Awakened

by James S. Murray

  A brilliant red beam seared out of the barrel, zipped through the creature’s face, and blasted the opposite wall.

  The creature gurgled and sank into the water.

  Holy shit.

  Munoz fired again, keeping his finger depressed on the trigger, and carved the beam across the creature’s neck, slicing its head clean off.

  Double holy shit.

  The creature collapsed with a splash. Dark brown blood pooled around its body.

  Munoz gazed at the weapon with a mixture of wonder and awe.

  Reynolds opened his mouth as if to say something but managed to only produce stuttered gasps, before he croaked out, “Thank you. I owe you one.”

  “Trust me, I won’t hesitate to ask you to return the favor, Mr. President.”

  They waded forward in the flashing light. Munoz swung the laser’s aim to all parts, searching for any signs of movement, but for now, everything within the strobe’s perimeter remained still. Reynolds followed closely by his side, turning every few feet to check for any creatures still lurking beneath the water. It was slow going, but the caution felt warranted.

  Then another thunderous boom rocked the passage door and they picked up the pace, surging through the water as fast as humanly possible.

  The strobe reduced to a flicker. Reynolds placed it on the wall’s cable housing and activated another.

  “We need to go easy on those,” Munoz said.

  “I don’t think we’ve got a choice at the minute.”

  Creatures shrieked ahead, confirming their presence and intent, but the dazzling flashes of light kept them at bay, backing up the president’s point.

  A third earsplitting crack rocked the door, and Munoz spun to face it.

  The first strobe Reynolds had left retained enough light to highlight a stream of water gushing through a fracture.

  “Run,” Munoz shouted. “We need to make it farther up the tunnel.”

  “I’m going as fast as I can. You’ve got at least twenty years on me.”

  “Those wall-mounted transformer boxes are live, twenty thousand volts each. When the water rises high enough to hit them, I’ll have no years on you.”

  That lit a fire under the president and he moved quicker. “Should have kept up the PT,” he gasped.

  Munoz splashed across, locked elbows with him, and heaved him forward.

  Another boom resounded in the tunnel.

  Munoz glanced over his shoulder.

  The door had buckled and water now blasted through the sizable gap, creating a chest-high wave crashing directly toward them at a ferocious speed.

  The realization hit him that they didn’t have enough time, at least not as long as they stayed in the maintenance tunnel. He visually searched their immediate surroundings. The only quick way out was an emergency hatch leading straight up to the Jersey tunnel. That was dangerous, of course, but he guessed they had already made it past marker 119. And staying here was certain death, so he chose danger over deceased.

  “This way,” he yelled.

  They plowed through the rapidly rising water, making for a steel ladder twenty yards away as the wave closed in, relentlessly roaring toward them. Reynolds lunged and grabbed a rung. He climbed the ladder, flung open the hatch, and scrambled up to the subway tracks.

  Munoz was right behind him, but still that meant he gripped the ladder’s rungs just as the wave hit him, and he clung for his life as the torrent tried to drag his body away. As if that weren’t enough, a creature rushed past in the water, reached out a claw, and gouged his upper arm. He grunted as blood soaked his T-shirt, but that wasn’t his biggest concern, nor was the creature in the water, already struggling to get back to him.

  No, what had him truly worried was the wave—it was seconds away from hitting the transformer boxes and he was still very much in the tunnel, clinging to a steel ladder.

  Another shrieking creature hurtled past, thrashing in the water, and its tail slammed against the wall next to Munoz’s face. He jerked back to avoid it, causing his foot to slip, and once again he was hanging on to the ladder with all his strength.

  “Swing your leg!” Reynolds shouted from above, holding his hand down for Munoz to grab. “You can do it!”

  Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself back on to the ladder and practically threw his body up, using every ounce of strength left, fighting against the wave. Slowly, he climbed the rungs.

  Too slowly.

