Undertow (The UnderCity Chronicles)

by S. M. Stelmack

  She didn’t believe that, she couldn’t. Not after what they shared last night.“And what about when you look at me?”

  His voice remained hard. “You’re beautiful. That’s not me saying it, that’s a fact. But I look at you and all I see is what I can’t have.”

  “You had me last night.”

  He gave a derisive snort. “Did I really? Because I’m beginning to doubt anything ever happened. I wake up, you’re not there, and when you come back—not alone—you bring bagels.”

  “I didn’t want to come on all hot and heavy with Reggie and Janice there.”

  “I didn’t know eye contact was hot and heavy.”Again, he jerked at his hand and again she didn’t let go.

  “Listen, I didn’t want you feeling you had to act differently around me, I wanted to give you space.”

  “You know, Lindsay, how screwed up I am. The last thing I need is for you to pretend something didn’t happen when it did. Not something this fucking important.”

  Of course. What had she been thinking? “I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t want you believing you needed to feel things for me that you can’t. I wanted you to know that I was okay with that. What happened last night might not have been romantic, but it was real…and for me, it felt like a new beginning for us.”

  It was hardly the time to be talking about the future what with dirt and danger all around. Yet, incredibly, Jack softened. “Listen, Lindsay, before we go on, I need to tell you something. I’d planned to do it this morning. It’s about somebody.” He winced at the last word and paused, clearly thinking about how to go on. Then suddenly he stiffened. Cocked his head. Looked at his watch.

  “You hear that, Reggie?”

  Reggie, who’d been giving them some space, responded after a pause, “What did you catch?”

  “The clicking of subway wheels…”

  Lindsay looked upwards. “We’re near a station.”

  “…at the wrong time.”

  “Think it’s them?” Reggie said.

  “I don’t know. We can’t stay here, even if it’s me being paranoid.” He turned back to her and lowered his voice, his grip so tight on her hand she got a taste of what it was like for him all those years ago. “Listen, Linds. You need to understand that all the mystery of this place is a trap. Go any deeper and nothing will be the same. The underground will change you, and none of it will be for the good.”

  “You think I’m not already changed? What do you think happened when my family was wiped out except for Seline?”

  “I’m not going to pretend I know what that was like but in the end, it didn’t keep you from living your dreams, from being who you are, maybe even something more.”

  Now, she understood. “Is that what happened to you, Jack? They took part of you?”

  “I lost my soul, Linds. Anyone who experiences the Moles is damaged. Even if Seline surfaces alive, she won’t be the same. In a very real way, no one gets out of here alive. And dammit, I need you alive.”

  His pain and desperation cut into her, squeezed her heart as hard as his hand on hers. She shook her head in denial of everything he was telling her. She couldn’t go back. Seline needed her. They would all make it back. Everything would come right. Then, she looked into Jack’s haunted eyes, and didn’t know what to think anymore.

  Reggie called from across the room. We got to move. Still another hour before we reach Agharta.

  Still holding his gaze, she said the only thing she could. “Coming!”

  * * *

  So busy was Lindsay thinking through her conversation with Jack that they were almost at the end of the abandoned train tunnel before she registered Reggie’s final words.“Agharta? I thought the place was called Seneca.”

  “We have to pass though Agharta to reach Seneca, and again on our way to The Pits,” Reggie explained. “It’s about the size of Sumptown.”

  “They survivalists, too?”

  Reggie hitched up the strap of his gun, his flashlight an ever-moving search beam. “Everybody's a survivalist down here. These people are more like tunnel doctors, and pretty good ones too. One of them especially. She’d kill you if you crossed her, but you’d swear she could raise the dead the way she—.” He halted his chatter, then steered it in another direction. “They got all kinds of weird ideas about the tunnels being part of Atlantis or something. Got started in The Burbs, then set up their own place down here after the cops came. Me and Jack know a couple of them, so they’ll be cool with us showing up.”

  Lindsay looked over her shoulder. “Spent much time there, Jack?”

