Days of Panic Page 2

  Although the tunnels were safer than shelters, the real threat came from the Amtrak Police who would go out of their way to clear him and the others out on a daily basis. So far, he’d managed to elude them. In the first few months after he’d moved below ground some of the Amtrak Police had been kind enough to treat him and others with respect and escort them out, but others were brutal in their eviction, destroying the little they had. To them, they were less than human — nothing more than scavengers living off the grid, hidden beneath rowdy streets and carved avenues and beyond the rules of society.

  Elliot waited on the platform like any other commuter, though it wasn’t the train he was waiting to get into, it was the tunnel. He always had to move fast or there was a risk of being caught. A warm breeze of air blew out of the mouth of the tunnel that was wide and dark, swallowing the light and all that was good. The smell of brake dust and mold lingered in the air. He gazed down at the rubble littering the train tracks, and rats scouring for food, then back at the crowd as they began to board the next train. After a few seconds of hesitation he hopped down and jogged on into the darkness, gravel crunching below his boots. The city growled overhead through the cracks and vents, muffled by the concrete. As he moved down the tunnel, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, a few faces appeared to see if he was the Amtrak Police. Upon recognizing Elliot, they disappeared into their holes. He’d met them all. The mentally ill, the bipolar, the jobless, the substance abuser, the thief and those just looking to escape a world caught up in pursuit of material accumulation and social acceptance.

  “Hey Elliot!”

  A man he’d come to know as Squid sat on the edge of a wall, his legs dangling off as he drank a beer.

  “How are yah?” Elliot asked.

  He raised his beer. “Could be better, could be worse.” It was the same answer he gave every time. “Listen, I wouldn’t head down there today. I saw them rooting around near your place.”

  “Shit!” Elliot didn’t have any problem with the homeless walking through his place as he hid his valuable items in different places in the underground but Amtrak, the very mention of them riled him up. He’d had to move three times over the past year, and the last place had been near perfect. Perfect for an underground home.

  “You want a drink?” He offered Elliot a beer, but he declined and pressed on passing stained walls and foul-smelling areas of the tunnel until he came to the turning that led down to his spot. The flicker of shadows coming from fire against the walls and the stench of smoke didn’t sit well with him. A glance around the corner confirmed his fears. Someone had set fire to his possessions. It wasn’t the Amtrak cops, they didn’t know he was there. He’d been really discreet this time around. It had to have been one of the other tunnel dwellers. There were many that were jealous, disgruntled or would lash out if they found nothing of value.

  “Hey you there!” An Amtrak cop’s flashlight beam washed over Elliot’s face, snapping him out of the past. Elliot backed up. “Stop!” they yelled.

  But he didn’t wait. It was one thing to be evicted, another to be charged with vandalism. They wouldn’t care who they grabbed so long as they had someone to pin it on. Elliot turned and double-timed it out, heading for topside. Shit! he muttered under his breath. Now he had to kill time until he could return. He figured he would join others in Times Square, seek out the most valuable spots where thousands of cans and bottles were thrown, and then maybe tomorrow he could find a new spot and rebuild.

  He punched a wall with the side of his hand.

  It was all gone. Everything wiped out.

  He reached into his pocket and fished out the one thing that meant the most to him — a photo. Even in the darkness he could make out their faces although the snapshot had become dirtied and wrinkled at the corners. His heart ached for days gone by and the man he was before returning from war.

  Chapter 2

  Damon Miles slammed the pay phone down hard after getting no answer. It was the third time he’d tried phoning him. He shivered and tucked his hands into his pockets, trying to stay warm as his breath rose above like a ghostly apparition. He’d been promised a ride at four-thirty that morning after being dropped off by the blue and white correctional bus from Rikers Island along with 40 other cheering inmates. Conversation on the ride that morning circulated around girls and drugs, mostly drugs. It was how they coped. It was what got them through the stretch inside. His mood had been upbeat that morning, but that all changed when there was no one there to greet him.

  Where the hell are you, Cole? he thought.

  He’d watched the others holding brown paper bags filled with their belongings head off in different directions. The only light that morning came from a Twin Donut shop, a subway station and the cell phones of several prostitutes who were leaning against a wall expecting to make a quick buck. Damon fished out what he had left. In his hand was fifty cents. Those who didn’t have money when they left were given $4.25, enough to grab themselves a cup of coffee and maybe a ride to somewhere else in the city. He’d already used his on cheap coffee, a donut and multiple phone calls.