  Sparks spat from the transformer box. Then a loud snap filled the tunnel, and the shrieks of the creatures turned to agony as they were electrocuted. Munoz should have shared their fate, but at the last second, he had pushed himself upward and reached his hand out . . .

  . . . which Reynolds grabbed. He may not have been in full marine shape, but the man still had a strong grip. Probably from shaking all those hands.

  Dangling from the hatch, he willed the president to pull him up before the electrified water reached his legs. He could smell burning rubber, and looking down, he saw that the bottom of his boot was skimming the top of the water.

  “Don’t look down!” Reynolds screamed. “For God’s sake, Diego, hold on!”

  That’s what he was doing, as inch by inch, the president hauled him up. He was close to the opening when, overhead, the distant sound of a train approached.

  “Jesus . . .” Reynolds muttered.

  Munoz said nothing, just held his breath, hoping it wasn’t his last.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Dumont’s overhead beam kept disappearing from the ledge, leaving the MTA lantern’s orange glow and Bowcut’s light as the hostages’ only safeguard. She understood why. Creatures had stalked them from the tight passage leading to where their rope dangled, and he had to hold them back as well as provide cover.

  Dark figures shot around every part of the vast football-stadium-sized space, looking for an opening while fleeing from the glare of Bowcut’s light. The crackling in the cavern had risen in intensity, like somebody had tipped Pop Rocks into her ear. It was a disturbing sound, and it took some effort to concentrate on the situation at hand.

  All the women had understandable fear in their eyes.

  No, not all.

  Not Ellen Cafferty. She held her chin up, unblinking, exuding every inch of her hardheaded reputation.

  Now we just have to make sure she can keep that head.

  It was easier said than done. Even as she thought that, a creature vaulted onto the far end of the ledge and quickly positioned itself to attack. But Bowcut acted faster, and she blitzed it with her powerful ray of light, sending it screaming into the blackness.

  We have to get moving . . .

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Fine . . . but where the hell are we?” Ellen asked.

  “A cavern underneath the subway.” She quickly scanned the group once more. “Some of you look . . .”

  “Pregnant?” Ellen asked. “Yeah. They’ve been clawing at our bellies for the last hour.”

  “You’re pregnant, too?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  It seemed an odd and creepy coincidence, though Bowcut was past questioning anything that happened since her team entered the Jersey tunnel. She was solely focused on getting these women out of here alive. But pregnant women weren’t exactly the most nimble, and that threw a bit of a monkey wrench in her plans for the rescue.

  And then a large crash sounded from above, near the ledge where Dumont protected them with his light, and she knew another wrench was about to get thrown at them.

  “Are you okay?” she yelled up to him.

  “They’re blocking the passage with boulders. We need a new way out. I’m coming down.”

  Fuck. “Make it fast. This place is not going to be our tomb.”

  Dumont gripped the rope and pushed himself out with his uninjured leg. He stopped every few feet and shone his light around the rock face, scanning for any creatures in the near vicinity before continuing his descent.


  As he came down, Bowcut thought back to her first view of the huge cavern from its opposite side. Their original route was now blocked and they needed another way. Passages peppered the wall below the ledge, and it was more of a steep slope than a vertical drop, making it easier for anyone without climbing skills.

  That’s our way out.

  Dumont’s boots thudded next to her. He tugged the left rope; the quick-release knot unraveled, and it dropped by his feet. “What next?” he asked.

  “I’ll take a lantern down and find another way. Use my light to cover me, and yours to hold the creatures back. It’s our only option,” Sarah said.

  “I’ll go—” Dumont said.

  “No, Captain. Not with your leg.”

  “You don’t have to take the lead all the time. I’ll make the climb.” Dumont looked beyond her at the women, still partially caked in mucus. “It’s better for you to stay with them. Try to keep everyone calm. You’re better at that than I’ll ever be.”

  Bowcut reluctantly nodded. He had a point. Dumont was an excellent leader in the field and fought to provide his team with the best equipment, but when it came to the softer side of their job, he was as subtle as a sledgehammer.

