“No,” I shouted. “I’d pull you down.”
“I don’t care,” she said.
Her words rushed over me, and if they were the last ones I’d ever hear, I’d die happy.
Well, maybe not happy, but a little more at peace with the world.
“I’m sorry for everything,” I yelled, hoping she could still hear me over the roar of the number 6 train. “I love you.” And then I broke into a sprint — or as much of a sprint as I could muster with multiple fractures and heavy blood loss.
Grand Central is a four-track subway station. Two single tracks on each side and a double set of tracks in the middle. If I had been on the center set of tracks, I could have stood between them and let the train pass me. But the outer track is a death trap — a platform on one side and a wall on the other. The only possible escape was a service door set in the wall.
I could see one twenty feet ahead.
I looked back. The train had just entered the station — sparks flying, whistle blowing — and now I could see the motorman’s face: absolute panic when he saw one man lying on the tracks and another running toward the tunnel.
And then I heard the thump.
If Chukov had any air left in his lungs, he might have screamed when the train hit him. But he didn’t. All I heard was a flat, dull whoomp, like a tennis racket slapping a mattress. It was unmistakable. Chukov was dead.
I reached the service door that was tucked into the wall below the platform. I pulled the handle. Locked!
Another hundred feet still lay between me and safety.
The train was slowing down. Maybe I could outrun it after all.
And then my foot caught a railroad tie, and I fell face-first into the bed of debris and muck between the tracks.
It was over. I took comfort in knowing that the most evil son of a bitch in the world was dead and the most wonderful woman in the world was alive and safe, which was what I had set out to do.
Mission accomplished.
The squeal of the brakes was deafening now. Even an art student knows a little physics.
The train couldn’t stop in time.
Inertia wins.
I lose and die on the train tracks.
Chapter 95
ZACH HEARD THE crying before he reached the platform. He raced down the stairs. It was Katherine. She had her face buried in Ty’s shoulder and was sobbing uncontrollably.
“Ty, am I glad you found Katherine,” Zach said. “Matt would kick my ass if I let anything happen to her. Let’s round everybody up and get the hell out of here.”
“Zach…” Ty hesitated.
“What?” Zach snapped back. “What’s going on?”
“Matt’s dead,” Katherine said.
“Matt and Chukov went head-to-head down on the tracks,” Ty said. “The train took them both out.”
The last three cars of the number 6 train were still inside the tunnel. The doors to the train remained closed. A handful of passengers were pressed against the front window wondering why the motorman was on the ground, his back against a steel column, his legs stretched out in front of him. A transit cop was kneeling beside him.
“Oh, God,” the motorman said, breathing hard. “Oh, God, I can’t believe it.”
“Try to stay calm, Mr. Perez,” the cop said, putting her hand on his arm. “The paramedics are on the way.”
“Paramedics?” he said. “For what? They’re both dead.”
“For you,” she said. “They’ll be here for you. Try to calm down.”
“I had green lights all the way from Thirty-fourth,” Perez said, “so we were moving. But legal. A hundred percent legal.”
Katherine let out a mournful wail.
The cop turned sharply and looked at her. “I’m trying to get a statement here. Can somebody please—”
“Hey!” Ty snapped at the cop.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” she said, “but we got a situation here.”
She turned back to the motorman. “Did they fall, did they jump, what happened?”
“I don’t know. They were already there when I saw them. One guy was on the track and couldn’t get up. It looked like maybe the other guy was helping him. I hit the brakes as soon as I saw them, but the man on the tracks was too close to the rear of the station. He never had a chance.”
He closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands.
“And the second guy?” the cop said.
“He started running. The train had slowed down to four miles an hour. He could have made it, but he fell. It wasn’t my fault.”
Five cops came bounding down the stairs. One was a sergeant.
“Sarge,” the cop said. “We have two civilians under the train. The motorman is in shock. I told the conductor to keep the doors closed until I can get someone here for crowd control.”
“Any witnesses?” the sergeant said.
“That woman,” she said, pointing at Katherine.
By now a dozen passengers had moved forward to the front car. One started pounding on the window and yelling, “Let us off. Let us off.” The others immediately picked it up.
“Keep her on ice,” the sergeant said. “Let me deal with the passengers first.”
“I’ll wait with her,” Adam said and put his arm around Katherine.
“We have to get you out of here,” he said in a whisper. “Now. While the cops are still busy.”
“I can’t,” she whimpered. “Matthew’s still down there. His body’s there.”
“Katherine, you don’t want to see him,” Zach said.
“He’s gone,” Adam said. “We can’t do anything for the captain. He wanted us to keep you safe. That’s what we’re going to do.”
He tried to move Katherine toward the stairs.
But she dropped to her knees. “Matthew. I love you so much. I love you,” she said, sobbing. “And I forgive you.”
A faint voice came from under the train. “If you can find someone who can get this train off me, you can tell me in person. I love you, too.”
Chapter 96
I WAS LYING right under the second car, maybe twenty feet from Katherine. I had managed to fall flat into the track bed. Forty-odd tons of the 6 train had passed over me before it finally came to a stop.
I don’t know how long I was unconscious. Between losing blood and whacking my head when I fell, I was out of it for a while probably. But when I came to and heard Katherine saying she loved me and forgave me, I had another reason to get out of there.
Up on the platform, I could hear Katherine crying and my guys laughing and screaming and then orders from someone in charge.
“Don’t move,” the voice said.
“Don’t worry,” I responded. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Matt!” It was Adam. “You okay?”
“No,” I said. “You know how disgusting it is on these tracks? I’ll probably die from being facedown in subway grunge.”
I heard Ty next. “At least we know his sense of humor is still awful.”
It took half an hour before the power to the third rail was turned off so the fire department guys could pull me out. EMTs laid me on a stretcher on the platform. I looked up, and the next person I saw was Katherine. “Nice shot with that trash can,” I said.
She knelt down and pressed against my filthy, foul-smelling, bloody body. She kissed my face a dozen times before the EMT guys pried her off.
“Ma’am, we’ve got to get him to the hospital. You can ride with us.”
Four firefighters and two EMTs lifted the stretcher, and we headed for the stairs.
“Wait. I have to talk to him. That guy there.”