And he wasn’t ready to die. Not yet.
Blackness reappeared at the corners of his vision, eating its way toward the center. He blinked. The
Omega
’s doors remained open, providing some visibility to its interior. During the battle, the objects inside had shifted.
He sensed the new shadows surrounding the
Omega
. But he ignored them, keeping his attention focused solely on the bell-shaped object.
He now understood its secret.
And it scared the shit out of him.
Darkness swept across his eyes, consuming his sight. He felt himself falling, falling, into a deep abyss. And then, nothing.
Nothing but blackness.
VANISHED
Chapter 1
August 21, Present Day
Javier Kolen held his breath as he descended into the ground. It was a totally useless gesture, yet he found it comforting. The longer he kept the odors below from penetrating his nostrils, the better.
His hiking boots emitted soft scraping sounds as he worked his way down the rungs. His palms, encased in cheap leather gloves, held an iron grip on the rust-ridden bars.
He could’ve let go like the Braggart. He could’ve just dropped into the maintenance tunnel. After all, just ten feet separated his short, stocky frame from the concrete below. But that wasn’t his style. Safety remained his top priority, no matter how much the Braggart needled him for it.
Kolen clambered down the rest of the ladder and stepped off into the old stone-block tunnel. As his boots sank into the inch-thick grime, he finally allowed himself to breathe. The odor, an unsettling combination of stale air and decaying trash, sickened him.
He looked up. The lamp strapped to his protective headgear shone on the closed manhole one hundred feet above him. The sight made him dizzy.
Two thousand dollars. Two thousand dollars.
Kolen repeated the mantra a few more times until his head began to clear. He didn’t like the job. It didn’t feel right. Yet, two thousand dollars cash was impossible for him to resist.
Reaching to his belt, he unclipped a handheld transceiver and raised it to his mouth. “Team Eagle is in the pot. We’re ready to cook. See you on the other side.”
The radio vibrated in his hand. “Roger that.”
As he returned the transceiver to his belt, Kolen sensed movement. Turning to the side, he noticed the Braggart clawing frantically at the back of his neck.
Kolen tilted his head, confused. Suddenly, he felt skittering tiny touches on his shoulder. He swept his hand through the air, brushing off some sort of bug. He started to shudder but stopped cold instead.
Cockroaches.
The tunnel was crawling with them. He swiveled in a tight circle, horrified yet awed. The nasty little bugs covered practically every inch of the walls and ceiling. They shifted constantly, always in motion, a never-ending showcase of creepiness.
“Damn it, Javier,” the Braggart said. “Stop standing there like an idiot and help me out.”
Kolen didn’t respond right away. He didn’t like the Braggart, didn’t like him one bit.
The Braggart’s real name was Dan Adcock. He was just a kid, a ridiculous looking kid. His long black hair, tied into a ponytail, looked silly. His soft, hefty frame was laughable. Heck, even his gait, which was far too short for his lanky body, seemed absurd.
Kolen didn’t know much about him, just that he was some kind of amateur treasure hunter. A treasure hunter who liked to talk about himself. A lot.
As he looked into Adcock’s contorted face, Kolen found himself feeling the familiar doubts all over again. He was a respected urban archaeologist for God’s sake. So what the hell was he doing in the middle of New York’s subway system with a joker like Adcock?
Two thousand dollars. Two thousand dollars.
Kolen needed the money, needed it badly. He cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you wear a turtleneck?”
“Do I look like I’ve been down here before? How was I supposed to know this was cockroach central?”
Reluctantly, Kolen walked over, peeled back Adcock’s shirt, and flicked away a couple of large cockroaches. “Next time come prepared. And don’t ask me to do this again. You’re on your own from here.”
“What’s your problem?”
Kolen felt his temper building. “Nothing.”
“You’re full of it. You’ve been on my ass ever since we met.”
“No I haven’t.”
“You think you’re better than me don’t you?”
“Of course not.”
