by Amy Cross
Slowly, I let go of her wrist.
"Come on," she continues, "you've got to admit, it'd be pretty useful if this thing did start working again. And then I could call for help, and someone'd come and rescue us. Wouldn't you feel better if we could at least talk to someone? I mean, sure, we're hopefully going to find the boat, but still, I'd really like to talk to someone who might be able to tell us when this storm's going to pass. That's all I was doing. I was calling out over the airwaves, hoping that I might hear a voice back."
"And you didn't?" I ask, still a little skeptical of her claims.
"Not a squeak," she replies. "It's like the network's still down. I guess it's going to take a lot longer to fix things, huh?" She waits for me to say something. "The battery's good for a couple of weeks, especially while it's just in scan mode, so it's not like I'm wasting any energy. There was no need to tell you about it, so I didn't want to give anyone false hope, but honestly, it's just a small device. I mean, who exactly do you think I could be talking to?"
"Keep trying," I say after a moment. "If you pick up anything, let me know. With Cooper gone, I'm the senior figure in this mission. I need to know what's happening."
"I'm sorry," she says, forcing another thin smile. "I should have told you about it from the start."
Turning, I look along the storm-ravaged street. My stomach is rumbling, and I'm desperately hungry, but although it might be possible to break into one of the nearby stores and find something to eat, I figure we need to avoid any unnecessary distractions. If we can just find the boat, we can get to our main stash of supplies.
"Shouldn't we keep going?" Lacey asks eventually. "I mean, what if we don't find the boat by nightfall?"
"We will," I reply, determined to not even contemplate the possibility of being out here by the time the sun comes down. Without saying anything else, I start walking again, leading Lacey into the driving rain as we continue our journey toward the western side of Manhattan. After a moment, I glance over my shoulder to make sure that she's still behind me, and we briefly make eye contact. She looks guilty and nervous as hell, and I can't help but wonder if she's been entirely honest with me. As we make our way across another junction, I try to put my doubts to the back of my mind. The problem is, there's just something very jumpy about Lacey, and I can't shake the feeling that she's hiding something.
Caroline Jones
Fifteen days ago
"How does it feel?" I ask, as I open the rear door of the ambulance and climb down onto the street. Traffic is still backed up, and all the vehicles are moving at a snail's pace.
"Like I've been shot," Reed replies, wincing as he jumps down and pushes the door shut. "You did a good job, though. In fact, I think you did a better job on me than I did on you, so..." He pauses. "It's pretty amazing what you can do when you've got no choice, huh? I mean, rubber bullets or not, the pain..." He winces for a moment, clearly struggling. We weren't able to find any pain-killers in the ambulance, and I don't know about Reed, but my injury is definitely throbbing.
"Are you sure the equipment was sterile?" I ask.
"No," he says bluntly. It was sealed, though, so I guess..." He pauses. "We still need medical attention. What we did in there was just a way to patch things up for the moment, but it's not going to hold forever."
"So what now?" I ask as we walk between the cars and finally get back to the sidewalk. Glancing back along the street, I see that Lydecker's body is still on the ground, exactly where it fell. People are absent-mindedly walking around it, avoiding stepping directly on it while apparently not really registering that's there. I know New York's supposed to be a pretty tough place, but it still seems kind of strange that no-one gives a damn about a dead guy sprawled on the sidewalk.
"I don't know about you," Reed says after a moment, "but I need to sleep. I've been awake for nearly forty-eight hours. Whatever's happening, there's no way we can deal with it if we're dead on our feet."
"Aren't you scared?" I ask. "I mean, if we go to sleep, how do we know we'll wake up again?"
He stares at me, and I can see that there's fear in his eyes.
"It's a valid point," I continue. "The situation's getting worse, which means it's changing and evolving. We're in a worse position today than we were in yesterday, and tomorrow..."
"We just have to do the best we can," he replies.
"I'm hungry," I add. "I don't know how I'm going to be able to buy anything, but I need to eat. Damn it, I could kill for a sandwich."
"That might be the easy part," he replies, walking over to the door of a fast food restaurant. I watch through the window as he heads inside, walks behind the counter, and grabs a few burgers from the rack, before strolling casually back over to the door and coming back out to the sidewalk. No-one in the restaurant, on either side of the counter, even glances at him. "I guess there are some advantages to being practically invisible," he says with a faint smile, as he hands two of the burgers to me. "I guess we're only one step above being ghosts."
"But no-one noticed the food just floating out the door?" I ask.
"I don't think that's how it works," he replies, unwrapping a burger. "I think it's more that people see us, but we don't make any kind of impression. They perceive us for a moment, but we don't make any kind of impact on their overall sense of the world." He pauses for a moment. "At least yesterday, people could see us, even if they didn't remember us. Now they don't really see us at all, unless we specifically try to get their attention, and even then they tend to get easily distracted. They can see us well enough to not walk into us, but for some reason they can't form memories of us."
