“No-one really uses this,” whispered Travis. “They lead almost straight to an access hatch which will take us to the sewers. They’re not guarded either because they lock from the outside. Once in, you can’t get out. The doors are fire proof — very thick.”
Sam nodded. He still didn’t know why Travis was helping him but he seemed well informed. Travis didn’t seem much of a threat either. Once out of here, Sam could easily overwhelm him.
They entered the emergency exit, closing the door silently behind them. Inside, it was pitch black. Sam was fine — he could still see well enough to negotiate the stairs — but Travis was a different story. Only human, Travis needed artificial illumination.
“Shield your eyes,” said Travis. There was a spark and then a flame as Travis used a lighter to ignite a candle he had produced from his pocket. Holding the candle before him, Travis led the way down the stairs. They descended maybe four flights. Either the building wasn’t very tall or Sam had been held on a lower floor.
They found themselves in a small sub-basement. Two exits led out of the room. One was marked ‘Maintenance’. It was this door that Travis opened with a key. Inside, the room was filled with shelves, all stacked high with what appeared to be cleaning supplies, mops, and plastic containers filled with chemicals. Without a word, Travis led Sam over to a corner, partially blocked and concealed by another shelving rack. Set into the floor of this unobtrusive corner was a large circular metal plate — easily big enough for a man to squeeze through. Sam knew immediately that it was made of iron. Grunting, Travis tried to lift it.
“Give us a hand, would you?”
Sam shook his head and made no move to help. “I’d rather I didn’t.” Travis had planned his route out carefully. He must have calculated on lifting the plate himself in the event that Sam was not able to help. He was probably just being lazy. Perhaps it was some kind of test? Regardless, Sam wasn’t going to play games.
Muttering to himself and shooting Sam a scathing look, Travis finally managed to wrangle the plate out of the way. Underneath was a grill, also made of iron. This one was locked with another padlock. Travis produced another key and swiftly unlocked it and moved this grill aside. Sam was impressed. No wonder no demons had gotten in this way. He understood now why no guard needed to be posted at this access point. Even in desperation, Sam couldn’t have gotten through such a secure grill.
On his knees, Travis poked his head through the hole, waving his candle away. Satisfied, he nodded to Sam and disappeared. Sam moved over and peered down it. The hole was a perfectly formed concrete tunnel leading down — presumably and judging from the smell — to the sewers about twenty feet below. Metal rungs were set in the concrete walls at regular intervals. Already, the candle light revealed Travis was almost half way down. Sam was about to follow when he sensed it. The rungs were made of iron. Typical. He could do this the hard way or the easy way.
He decided that his body had suffered enough lately. He’d do it the easy way.
Waiting for Travis to descend seemed to take an eternity. When he got to the bottom, Travis looked up expectantly at Sam. Sam waved him aside. “Get out of the way,” he hissed.
Travis appeared momentarily confused and then, when he realized Sam’s intent, hurriedly moved aside. Sam put his hands straight down his sides. He gave a tiny sideways leap and then plummeted down the hole, missing the rungs by the narrowest of margins. He splashed down in a foot of water, legs spread and bent to dissipate the impact.
Travis looked at him for a moment and shook his head. Sam heard him say ‘Show off’ under his breath before the other man turned, leading Sam down the sewerage tunnel. Travis was clearly making an effort to be silent even though it was difficult in the water. Even if he had been dispossessed of his demonic senses, this would’ve told Sam one important piece of information. There were other people around. He could sense them and Travis knew they were there too. This, then, was obviously not the only access point from the Police museum to the sewers.
There was no-one else in close proximity but Sam had no idea how Travis knew this. He was being quiet as a precaution but he made no move to extinguish his candle. Sam followed, a soundless, hulking shadow at the other man’s back.
As he moved, he noticed the water. It wasn’t red which meant it was fresh and not salt water. And it was still here, proving that New York somehow had a fresh water supply. No wonder so many people were able to survive here.
Ahead of him, Travis took several turns. Some of the tunnels were so low that Sam had to stoop. They saw no-one else. No humans. No demons. Sometimes Sam could sense both. The demons from above and humans both above and on the same level as he and Travis. The only other creatures they saw were rats and cockroaches — thousands of them.
Sam estimated they’d been moving for about forty minutes when Travis brought them to a stop. On the wall next to him were more rungs leading up to an iron manhole cover about ten feet above their heads. Travis swiftly moved up the rungs. At the top, he edged the cover across and peeked out warily. Satisfied by what he saw, he moved the cover all the way across and hauled himself out, motioning Sam to follow.
Sam sighed. More iron. Always iron.
He tore some strips off his jeans. They were already in tatters anyway from their mistreatment at the hands of the Lemure so he figured it hardly mattered. He ripped more material away until they were basically long shorts, and used it to wrap his hands, careful to ensure that not one scrap of his skin was exposed.
That done, he ascended, slowly at first, wincing in advance at the expected pain. When none came, he grew more confident and raced up the rungs. He literally flew up out of the manhole, his attitude being that if he was going to make contact with the cover, it would be best to get it over and done with quickly. Fortunately he avoided it, landing next to Travis.
He looked around and found himself in what had once, by the looks of it, been a park. Now it was littered by blackened tree stumps, a desolate and barren wasteland, almost identical to Liberty state park that he’d seen earlier, now just over the water.
“Battery Park,” said Travis, appearing to read his mind. “Would’ve taken you through the Brooklyn battery tunnel but its blocked now. The Resistance thought it was a good idea. Thought they might stop the flow of demons. They were wrong, dude, so wrong.” Travis inclined his head. “This way. Got a surprise for you.”
Warily, Sam following as Travis led him along one of the paths that weaved through the once park. Something about this situation didn’t seem right. It was somehow a bit off. Then he saw it. On a clear space that had once been trees and grass, a helicopter rested, its rotors already spinning. As they got nearer, Sam could hear the wine of its motor increasing in pitch. It was readying itself to take off.
“You’d better hurry,” said Travis. “He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“Who?” asked Sam, mystified.
Travis smiled and shrugged helplessly. “You’ll just have to find out for yourself, dude,” he said. “I’ll leave you here. Go on, get in the helicopter.”
“Why are you doing this?” Sam asked. “What has this got to do with you?”
“You’re gonna find out soon enough,” he said. And then he shrugged. “What does it matter?” He turned around and lifted up the long blond hair on the back of his neck. There was a tattoo there. The Mark of the Beast. Travis was in league with the Satan worshippers in the city.
He turned back to Sam and winked. “Handy little mark,” he said. “Gets you all sorts of things in this city.”
Sam turned away from him, disgusted. Suddenly, a man dressed in fatigues with insignia that Sam could only interpret as belonging to some European nation got out of the back of the helicopter and opened the rear door, clearly waiting for Sam to get in. Reluctantly, Sam did so. As soon as he was in, the door slammed shut and the chopper lifted off. Despite the situation, Sam was thrilled. He’d never been in any sort of flying craft before. The closest he’d got to flying was when an Astaroth had picked him up once. That wasn’t fun. This was.