Adcock made a face. “You’re a liar. You think you’re better than me. But you know what? You’re wrong. You might have a fancy degree. You probably get quoted in obscure magazines every now and then. But since you’re here, I’m guessing your profession doesn’t pay shit. And in a capitalist world like ours, that means your work is worthless.”
Kolen knew he shouldn’t respond. But he couldn’t help himself. “There’s more to life than money, you little bastard.”
“Than why are you here?”
“I have my reasons. What about you?”
Adcock shrugged. “I like money.”
“You’re a treasure hunter right?”
“That’s right.”
“Ever find anything?”
“All the time.”
Kolen laughed. “I doubt that. But regardless, do you know how to properly excavate a site? Do you know how to remove artifacts without damaging them? Do you keep every single thing you find, no matter how small, and painstakingly record it for future analysis?”
“Well…”
“Of course not. Because you don’t care that you’re destroying history. In fact, I bet you don’t care about anyone but yourself.”
Kolen sensed a weight lifting off his chest. It felt good to speak his mind. But one look at Adcock’s sneering, obnoxious face caused the weight to come crashing back down again.
“You talk a good game,” Adcock said. “But it’s just talk. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”
“This is different.”
“Yeah? How so?”
Kolen fell quiet. Not because he couldn’t answer the question but because he didn’t want to give Adcock the satisfaction.
Two thousand dollars. Two thousand dollars.
Kolen felt sick to his stomach. He was violating his principles, selling his soul for two thousand measly dollars. But he didn’t have a choice. He needed money to pay off his gambling debts. Either he did the job or he’d lose his life. It was that simple.
That complicated.
Adopting a quick pace, Kolen strode through the tunnel. After a few moments, Adcock fell in behind him. Together, they walked through a couple of maintenance tunnels before finally arriving at the IRT Lexington Avenue Line.
The four-track line stretched from 125
th
Street in Harlem to downtown Brooklyn. It served more passengers than any other subway line in the United States. In fact, it served more passengers on a daily basis than both Boston’s and San Francisco’s rapid transit systems put together.
Adcock reached into his pocket and removed a wadded up piece of paper. Unfolding it, he stuck it against the closest wall. “We’re here.” He jabbed a finger at the paper. “And we’re going here.”
Kolen watched Adcock’s finger trace a winding path that encompassed Grand Central Terminal, Union Square, and Penn Station. “How many miles is that?”
“How should I know?”
“Guess.”
Adcock folded up the map and placed it back into his pocket. “We’re covering a couple of lines here so maybe ten to fifteen miles. Of course, that doesn’t include non-revenue tracks.”
“That’s a lot of walking.”
He smirked. “Are you giving up already?”
“No, I’m just saying that we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
“It could be much larger you know. There’s about six hundred and sixty miles of passenger tracks under New York. Adding in non-revenue tracks, that number rises to eight hundred and forty.”
“What’s our strategy for staying safe down here?”
Adcock shrugged. “I wouldn’t touch the third rail if I were you. Other than that, we should be fine. Whoever’s pulling the strings on this little operation managed to temporarily shut down service in this area. So, we won’t have to worry about running into any trains.”
Kolen followed Adcock into the tunnel. They walked south for a short while and eventually reached the 42
nd
Street station. Two girls, young and drunk, milled about the area in their skimpiest clothes, waiting for the next train. When they saw Kolen and Adcock, their jaws dropped open. Kolen felt like telling them that they had a long wait ahead of them. But instead, he kept his mouth shut.
As he entered the next section of tunnel, Kolen felt a pebble work its way into his boot. “Hold up. I need a second.”
Adcock sighed loudly but pulled to a stop. Then he began to look around, studying the walls with his light.
Kolen knelt down and untied his laces. “You know, this job would be a lot easier if there were video cameras down here.”
“There are cameras down here. They just don’t work very well.”
“Sounds useful.”
Adcock shrugged. “Your taxpayer dollars at work.”
“I’m surprised Jack Chase hasn’t tried to modernize it. He’s got the dough.”
“He’s not going to spend his own money fixing up a public system. And besides, he’s just the acting MTA Chairman. He won’t be around forever.”