  “Yeah.” A single edged word. There was more to it than that. There was always more when it came to him.

  Reggie stopped, Lindsay almost bumping into him. He was standing at a thick steel door similar to the one that had allowed them into The Gallery, except this one was set within a massive brick wall that sealed the tunnel from the outside world. Yanking the heavy portal open Reggie revealed a damp, crumbling hallway, its walls studded with leprous-looking mushrooms, at the end of which was an old-fashioned service elevator—minus the elevator.

  The metal lattice doors of the elevators were eerily intact. Reggie slammed them open with his shoulders, launching a screech that echoed loudly downwards. “Best they know someone’s coming,” he explained in a full voice. “You don’t want to be surprising nobody. Thrill killers pay ‘em a visit now and then, so they’re quick with their trigger fingers.”

  Lindsay eyed the empty elevator shaft, a hard lump in her throat. “Thrill killers?”

  Jack stepped around her, inspecting the shaft and area with his light. “Psychos. They find each other at fetish clubs, racist cliques, the internet…and come down here hunting tunnel folk. Most call themselves vigilantes, think they’re doing the city a favor by exterminating vermin.”

  Lindsay recoiled. “People actually do that?”

  Reggie held his beam back down the way they’d come. “Kill a topsider and you’ve got the NYPD all over your ass. Down here there ain’t no laws, so this is where they come to get their kicks.”

  “Only sometimes they never make it back,” Jack added.

  Something in his tone made Lindsay and Reggie stare at him uncertainly.

  He didn’t seem to notice. “We’re wasting time. Let’s get going.”

  Anchored to the lattice panel was a thick nylon rope which extended down into the depths, its length tied into knots every couple of feet or so. Lindsay aimed her light over the edge. It was a long, long way down. Her legs almost buckled, and she backpedaled away—fast.

  She couldn’t miss the looks of dismay the two men exchanged. Damn. She couldn’t let them down. Reggie checked his pack and gun, then said with forced cheer, “I’ll call when I reach the bottom.”

  Taking hold of the rope, Reggie swung out, then began to shimmy down. Lindsay watched the beam from his light ricochet around the shaft for a few seconds, and then it and Reggie were swallowed into the darkness. Jack snapped on the flashlight beneath his gun as the illumination from Reggie faded.

  “The rules still apply. Get going, woman.”

  Lindsay’s legs were trembling. “Quit being a jerk and give me a minute."

  “Oh, nice one. I’m the jerk,” he said quietly, then he slammed his fist against the lattice, rattling the metalwork. “Didn’t I tell you I’d do this myself?” he exploded. “But oh no, you think that just because you conquered the world on the surface, you’re smart enough to take on the underground. You think you can handle everything, then you come up against the first little challenge and you fall apart—”

  “I’m not falling apart! I’m taking a moment to get myself together, all right?”

  “No, it’s not all right. What are you going to do if we’re on the run from the Moles? ‘Excuse me, I’m a little nervous around heights. Give me a moment to get myself together and then we’ll continue the chase.’ If you’re in the way, Lindsay, then it could cost lives. Reggie’s. Seline’s. And most certainly your
own precious hide.”

  Lindsay’s patience with him snapped. “What about you, Jack? Aren’t I endangering your life, too?”

  “I already told you I’ll live.”

  “Oh, yeah, right. You can outrun Moles to the surface and then you’re lost. You’ll crawl into a hole, pull the plugs and eat scrambled egg sandwiches for the rest of your life.”

  “At least I’ll be alive. Except then I’ll have Reggie’s death on my hands. He’s down here because he feels guilty, and wants to make things right. You’re down here because you think you can make things right, despite what I just got through telling you. He’s a good man. You’re a fool.”

  Lindsay flinched, then looked away. She walked stiffly to the edge of the shaft. She stared at the rope as it swayed from Reggie’s movements. It gave a wild shake and Reggie’s voice echoed from below. “Yo!”

