Undertow (The UnderCity Chronicles)

by S. M. Stelmack

  Reggie rubbed his stomach as if thinking of something warm and good. “All I’m saying is she’d be someone I’d be getting back in touch with, if you know what I mean.” His hand stopped under Jack’s glare. “You know I’m in deep with Cassie. It’s you I’m thinking of, man.”

  “If you were thinking of me, you wouldn’t be here,” Jack retorted, then breathed out. “Look, I’m sorry. Can we just stick to the topic?”

  Reggie regarded Jack, then tactfully did what he was asked. “Thing is, you and I know Seline could be still breathing. Maybe taken to Seneca, or—”

  “No, we don’t,” Jack snapped. “For all I know, Seline got hit by a train or murdered by some methhead or tripped on the third rail. Maybe she’s lost, or she’s hanging out at one of the camps. Anyway, it’s not my goddamn problem. What am I, the patron saint of stupid people?”

  “You’re Jack Cole,” Reggie replied, holding Jack with his gaze. “Everyone beneath the streets knows who you are. Maybe even better than you do.”

  Jack slumped against the counter. “I know, Reggie.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “I’m afraid that if I go back down I won’t have the strength to make it back up again.”

  His friend’s faith wasn’t shaken. “You did it before.”

  Jack looked at him wearily. “That was…different.”

  “This time it would be for a woman, too,” Reggie said quietly.

  Jack shook his head. “Not incentive enough.”

  Reggie continued quietly. “Then try this. Try this woman gang-raped and hung over the third rail. You try holding onto your coffee cup, then.”

  Jack winced.

  “Listen,” Reggie added, “you don’t want the guilt. Trust me on that one, man.”

  Jack frowned. “I’ve never blamed you.”

  Reggie lowered his head and gazed into his cup. “Don’t need to be blamed to feel guilt.”

  They fell silent, each lost in their own harsh memories of the underground. For Jack, it went deeper. For him, there was one more memory of a moment that happened neither in the darkness of the underground nor the light of the surface. It was an elevator ride with Lindsay and his dad, down into the underground. He knew Lindsay was scared stiff. At the first jolt of the elevator downward, she’d reached for his hand, pulling back at the last moment. He’d waited, hoping, and then at a scraping of steel against rock, she grabbed his hand like it was a lifeline. Her grip was hard and painful, and he was pretty sure there’d be permanent damage. He never felt so happy. He let her hold on as she made small talk with his dad, and when the elevator stopped, and he finally mentioned her hold on him, he felt the sting of loss as she released his hand, and a weird satisfaction that in times of fear, her instinct was to seek him.

  Today, she’d done the same thing, reached out to him. And he’d set her aside. Now, through Reggie, she was doing it again. This was his second, and final, chance. He flexed his left hand, the one she’d held. There’d been no damage, of course. But eighteen years on, her grip on him was as strong and painful as ever.

  Jack poured his coffee down the drain and went for his parka. “Give me her number. I’ll make the call.”

  Reggie was right behind him. They headed to the nearest working payphone five blocks away. The sidewalks were poorly shoveled if at all, meaning at times they had to trudge through the darkness in knee-deep snow.

  At a point when they were up to their balls in a snow bank, Reggie called out, “Shit man! You know, having a phone is no sin.”

  Jack plowed on. “I hope you’re not complaining about the good deed we’re performing here.”

  There was silence from Reggie as frigid as the weather. At least there was, finally, silence. When they reached the phone booth, Jack dialed the number Reggie gave him, his numbed fingers stabbing the keypad.

  “Hello?” Lindsay answered. He hadn’t even heard the line ring.

  “This is Jack. Heard you didn’t get your money’s worth this evening.”

  Lindsay’s reply was quick and cold. “Jack, I need your help, not a lecture on subway safety. Which you planning on giving?”

  Jack pulled the phone away from his ear. Of all the arrogant, ungrateful, bitchy….

  “Hello? Are you still there?” Her voice came down the line faintly. He pressed the freezing plastic back against his ear.

