New York Deep

by Andrew J. Morgan

  Edwards's grin returned, unmatched by his eyes. 'You're cleverer than I thought,' he said, voice perhaps wavering a little. 'This is why we must work together.'

  'The portal is dangerous,' Josh said. 'Why can't you understand that? It needs to be destroyed.'

  'I'm afraid I can't let you do that,' Edwards said. 'I can't let you destroy the most important technological advancement mankind has ever discovered.'

  'But don't you see?' Josh bellowed at him. 'There won't be a mankind if you don't shut it down! I've seen it! I know what happens!'

  By his body language, Edwards looked like he wanted to explode, but he held his station. 'How do you know that your plan will even work?' he said calmly. It was a good point. Josh had put blind faith in the guidance of these—these beings—to tell him what he needed to do. Could he trust them? He had no other choice.

  'You know it will, Edwards.'

  Edwards ruffled at having his name used.

  'You know it'll work, because you won't let me do it.'

  'Merely a precaution.'

  A clank from the elevator shaft told Josh that it was nearly there. Why was it taking so long? It felt like hours had passed, although it had only been seconds. 'No, it's not,' Josh said. If Edwards really believed the seed would not close down the portal in Manhattan, then why was he so vehemently against it?

  A realization dawned on Josh. 'Oh God . . .' he whispered. 'When I touched the Hawkene shards and you told me you'd seen them glow like that before—that was because it's happened to you too, isn't it?'

  Edwards was making no effort to hide his anger by this point, but he was silent. Josh continued.

  'When you first found them, the creatures, you were given the same power I have, the same authority, weren't you? But you didn't use it to help them, you used it to capture them, exploit them. And one of them died, and your power was revoked. You know the seed will shut the portal, because you feel it too.'

  It was a stalemate: until the elevator finally arrived, neither party could make a move. The next words Edwards spoke would be the decider. 'Show me the seed,' he said. Josh's stomach dropped.

  'What?' he asked.

  'Show me the seed.'

  'I—I don't need to. You know I have it.'

  The grin reappeared. 'He doesn't have the seed,' he said to his fellow agents.

  'Yes I do!' Josh yelled. 'Stay away!' He looked up over his shoulder; another few seconds and the elevator would be there. The agents still couldn't shoot him, but they could most certainly grab him and restrain him.

  'Take him down,' Edwards commanded.

  The agents sprinted toward Josh, running either side of the pit while Edwards stayed rooted at the head of it. The ground rumbled as the agents sprinted, and Josh prepared himself for the impact. Then the whole room shook, and a wailing sound of tortured metal followed. The agents stopped in their tracks to look back at the pit. Edwards stepped backward, thumping up against a wall of equipment.

  From the pit, the creature rose, its shimmering, amorphous form climbing out in great, staggering motions. As it emerged, Josh could see the seed embedded in its side, pulsing gently. The agents aimed their weapons, but Edwards held up a hand.

  'Don't shoot it!' he cried out.

  The creature emitted another deep rumble, and then a high-pitched scream that had all of them clutching at their ears. It stood tall over Edwards, looking down on him, its crystalline form shifting and writhing. Then it began to collapse in on itself, folding layer over layer, disappearing within its own folds as it shrank toward the ground. The agents tracked the creature with their weapons as it grew smaller, its quadrupedal state blurring into one twisting pillar of swirling crystal.

  It shrank until it was no taller than Edwards himself. Josh stared on, rooted to the spot. Then a crack, as the pillar began to split. Starting from the bottom, it tore in two, separating into halves right up to its middle. Tendrils also emerged from the top, curling down its sides.

  Josh realized what was happening, and he could see that Edwards had realized too: it was taking Edwards's form, albeit crudely, and when it was done, it stood before him, a mannequin of crystal. The elevator arrived, but Josh did not move—he watched.

  The creature took a step toward Edwards, a shaky, cumbersome step. It staggered, catching itself with slow corrections, almost like a robot learning its first steps. Edwards had gone pale, hand still raised from his command to hold fire. The creature, a pace or two away from Edwards, seemed to be studying him. Its crystalline shape, seed still embedded in its back, pulsed as the Hawkene had done when Josh had touched it.