"It's as if we're slowly disappearing," I point out, trying to ignore the pain in my shoulder. "What's the next stage? Why did this happen to us, while Chloe..." I pause as I think back to the moment when Chloe was dying. So much has happened over the past twenty-four hours, I feel as if I'm in some kind of special survival mode whereby all the horrors are somehow compartmentalized in my mind and shuffled away. When this is all over - if it ever ends - I guess I'm going to have to face the things I've seen. I guess, in a way, I'm managing not to think about certain events, just as the rest of New York seems to be managing not to think about me.
"Compidome," Reed says suddenly.
"What about it?" I ask, vaguely remembering that Compidome was the name of the company that was listened on a badge in Lydecker's apartment.
"A company that no-one seems to have heard of," he continues. "It's not much, but it's all we've got to go on. After all, John Lydecker seemed to have no trouble seeing us, so maybe he was immune somehow. Unless you've got any better ideas, I think we should start looking into that place, maybe find out where they're based. They must have some kind of office space in the city. Maybe they've got something to do with everything that's happening. If Lydecker was working for them, he might have got mixed up in something that got out of hand."
"Sounds like a long shot," I point out.
"You got a better idea?"
Sighing, I shake my head.
"First," he continues, "I think we need to rest. I'm going to go insane if I don't get some sleep. Adrenalin's only going to keep us going for so long."
"We've got nowhere to go," I remind him.
"Actually," he says, "I think I might have a solution to that."
Reluctantly, I agree to follow him for a few blocks, until we reach one of the more upscale hotels in the city. Reed leads me inside, and I watch as he calmly walks behind the reception desk without being noticed. He leans over the shoulder of one of the receptionists, and after a moment he turns and takes a key from the wall, before walking back over to me. Guests and staff-members are milling about, but none of them pays any attention to Reed at all, even as he reaches me and holds the key up for me to see.
"Room 501," he says with a smile. "Completely empty, with no-one scheduled to check in for at least the rest of the day. It's not much, but at least it's a place where we won't be disturbed. I guess no-o
ne's going to notice if we raid the mini-bar, either. We'll get a few hours' sleep, and then we'll find this Compidome place."
"You really think they can help us?" I ask, as we make our way across the lobby.
"It can't be a coincidence," he replies. "John Lydecker could see us, and he could remember us, and he clearly knew that there was something strange happening to us. When he came after us with that gun, it wasn't the reaction of a family man who's pissed off at being bothered by some strangers. You heard the stuff he was saying. He knew something."
"I guess it'd be easier if he was still alive," I point out as we step into an elevator. "We could have made him tell us everything."
"You wish we could torture him?" Reed asks.
"Right now," I say bitterly, "I might be willing to endorse a spot of torture." After a moment, I realize that despite the pain in my shoulder, there's no point letting myself get too angry. "I didn't mean to kill him."
"I know."
"I was just fighting back. I thought it was -"
"I know," he says again, interrupting me as the doors slide shut and we start going up to the fifth floor. "You don't have to convince me. I was there, remember? You saved our lives, or at least you saved us from whatever the hell he was planning. I guess I owe you one."
"I just wanted him to drop the gun," I reply, as the incident replays itself over and over in my mind. "All I could think about was -"
"Don't let yourself dwell on it," he says firmly. "You'll end up in shock, and right now, we both need to stay focused. There'll be time to deal with all the other fallout once we're done here." He pauses. "We will get out of this, you know. I don't quite see how, but we're not going to be stuck as a pair of ghosts forever. John Lydecker could see us, and that means that other people will be able to see us as well."
"I know," I reply, even though I don't really share his confidence. Whenever I stop thinking about Lydecker, my mind settles on the image of Chloe's dead body instead. It's as if my thoughts are some kind of dark bird, leaping from one gruesome perch to the next.
"Don't worry," Reed says. "Compidome's a lead. Once we work out where they're based, we'll go there and find out everything they know. We'll tell them what happened to us, and what happened to Lydecker, and someone there has to know something. We'll make them talk if necessary, and..." He pauses for a moment.
"And what?" I ask.
"I guess they'll know what to do," he replies, even though the idea seems desperately vague. I can see from the look in his eyes that he knows we're unlikely to have much luck, but at the same time we can't just stop and wait to fade away. "Maybe we're not the first," he adds eventually. "Maybe this has happened to other people over the years. People who just disappear, and the fabric of life closes over the space they left behind. It can't just be us. Whatever's happened, maybe they can reverse it."
"And Chloe?" I ask. "You saw what happened to her. What if it's just a matter of time before the same thing happens to us?"
"There has to be an explanation," he says firmly. "This isn't magic, Caroline. It's something we don't understand, but there's a reason it's happening, and unless you've got any other ideas, I can't think of anything to do other than tracking down this Compidome organization. This whole thing seems to lead back to John Lydecker, and he leads back to Compidome. I guess I might be grasping at straws, but..." He pauses as the elevator doors slide open, and we both step out onto the hotel's fifth floor. "We'll just stay here long enough to regroup and get some sleep," he continues. "Just a few hours. We need to get online somehow and find out where Compidome is based. If Lydecker had a security badge, there must be some kind of office around." Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the badge that he took from Lydecker's apartment. "I guess it's a good job I pocketed this after all, huh?"
"You think we're going to break into the place?" I ask.
"I didn't say that," he replies. "Still, it's good to have a back-up plan."