  “Yeah, yeah. Listen, you seem to have made quite the impression on Reggie, so against my better judgment, I’ll go look for Seline.”

  Jack heard her breath catch, and then let go in a soft sigh that erased his every nasty thought about her. “Thank you, Jack. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that. We need to leave ASAP.”

  “What?”

  “I said, we need to leave as soon as possible.”

  “What’s this ‘we’ stuff? I said I’d go and look for her. Me. Alone.”

  “I appreciate your help, Jack,” she said all sweetness, like she was breaking bad news to an oversensitive employee, “and I know you don’t think I should be going down into the tunnels. I get the feeling that you’re just telling me what I want to hear.”

  Jack’s teeth ground together. “You saying I’m lying to you?”

  She carried on, apparently ignoring his tone. “Seline has already been down there a week, Jack. Thus far nobody’s wanted to help me, including you when we met. I can’t take the chance that you’re handing me a line, even if it is for my own good. I have to be sure that someone’s really looking for her.”

  “I’m not a tour operator, woman!”

  “As you might remember, my name’s Lindsay,” she said pointedly. Gone was the sweetness. “And I know you’re not. Yes, I’m stubborn and unreasonable and it’s dangerous down there and yadda yadda yadda, so let’s cut to it: I’m heading back to Grand Central, and I’m going to find Seline. You coming?”

  He should hang up right now. If all his loss and pain and misery had taught him anything at all, he should hang up. Hang up on the memory of a long-ago time when his life was much happier, and she was the first girl he’d ever really wanted.

  “You know that big clock at Grand Central. On the main level?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Be there by seven in the morning. Seven sharp.”

  He slammed down the receiver, stared at nothing. Nope, he hadn’t learned a damned thing.

  “You okay?” Reggie asked.

  “No.” And nothing more was said as they trudged back to their basement home.

  * * *

  Gripping the hand-rail above him in the swaying train, Jack was packed so close to Reggie’s back he could see the nylon weave of his friend’s parka. Butted up behind him was a woman who, from the smell, was likely heading for a day behind the perfume counter at Macy’s. He was suffocating, caught up in this press of dead end people heading for dead end jobs in a city where nobody cared about anything except their own dead end interests.

  Reggie was right. Up here he was nobody—poor, unemployed, forgotten by virtually everyone. He’d gone through jobs as a security guard, a taxi driver, a janitor, every low-level job possible. The pattern was always the same. He’d show up for the first shifts all spit and polished, but then a day would come when he couldn’t even open his eyes to the gray light of his room. He’d arrive late or not at all, and not surprisingly, he was soon reading the want ads again. Right now, he was, what the employment counselor termed, ‘between jobs’. He should be ashamed about his situation. The problem was that he couldn’t bring himself to give a damn. All that had ever really interested him lay beneath the surface.

  For below the streets his reputation spanned the city. He was a legend to be respected and feared. But it wasn’t the people that called him back. It was the tunnels themselves with their sudden twists and dark openings. It was as if he were traveling through a great, troubled mind that held the secrets and terrors of all humanity. He was forever drawn to this labyrinth, even though he knew it scarred his soul.

  Perhaps if he could help Linds
ay he could prove to himself that, at his core, he was still the same man he’d been, though he scarcely knew who that was anymore. Like one who fumbles to recall a fading dream, he felt that once he must’ve been someone that Lindsay would hold hands with. Someone who could walk both worlds and not feel lost in either.

  As the train neared Grand Central, Jack became aware of uncharacteristic nervousness building in his hulking companion.

  “It’s okay, Reggie,” he said, “You’re right about helping her. I’m glad you did.”

  Reggie turned awkwardly to Jack, and seemed about to say something, then didn’t. Instead, he looked away in grim contemplation.

  They swayed in silence as Jack turned the situation over in his mind.

  “You let Seline in, didn’t you?” he asked suddenly.

  Reggie snapped his head around. “Who told you that?”

  Jack’s face was expressionless. “Nobody,” he replied evenly. “When you’ve got guilt in you, Reggie, you don’t hide it well. Too honest for your own good.”

