The train station was crowded. The late shift was about to start, so a steady stream of people left the train while a mob outside waited patiently to board. For reasons that Rick couldn't figure, they were all so anxious to pack themselves like sardines in a tin can, but he wasn't here for the train. He was here for the girl.
He imagined she'd be somewhere away from the main crowd. She'd want an easy to find spot so that the kid wouldn't have any more trouble once he came back with her hairbrush. He checked the benches first--the ones pressed up against the back wall of the station, beneath the giant posters that announced the latest films at the cinema and others that extolled the exaggerated virtues of the city, part of a sleazy advertising scheme cooked up by equally sleazy executives as a way of enticing more visitors to this place.
Rick clicked his teeth and moved on. The was no city for tourists. This was a city for trouble, for dark nights, for dangerous women, for booze and cigarettes. This was a city to die in, and nothing more.
He caught a glimpse of a woman's back, half-concealed beyond a sharp corner. She had blonde curls hidden beneath a wide hat. He could tell it was the woman he'd known as Delilah, even before seeing her face. There was something else about her, like a glow. She was a beacon for all the men, an ignored beam from a lighthouse, telling them all to stay away, but they never listened. She caught all their eyes, turned all their heads, and she tried to shrink further away, preferring not to draw attention to herself. But it was too late.
She turned her head, and Rick could see her profile. It was her, all right, and though she wasn't looking at him, she saw something else that made her eyes widen and her mouth visibly gasp. She pressed her hat against her hat and began moving away quickly down the length of the platform toward the black mouth of the cross-town tunnel. Someone began to follow her--a man in a hat and an olive green coat.
Rick watched with a wrinkled brow as the man in the hat hustled toward the tunnel, and soon they'd both been swallowed up into the darkness. He had no choice but to go after them. Trudging closer, he could feel himself slipping away from the lights and noises of the station, the imagined safety of the herd. Then there was only the blackness of the tunnel in front of him, like a mouth of the underworld. A calm breeze blew out, the breath of the city slapping his face. It wasn't fear he was feeling. He knew how that felt and, more importantly, how to brush it aside. This was something else entirely.
He stepped into the tunnel, following the same path Delilah and the man in the hat had taken, a paved access route that followed the tracks. There was a light mounted on the side of the tunnel up ahead, just after a slight bend. Rick could see a shadow scurrying away on the far side, so he picked up his pace and ran after it. He was careful. There was no railing between him and the tracks, so he dragged his left arm against the tunnel's side. His hard-heeled shoes slapped loudly against the pavement, echoing through the tunnel with the ringing footsteps of those in front of him.
He made it halfway to the lantern when another figure stepped into the ring of yellow light. It was the silhouette of the man in the hat. There was a gun in his hand. Rick pulled his own.
"Hold it right there!" Rick called.
The man in the hat looked in his direction, but there was only darkness. There was a glint in his eyes as he held up his gun and started shooting blindly down the path. Rick flattened himself on the ground as bullets glances off the concrete wall above him, and then he took a few shots of his own, all of them echoing loudly through the tunnel like a series of explosions. The tunnel had become a war zone. The man in the hat grasped his right arm and staggered back into the darkness on the other side of the light.
A sound like the low rumble of thunder rolled from behind him, and Rick turned to see the light from a coming train flood the tunnel, giving him the chance to catch up. Now that he could see everything in front of him, including a hunched figure running further away, the advantage was his.
He caught up quickly, grabbed the man in the hat by the back of his coat and shook the gun from his hand, sending it tumbling to the tracks below. Then with a heave, he threw the man in the hat up against the concrete wall. In the coming light, Rick could see the man's face--thin, with a day's worth of stubble, and a sly smirk set beneath a crooked nose and cold blue eyes.
"Who are you?" Rick asked.
The man said nothing. Rick had dealt with a lot of suspects, both on his days on the force and after he'd become a private detective, and he knew how they usually reacted. There was always a look of fear in their eyes when they knew they'd been caught, but this one showed nothing.
"I said, who are you?" Rick asked again, this time slamming his shoulders back against the wall. His voice was muffled this time by the thunder of the train. It was almost on them.
The smirk became a grin, and the man in the hat punched Rick hard in the chest, briefly knocking the wind out of him. It was enough to loosen his grip, though, and the man in the hat took the opportunity to dash straight ahead, leaping down onto the tracks and rolling to the other side as the train passed.
Rick waited. He could see the faces of the passengers staring at him in the light as they zoomed on their way. Once it was gone, he peered down on the tracks, but nothing was there--no smiling man, no dead body. It was as if he'd just disappeared.
It took Rick a moment to snap out of the state he was in, but he knew he had to reach the end of the tunnel and find Delilah before anyone else. He ran along in the dark for what felt like forever until a lit circle appeared in front of him and he was back on the surface streets of his city. He'd missed the glow of its neon and the constant hum of its streetlights.
"Save the underground for the moles and rabbits," he said to himself as he joined the crowd streaming down the sidewalk, erupting from the restaurants and theaters that lined the streets.
He could see a girl up ahead--a girl in a wide hat pressed atop golden curls. Rick stepped off the sidewalk, into the street itself, and jogged to catch up to her. He grabbed her shoulder, and she turned with a horrified look on her face that soon melted to relief. Her face was stained with tears.
"Oh, Rick! Thank God it's you," she said as she dove into his arms.
"Hi there, doll. I believe we've got a lot to talk about."