  Then, in an instant, the creature slammed Edwards back into a metal panel, sending him tumbling to the ground. Dazed, Edwards crawled away from the creature as the other agents opened fire on it, bullets splintering chunks of crystal from its body that were exhausted of color before they even hit the ground.

  'No!' Edwards shrieked, still on the ground, holding his head. 'Stop!'

  The creature howled the high-pitched scream again, then tumbled onto all fours and galloped out toward the exit.

  'Don't let it get away!' Edwards screamed, waving frantically at the other agents. Josh took this as his opportunity to leave, pulling the elevator cage open and jumping aboard. Button punched, the cage began its journey upward, leaving the echoing shouts of Edwards behind.

  As the elevator trundled up, it gave Josh a chance to catch his breath and think. What now? He didn't have the seed anymore. There was only one thing for it: he'd have to go back to the portal and start all over again.

  He checked his cell: no signal. When he reached the surface, he would check again, call Lionel. If he wasn't already in CIA custody, he'd know what to do. The East Side Access tunnels would most certainly be guarded by now, but Lionel would know of another way in, surely? If anyone knew, it would be Lionel.

  When the elevator finally reached the end of its slow journey, Josh retracted the cage and cautiously stepped out into the cold night. He was in a forest somewhere, the entrance shrouded in undergrowth to keep it hidden. The view was thick with trees and he could see no further than ten or so meters. Even the night sky was blocked by the canopy, only a few moon rays making it through for him to see by.

  Checking his cell, he saw he still had no signal. Fortunately it seemed like the agents sent to capture him hadn't arrived in time. Better make myself scarce, Josh thought. He headed away from the hidden entrance, walking in as straight a line as he could.

  Soon, he came to a clearing which surrounded a hill tall enough from which to see above the trees. The sky was clear, and the crescent moon was bright, so he climbed the hill to survey the view.

  In almost every direction, all he could see were trees. There appeared to be a road cutting through about a mile away, and another few miles further he could see the glow of a small town. It would take at least an hour to walk there. He checked his cell again, and up there he had just enough signal to make a call. Dialing Lionel's number, he waited and listened. It rang, then clicked.

  'Josh, is that you?'

  Relief flooded through him. 'Yeah, it's me.'

  'Are you still with the CIA?'

  'No, are you?'

  'No. I went home after you went below ground. They tried to pick me up later though—I was out shopping and when I came back, my place was broken into.'

  'Where are you now? Actually, don't answer that.'

  Lionel laughed a single laugh. 'No shit. I'm safe though. What's happening to you?'

  'Can't say just now, mainly because I don't know where I am. Listen though—can you do me a favor?'

  'Sure, what do you need?'

  'You remember Mr. Miller, don't you?'

  A pause. 'The executive? Yeah . . .?'

  'Remember the day we met him?'

  'How can I forget?'

  'Do you remember where that was?'

  'What do you—oh, right, I see. Yes, I remember.'

  'Well, I need in. Covertly.'

&nb
sp; Lionel didn't answer.

  'Lionel, are you there?'

  'I'm here.'

  'What do you think?'

  'I think it's a bad idea.'

  Josh hugged himself. He was getting cold. 'But is it possible?'

  'Hang on a minute.'

  A minute passed. 'Well?'

  'I'm checking.'

  'Check quicker.'

  More silence. Then Lionel spoke again. 'It's possible. It won't be easy though.'

  'Great. I'll call you again when I know where I am.'

  'Okay. Speak soon.'

  Josh looked around at the endless scenery once more and sighed. 'I sure hope so.'

  'Speak then. Bye.'

  'Bye.' Josh hung up. That was one problem solved: Lionel would be able to get him into the tunnels. But he had another problem—how to get there in the first place. He had two choices: he could head for the road, which was closer, in the hopes someone would pick him up—although he hadn't seen any lights traveling along it—or he could head straight for the town and pray he got there before anything irreversible happened.