  The man shifted on his feet. “Shit. You gotta know, Jack, I didn’t think it would go down like this. I gave her my name to drop. She blended in. She made friends easy. Never went too deep. How’d I know she’d go off and do something stupid?”

  Jack stared straight ahead.

  “Bet you’re pissed, huh?” Reggie asked.

  “Very,” Jack said, his voice impassive. “But I’ll get over it.”

  His response nudged a nervous smile out of Reggie. “Guess that’s two I owe you.”

  The train began to slow, preparing to stop at Grand Central.

  “Damn right you do,” Jack mumbled.

  Making his way topside, Jack quickly spotted Lindsay. She was sipping fancy coffee by the information booth, her bright hair in a ponytail, her long legs parted over a backpack between her feet. He felt his heart suddenly pound hard, and he stopped, unused to the hard beat here on the surface. Must be nerves about going underground for the first time in a year. As the swell of commuters expanded and contracted around him, he waited for his heart to calm. Waited so long that it was Reggie who reached her first and him playing catch-up.

  “Thank you for changing his mind,” he heard her say to Reggie. To him, she gave a quick nod of acknowledgement.

  His life and sanity on the line for her, and he got a nod. Figured. “You and I need to get some things straight.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please, Jack. Don’t waste your breath trying to talk me out of this again. You know what I’m going to do.”

  “Wouldn’t be here if I was going to talk you out of it,” he said. “Set down the double latte and show me your backpack.”

  “What for?”

  Jack clenched his jaw so hard it hurt. Reggie slowly backed away. “I’ll be over here….”

  Lindsay stared after Reggie like a puppy after its departing owner, then she toed her backpack his way. “Have at it.”

  He forced himself to release a long breath and then knelt to rummage through it. “Not bad,” he said, pulling out her low-light goggles. “though mostly junk.”

  Lindsay dropped beside him. “Junk? That night-vision thing cost me eight hundred bucks.”

  “Uh-huh. How long is the battery life?”

  “Eight hours.”

  “Not long enough. You know this thing only intensifies light, right?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Too bad there won’t be any where we’re going. You won’t see shit unless you’re carrying a light, in which case you might as well be using a ten-dollar flashlight to make your way. If this thing had an infra-red illuminator you might be okay. Even then, not in high humidity areas. You know this thing can’t see in color?”

  Jack was a little gratified to see it was her jaw that was now hard. “Yes, I know.”

  “So how you going to spot water-damaged floors before you fall through them? By the way, these things glow, so anyone with a gun can see where your head is, and they’ll blind you under sudden bright light.” He dropped the goggles into her pack and handed it back to her. “Like I said. Junk.”

  Lindsay zipped the bag closed and stood. “Fine, Jack. I get it. Can we get going now?”

  He rose, too.“Sure. Right after I tell you the rules.”

  “Rules?”

  Was everything a question with her? “Yeah, rules. As in the non-negotiable ground rules for me helping you. Get it?”

  “Okay. What are they?”

  “The first one is keep your mouth shut and your footsteps light. It won’t matter so much when you’re close to the station. The deep tunnels are a different story. Sound travels there, and it carries your age, your gender, your size, and your numbers with it—valuable information to anyone wanting to ambush you. I’ll tell you when it’s safe to talk.”

  “Okay.” He was pretty sure he could hear her teeth grind.

  “Second rule. No whining. You complain about the filth, damp, cold, vermin or danger just once, and I’m taking you right back to the surface. As it is I’m going to have to babysit you, so don’t think I’m going to put up with any gripes or attitude.”

  “You know I’m not a complainer, Jack.”

  She wasn’t, but it was important she concentrated on proving it to him. “We’ll see about that. When we’re down there you do what I say, because I’m the expert. I’ve survived in the deepest tunnels for days without food, water, clothing or weapons. You can’t make it a mile out of Grand Central without being robbed.”

