Leaning over, I examined the map. Three separate streams ran southeast, intersecting around 42nd Street and 3rd Avenue. From there, the combined stream ran all the way to the East River.
I pointed at them. “What happened to these waterways?”
“They got pushed underground to make way for new construction. But they didn’t go away. They’re still flowing under the surface, fed by recurring springs. When the tide changes, they even wreak some havoc from time to time.”
“And yet you don’t think fish still live in them?”
“Fish don’t live underground. If a stream ran through a pond, I suppose a fish could get sucked into the current. But otherwise, it just doesn’t happen.”
“What about cave fish? Don’t they live underground?”
He looked thoughtful. “Good point. Still, for a population of fish to self-sustain under Manhattan, it would need some way to access food derived from photosynthesis. Either that or someone would have to feed them.”
“But it’s possible, right?”
“Unlikely. But possible.”
An alligator under Manhattan. The very idea seemed fanciful. And yet, between the tooth and the corpses, it was the only explanation that fit the facts.
“Are you going to hunt it?” Graham asked.
“Hunt what?”
“I’m not an idiot, Cy. You obviously think an alligator is living in the sewers and eating people. So, what are you going to do about it?”
I shook my head. “My role’s over. I’m just curious, that’s all.”
“Do you really think a gator’s down there?”
I stood up. “I don’t know for sure. But something’s down there. Something evil. And it needs to be stopped.”
Chapter 20
My brow furrowed as I attempted to recall that once-familiar odor of fresh barbecue. My breathing slowed and my senses stirred.
I flashed back three years ago. I saw the litter on the sidewalk, the flowerboxes hanging from windows above. I heard the occasional screeching of tires, the chirping of birds. But try as I might, my nose just wouldn’t cooperate. The best I could manage to gin up was a dull, lifeless memory.
My lip curled in annoyance. That aroma had remained locked in my brain for the last three years. But now, I felt it slipping away.
It was frustrating yet comforting. I’d miss the memory. But if good memories could fade, perhaps bad ones could as well. Maybe someday I’d forget my sins. Maybe I’d forget all that transpired three years ago. Maybe I’d even forget the last few days.
Maybe.
Twenty-four hours had passed since I’d first set foot in New York. Twenty-four long sleepless hours. My limbs felt tired and my legs demanded rest. My body ran on fumes, yet my mind remained crystal clear.
I shuffled the facts in my brain, examining them over and over again. Hartek’s treasure. The mysterious homeless man. The alligator attacks. The diseased colony. Something connected them all. Something that continued to escape me.
But what?
Strong winds whipped down the block. The surging rainfall switched directions, drenching my torso. Never in my life had I seen a more ferocious storm. Even time itself couldn’t weaken it. If anything, the rain had grown stronger since I’d arrived in Manhattan. Ancient civilizations would’ve considered it a sign from above.
I considered it a sign to get indoors.
As I neared the intersection, I caught glimpses of morning traffic. Lines of cars, bumper to bumper, ran as far as I could see. I noticed furious faces, staring straight ahead. Clenched hands wrapped around steering wheels. Mouths working a mile a minute, spitting anger into Bluetooth devices.
My mind drifted to Kolen. Did an alligator really kill him? It seemed so unlikely and yet I couldn’t think of any other explanation that fit the facts.
I swallowed as I recalled his dead body. Saliva burnt my throat like battery acid. Quickly, I put him out of my mind.
I turned at the corner and started to walk down 78th Street. Despite the heavy cloud cover, I could see the familiar apartment building. My eyes lifted toward her window, second from the left and four stories above ground. It shone brightly.
A sudden gust of wind blasted into my side. My body tipped. Fighting hard, I managed to regain my balance without a spill.
I glanced upward. Storm clouds churned in the sky. The tempest seemed to worsen by the minute.
I started walking again. My boots stomped across the slippery pavement, sending small puddles of water flying into the air. After reaching the exterior of her building, I stepped underneath the overhang.
Cupping my hands around my eyes, I peered through the doors. A small lobby sat on the other side of the glass. Although nothing fancy, it appeared clean and well kept. A dark brown rug covered the floor, its color and texture hiding any traces of wet, muddy boots. Off to one side, I saw a wall of mailboxes, a set of crooked stairs, and an elevator.
A list of names with corresponding buttons was mounted on the wall next to me. I ran my finger down the list to Apartment 4H and read the name.
D. Blair.
I pressed the appropriate button. A faint buzzing noise hissed from the wall, followed by static.
“Who is it?”
I took a deep breath. “It’s Cy,” I replied into the metal speaker. “Cy Reed.”
Silence followed. After a few seconds, I tried again. “Can we talk for a few minutes?”
More silence followed.
Finally, she coughed. “I don’t have time for this right now.”
“I can come back later.”
“I won’t have time then either.”
“I understand. Say the word and I’ll never contact you again.”
Once again, silence fell over the area. As I waited for her answer, I stared hard at the door, as if my gaze could somehow cause it to magically open.
“Cy?”
The faraway voice lacked static and seemed to come from above. Venturing out from underneath the overhang, I saw the silhouette of a face looking down at me. I squinted, trying to peer between the raindrops, but her features were impossible to distinguish.
“I’m here,” I called back.
“Why?”
“I wanted to clear the air.”
“That makes one of us.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I owe you an apology. I was a jerk to leave the way I did. You deserved better.”
Lightning flashed across the sky and I caught a tiny glimpse of her face. It looked blank. But I could sense the emotional struggle just underneath the surface.
“You never said goodbye.”
My mind flashed back to that fateful night. I remembered walking into her apartment, pretending that nothing had changed. We talked. We ate. We slept together.
Late that evening, I snuck out of her room, packed my bag, and left New York. Just like that, my life changed forever.
“You left me in the middle of the night.” Her voice changed. “You didn’t even have the guts to tell me to my face.”
“It seemed like the easiest —”
“Well, it wasn’t,” she said, practically yelling now. “You never said a word to me. You just left me this lousy note.”
She reached her hands out of the window. I saw a spark and a flash of light. A brief flame erupted into the dark sky.
As the ashes drifted toward me, Diane turned away. The glass slammed down to the sill and I suddenly felt very cold. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I watched her window for a few seconds, searching for her silhouette.
But it never appeared.
I backed away from the building. Then I turned and retraced my steps. I crossed slabs of concrete, feeling numb both inside and out.