  The rope came to a standstill, and Lindsay grabbed for it. Her backpack and the gun unbalanced her, and she swung out into the dark opening, her grip slipping. She cried out and flailed with her legs, failing to wrap them around the rope, she went into an uncontrolled slide.

  It all happened in a split second and then the rope steadied. Jack’s voice boomed down at her. “Lindsay, feet against the wall! Now!”

  Her boots thudded against the concrete surface about six feet below the opening. Her heart hammered loud in her ears.

  Jack set his light at the edge of the pit. “I’m going to pull you up. Hold on tight and walk up the wall.”

  When her head and shoulders appeared above the edge, Jack reached down and hauled her up by her ass. She laid flat on her stomach, her face tucked in the crook of her arm.

  Reggie’s voice rose hollowly up the shaft. “Everything OK?”

  “Yeah,” Jack called back to him. That same word, this time weary and resigned. It had Lindsay pushing herself onto all fours. “Listen—” he started in.

  “Don’t say it, Jack. I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t need to hear it again.”

  “I already told you before that you don’t know what I’m thinking.”

  Lindsay stood, swaying only a little. “Fine, Jack. Fine. Except this time whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it.” She made for the shaft. “Just tell me how to get down this fucking rope, all right?”

  He gave a small sigh, which she didn’t care to interpret. “First of all,” he said, “take off your gun and pack.”

  Lindsay did so, her body relaxing from the release of the weight.

  “Okay, now the bottom of the shaft isn’t all that far down,” he continued. “I’ll steady the rope for you, and all you have to do is take hold of it and step out. You ever play on a tire swing when you were a kid?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it’s no harder than that. You stand on the knot below you, lower your hands, then your feet, and inchworm your way down. Keep your eyes on the wall, not up or down, and you won’t get vertigo. Take it nice and easy, and you’ll reach the bottom before you know it, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He leaned out and snagged the rope, handing it to her. She took it and drew a deep lungful of air.

  “Good. Now, hold tight and step off. I’ll keep it steady.”

  Lindsay closed her eyes, took another deep breath, and swung gently out into space, her hands clutching the rope. Her feet instantly found the knot beneath them, and then she bumped against the wall of the pit.

  She opened her eyes, and without thinking, looked down. The light from Reggie’s flashlight was a glowing pinprick, and she realized that she was hanging a good five stories above him.

  Jack, you lying bastard. Shutting her eyes, she clamped her body around her lifeline.

  “You’re okay, Lindsay,” came Jack’s calm voice. “Just lower your hands to the next knot, and ease your way down.”

  Stiff with fear, she slowly uncurled one hand from the rope, bringing it down to the next knot, then repeated the process with the other.

  “Good work,” Jack said. “Now your feet. Hold on and bring them down together.”

  After several shaky seconds, Lindsay managed to comply.

  “Okay,” he encouraged her. “You’re now two feet lower than you were. All you have to do is repeat that till you get to the bottom. No problem, right?”

  “Right,” she whispered, keeping her eyes on the pitted concrete wall of the shaft. “No problem.”

  Her descent was painfully slow, each movement a mental battle between determination and fear, with the former only narrowly winning each round. A time came when there was a draw, and Lindsay hung in the pitch darkness where neither the light from Jack nor Reggie illuminated her. Senselessly she glanced upward to Jack. Not surprisingly, she saw only blackness, and with her head tilted back, her hat dropped off. Damn, her hat would make it down before she did. If she did.

  “Bastard.” Somehow the expletive made her feel better, gifting her momentary release from her fear.

  “Bastard,” she repeated experimentally and found her hand opened more easily than before. She swore again and her legs slid down the rope. Cursing thusly in self-encouragement, she continued on. Her fear didn’t lose its grip on her—sweat slicked her body and her hands were starting to cramp—but she’d found a way to keep going.

  Like the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, she saw the beam of Reggie’s flashlight playing bright and bold upon the wall. Sneaking a look down, she saw he stood only ten feet below her, atop the shattered remains of the missing elevator car.

