Cantway watched as the last car of Jeffers’ train disappeared into the dark tunnel. If that damn fool was able to outrun the incoming flood, he’d be a hero. If not—well, he’d get a nice obituary. And maybe even a funeral, if they ever recovered a body.
Somebody called for her attention and she turned back to the more immediate problem—getting the last of these people upstairs and onto a train out of the city.
And very shortly, herself as well.
She crossed herself and went back to work.
The subway platform was filling up. More and more people were realizing that an eastbound train might be their only remaining hope of escape.
A steady stream of future refugees came down the stairs, or walking down the frozen escalator. As the crowd became ever more dense, people jostled for position, all wanting to make sure they’d be able to board the next train.
Most kept checking the overhead arrival signs, but even before the sign flashed, “Arriving now,” they could feel the breeze of its approach, as it forced the air from the tunnel ahead of it, then a distant howl echoing out of the tube, a glimmer of light that ballooned into a glare, and finally the train came screeching into the station.
As soon as the doors slid open, the crowd pushed in. Hu held the bikes and James pushed Pearl forward. Fluffy grumbled at the people pushing past him. Abruptly, a female police officer blocked their way. She was short, all muscle, and she wore a don’t-fuck-with-me expression. Her nametag identified her as Officer Reese.
“You can’t take that dog on the train,” she said.
Almost immediately Pearl began wailing loudly. James recognized the performance, he’d seen it before, an award-worthy rendition of Frightened Old Crippled Lady. It usually worked. “Oh no, no,” cried Pearl, clutching her heart. “I can’t leave him. He’s my service dog. He doesn’t bite. He’s big and friendly. I don’t know what I’d do without him!” She was loud, very loud, and people already aboard the train, or still trying to board, turned to look. Pearl was playing to the court of public opinion.
Reese was immovable. “Sorry, ma’am. That animal looks dangerous. We can’t take any chances—”
James started to object. “You want to leave him here to die?”
But Pearl spoke first. “No, no, James, we must obey the officer. Officer—” She peered forward. “—Officer Reese.” She shifted her performance from Frightened-Old-Lady to Frightened-Old-And-Confused-Lady. She held up the end of the leash, offering it to the officer. “Officer Reese, will you hold him till we get back?” Pearl patted the dog’s head. “Here, Slobberchops, go with the nice lady.”
Fluffy’s posture changed dramatically. He was suddenly alert, suddenly eager—he curled back his upper lip, revealing enough teeth for a piano keyboard. He grunted and drooled and pulled at the leash as if someone had just announced fresh peasant for dinner.
Officer Reese put her hand on the hilt of her gun.
“No, no, don’t do that! He’s just being friendly. Honest. He just wants to play.”
Officer Reese must have been painfully aware that all eyes were on her. And the clock was ticking. Fluffy grumbled impatiently. Reese blinked—and took a step back and aside. “Oh, the hell with it. Just keep a tight leash on him.”
As James pushed Pearl into the already jammed subway car, those nearest squeezed back to make room, especially room for Fluffy. James bent to her ear and whispered, “Slobberchops?”
Pearl whispered back. “That’s his real name. When you say it, he gets ready to play. That was his smile. Works every time.”
“Nice.” James let go of the wheelchair, turned back to Hu. “Come on—”
Hu gestured. The bikes? “There’s no room—”
“Leave them. Grab your case. Come on—”
“You sure, James—?”
“Just do it!”
Hu let go of the bikes, grabbed his most important bag, and started to board, but Officer Reese stepped in ahead of him, into the last available space, blocking his way. “Sorry. This one’s full.”
James started to object. “But he’s my—”
She half-turned. “You got the dog, don’t push your luck. There’s one more train coming, he can get on that one.”
James made a decision. He leaned quickly down to Pearl. “Give ’em hell, sweetheart.” Then, “If he stays, I stay.” He pushed past Reese and stepped off the train.
As the subway doors closed, Officer Reese glared at them both. James didn’t care. He grabbed Hu. “Wedding or not, you’re my husband, and I’m not going anywhere without you.” Then he kissed Hu passionately.
Which surprised them both—because James had never kissed Hu in public anywhere before.
They weren’t alone on the subway platform. There were at least thirty or forty others, the last few stragglers. Several of them were screaming at the departing train they’d been unable to board. A couple had even been pushed out as the doors closed in front of them.
“You selfish bastards!” Somebody else yelled, “That was the last train.” Followed by, “Come on, upstairs. The roof of the—”
His words were drowned out, running for the stairs. There was still time to get to the roof of the tallest nearby buildings. It might be enough. But if Pearl was right—and Pearl was rarely wrong—it probably wouldn’t be.
James looked to Hu. “You want to follow them?”
“She said there was one more train coming.”
“Do you believe her?”
“She wasn’t Miss Congeniality, was she?”
“More like, I dunno, Miss Convenience Store.” James looked to the stairs, looked down the track, looked to the stairs again.
Hu said, “Are we fucked?”
James didn’t need to consider the question. The answer was obvious. “Well… yes. Probably.”
Hu looked at his watch. “The water is probably pulling away from the shore by now.”
“Uh, no,” James said. “It’s not gonna work like that. Not this one. That’s what they were explaining while you were in the shower. A big part of the island fell into the sea, it pushed an equivalent volume of water outward. The first thing that hits is the wave. Afterward, more waves. Like the whole Pacific is sloshing.”
“Should we wait here? Or…?”
Before James could answer, a Korean woman came dragging a little girl, five or six, maybe seven, running down the stairs. “She was out playing, I couldn’t find her! Are we too late? Are the trains still running—?”
And as if in answer, they both felt a rising breeze.
“One more,” Hu said to the woman. “The last one.”
“Oh, thank God, thank God.”
Down the tunnel, the distant light became an onrushing glare. The train’s horn howled like an electric banshee. It came screeching into the station, the doors sliding open almost immediately.
James and Hu let the woman rush past them, the little girl almost flying like a rag doll, then they pushed their bikes into the subway car. The bikes and the attached trailers filled the space at the end of the car designed for bikes and wheelchairs and luggage on wheels. As soon as the doors slid closed and the train lurched into motion, James looked to Hu and smiled. For the first time today, since walking out of their small house in Venice Beach, James allowed himself the smallest bit of confidence. Finally, they were on their way. If they could beat the onrushing wave to Union Station, maybe.
Would there be a train waiting there? Maybe. Maybe. Otherwise…
Without stopping, the subway could get downtown in seven minutes, probably less. If they stopped for passengers, if there were people still waiting at each station, and there probably would be, then you’d have to add a minute for each station, maybe even two or three for braking, loading, accelerating again—okay, so figure maybe fifteen minutes at worst.