of the space. The layout provided them with more protection from prying eyes. Fortunately for me, it also made the near end of the yard vulnerable to infiltration.

I continued to observe the near end of the yard for the next couple of minutes. Eventually, a petite woman strode into my line of sight. She glided toward the back wall. As she walked, she pumped her arms, waving a plastic bottle back and forth in the process.

Abruptly, she disappeared into thin air.

Two minutes later, she reemerged. Adopting a swift pace, she walked across the ground, still swinging the same bottle. Moments later, she vanished into the other half of the layup yard.

I turned my attention back to the giant. I timed his movements as he trooped back and forth, in and out of sight, over and over again. After memorizing the pattern, I ducked into the layup yard and flattened myself on the ground. I waited for him to run through his pattern again before standing up. Then I darted toward the back wall.

I heard footsteps as I moved and I turned my head for just a moment.

My foot caught on something.

My arms splayed to the side.

My body tipped.

I fought to keep my balance.

Abruptly, I crashed to the ground with a jarring thud, my gun rattling hard against the concrete. I sucked in a mouthful of air as the giant wheeled around and stared in my direction.

Shit.

Quickly, I rose to a knee and raised a hand in front of my face. “Sorry,” I said in an overly deep tone. “My fault.”

The giant stared at me and I felt like a kid caught shoplifting. My eyes drifted to the obstacle on the floor.

My chest tightened.

It was a body, newly dead.

Steeling myself, I stood up. I was in too deep to back out now. Confidently, I strode toward the back wall.

I felt the giant’s eyes blazing a hole in the back of my head.

I kept walking.