New York Deep

by Andrew J. Morgan

  'Are you guys in trouble or something?'

  Josh faced the man. 'No trouble,' he said. 'It's just a . . . a misunderstanding.'

  'Okay,' the man said. 'But I don't want any problems here, you understand?'

  'I understand.'

  Josh turned back to the scene, watching and waiting as the men did their work. It seemed like hours before the two who had entered returned; Josh's limbs ached from staying so still. Once they had all boarded their SUVs and driven away, he finally allowed himself to breathe. 'See?'

  Georgie looked at him, speechless and terrified. She was shaking her head slowly. 'Josh . . .' she whispered. He wasn't sure if she was angry with him, scared for him or what, but he knew he had no time to lose.

  'Follow me,' he said, getting up and leading her by the hand to the street. The checkout guy eyed them until they were gone.

  Josh led her, as she carried Joseph, across the road and to the stairs. She didn’t resist; she seemed almost catatonic, shock preventing her from doing anything other than what Josh wanted her to. He led her up the stairs, pushed open the unlocked door, and switched on the light. Everything was untouched, as he expected, everything except—

  'The picture frame . . .' Georgie said, pointing. She approached it cautiously, sitting down on the sofa, placing Joseph down next to her, and picked it up. She held it gingerly, as though it might crumble to dust. 'The picture frame . . .' she repeated, showing it to Josh.

  Josh nodded grimly.

  'How—' Georgie was having trouble talking. 'How did you know?'

  This was it. The moment he said it aloud was the moment he committed himself to believing it, the moment he made himself admit that he was having a breakdown, losing his mind or whatever. But he knew. He knew. This was real. 'Because I've done it all before.'

  Georgie, frowning, made to speak, but couldn't. She tilted her head; Josh knew what she meant.

  'I've—' He took a breath. 'I've gone back in time. I've done all this before. I know what happens next.'

  Still struggling to speak, all Georgie managed was, 'How?'

  'It's why the CIA are after me. The tunnels—there's a room. There's something in there. Something they're desperate to keep secret.'

  For a moment, Josh thought Georgie was going to be sick. She was very pale, and teetering in her seat.

  'Are you okay, Mommy?' Joseph asked, poking her.

  'Yes, baby,' she said, holding him, eyes distant. 'I'm okay.'

  'Are you sure?' Josh said. She looked at him like she had never seen him before, wary.

  'How can I possibly believe you?' she said quietly.

  Josh's plan wasn't working out. He'd known that she, like himself, wouldn't believe it was true, couldn't believe it was true. She was slipping away; he had to get her back before it was too late. 'The picture, Georgie,' he said, gesturing to it, still in her hand.

  'You could have had it here on the coffee table already.'

  Panic was making Josh frantic. 'Okay, well, they came when I said they would.'

  'If you knew they were looking for you, it was just a matter of time as to when.'

  Josh had run out of ideas. 'Please,' he begged. 'Please believe me!'

  Georgie, standing and scooping up Joseph, said, 'How can I believe you, Josh? Time travel? You expect me to believe that? You've gotten in trouble with the CIA and the best lie you could come up with is time travel? I was right: you need to see a doctor, Josh. This is ridiculous.'

  She went to leave, but Josh blocked her. 'You can't go back home, Georgie.'

  'Get out of my way.'

  'You can't go back!'

  Georgie tried to push him, but he stood firm. 'Josh, get out of my way!' she screamed.

  'Okay,' Josh said, stepping aside, 'but if you go back they'll—they'll be waiting for you.'

  Georgie, already marching past, stopped. She turned slowly. 'What?'

  'They're at your apartment now. They're waiting for you. The picture—it was a message to me. They knew I'd come to you if they threatened you, so that’s how they knew they'd get me.'

  Georgie had nothing to say. Her expression was stern. Then it fractured, breaking into sorrow. 'Oh, Josh . . .' she sobbed. 'What have you done?'

  'I'm telling you the truth.'

  Eyes reddening, she shook her head. Then she turned on her heel and left. Josh, still standing there, considered running out after her—but he couldn't. He knew he had to let her go. He couldn't drag her into this, shouldn't have dragged her into this. The only way to protect her was to stay away. He'd already gone too far. 'Shit,' he muttered to himself.

