HL 04-The Final Hour (26 page)

The tracks turned gradually to the left. When I glanced back again, the platform was out of sight. Nothing but tunnel visible back there now. Up ahead, nothing but Mike moving through the narrow darkness.

It seemed like we ran a long while in that suffocating close space before Mike stopped to catch his breath. I stopped beside him. I bent forward with my hands on my knees, panting, taking in great gasps of the dirty, gritty underground air. When I lifted my head, I could see, by the dim lights hung on the walls all around, that we had come to the end of the tunnel. We stood on the edge of a broader area. It was like some kind of vast underground vault or something. There were columns here and there and, between them, I could see other tracks running off in different directions. I could hear the trains moving in the distance, signal lights sizzling and track switches clicking. I could smell smoke and garbage and the filth of the place. I could see green lights in the distance turning red and red lights turning green. When I raised my eyes toward the ceiling, I could feel the city up there, the enormous city packed with people for New Year’s Eve. I could imagine them gathering in great crowds, wearing costumes, setting off noisemakers, celebrating, ready to party, completely unaware we were down here and that Prince was down here somewhere, moving to set off his deadly chemical and kill as many of them as he could.

I lowered my eyes again—and gave a sort of jump. I saw rats snuffling along the iron rails, looking for something to eat. I made a face as I swallowed my disgust.

“Let’s go, Mike!” I said. “Which direction?”

A rat went near Mike’s foot. He kicked it away. “South,” he said. “If we keep heading toward Times Square, we should intersect with Prince’s route at the Forty-eighth Street junction.” With that, he reached under his jacket and pulled out his 9mm. “At least I hope so,” he added. He checked the gun’s safety and chambered a round.

I reached under my baseball jacket to the shoulder holster there. I drew out my own weapon. I did what he did: checked the safety, chambered a round. The gun felt heavy in my hands—heavy and deadly.

“We’re gonna need these, pal,” Mike told me. “Brace yourself.”

I nodded. “I’ll do what I have to do.”

He nodded back. “I know you will.”

“I can’t believe it’s come down to just us,” I said. I could hear the anxiety in my own voice. I didn’t much like the sound of it. “Don’t you think we’ll get any help at all? The police? Homeland Security? Anyone? They’re just gonna let this happen?”

“I don’t know,” said Mike. “You can bet Rose is talking their ears off as we speak, trying to convince them that this is real.”

“With our luck, they’ll probably arrest Rose while they leave Prince free to do his thing.”

He gave a laugh that wasn’t much of a laugh at all. “Could be.”

“We don’t even know how many men Prince has. “Yes, it does.” He holstered his gun. “You ready?”

Seems a lot for just you and me to handle on our own.”

I stuffed my weapon back under my jacket. “Yeah.”

“Me too. Let’s go.”

We took off. Instead of moving down the tracks now, we moved across them, from track to track, leaping whenever we had to cross the third rail. We moved through the big underground chamber. As my eyes traveled up along the columns and walls, I saw not only the dim lights here and there, but also security cameras. That made me nervous at first. Could the police see us down here? But then I noticed that every single camera we passed was busted and hung useless in its metal frame.

Mike stopped again, holding out his hand. I felt a breath of wind rush over me. I heard switches clicking through the great chamber.

“What?” I said.

“Train,” said Mike.

Then I saw it—a bright headlight appearing down one of the tunnels. The wind grew stronger as the train pushed the air in the tunnel toward us. The rattle of the cars grew louder. The light grew bigger, brighter. Rats, feeling the rumble, came waddling quickly out of the tunnel. My gorge rose in my throat as I saw one humped rodent the size of a cat. Disgusting.

“This way,” said Mike.

He took off across the tracks, leaping over another third rail, then leaping again—over a rat this time. I followed him across one set of tracks, then another. Then, the train rushed out of its tunnel.

It was close. Big. Loud. I could feel the ground vibrating hard under my feet as it went by. I saw the lighted windows flashing past, the people crushed together inside.

Then the train was gone. Mike and I kept running, heading across the underground chamber.

Now we entered another tunnel. The walls closed in on either side of us again. The darkness closed in and the air got thick. I trained my eyes on the tunnel’s end, an archway up ahead.

But before we were anywhere near it, I felt a breath of wind on the back of my neck. I felt a tremor under my feet.

I looked back over my shoulder.

“Mike . . .”

He looked back too. There was a light behind us. The wind was getting stronger. Shadows of rats were rushing after us on the tracks.

A train. It had come into the tunnel. It was heading toward us. This time, there was no room to get out of its way.

“Go,” said Mike.

He ran at top speed and I ran right after. Fast as we could, we windmilled down the tracks toward the opening at the end of the tunnel.

The train came after us. The wind grew stronger at my back. The rumble grew louder. The ground seemed to buck around like a wild horse trying to hurl us out of the saddle.

I glanced back again. I thought my heart would just stop cold. The train’s headlight was suddenly huge, bright, blinding. The train was bearing down on top of us. There was no way we would ever reach the end of the tunnel before it ran us down.

I faced forward and doubled my speed—and even so Mike stayed ahead of me. And the train got closer. The wind got stronger as the big engine pushed a wave of air before it. The tunnel filled with the oncoming roar. I could practically feel the front end of the train at my heels.