  There was a small glimmer of hope among all of this: so long as he headed toward Manhattan, time should be on his side. He wondered how much of a temporal effect the portal was having by now, but the thought trailed off when he heard a distant noise.

  Looking along the road, he scanned it for lights, but couldn't see any. He kept turning slowly, shielding his eyes from the bright moonlight, listening to the slowly increasing volume of whatever it was he could hear. It was deep and droning, and it was only when he'd turned fully around that he could see what it was.

  A searchlight, scanning the trees, hung way above, slowly marching toward him as the drone got louder. The drone became a thump, blades speeding around and around to keep the spotlight airborne, as the CIA helicopter scoured the forest for . . . for him.

  Chapter 26

  The helicopter was moving quickly, hunting for its prey. Josh wasted no time, stumbling back down the hill, heading, he decided in a flash moment, for the road. There was no chance of making it to the town before he was spotted, especially if they had some kind of infrared camera on that helicopter. He was the only living thing about, the growing thud of the helicopter's blades likely scaring everything else deeper into the forest.

  He ran as fast and as hard as he could, heading in what he hoped was the most direct route to the road. What he'd do once he got there, he didn't know, but for now he kept that at the back of his mind, concentrating on not slipping over or tripping up. Trees and bushes whipped past, branches licking him with stinging glances, but there was no time to stop and staunch the pain. Gritting his teeth, he ran, while the thump got louder and the lights got brighter.

  As air ripped his lungs raw, he began to worry he was heading in the wrong direction. A creeping thought distracted him: didn't people always travel in big circles when they were lost? How big? Enough for him to loop back around before he reached the road? He hoped not, and dug his heels in deeper and pushed on. The canopy overhead danced with the buffeting wind of the helicopter as it soared close by, dipping and dancing in a zigzag motion to cover ground fast. Comforted by the fact it hadn't seemed to have locked on to him, he focused on what appeared to be a clearing up ahead and sprinted into overdrive.

  Bursting through the leaves, Josh found himself on the open road. Relief nearly made his legs buckle, but it was short-lived. The road, as he'd suspected, was deserted. There would still be at least a couple of miles to go before he reached the town. Looking up and down the road, a soft glow of light staining the night sky indicated the direction he needed to go, and he began to jog toward it. Although his heart was pumping and his adrenal gland was firing at full capacity, he could not muster any more speed. His stomach rolled and his head swam, the flight from the forest the most energetic thing he'd put himself through in decades. The helicopter was scouring a different patch now, so he had some space to breathe.

  Legs heavy, throat stinging, he trudged on, the glow ahead seeming to get no brighter, nor closer. If he could have collapsed onto the ground and slept there, he would, but there was no time. Every wasted second was another where Edwards was predicting his next move, figuring him out, and Josh knew it wouldn't take long for him to guess what he'd do next. Josh prayed that he'd be able to get to Lionel first.

  It was only when Josh snapped from that semi-conscious line of thought that he realized the helicopter had gone completely. He felt like he should be happy about it, but he knew he couldn't. If anything, it was worrying. Edwards had not been a man to give up, and so this terminated search had to be the result of a proactive decision to do something else, rather than the abandonment of his only lead. He knew. He knew where Josh was going next. It was the only choice Josh had left.

  A street sign proclaimed the border to the town—Monroe—one mile away, so Josh kicked down a gear and forced himself to pick up his pace. Ten or so minutes and he'd be there—then he could find out where in the hell Monroe was and get back to Manhattan.

  That last mile was torture. The road bent slowly uphill, unnoticeably at first, but soon the doubled weight of his leaden limbs and the increasing ascent sent screaming messages from every corner of his body direct to his brain, all telling him, for the love of God, to stop. But he didn't stop. He couldn’t stop. This small town in this forest was his only lifeline, and he would get there or die. When the first streetlight rolled overhead and the first house came into view, he let out a wheezy yelp of triumph, feebly punching the air to celebrate to a crowd of no one. Midnight had to be closing in fast, and soon the effects of the time well would be noticeable, but for now everyone was asleep.