  Retreating to the sofa, he flopped down, picking up the empty picture frame. There they'd once been, the three of them. He could remember the photo like it was still there; they'd been so happy. Now they were torn apart. He tossed the frame back down, angry. Not just angry, frustrated. Trapped. He remembered a promise he'd made to her; it came with the burning of flame and the agony of fire. He'd promised to contact them, the CIA. Hand himself in. Talk to them.

  He clenched his fists. Handing himself in would be suicide. He looked at his watch: it was five-fifteen. The fire, that had been later. He couldn't remember exactly when, but it had been later. The next day, perhaps. He had time.

  Pulling out his cell, he rang Lionel. He'd be out getting his groceries about now, perhaps not even left yet. Bobbing his knee, Josh waited for Lionel to answer. The line clicked.

  'Josh,' Lionel said. 'What's going on? You ran off on me back at the site. Are you okay?'

  'Hey,' Josh replied. 'Yeah, I'm fine. Are you at home?'

  A pause. 'Yeah, why?'

  Josh took a breath. 'I need you to do me a favor.'

  'Sure . . .'

  'The CIA paid you a visit at the site today, right?'

  'Yeah, they did. Have they contacted you, too?'

  Josh thought about his answer. 'Sort of. Anyway, they're going to visit you soon, while you're out getting your groceries—'

  'How'd you know I was going to get my groceries?'

  'Don't worry about that for now, please. Just listen.'

  'Okay . . .'

  'I want you to go out as you'd planned, but I need you to do something first: I need you to leave a note on the side with my name and cell number on it. Put it somewhere obvious like on the TV or something, a place where someone will easily see it.'

  'Hang on, are you saying the CIA are going to break in to my apartment?'

  'Yeah. They did the same to me.'

  Lionel was silent for a moment. 'Maybe I should stay back, wait for them—'

  'No!' Josh interrupted. 'No. You do not want to do that, okay? Trust me.'

  Again, Lionel was silent.

  'Lionel, you there?'

  'I'm here.'

  'Will you do this for me?'

  'I guess.'

  'Good. Once you've done that, come and meet me and I'll explain everything, okay?'

  'Where shall I meet you?'

  Josh thought. 'Central Park. By the entrance to the zoo.'

  'Why Central Park?'

  'Because I want to go down there again and find out what all this is about.'

  Lionel sighed. 'This doesn't seem like a good idea, messing around with the CIA. Are you sure about this?'

  'Hey, you trust me, don't you?

  'Sure, I guess.'

  'Then yeah, I'm sure.'

  'Okay. In that case I'll see you at Central Park soon.'

  Lionel hung up. This was the best way to do this; Josh could confront Edwards about the whole thing, then ditch his cell and stay safe. That way he'd still have the upper hand, know what was going on. Then . . . then he could try and uncover the secret of the room.

  It was as good a plan as any. Lionel would be writing the note about now, then be preparing to leave. Josh needed to leave, too. Georgie had cast off his jacket when she'd left, so he grabbed it, put it on and exited his apartment. No cabs—only public transport. He would be harder to track that way, if anyone were
still looking for him.

  The bus came after ten minutes, and he boarded quickly, checking the street to make sure no one saw him. It was half-empty, and he found a seat toward the back. All he could do now was wait, bobbing his knee furiously.

  'You seem anxious,' said an old lady sitting opposite him. 'Are you all right?'

  Josh smiled, without emotion. 'Fine, thanks.'

  'You'll worry yourself into an early grave if you keep on like that.'

  Josh smiled again, but said nothing. The thought of death didn't help ease his nerves at all.

  Once he reached his stop, he hopped off the bus and headed for the subway. He checked his cell to make sure he'd not had a call, then dipped into the subway entrance. Lionel would probably take a taxi into Manhattan, so he'd be there before Josh; hopefully he didn't have to wait too long. It would take Josh about forty minutes in total to get to Central Park, fifteen more than Lionel. Josh decided to call him when he got off the subway at the other end.

  Bursting out into the late evening sun, Josh whipped out his cell, hitting redial. There was ringing, but Lionel did not answer. Josh skipped a little quicker toward Central Park, trying Lionel again, but still he got no answer. There had also been no call from Edwards.