  Dumont tied off the rope while Bowcut swept her beam across the ledge, forcing back an increasing number of the creatures. The more the creatures attacked, the closer they got with each wave. She guessed it wouldn’t take them long to figure out how to overpower their prey.

  I’ll keep that thought to myself, until . . .

  “Who’s taking this,” Dumont said, holding up his light.

  Ellen stepped forward and grabbed it. “Just shine on anything that moves close, right?”

  “You got it in one.”

  Dumont attached the lantern to the side of his chest rig, leaned back on the rope, and disappeared over the side of the ledge.

  Ellen stood on the lip and covered his descent.

  Bowcut led the rest of the group away from the wall and stopped directly to Ellen’s left. She waved them down to crouching positions, allowing her an unobstructed view of the cavern and any creature closing in for an attack.

  “What’re your names?” Bowcut asked while focusing on the passages and rocky overhangs. “Where are you from?”

  “Melissa Santana, the Bronx.”

  “Erica Therese, from Staten Island.”

  “Gloria Omere, Upper West Side.”

  “Kara Dvorski . . . Bensonhurst.”

  “I’m Natalie Howard from Jersey City.”

  “What do you do for jobs?” Bowcut asked.

  “Publicist.”

  “Legal secretary.”

  “Real estate broker.”

  “I’m an actor.”

  “I’m a cellist in the New York Philharmonic.”

  “And what’s the last thing you remember from the train?” Bowcut asked.

  “What train?” Natalie said.

  Bowcut shot a quick glance over her shoulder. “The Z Train’s inaugural run. Do you remember?”

  “I wasn’t on any train.”

  “Neither was I,” another said.

  “Same here.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Huh?” Bowcut forced three creatures back behind an outcrop and stepped closer to the women. “Kara, tell me your last memories before arriving here.”

  “We ventured into a surviving section of the old Sunswick Creek. My partner vanished and something grabbed my ankle.”

  “Sunswick Creek?”

  “Check out an 1870s map and you’ll see it. Stand in front of the former Sohmer Piano Factory building on Vernon and Broadway on a rainy day, and you’ll hear it roaring beneath your feet. It’s one of the oldest, deepest underground creeks in New York City, and long since forgotten.”

  “Gloria,” Bowcut said, “what about you?”

  “I was cave exploring with my boyfriend. He disappeared when my back was turned. I searched for him and something clamped around the back of my neck, and I woke up here. They’ve been force-feeding us on gross sludge.”

  “Where were you?”

  “Howe Caverns.”

  “That’s upstate, right?”

  “You mean . . . we’re not . . .”

  “You’re below the Hudson River between Manhattan and Jersey City. Erica, what about you?”

  “Urban exploring in the Croton Aqueduct with three friends. It was freaky as hell, but this . . . Jesus . . .”

  Three different stories from three very different parts of New York. It all spelled trouble. Big trouble. Bowcut had thought this strange and deadly occurrence was a one-off. She expected the authorities would fumigate the cavern, never speak of it again, and fact would pass into myth. From what the women said, though, it appeared that the creatures had a wide underground territory, and she wondered just how far this problem spread.

  “My family must be panicked. I was due home Easter weekend—” Erica said.

  “Wait. What?” Bowcut asked.

  “Easter weekend. Tomorrow.”

  “It’s July twenty-first. What date do the rest of you think it is?”

  “May first.”

  “No, it’s July seventh.”

  “March fifth.”

  “April tenth,” Kara said in a quivering voice. “How’s this even possible?”

  “That’ll soon be the question on the world’s lips.” Bowcut aimed her light at the sound of scampering footsteps. Several creatures perched on rocks scattered away and shrieked when the light hit them. “One thing’s for sure, though: blocking the breach won’t end the problem.”

  “Then what are we going to do?” Natalie asked.

  I don’t know. Luckily, before she was forced to come up with some sort of answer, Ellen said, “He’s found a passage!”

  Bowcut backed to the edge. The rope disappeared into a hole thirty feet below, and the glow from Dumont’s lantern emanated out.

