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A final screeching turn. This was the bottom floor of the garage, a dead end. “There’s the hatch.”
I peered ahead and saw a hinged metal hatch, a bit larger than a manhole cover, in the pavement a few feet from the far wall. “Stop the car right in front of it and leave the engine running,” I told her. “I have an idea.”
She didn’t question or ask for details and brought the car to a rubber-burning stop directly in front of the hatch. Philip threw the back door open and dragged Andrew not at all nicely out of the car. I jumped out on my side, and together Naomi and I managed to haul the heavy metal hatch lid up and open to land on the concrete with a heavy clang. I peered into the exposed shaft to see a ladder fixed to the wall, its bottom lost in shadow.
“No way to lock it from the inside, right?” I asked.
“Nope. C’mon, let’s get moving.”
“You go down first,” I said. “Andrew and Philip next. T
hen I’ll park the car over the hatch. I’m skinny and can squeeze under to the hole.”
“Jesus,” she breathed. “I think that’ll work. Slow them down enough for us to lose them.” She set her hands and feet on the outside of the ladder the way she’d done at Andrew’s apartment, and slid down into the gloom. A menacing growl from Philip got Andrew moving, though he climbed down in the more traditional manner, as did Philip.
I didn’t stick around to watch. A low rumble from above told me the Saberton team was on their way. As soon as Philip’s head was clear, I drove the car forward until it covered the hatch, killed the engine, set the emergency brake, then climbed out and locked the doors. Headlights washed the far wall as I shimmied my scrawny ass beneath the car, but instead of an easy crawl to the hatch, I found myself wedged between the undercarriage and the pavement. Stupid low clearance car!
Hot metal against the back of my lightweight jacket went from warm to painful in seconds. I thrashed, trapped, but the squeal of tires on the last curve fueled my determination. No way in hell would I let them capture me again. Not in a stupid way like this. I blew out my breath and managed to wriggle far enough to get my hand on the lip of the hole, then dragged myself forward. It took a few heart pounding seconds to make an awkward transition to the ladder, but I began to clamber down as a car slid to a stop a few yards away. With each movement, fiery pain like the worst sunburn ever flared across the back of my shoulders, and Hunger twisted inside me as my parasite sought resources to heal the damage.
At the bottom of the shaft, a dim bulb brightened pitch darkness to gloom, but it was enough light to see that we were in a grungy tunnel about eight feet wide. Pipes and conduits ran along the ceiling, and more bulbs dotted the tunnel every fifty yards or so.
I noted with grim satisfaction that Andrew’s hands were cuffed behind him. Philip looked unhappy, but I assumed it was simply the usual we’re-in-really-deep-shit until I saw Naomi sitting against the wall, face contorted in pain as she clutched her ankle.
“I landed wrong,” she blurted. “God, I’m so stupid! There’s a broken place on the ladder. Shit.”
I echoed her curse then turned to Philip. “Can you carry Naomi?” He nodded and moved toward her. I reached for Andrew’s arm then froze and inhaled deeply. The scent of his fresh human brain filled my senses, and I began to salivate like a dog at a barbecue. Shit. I didn’t know a lot about this spy business, but I was pretty sure eating a hostage wasn’t cool.
“Burned myself under the car,” I told Philip through clenched teeth. “I don’t think it’s serious, but it hurts like a mother. How many packets of brains do you have left?”
“Two,” he replied. “And you still have two, right?” I nodded, and he continued, “Better eat one on the move. The pain could screw you up if we get in trouble.”
If we get in trouble. What the hell did he think we were in now? But he was right. Pain along with brain-hunger would distract me at crunch time. I fished a packet from my side pocket and grabbed Andrew’s arm. “Naomi, you said you know these tunnels. Where to?”
She hissed out a breath as Philip lifted her. “Go down to the third junction and take a left, then right at the next one after that.”
A screech of tires from another car filtered down from above. I ripped the packet open with my teeth and tightened my grip on Andrew.
“I’d rather get lost than captured,” I said. “Let’s move.”
Chapter 25
“I think we’re clear,” I said, peering behind us. Or rather, I couldn’t see, hear, or smell anyone in pursuit. We’d been fleeing for close to half an hour, taking turns as Naomi directed and blindly trusting that she knew where the hell to go. I wasn’t even sure we were in New York anymore, but Naomi insisted that a hatch we’d passed about a minute earlier was close to the Lincoln Center.
Philip looked back and gave a nod. “I agree.” He carefully set Naomi on her good foot and helped her to sit on the floor of the tunnel.
I pointed to a spot that looked fairly clean. “You. Sit,” I ordered Andrew. A wave of queasiness shuddered through me as he complied, and barely a second later Philip turned, stumbled several steps away and retched.
“You okay, Philip?” I asked as I did my best to keep my own nausea from showing on my face. It had to be the MegaPlague imprint shit if I felt it as well. A few seconds later my queasiness faded, and Philip straightened, wiping his mouth.
“I’m fine now,” he said, voice strong. I glanced at him as he returned to us. His eyes looked hollow, but he was doing his best to maintain a tough façade in front of Andrew.
I turned and crouched by Naomi. “We need to get your boot off before your ankle swells too much.”
“Right.” She clenched her hands into fists as I loosened the laces and removed the boot as carefully as possible.
“Oh, man.” I winced at the sight of the mottled purple bloat that was her ankle. “That looks pretty awful.”
“That’s a great bedside manner you have there,” she said with a strained laugh.