  Jack paused here. She was not going to like this next part. “And that brings me to the final rule. Reggie introduced you as my woman, and we’re going to stick with that story. That means that when we’re down there you defer to me completely, because as far as the tunnels go you can forget women’s lib. Under the streets a person’s either predator, prey or property, and until you’re ready to be the first you’re going to be the third. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  No questions? No backtalk? “You do?” Jack challenged her. “Then tell me the rules.”

  Lindsay twisted her mouth unhappily. “Be quiet, no whining and do what you say,” she replied without hesitation and then sighed before adding, “and that property thing.”

  She looked so damn annoyed, Jack nearly smiled, and to hide it he spun and started toward Reggie. Over his shoulder, he risked saying, “Great. I don’t own much. You’re my biggest ticket item.”

  He could hear her scramble after him. “Yeah? Well, hope you got a warranty. Maintenance on me is high.”

  Didn’t he know it.

  Beyond the door that Reggie guarded was a long, dim hallway. From it branched stairwells and service hatches and, at its end, was an oversized manhole held in place by a pair of weighty padlocks.

  Reggie squatted and undid them. “This here’s the fastest way down,” he explained to Lindsay. “Past all the meth heads that hang around the station. Right to the core of the City.”

  Although the cover was designed for a pry bar, Reggie’s fingers were strong enough to pull up the thick metal plate unaided. He rolled it aside, revealing a sturdy steel ladder descending into a seemingly bottomless concrete pit.

  Lindsay felt her stomach heave. Her first step on this adventure was straight into her greatest fear. She glanced at Jack. He had clearly read her mind.

  “Still not good with heights, huh?”

  A small part of her was flattered that he’d remembered. A bigger part, and the one that kicked in, was determined to keep up with him, like all those years ago. She batted her eyelashes and honeyed her voice. “My answer might be construed as whining, and I wouldn’t want to break your rules before we’ve even started, Jack.”

  “Uh-huh. I see why Reggie never stood a chance with you.”

  Reggie pretended to look affronted. “You saying I’m a sucker?”

  Jack frowned at Lindsay. Not quite at her, she realized, but her hair. It was back in a ponytail. What was his problem? “That would be the pot calling the ke
ttle black,” he answered, reaching into his backpack which was about half the size and weight of Lindsay’s. He shoved a black knit hat into her hands. “Here, stick your hair underneath this. Blondes stand out in the tunnels.”

  Lindsay clamped her mouth shut and did as instructed, twirling her hair into a knot and jamming on the hat to hold it in place. She tilted her head at Jack for inspection and caught in his tawny eyes a strange watchfulness.

  He abruptly turned to Reggie. “I won’t be back until tonight. Probably late.”

  Reggie nodded. “Najib will be here, then.”

  The two men regarded each other for the length of a deep breath with the kind of stalwartness that might pass between departing soldiers. There was a whole lifetime she was missing here, and as unjustified as she knew it was, it rankled.

  “Ready?” Jack asked, and without waiting for the reply, edged past her and started down the hole, pausing after a half-a-dozen rungs to look up at her. He gestured with his head for her to follow.

  She presented him her backside and gingerly reached for the first rung with her foot.

  “Don’t think of this as heights, Linds. Think of it as depths.” He was barely holding back his laughter.

  “That really helps, Jack. Thank you. That and knowing that you’re there to break my fall.” Lindsay felt for the next rung, her gloved fingers closing over the cold, oily bars. One more and her head was below the platform.

  “Good luck,” Reggie said, and dropped the manhole cover into place with a heavy thud that jolted Lindsay despite her expecting it. Aside from the weak light that filtered through the small holes in the metal, Lindsay found herself in pitch-blackness.

  “Don’t turn on your light,” Jack whispered below her. “Keep coming down.” The mocking had left his voice, as if the closing of the manhole shut down what passed for his lighter side.

  Lindsay continued her descent, feeling for each steel rung and doing her best to be quiet. Beneath her was silence, and she wondered how Jack could move so soundlessly. She didn’t know how far he was below her, or even if he was there at all. Obviously, it was a skill picked up in the tunnels. Chase and Stray had said people were all around them, and perhaps they hadn’t been lying.