  “Okay, who’s first?” Bowcut asked.

  No one volunteered.

  “We can’t stay here.”

  Ellen Cafferty passed Bowcut the light. “I’ll go. It’s going to be all right, ladies—we can do this. Sarah will show us how, right?”

  “Exactly.” She handed her light to Kara and Ellen’s to Natalie, and then showed Ellen what to do. “Okay, hand over hand, like this. Don’t stop, and don’t look down.”

  “Got it.”

  “Are you okay with only one sandal?”

  “It’s the least of my worries.”

  Bowcut took one light back and angled it onto Ellen as she unsteadily descended. Meanwhile, Natalie sliced the other beam backward and forward, brightening the immediate area around the group.

  Once Ellen was down, Bowcut hauled up the rope, tied the end to her light, and lowered it gently down, where Dumont quickly untied it and provided the climbers with cover.

  One by one, the women took turns edging down the steep incline, the strain of physical exertion showing on their sweat-drenched faces, warring with the stress and shock they were all experiencing in their own unique ways. Still, they did what they needed to do, each gripping the rope and scrambling down, successfully following Dumont and Ellen’s path. Natalie went last, disappearing into the hole.

  Now Bowcut stood on her own, surrounded by blackness and the deafening crackle. She cut her beam around the cavern one last time, memorizing the huge structure for future reference. It was truly massive, and with what the women had said about how they’d entered the caves, a sobering realization formed in her mind.

  There had to be millions of these creatures.

  One of them, closer to human in size, scrambled onto the ledge. Bowcut focused her light on its scaly chest and the creature darted to the left. She tracked it with the beam, never managing to get a solid fix as it ducked from side to side, closing in on her by the second.

  She drew her knife.

  The other creatures were unbelievably fast, but this one moved like greased lightning. She remembered seeing hundreds of
these smaller ones surrounding the body of the construction worker when she first set eyes on the cavern, but its speed was a shock.

  For some reason, though, the creature stopped twenty feet away and bared its teeth. She quickly got a fix on it, but her light failed to have the same impact as it did on the bigger ones she’d encountered. It checked the creature, but it didn’t send it fleeing for the nearest dark corner.

  It was such a startling discovery that she almost missed the moment when the creature swayed out of the glare again and drove forward, blasting out breaths through its flared nostrils.

  It quickly dawned on Bowcut that the longer she spent driving this new challenge away, the more time others in the cavern were almost certainly rushing in from different directions.

  The creature hunched, leaped forward, and wailed. It sprung ten feet in the air and dropped toward Bowcut, extending its claws toward her face.

  She moved to the left, even as she thrust to the right. It was a desperate maneuver, and she was nowhere near fast enough to avoid the attack entirely. A claw ripped a gouge in the shoulder of her body armor, and a sharp jerking almost pulled her arm out if its socket—but somehow Bowcut had managed to sink her knife into the creature’s rib cage. The thing was going so fast that she didn’t have time to let go of her blade, which almost wrenched out of her hand. She held on, though, and actually felt a second of triumph, until the creature slammed against the ground, spun on its back, and shoved both heels into her stomach.

  “Ugh!”

  She staggered back, winded from the blow, and skidded to a stop inches from plunging off the ledge.

  Bowcut glared across the rocky terrain at the creature. Blood oozed from the side of its mouth. It grunted to one knee, clutching the side of its chest, and rasped.

  Shaking the cobwebs from her head, Bowcut suddenly remembered to flash her light in a circle to deter any other attacks. And there, at the far end of the ledge, thirty more of the smaller creatures climbed up and charged toward her, covering the ground in seconds.

  Tackling one had nearly killed her.

  What will thirty of them do to me?

  She wasn’t about to find out and sprinted for the rope—slamming her knife back in its sheath on the way—and grabbed the line, swinging over the ledge. Her boots skidded down the rocky incline, scrambling to find any kind of foothold as she slid down.