“How does one become an acting Chairman anyway?”
“In his case, someone had to die.”
“Forget I asked.”
Adcock clucked impatiently. “Are you almost done?”
“Just a second.”
“We’re on a pretty tight time schedule. If it’s all the same to you, I’m going to go on ahead.”
“Fine.”
Adcock started to walk south, the light from his headlamp diminishing with each step. Soon he was nothing more than a speck in the eerie darkness. As Kolen watched him leave, he continued to wrestle with his feelings. He wasn’t sure what he disliked more…Adcock or the assignment.
Two thousand dollars. Two thousand dollars.
Kolen’s hand shook as he took off his boot. He tried to ignore them, but his instincts told him that something was wrong. Shoving the thought from his mind, he removed the pebble, stuck the boot back on his foot, and retied it. Then he focused his eyes on the dim light cast by Adcock’s headlamp and began walking again.
He shuffled forward for a block and then another one. Gradually, his mind shifted to other things…the leftovers waiting for him back in his apartment…his little niece’s dance recital…next week’s poker game.
It promised to be a good week, maybe even a great week. That is, assuming he paid off his debts before it was over.
A loud crashing noise broke his train of thought. The light in front of him vaporized and pure darkness settled over the tunnel. Kolen chuckled. Adcock must’ve fallen face-first onto the tracks.
Served him right.
He waited a few seconds, listening as more crashing noises followed the first one. A troubled feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. He lifted his head and turned his helmet, but the headlamp didn’t detect any movement.
“Hey Dan,” Kolen shouted into the darkness. “Are you okay?”
There was no response. Just more noises. They sounded like fleshy material pounding against concrete.
“Dan, can you hear me?”
Kolen heard a strange, tearing noise, like a garment being ripped in two. And then…
“Help me…help…”
Kolen sprinted forward, pumping his arms as he ran. He forgot everything else around him. He forgot his location, forgot his problems. He even forgot his dislike for Adcock.
After no more than a hundred feet, he spotted the man lying on the ground, motionless. His eyes tightened and his body tensed.
Kolen slid to a halt next to Adcock. Reaching down, he grabbed the man by his belt. Adcock seemed light for his size.
“Dan, what happened? Are you okay?” Kolen froze. A helpless, frightening feeling crept over him.
Adcock wasn’t okay. He was dead. But that wasn’t the worst of it.
Half of his body was missing.
Something had ripped him in half. Something that was, in all likelihood, still in the area.
A rush of movement came from the west.
Kolen whirled toward it. His headlamp caught a frenzy of activity. He tried to move but the sight of the horrible beast shocked him into stillness.
Powerful jaws clamped down on his leg and he felt himself dragged to the ground. He wanted to scream but his throat didn’t work.
He tried to move, tried to stand up, tried to fight.
But it was too late.
He felt a wrenching pain in his waist.
Then he felt nothing at all.
Chapter 2
September 5
Hoisting myself up, I grabbed onto another handhold, desperately trying to maintain my concentration. After three years, I knew the warning signs. I knew all too well the headaches, the sensitivity to the sun, the mental haziness, and the sudden rush of intense, conflicting emotions.
The precariousness of the situation didn’t escape me. I was nine thousand feet above sea level, surrounded by early morning light, and alone.
Completely, utterly alone.
Now, an episode was coming. It was inevitable, unavoidable.
And unless I reached the plateau in time, it would be lethal as well.
Along with my trusty self-belay device, I’d solo climbed plenty of peaks over the last three years. I knew the routine. It was engrained in my skull.
Set the anchor, lead the pitch, and fix the ropes. Rappel the pitch, clean the pitch, and haul the bags.
Rinse and repeat.
Over and over again.
Ordinarily, I found mountain climbing exhilarating yet mind-numbing. I hardly ever found it stressful. But this was no ordinary climb.
I climbed faster, my hands and feet scrabbling for holds on the schist. And ever so slowly, I moved up the sun-kissed rock face.