  'Shit . . .' he muttered, pocketing the device. He broke into a full run, negotiating block after block until Central Park came into view. The trees cast long shadows across the path, the golden evening sunshine sparkling through the leaves, and he shaded his eyes to see ahead as he approached the zoo. To his relief, Lionel was there—but that relief faded quickly when Josh realized Lionel wasn't alone. Suits, four of them. Not a member of public in sight. Josh stopped in his tracks, horrified. How had this happened? Was Lionel too late? Did they catch him as he was leaving? Did Josh make him stay at home a little too long? Did . . . did Lionel sell him out?

  'Mr. Reed,' the suit he identified as Edwards called out.

  Frozen to the spot, Josh said nothing, his lungs heaving from exhaustion and terror.

  Edwards approached him. 'Mr. Reed, we just want to talk.'

  Josh spun around, breaking into a run, almost tripping over himself. Two more agents rounded the exit, blocking him. He scanned the park, looking for another way out, but it was too late. He was surrounded. He turned to face Edwards, who was almost on him, Lionel following behind.

  'Sorry, Josh,' Lionel said. 'But this is the federal government, man. I'm not going to mess with this shit. You got to talk to them.'

  'But—' Josh squeaked. 'But Carlos—Craig—Robert—all of them! He killed them, Lionel, don't you see? He killed them!'

  Edwards, looking around, said, 'I hope you don't mean me, Mr. Reed, because I haven’t killed anyone.'

  Two agents approached Josh from behind and restrained him. He struggled fruitlessly. 'Liar!' he shouted. 'Liar!'

  'No, Mr. Reed, I'm not a liar. Whoever told you that is a liar, but not me.'

  Josh looked at Lionel—it was him who'd told him, but now, this time, it was different. He stopped struggling, and the agents let him go. 'Who then?' he panted. 'Who died?'

  'Did someone die?' Lionel said, anxious.

  Edwards addressed them both. 'Yes, I'm afraid someone did die. One of ours. They went into the tunnels to investigate, and . . .' He trailed off, expression somber.

  'So you didn't kill anyone?' Josh asked.

  'No.'

  'Then—then where are the others? Carlos, Robert? Craig?'

  'They've gone to Langley, the CIA headquarters, for research. Don't worry, they're quite safe. We're trying to put a picture together of what's going on, and we need to talk to anyone involved in this site.' He indicated to his fellow agents, who started to lead Josh out of the park. 'But there's a lot we need to do, so please, let's go.'

  'And my family?' Josh said, resisting. 'What about them? What about the picture?'

  'They're safe. I apologize for taking the picture, but it was the most efficient way to secure you after you . . . disappeared.' He reached into his jacket and retrieved the photo, handing it to Josh. Josh took it and slipped it into his pocket.

  'Now please,' Edwards almost begged. There was a desperate fire in his eyes. 'We need to go.'

  Josh considered Edwards for a moment, but couldn't see any reason for the man to lie. 'Where are we going?' he asked eventually.

  'Down,' Edwards said.

  'Down?'

  'Into the tunnels.'

  Chapter 12

  Josh didn't understand. 'Why?' he asked cautiously. 'Why do you need me?'

  Edwards gestured to the exit of the park. 'Walk with me and I'll tell you.' To the other agents he said, 'Please escort Mr. Parker to Langley.' Lionel made to protest, but Edwards cut him off. 'Thank you, Mr. Parker, but we need you with the others. Anything we can learn from you will be vital in our research.'

  Lionel looked to Josh pleadingly, but Josh nodded.

  'It's okay,' Josh said. 'I'll be fine. Go.'

  Without another word, Lionel went with the two agents, looking back at Josh over his shoulder as Josh and Edwards stood and waited. Once Lionel was gone and they were alone—save for two other agents shadowing them from a distance—Edwards said, 'What I'm about to tell you is classified. I tell you what I tell you for the benefit of the mission, and no more.'

  'Okay,' Josh said. They started to walk, also heading for the exit.

  'This isn’t the first room of its type we've found.'

  'The others were empty,' Josh said without thinking.