Mike glanced over his shoulder. I could see his mouth moving, his teeth bared, as he shouted something to me. But the words were washed away by the rush of wind and the rattle of the wheels.

Now Mike spun round, stopped, grabbed my arm. He pulled me toward the edge of the track. What good was that? There was no space between the train and the walls. If we tried to duck to the side, we’d be crushed.

But in the spreading light from the train’s headlight, I saw something. Low on the wall near the floor: a deeper darkness. Some kind of opening.

Mike dragged me toward it. The train was just seconds away, barreling at us. The noise and light washed away every thought.

Mike disappeared into the opening in the wall, dragging me in after him. I had to stoop down to get my head in beneath the arch.

Then we were in. And just in time: The train hammered past, an enormous racing wall of metal. The small enclave we were hiding in bounced and rattled as if it would shiver to pieces around us.

Then the train powered by. The pitch of the noise shifted. The light began to fade. The roar got softer and softer.

Gone. Quiet. We could hear the clicks of the tracks again and the distant rumble of other trains, farther away.

I looked around at the little hole we were in.

“What’s this?”

“For workmen,” Mike said. “So they don’t get run over in the tunnels.”

“Nice,” I said. “How’d you know it was here?”

“I didn’t.”

He moved out. Bowing my head beneath the alcove’s lintel, I came after him, back into the tunnel.

Out of breath, shaken, we walked along now toward the tunnel’s end. I have to admit, I kept looking back over my shoulder, afraid I’d see another train coming down on us. But no.

Up ahead, beyond the tunnel, there were other trains going by. A glow would grow bright, pass over the tunnel walls and then fade away, then another glow would rise and fade, and another, as the trains moved in the distance. But there were no more trains in our tunnel. We made it to the end and stepped out into another open underground arcade.

This one was even bigger than the last—a vast space of crisscrossing tracks with small lights in the walls and large columns rising to towering heights above. It looked like part of a buried city, a mall maybe or some other place where people had once come to meet and talk and shop before it was sealed up underground. Now, there were only the deep shadows over everything—shadows suddenly split by a train passing out of one tunnel, through the arcade, and disappearing into another. Then the shadows sank down again and the tunnel became dark and quiet, with only the distant rattle of trains and the clicks of the switches, and the red lights turning green then red again.

“Which way now?” I asked.

Mike pointed across the arcade toward yet another tunnel. “That way. That’ll take us to the intersection I’m looking for.”

We took a single step—and then there was a high-pitched shriek—a shrieking whistle as a train shot out of a tunnel in front of us. Its headlight shot through the shadowy cavern, rolling off one column, illuminating the filthy tiles of the wall. I saw the scrambling rats. I felt the stirring air.

And I saw something else too.

Just for a moment, as the headlight went past me—in the single instant before the train cut off my view—I caught a glimpse of a face—a human face—moving in the darkness on the far side of the arcade. An oval of white. Two eyes gleaming with reflected light.

“Mike!” I said. “There’s someone there.”

But the rumble of the train drowned out my voice. He couldn’t hear me.

Then the train torpedoed past, through the arcade. For a second, I was blinded by the shift from light to darkness.

I stared at the spot where I’d seen that face. I couldn’t see anything there now.

“Mike,” I said again, my voice softer.

But before I could say another word, there was a crack, echoing off the walls of the arcade. There was a gout of flame on the far side of the crisscrossing tracks. I felt a breath on my cheek. I felt a sting as I was hit by a fragment of tile flying off the wall behind me.

“Get down!” Mike shouted, diving for the darkness.

We were under fire.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Gunfight

I hurled myself to the earth as another shot echoed through the great underground hall. The dirt and gravel in front of me exploded as the bullet hit. I was so frantic to roll out of the way, I didn’t watch where I was going. When I stopped rolling, my nose was inches from the side of the third rail. Another turn and a blast of current would’ve snuffed me out.

I took a breath to steady myself. Edged away from the rail. Reached into my shoulder holster.

I drew out the 9mm and pointed it into the dark.

A glow was growing through the arcade. A train was coming out of one of the tunnels. In the light from the headlight, I could make out four figures moving on the far side of the arcade. I turned my gun in their direction.

There was an explosion and a blast of flame beside me. Mike. Lying on the track, he’d spotted the four figures, too, and opened fire. I heard a scream from across the expanse. The light in the arcade grew brighter as the train neared. I could see there were only three figures now. They all opened fire at once, the rapid explosions of their guns visible through the shifting shadows thrown by the nearing headlight.

“Move it, Charlie!” Mike shouted.

He was on his feet, dodging over the tracks with his body bent low. I did what he did, hopping over the third rail, moving quickly toward the cover of one of the columns.

I got behind the column just as another round of shots went off on the far side of the arcade. Tiles and stone flew off the column in a white blast as I ducked behind it. Then I peeked out again and fired into the dark. To be honest, I was too pumped full of adrenaline and fear to take careful aim. I just sort of fired blindly. I knew I hadn’t hit anyone.

Mike fired, ducking from one column to another. The three gunmen fired back.

Then the train shot out of the tunnel to my left—and it was heading right for me.