Twenty yards to go.
He felt the ground tremble slightly. Digging deep, he picked up the pace.
Ten yards.
He stumbled. His hand reached out and touched the wall. Lurching forward, he tried to maintain his footing.
Five yards.
The light grew brighter and brighter. With one last long step, Jenson flew into another tunnel. Ducking to the side, he plastered himself against the wall. His heart slammed against his chest.
The subway car breached the pedestrian tunnel. It moved slowly and quietly, almost as if it were sneaking away from something.
As it passed by, Jenson couldn’t help but stare at it. In addition to its strange contents, the railcar itself was highly unusual. Unlike the dull, faded grey that covered most subway cars, it exhibited a rich coat of silver paint. Instead of graffiti scrawls, a single word, written in black foot-size lettering, adorned the low alloy high tensile steel siding.
Omega.
The Omega paused and Jenson pressed his body as hard as he could against the concrete. Someone had seen him. He was sure of it.
But then, with a sullen, mechanical groan, the car completed its turn and pressed forward, heading south.
Jenson slid down, his back scraping against the wall. His haunches came to a rest just above his worn shoes.
Relief swept over him.
A loud high-pitched shriek reverberated across the tunnel, ping-ponging from wall to wall. Jenson glanced to his right. The Omega stood quietly in the semi-darkness.
Now what?
Metal rasped against metal. Then, three shadows hopped out of the subway car’s side and ventured to the front.
“Running rails,” one of the figures announced. “How the hell…?”
Jenson squinted. Long metal slabs lay perpendicular across the tracks. He didn’t remember seeing them earlier.
Gunfire erupted from the south. One of the shadows jerked backward and fell. The other two retreated to the safety of the Omega.
Knives sliced back into Jenson’s skull, sending waves of debilitating pain down his spine. He crumpled to the ground.
New shadows, too many to count, swarmed the subway car. The ear-piercing barrage continued for another forty seconds. As the tunnel fell quiet, Jenson felt more screams barreling their way toward his throat. Desperately, he tried to stop them. Any noise would give away his position.
And he wasn’t ready to die. Not yet.
Blackness reappeared at the corners of his vision, eating its way toward the center. He blinked. The Omega’s doors remained open, providing some visibility to its interior. During the battle, the objects inside had shifted.
He sensed the new shadows surrounding the Omega. But he ignored them, keeping his attention focused solely on the bell-shaped object.
He now understood its secret.
And it scared the shit out of him.
Darkness swept across his eyes, consuming his sight. He felt himself falling, falling, into a deep abyss. And then, nothing.
Nothing but blackness.
PART I
VANISHED
Chapter 1
Javier Kolen held his breath as he descended into the ground. It was a totally useless gesture, yet he found it comforting. The longer he kept the odors below from penetrating his nostrils, the better.
His hiking boots emitted soft scraping sounds as he worked his way down the rungs. His palms, encased in cheap leather gloves, held an iron grip on the rust-ridden bars.
He could’ve let go like the Braggart. He could’ve just dropped into the maintenance tunnel. After all, just ten feet separated his short, stocky frame from the concrete below. But that wasn’t his style. Safety remained his top priority, no matter how much the Braggart needled him for it.
Kolen clambered down the rest of the ladder and stepped off into the old stone-block tunnel. As his boots sank into the inch-thick grime, he finally allowed himself to breathe. The odor, an unsettling combination of stale air and decaying trash, sickened him.
He looked up. The lamp strapped to his protective headgear shone on the closed manhole one hundred feet above him. The sight made him dizzy.
Two thousand dollars. Two thousand dollars.
Kolen repeated the mantra a few more times until his head began to clear. He didn’t like the job. It didn’t feel right. Yet, two thousand dollars cash was impossible for him to resist.
Reaching to his belt, he unclipped a handheld transceiver and raised it to his mouth. “Team Eagle is in the pot. We’re ready to cook. See you on the other side.”
The radio vibrated in his hand. “Roger that.”
As he returned the transceiver to his belt, Kolen sensed movement. Turning to the side, he noticed the Braggart clawing frantically at the back of his neck.
Kolen tilted his head, confused. Suddenly, he felt skittering tiny touches on his shoulder. He swept his hand through the air, brushing off some sort of bug. He started to shudder but stopped cold instead.
Cockroaches.
The tunnel was crawling with them. He swiveled in a tight circle, horrified yet awed. The nasty little bugs covered practically every inch of the walls and ceiling. They shifted constantly, always in motion, a never-ending showcase of creepiness.
“Damn it, Javier,” the Braggart said. “Stop standing there like an idiot and help me out.”
Kolen didn’t respond right away. He didn’t like the Braggart, didn’t like him one bit.
The Braggart’s real name was Dan Adcock. He was just a kid, a ridiculous looking kid. His long black hair, tied into a ponytail, looked silly. His soft, hefty frame was laughable. Heck, even his gait, which was far too short for his lanky body, seemed absurd.
Kolen didn’t know much about him, just that he was some kind of amateur treasure hunter. A treasure hunter who liked to talk about himself. A lot.
As he looked into Adcock’s contorted face, Kolen found himself feeling the familiar doubts all over again. He was a respected urban archaeologist for God’s sake. So what the hell was he doing in the middle of New York’s subway system with a joker like Adcock?
Two thousand dollars. Two thousand dollars.
Kolen needed the money, needed it badly. He cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you wear a turtleneck?”
“Do I look like I’ve been down here before? How was I supposed to know this was cockroach central?”
Reluctantly, Kolen walked over, peeled back Adcock’s shirt, and flicked away a couple of large cockroaches. “Next time come prepared. And don’t ask me to do this again. You’re on your own from here.”
“What’s your problem?”
Kolen felt his temper building. “Nothing.”
“You’re full of it. You’ve been on my ass ever since we met.”
“No I haven’t.”
“You think you’re better than me don’t you?”
“Of course not.”
Adcock made a face. “You’re a liar. You think you’re better than me. But you know what? You’re wrong. You might have a fancy degree. You probably get quoted in obscure magazines every now and then. But since you’re here, I’m guessing your profession doesn’t pay shit. And in a capitalist world like ours, that means your work is worthless.”
Kolen knew he shouldn’t respond. But he couldn’t help himself. “There’s more to life than money, you little bastard.”
“Than why are you here?”
“I have my reasons. What about you?”
Adcock shrugged. “I like money.”
“You’re a treasure hunter right?”