  “You go, girl!” he laughed. “You’re almost here.”

  Lindsay slithered the rest of the way in relief. Reggie put one of his huge hands on her shoulder. “You okay?”

  “I am now,” she smiled, at first weakly, then in broad triumph. She gave Reggie a hard, strangling hug. “God, am I glad to see you.”

  She shook the rope and shouted up the shaft, “Yo!”

  The rope wiggled in response as Jack began his descent.

  Reggie climbed off the car, her following. She turned to him and found his face serious, his gaze trailing off along the dark corridor that led from the shaft. He switched his gun light on and tossed his flashlight to Lindsay as he pointed the weapon into the blackness.

  “What is it?” she whispered. Reggie didn’t answer. Instead he motioned her over to the wall, himself taking cover behind some of the wreckage while he waited for whatever he was sensing to show itself.

  For long moment all was quiet save the soft creak of the rope, then from out of the darkness came a man’s voice, sharp and rasping.

  “You made a wrong turn, asshole. Better go back.”

  “Neil?” Reggie called back. “That you?”

  “Who’s that?”

  “It’s me, Reggie. Remember me from The Burbs? I got a couple of people with me. It cool if we come down?”

  From out of the shadows a figure appeared, and Reggie lowered his weapon as it materialized into a ragged-looking middle-aged man. His long black hair, broadly streaked with gray, was tied back severely, and he was bundled into several layers of mismatching clothes, all of which looked like they were garbage fodder. He carried a battered rifle held together by duct tape, probably more of a danger to him than anyone else.

  Neil held up a hand to shield his eyes. “Who you got with you?”

  “Jack Cole…and his woman.”

  The man stopped, staring up as Jack appeared on the rope, then glanced at Lindsay, his expression hardening into suspicion and distaste.

  Jack touched down and hopped from the wreckage to join them. He shot Lindsay a look as clearly disapproving as Neil’s had been, causing her back to straighten. What had she done now? And then he did exactly what Neil had done, turned away and ignored her completely. He even angled himself in front of her, effectively cutting her out of the discussion. Jack was soaking up this submission stuff for all it was worth, and she couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

  Yet.

  Jack smiled urbanely, as if t
hey’d arrived at an upscale dinner party. “Sorry for the intrusion.”

  Neil nodded in wary acknowledgement. “You’re all a long way from Grand Central. What’s brought you down to us?”

  “Just renewing old acquaintances,” Jack said.

  * * *

  Deep below Central Park ran a subterranean offshoot of the Hudson River, its cold waters cutting though a natural cavern to create an underground canyon. Perched on the edge of this dark gorge sat Agharta, its cinderblock huts huddled close to one another in the deep chill. Unlike Sumptown, however, the tiny community was relatively well lit, illuminated by cheerful lanterns that hung outside the homes and several inviting campfires. People were gathered about the fires, talking and joking, and were it not for the gloomy setting, the tiny village would have looked almost homey.

  Approaching the outskirts, Lindsay heard the lilting melody from a flute echoing through the chamber, the muffled cooing of what sounded like pigeons, and the giggling of children. Several youngsters were running about the little village in a game of tag, and spotting Neil, they came scampering toward him, obviously delighted at his return and showing no fear of the visitors he was with—except Lindsay.

  “Neil! Neil! Who’s them?” A little girl with twin black braids and a pointed chin grabbed his sleeve, and hopped up and down. She was surprisingly clean, her face and hands a pale grey in the light. The other children, too, showed the same shine, a miracle of maternal devotion given the unhygienic conditions.

  Neil tugged on a braid. “Reggie and Cole.”

  And Lindsay, Cole’s woman. Remember? What was she, a pariah?

  “Put your cap on,” Jack ordered over his shoulder.

  “I can’t. Lost it in the elevator shaft,” she hissed.

  “Figures. No one will talk to you because of your hair. They think you’re a Nazi.”