Dr. Stef Grant
Today
"You see anything?" Lacey asks as we stand by the waterfront, staring out at the storm-ravaged Hudson River and, beyond, the deserted streets of neighboring New Jersey.
"Not yet," I reply. To be honest, I'd been hoping against hope that as soon as we reached the river, we'd immediately spot Sutton's boat. Given the direction from which the flare was launched, he has to be over here somewhere. Unfortunately, there's so much shoreline to check, and there are plenty of buildings obscuring the view. Without any way to whittle down the possibilities, we're going to have to make our way step by step, checking every possible location, and the search could take hours. It's not even midday yet, but I'm already starting to feel the pressure of sunset, which is going to make the search much more difficult.
"Doesn't he have more flares?" Lacey asks. "I mean, if he knows we're looking for him, maybe he'll give us another hint?"
"He will," I reply, "but he's probably conserving his stock. Maybe in a few hours he'll use another one, but for now, we just have to keep looking."
"But we will find him, right?" she continues. "I mean, he has to be here somewhere."
"Come on," I say, starting to walk along the sidewalk. "There's no point stopping and talking every five minutes. This could take all day."
"And what if it starts to get dark?" she asks, hurrying to keep pace with me. "I'm not going back to any subway station. Not again."
"We won't need to do anything like that," I tell her. "We'll find the boat."
"But if we don't -"
"We will!" I say firmly. "Can you just give it a rest, Lacey? We're going to find the goddamn boat, okay? We know it's here somewhere, so it's just a matter of being patient. It's not going to help if you're constantly bugging me with dumb questions. Just keep quiet, okay? You shouldn't even be on this mission in the first place."
"Excuse me?" she replies, sounding annoyed. "The company that paid for me to come, also paid for the whole damn thing, so I think maybe you should show a little more respect!"
"How ungrateful of me," I mutter. "You're right. Without the company, we wouldn't be here. Praise the company!"
"You know I have to write a report when we're done, right?" she continues. "If I say that you've been unhelpful and aggressive toward me -"
"Try it!" I shout, turning to her. "Just try it!" For a moment, I feel as if I genuinely want to just toss her over the railing and into the water. Fortunately, my anger quickly starts to subside as I see the terrified look in her eyes. "This is pointless," I continue. "Arguing like this is just a waste of energy, and until we get out of here, we need to conserve everything we've got. We're going to find the boat, but until then, maybe we should just stop talking. The most important thing is to focus on the task at hand, okay? I know you're scared. I'm scared too. This is a bad situation. It's way worse than Cooper and I anticipated, and now he's gone. He was one of my best friends, and he's dead, and right now I'm really not in the mood to deal with your crap."
She stares at me. "Were you and him... you know?"
"What?" Realizing what she means, I sigh. "No. We weren't. We were just friends. Good friends. Do you have any good friends, Lacey? Do you know what it feels like to lose someone you care about?" Pausing, I realize that maybe I'm being a little harsh. "Let's just keep looking for the boat, and please, for the love of God, let's not stop to argue every five minutes. I'm tired, and you must be tired too, so let's just get on with what we have to do, okay? I can't deal with all your questions right now."
"Okay," she says flatly. "Got it."
For the next couple of hours, we walk in silence, but it's the loudest silence I've ever known. Lacey is clearly pissed off at me, and I'm pissed off at her, and all I want is to get the hell away from her. She's so utterly unsuited for this kind of situation, and I know that she doesn't really understand that the storm is eventually going to pass. From the very first moment I met her, I knew that she'd get on my nerves, but I could never have anticipated just how horrific this situation would becom
e. With the storm continuing to rage all around us, making it hard to walk at times as the wind blows rain against our path, I feel as if I just want to collapse. All that's keeping me going is the thought that eventually we're going to find the boat, and eventually we're going to get away from this place. Sure, we might not have all the -
Suddenly I stop in my tracks.
"What?" Lacey asks.
I stare straight ahead, unable to let myself believe that I'm really seeing what I think I'm seeing. For a few seconds, I consider the possibility that it's a mirage, or some kind of hallucination; after all, it seems too easy that we could have stumbled upon our goal so soon.
"What is it?" Lacey continues. "Do you see the boat?"
"There," I say, pointing at a small jetty in the distance. Squinting a little, I try to get a better view of the small boat that's moored behind a flood barrier, and finally I realize that I'm right. It's Sutton's boat. We've found it. After everything that's happened, we've actually found it.
"Are you sure?" Lacey asks, as if she can't quite believe it either.
"I'm sure," I say, feeling a sense of relief pass through my body. "That's it. No doubt about it. It's still a good half a kilometer way, but that's it." I close my eyes as I realize that maybe, just maybe, we aren't going to die out here after all. Suddenly all my thoughts about Cooper are coming rushing back, and I feel overwhelmed until, finally, I'm able to open my eyes again and take a series of deep, calm breaths. We just have to keep walking for a little while longer, and then we'll be back on the boat.
"I'm sorry about this," Lacey says, standing behind me. "Please don't hate me."
"I don't hate you," I reply. It's true. Hate would be too strong a word. I merely dislike her with staggering intensity.