  A sign overhead directed him to not just a welding supply and post office, but also a mini mart. It was just around the corner, and he slowed his pace to a walk while he tried to catch his breath. To his relief, the mini mart was still open, and there were payphones outside. Better to use one of those than his cell again. He needed to break a ten dollar note for change, so he stepped inside and grabbed a drink and candy bar and took them to the cash register, which was shrouded with thick, bulletproof glass.

  The old man behind the glass was snoozing, a newspaper draped over him like a blanket. Josh tapped on the glass and the man snorted awake, blinking to bring himself back to the present. He looked over at Josh a little hazily, then creaked onto his feet and hobbled over.

  'A little late to be buying candy,' he said, sounding disgruntled. He took the items and punched them in, the price appearing on the screen. 'Bag?'

  'No thanks,' Josh replied.

  'First that darned helicopter, then you,' the man continued. He seemed to be talking more for his own benefit than for Josh's. 'An old man just wants his rest.'

  'I understand.'

  'That'll be three dollars and forty-nine cents, please.'

  Three dollars? Josh thought. Even the New York Ritz-Carlton wouldn't have charged that much. He said nothing however, and handed over the note. The old man took it, getting a glance at him.

  'You seem awfully flustered for a man buying candy in the middle of the night,' he said. Josh was starting to get annoyed with him, but bit his tongue to try and maintain his anonymity. He wanted to slip in and slip out, and not cause a fuss.

  'Just out for a run before the night shift,' he lied.

  'Night shift? Where'd you work, then? I've not seen you before, and I've seen everyone in Monroe.'

  'The, uhm . . .' Think, Josh. 'The post office. Starting tonight. Covering a shift for a week while some guy's off sick.' Too much detail, too much detail . . .

  The old man eyed him, passing his goods and change back through the slot. 'You mean Tom?'

  'Yeah, sure—Tom.'

  'There isn't any Tom at the post office. You're lying.'

  Josh sighed. His head was thumping and he felt both hungry and sick. All he wanted was to go to bed, but he knew that wasn't going to happen any time soon, certainly not with this prying old fool gettin
g in the way. 'I don't know, that sounded right. Look, I'm going to go now, okay? You have a nice night.'

  As he took his change and his food and left the mini mart, Josh kept his eyes down. He could feel the old man's glare follow him through the store, and the relief of the door clanking shut behind him and the cool night air on his face was stronger than it really ought to have been.

  Wiping his brow with his sleeve, he opened his drink and took a swig, the lukewarm liquid soothing his throat and easing his thumping head. The candy bar went down in just a few bites, the instant sugar rush lifting him slightly from his dizziness. He could go on for a few hours more at least. Now to call Lionel.

  He fed some coins into one of the payphones and dialed Lionel's number. It rang for a while, and Josh began to worry that Lionel wasn't going to answer, but eventually he did.

  'Who is this?' was Lionel's greeting.

  'It's me.'

  'Jesus—you had me worried there. I thought it was the—I thought someone else was phoning.'

  'Sorry. Wanted to keep things off the grid I guess. Do you have a payphone nearby?'

  'Sure.'

  'Ring me on this number from it, and quickly. I'm sure it won't take long for them to figure out what's going on.'

  'Will do,' Lionel said, then hung up. Josh waited a few minutes for Lionel to call back, falling into a daydream while he leaned against the wall next to the payphone. When the phone finally rang, he jumped out of his skin. He grabbed the receiver and put it to his ear.

  'Hello?'

  'I'm outside.'

  'Did you understand my message earlier?'

  'I think so,' Lionel said, sounding unsure. 'You want another way into the East Side Access tunnels, right?'

  'Yeah.'

  'I think we can do that.'

  'Great. I don't want to say anything more about it on the phone. Where can we meet?'

  'Where are you now?'

  Josh checked around him to see if he could find out any more clues as to where he was. 'Don't know. Some town called Monroe, in the middle of nowhere.'