Ninety-third and Ninety-fourth streets. The station was a heavily traveled thoroughfare for uptown and downtown local and express traffic, and during the morning and afternoon rush hours, its platforms were crowded with riders. Even at off-peak hours, Ninety-sixth Street was busy.
Willie was counting on that fact as he and Miguel paid their fares at the Ninety-third Street token booth, pushed through the crowds and down the stairs to the platform. An express train was just pulling out of the station to their right, and in the distance, the lights of a local broke the darkness at the far end of the platform as it approached. He and Miguel lingered near the staircase while scanning the platform for TA cops. As usual, there wasn't a uniform in sight.
The local pulled into the station, discharged a few stray passengers, picked up many more, then commenced its run south. Willie waited until the last car vanished into the darkness, then darted around the staircase along the narrow catwalk that ran alongside the tunnel. Miguel stood a polite distance behind him, his mouth open with amazement. There was no way he was going in there; no way.
"You crazy, Willie?" Miguel hissed after a moment "You know what happened to Slade foolin' around like this."
"I don't know what happened and that's what I'm bound to find out." Willie peered over his shoulder to be sure another train wasn't bearing down on him. Rush hour was approaching, and with it came extra traffic. Convinced he was safe, he eased himself off the catwalk down onto the roadbed. "Keep a watch out for the TA," he admonished Miguel.
"Get outta there, man, you gonna get yourself killed. Forget the fuckin' TA." Miguel felt a trickle of sweat sluice down his back, leaving a cold trail. Jumping down onto the tracks was exactly what Ted Slade had done-- and that crazy sonofabitch had never returned to tell of it.
"You jes' watch out for Miguel Esperanza," Willie shouted over his shoulder as he moved in deeper. "And for Christ's sake, if some cop starts snoopin' around, don't stand there lookin' at me like you see some naked broad in here. Play it cool. Dogs of Hell ain't no dummies, remember."
Willie had to talk big to cover his own mounting fear. The tunnel was dark and dank, and the series of signal lights along the wall cast an eerie light into the tunnel. Had it not been for his grudging affection for Slade, nothing could have enticed Willie into any subway tunnel. As a child he'd had an uncontrollable fear of the dark and the terrible things that inhabited it. Now, alone as the thick darkness closed in around him, the old fear took hold.
"Sheeeit," Willie yelled as he stumbled into an ankle-deep puddle of stagnant water. He was ill-prepared for roughing it in his running shoes, and as the water soaked his foot, he wondered if being here was such a smart idea, after all. Well, it was too late to turn back now.
The flickering halo of light at the Eighty-sixth Street station off in the distance was a beacon to follow. Willie hugged the west wall, always mindful that the third rail, which carried enough electricity to kill him in a second, was opposite him under a protective cover, like a snake hiding under a rock. A vague rustling sound behind him, an intimation that someone else was near, sent a bolt of terror through Willie. He turned around quickly, just in time to see something dart into the shadows; not a figure, exactly, more like a different texture of darkness.
Willie stopped moving entirely. He had to be imagining things. He was alone in the tunnel; he had to be. But just to be sure, he squinted his eyes to help improve his vision; then he scanned the area between the local and express tracks where he thought he'd seen the movement. There was nothing to see. Nothing to be afraid of except his own fear.
"Man, you gettin' as flaky as Miggie," he joked aloud to break the tension. "You better get on with it or your ass will be grass." He knew the local tracks would
Willie was counting on that fact as he and Miguel paid their fares at the Ninety-third Street token booth, pushed through the crowds and down the stairs to the platform. An express train was just pulling out of the station to their right, and in the distance, the lights of a local broke the darkness at the far end of the platform as it approached. He and Miguel lingered near the staircase while scanning the platform for TA cops. As usual, there wasn't a uniform in sight.
The local pulled into the station, discharged a few stray passengers, picked up many more, then commenced its run south. Willie waited until the last car vanished into the darkness, then darted around the staircase along the narrow catwalk that ran alongside the tunnel. Miguel stood a polite distance behind him, his mouth open with amazement. There was no way he was going in there; no way.
"You crazy, Willie?" Miguel hissed after a moment "You know what happened to Slade foolin' around like this."
"I don't know what happened and that's what I'm bound to find out." Willie peered over his shoulder to be sure another train wasn't bearing down on him. Rush hour was approaching, and with it came extra traffic. Convinced he was safe, he eased himself off the catwalk down onto the roadbed. "Keep a watch out for the TA," he admonished Miguel.
"Get outta there, man, you gonna get yourself killed. Forget the fuckin' TA." Miguel felt a trickle of sweat sluice down his back, leaving a cold trail. Jumping down onto the tracks was exactly what Ted Slade had done-- and that crazy sonofabitch had never returned to tell of it.
"You jes' watch out for Miguel Esperanza," Willie shouted over his shoulder as he moved in deeper. "And for Christ's sake, if some cop starts snoopin' around, don't stand there lookin' at me like you see some naked broad in here. Play it cool. Dogs of Hell ain't no dummies, remember."
Willie had to talk big to cover his own mounting fear. The tunnel was dark and dank, and the series of signal lights along the wall cast an eerie light into the tunnel. Had it not been for his grudging affection for Slade, nothing could have enticed Willie into any subway tunnel. As a child he'd had an uncontrollable fear of the dark and the terrible things that inhabited it. Now, alone as the thick darkness closed in around him, the old fear took hold.
"Sheeeit," Willie yelled as he stumbled into an ankle-deep puddle of stagnant water. He was ill-prepared for roughing it in his running shoes, and as the water soaked his foot, he wondered if being here was such a smart idea, after all. Well, it was too late to turn back now.
The flickering halo of light at the Eighty-sixth Street station off in the distance was a beacon to follow. Willie hugged the west wall, always mindful that the third rail, which carried enough electricity to kill him in a second, was opposite him under a protective cover, like a snake hiding under a rock. A vague rustling sound behind him, an intimation that someone else was near, sent a bolt of terror through Willie. He turned around quickly, just in time to see something dart into the shadows; not a figure, exactly, more like a different texture of darkness.
Willie stopped moving entirely. He had to be imagining things. He was alone in the tunnel; he had to be. But just to be sure, he squinted his eyes to help improve his vision; then he scanned the area between the local and express tracks where he thought he'd seen the movement. There was nothing to see. Nothing to be afraid of except his own fear.
"Man, you gettin' as flaky as Miggie," he joked aloud to break the tension. "You better get on with it or your ass will be grass." He knew the local tracks would
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