  Edwards slowed, eyes flashing. 'What makes you say that?'

  It was confirmation of what Josh believed—that he had indeed relived time. Despite the constant reminders, he still couldn't quite believe it. But his temporal journey was unknown to Edwards—at least, that was how he made it seem—and so he needed to backtrack quickly, protect his hand. 'A lucky guess.'

  Edwards stared at Josh for a moment, Josh unsure how he was going to react. Then Edwards smiled an unkind smile, one of distrust. 'Of course,' he said. 'A lucky guess indeed.'

  Edwards picked up his pace as they threaded the path back to the exit. Josh hurried to keep up. All at once Josh felt uneasy; Edwards was clearly going to stop at nothing to get what he wanted, and had full government backing to do so. Yet still, something had not gone to plan—something that had gone very wrong.

  'What happened to the person who died?' Josh asked carefully.

  'You don't need to concern yourself with that,' Edwards said, slightly ahead of Josh and not turning around.

  Josh stopped, folded his arms. Time to dig in his heels. Edwards clearly needed him, so he was going to make the most of it. 'I'm not going another step further until you tell me.'

  With exasperation, Edwards also came to a halt. Sighing, he approached Josh, stopping closer than Josh found comfortable. 'You see those two men over there, those agents?'

  Josh looked, and saw. They returned the look, without emotion.

  'They will carry you to that room and throw you in if you don't comply. Now—' Edwards paused for a second, composing himself. He was clearly on edge. 'Now, I don't want that to happen. I want us to work together, solve this together. If I have to force you to do something, that isn't going to be as productive, and goodness knows where we'll end up. So let's do this the right way, okay? You know that makes sense, don't you?'

  Josh briefly considered making a break for it, but he knew that he'd simply run in to more agents outside the park. There was no way out, and he decided he'd rather be in control of himself than have two federal agents push him about. After all, he had returned to the park to investigate the room for himself. 'I'll do it,' he said, 'if you tell me why your man died.'

  Edwards twitched. 'Fine,' he said, backing up a step. 'For the benefit of the mission. When we first approached the room, we felt an energy. Perhaps you also felt it?'

  'I did.'

  'When we sent an agent in to investigate it, however, he was immediately destroyed, burned into cinder by a flash of light.
He had no chance.'

  Josh swallowed. 'I'm sorry to hear that.'

  'It was a defense mechanism, Mr. Reed, a protective device to stop the wrong people entering. But you—you've been in there. It's in our report, confirmed by the site log. You're the only one who has.'

  'And that's why you need me?'

  'Precisely.'

  Josh realized that although he had agreed to cooperate, he didn’t feel quite so comfortable following it through now. 'How do I know the same won't happen to me? Something could have changed since I went in.'

  Edwards was getting twitchy again. Josh could see that he wanted to get moving, but was also trying to hold his impatience down to keep Josh onside. Josh would exploit this as much as he could get away with, if it meant staying alive.

  'You won't. The room, it's—' Edwards paused, seemingly unable to put his thoughts into words. 'It's yours, Mr. Reed. It answers to you.'

  'Why? How?'

  Edwards said nothing.

  'I take it you're not going to tell me.'

  'Once we've confirmed that you can indeed enter the room, I promise to tell you. But not before. I have done something for you already; now you must do something for me.'

  Josh was running out of stalling tactics. 'So now I go back in?'

  'That's right.'

  'And there's no other way to do this?'

  'No.'

  Josh looked back at the two agents, arms crossed and faces crosser. 'Okay,' he said slowly. 'I guess I have no other choice, then.'

  This pleased Edwards. Together they walked in silence from the park, where more agents gathered outside, turning the public away. Escape would have been impossible after all. The room beckoned to him, and he was powerless to ignore it.

  He barely recognized the site. Inside the entrance was a military checkpoint, guarded by men armed with automatic weaponry. He would have had no hope of breaking in. If he was honest with himself, he was foolish for thinking he even could.

  Further into the site were vehicles mounted with satellite dishes, but they weren't press; they were all CIA, presumably sending data back to Langley for study. Cables, thick as an arm, were routed from every direction into one coil, threading down the pit and into the tunnels.