“This way,” Sanjay said, starting off to his right.
He barely put a foot down before Kusum grabbed his arm. “You told me the Pishon Chem facility was closer to the ocean. That would be the other way.”
“We will have a better chance of not being seen in this direction. At most, we will go a kilometer then cut through the middle of the city.”
She thought about his plan for a second, then said, “Okay. That makes sense to me.”
“I am glad to receive your blessing,” he said with a dramatic bow.
She slapped him playfully on the arm. “It is only temporary.”
Living at the remote boarding school for the last week, had, at times, created the illusion the world was still as it had been. But any trace of that false impression ended the moment they reentered Mumbai.
It had been a city of nearly twenty million, its streets never empty or silent.
Until now.
No running cars. No motorbikes. No pedestrians. No hawkers.
The only ones there were lifeless bodies of the homeless tucked in corners, lying against the side of a building, and stretched out in the gutters. Their stench wafted through the streets, increasing and decreasing in strength depending on the number of bodies and the direction of the breeze. Sanjay and Kusum had to cover their faces to breathe without gagging.
What made things even eerier were the lights. Not just the automatic street lamps, but the interior lights of stores and restaurants, and the illuminated signs mounted on their facades. It was as if all the establishments had opened for business, but no one had come, not even those who worked there.
On several occasions, Sanjay and Kusum came across vehicles that had crashed in the road, not unlike the accident Kusum had pulled the baby Nipa from as Kusum and her family fled the city. Most of these cars were empty — their occupants no doubt surviving at least long enough to get off the road — but a few were not.
“Go right,” Sanjay said as they reached the next intersection.
They were only two kilometers from the Pishon Chem facility now, and while there were faster ways to get there, Sanjay felt it safer to stick to a more circuitous route along smaller streets and alleys.
As they turned, Kusum brushed a hand across her shoulder.
“What is it?” Sanjay asked.
“Nothing. I…” She took a deep breath. “I just feel like something is crawling all over my skin.”
He knew what she meant. He felt it, too, an uncomfortable tingling all over his body. It didn’t help that the narrow road they were now on only intensified the creepy factor. He would almost welcome some kind of monster roaring out of the shadows to chase them. At least that would give them something to focus on.
They were seven blocks from the facility when they heard feet clomping on asphalt. It sounded like at least a dozen people, jogging in unison down the road they were about to turn onto.
Sanjay threw his arm in front of Kusum. “Back, back,” he whispered.
As they headed in the other direction, Sanjay began trying every door they passed, but all were locked. Then they came to one set back in an alcove. If nothing else, it might hide them from view.
“Here,” he said, nudging Kusum off the sidewalk.
She reached the door first, and tried it. The handle stuck for a moment, then turned all the way and opened. Any elation, though, was squelched by the bell at the top of the frame that rang with the door’s movement.
“Go,” Sanjay said, pushing her.
The second they were inside, he grabbed the bell and moved it out of the way as he pushed the door closed.
He motioned to a rickety counter along the side. “Hide behind that.”
As she ducked behind it, she gasped. Sanjay wanted to ask what was wrong, but his attention had been drawn back outside. The running feet were not passing through the intersection, but turning onto the road Sanjay and Kusum were on.
He hurried over to the counter, intending to duck down next to Kusum, but she had stopped very close to his end, and had left hardly any space.
“Move down,” he whispered.
She shook her head. He looked around her to see what the problem was, and discovered why she had gasped. There was the body of a woman on the floor. She must have been one of the early ones to die, he thought, for her smell was nowhere near as strong as some of the others they’d come across.
“We can switch places,” he said.
“No. I will be okay,” Kusum told him.
Thoughts of the dead woman immediately vanished as the sounds of the pounding feet slowed to a stop not ten meters outside the front of the store. Sanjay scrunched down as best he could.
A male voice. “It was down here. I’m sure of it. Something rang.”
Another voice, also male. “It could have been anything.”
“I still want to check. Everyone, spread out,” the first voice said.
Sanjay pulled in tighter to Kusum.
Outside, they could hear those in the street splitting up and moving in different directions. One of them went up to the door of the clothing shop next door and tried the handle. Next, steps moving down the sidewalk and nearing their store.
The bell, Sanjay thought. He should have pulled it down. The moment the door opened, it would ring and they would know that had made the noise.
Not allowing himself to think about it a second time, he whipped out from behind the counter.
“What are you doing?” Kusum whispered.
“Stay there,” he told her as he moved in a crouch back to the doorway.
Out the window on his right, he could see the shadow of a man, dressed in a soldier’s uniform, heading toward the entrance. There was no time to grab the bell, so Sanjay twisted the lock closed, hoping it would hold, and dove behind a set of shelves.
Sure he’d been seen, he waited for the soldier to yell to the rest of his squad, but the only sound was that of the man walking into the alcove and grabbing the door.
A rattle of glass, and then nothing. Not even footsteps.
What was he doing? Peering inside?
Leave us alone, Sanjay thought as the silence grew. Just go away.
It took a few more seconds, but the soldier finally complied as he moved out of the alcove and back into the street.
Voices, stating they’d found nothing. Orders were barked, the men gathered, and then as one they jogged off down the street.
Once the sound of their steps had faded away, Kusum said, “Sanjay? Sanjay, are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said, slowly rising to his feet. He looked out the window to make sure the street was truly empty before moving back over to the counter. “Come on. We need to keep going.”
“You scared me to death,” she said as she uncoiled from her crouch.
“I’m sorry. But I had to—”
“I know,” she said, her face softening. “Thank you.”
He was sorely tempted to pull her into his arms and kiss her, but that would have to wait. “Let see if there’s a back way out.”
The alley behind the store led to a warren of thrown-together shacks. Here the smell of death was even stronger than in the streets, as most had chosen to live their final hours in the place they had called home.
As difficult as it was to make their way through the slum, when Sanjay and Kusum exited the other side, they found themselves only two blocks from their destination. They hustled across a darkened part of the street, and up into a building Sanjay hoped would give them a view into the Pishon Chem compound. His plan, however, hadn’t taken into consideration that the door to the roof at the top of the stairwell would be chained closed.