He led her down the streets, from one branch of the city to another until they were back on familiar territory. They took shelter in Rick's office, and he instantly turned all the lights on, keeping the dark outside where it belonged, where it surrounded them like a pack of hungry animals, waiting for them to surface once more.
He imagined she'd be somewhere away from the main crowd. She'd want an easy to find spot so that the kid wouldn't have any more trouble once he came back with her hairbrush. He checked the benches first--the ones pressed up against the back wall of the station, beneath the giant posters that announced the latest films at the cinema and others that extolled the exaggerated virtues of the city, part of a sleazy advertising scheme cooked up by equally sleazy executives as a way of enticing more visitors to this place.
Rick clicked his teeth and moved on. The was no city for tourists. This was a city for trouble, for dark nights, for dangerous women, for booze and cigarettes. This was a city to die in, and nothing more.
He caught a glimpse of a woman's back, half-concealed beyond a sharp corner. She had blonde curls hidden beneath a wide hat. He could tell it was the woman he'd known as Delilah, even before seeing her face. There was something else about her, like a glow. She was a beacon for all the men, an ignored beam from a lighthouse, telling them all to stay away, but they never listened. She caught all their eyes, turned all their heads, and she tried to shrink further away, preferring not to draw attention to herself. But it was too late.
She turned her head, and Rick could see her profile. It was her, all right, and though she wasn't looking at him, she saw something else that made her eyes widen and her mouth visibly gasp. She pressed her hat against her hat and began moving away quickly down the length of the platform toward the black mouth of the cross-town tunnel. Someone began to follow her--a man in a hat and an olive green coat.
Rick watched with a wrinkled brow as the man in the hat hustled toward the tunnel, and soon they'd both been swallowed up into the darkness. He had no choice but to go after them. Trudging closer, he could feel himself slipping away from the lights and noises of the station, the imagined safety of the herd. Then there was only the blackness of the tunnel in front of him, like a mouth of the underworld. A calm breeze blew out, the breath of the city slapping his face. It wasn't fear he was feeling. He knew how that felt and, more importantly, how to brush it aside. This was something else entirely.
He stepped into the tunnel, following the same path Delilah and the man in the hat had taken, a paved access route that followed the tracks. There was a light mounted on the side of the tunnel up ahead, just after a slight bend. Rick could see a shadow scurrying away on the far side, so he picked up his pace and ran after it. He was careful. There was no railing between him and the tracks, so he dragged his left arm against the tunnel's side. His hard-heeled shoes slapped loudly against the pavement, echoing through the tunnel with the ringing footsteps of those in front of him.
He made it halfway to the lantern when another figure stepped into the ring of yellow light. It was the silhouette of the man in the hat. There was a gun in his hand. Rick pulled his own.
"Hold it right there!" Rick called.
The man in the hat looked in his direction, but there was only darkness. There was a glint in his eyes as he held up his gun and started shooting blindly down the path. Rick flattened himself on the ground as bullets glances off the concrete wall above him, and then he took a few shots of his own, all of them echoing loudly through the tunnel like a series of explosions. The tunnel had become a war zone. The man in the hat grasped his right arm and staggered back into the darkness on the other side of the light.
A sound like the low rumble of thunder rolled from behind him, and Rick turned to see the light from a coming train flood the tunnel, giving him the chance to catch up. Now that he could see everything in front of him, including a hunched figure running further away, the advantage was his.
He caught up quickly, grabbed the man in the hat by the back of his coat and shook the gun from his hand, sending it tumbling to the tracks below. Then with a heave, he threw the man in the hat up against the concrete wall. In the coming light, Rick could see the man's face--thin, with a day's worth of stubble, and a sly smirk set beneath a crooked nose and cold blue eyes.
"Who are you?" Rick asked.
The man said nothing. Rick had dealt with a lot of suspects, both on his days on the force and after he'd become a private detective, and he knew how they usually reacted. There was always a look of fear in their eyes when they knew they'd been caught, but this one showed nothing.
"I said, who are you?" Rick asked again, this time slamming his shoulders back against the wall. His voice was muffled this time by the thunder of the train. It was almost on them.
The smirk became a grin, and the man in the hat punched Rick hard in the chest, briefly knocking the wind out of him. It was enough to loosen his grip, though, and the man in the hat took the opportunity to dash straight ahead, leaping down onto the tracks and rolling to the other side as the train passed.
Rick waited. He could see the faces of the passengers staring at him in the light as they zoomed on their way. Once it was gone, he peered down on the tracks, but nothing was there--no smiling man, no dead body. It was as if he'd just disappeared.
It took Rick a moment to snap out of the state he was in, but he knew he had to reach the end of the tunnel and find Delilah before anyone else. He ran along in the dark for what felt like forever until a lit circle appeared in front of him and he was back on the surface streets of his city. He'd missed the glow of its neon and the constant hum of its streetlights.
"Save the underground for the moles and rabbits," he said to himself as he joined the crowd streaming down the sidewalk, erupting from the restaurants and theaters that lined the streets.
He could see a girl up ahead--a girl in a wide hat pressed atop golden curls. Rick stepped off the sidewalk, into the street itself, and jogged to catch up to her. He grabbed her shoulder, and she turned with a horrified look on her face that soon melted to relief. Her face was stained with tears.
"Oh, Rick! Thank God it's you," she said as she dove into his arms.
"Hi there, doll. I believe we've got a lot to talk about."
He led her down the streets, from one branch of the city to another until they were back on familiar territory. They took shelter in Rick's office, and he instantly turned all the lights on, keeping the dark outside where it belonged, where it surrounded them like a pack of hungry animals, waiting for them to surface once more.
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