  As he stood at the corner of Jackson Avenue and Queens Plaza South, he felt like a fish out of water. It wasn’t meant to be like this. He’d lost so much time being inside, never mind that part of him that had broken down through the day-to-day routine of prison life. Now under any other circumstances he might have been pissed off, but he was free, and that was all that mattered. The rest was just details. He could find his way home if need be, but he’d been holding out hope of a ride. They at least owed him that after he took the fall. He glanced at a clock through the donut store window. It was closing in on three o’clock in the afternoon. He’d been standing there in the cold for eleven hours, hoping that Cole would arrive, but after getting no answer on his phone he figured he’d forgotten, or he didn’t want to be associated with him anymore. Either way it wasn’t good. He exhaled hard and cast his eyes across the street to where a few homeless individuals scavenged through garbage. The thought of finding a different job after having his record tainted bore down on him like a heavy weight.

  A black girl with red dreadlocks, tight pants and a white blouse made her way over with two friends, swaying her ass from side to side. She snapped her lips, chewing gum and blowing bubbles.

  “Hey darling, you looking for a warm bed for the night? We can see the New Year in together.”

  He smiled. “Sounds good.”

  “How much you got?”

  “What will fifty cents get me?” He grinned, knowing full well she was about to shoot him down. They were cheap but not that cheap. He’d heard a few of the guys saying they offered sexual favors from $30 to $50. Only a few who left the prison could afford it, the rest were just hoping to butter them up with sweet talk. Not him. He wasn’t serious. He was just playing with her. Sure he was desperate for some female companionship, but he wouldn’t touch a prostitute with a barge pole. That was just damn nasty.

  She laughed. “You come back once you’ve earned some green.”

  “Oh, c’mon, don’t you want to talk?”

  “Money is time, honey, and I don’t have much of either and neither do you.”

  “I got all the time in the world.”

  She ran a hand over his face teasing him before brushing past and continuing on her way. Damon stood there for a few more minutes until he decided that Cole wasn’t coming, and he wasn’t going to spend the night freezing to death beneath the hulking train pylons of Queens Plaza. As he stepped off the curb onto the grime-filled streets heading for Queensborough Bridge, he figured he would head for Times Square. There was sure to be more than enough people caught up in the countdown of the ball drop that he’d be able to pick a few pockets and earn enough cash for a Greyhound bus home.

  * * *

  “Sir, would you stop yelling at me?” Maggie Gray said leaning back in her seat. She adjusted the headset and glanced around at the other three hundred customer support reps taking shit from technical neophytes. These were people who shouldn’t have ever bought a computer in the first place, or at least should have read the warranty fine print before phoning her. Her job was pretty simple. Click a button, take a call, assist someone having problems with their computer, take notes, end the call and repeat that for eight hours straight. She worked all kinds of shifts and last year she had seen in the New Year while talking to some eighty-year-old woman in Florida who couldn’t start her computer because she hadn’t even plugged the damn thing in. Of course she hadn’t found that out until she’d been on the phone with her for forty minutes.

  Now she was getting an earful from some self-righteous prick who’d misunderstood the warranty associated with his computer and wasn’t willing to work with her to go through a format and reinstall.

  “I want you to get up right now and tell your supervisor that I want a word with him.”

  “Unfortunately, we don’t have any supervisors here today. They all left at three,” Maggie replied.

  “Bullshit. I want this piece of crap replaced with a new computer.”

  “Sir, if you would listen to me for a moment, I can get this all fixed up in less than twenty minutes.”

  “Twenty minutes? Do you honestly think I have twenty minutes?”

  People were so damn impatient. Everything had to be instant. With advancements in technology and a million and one things vying for people’s attention, it had created a new generation of lazy ass idiots who had lost the art of savoring life. If it didn’t work, they wanted a replacement not a fix. If it didn’t thrill them from the start, they wanted to toss it. If they couldn’t get it now, they went elsewhere. She’d heard every sob story under the sun over the phone. Now, she considered herself a patient person but even she had her limits
.

  “Sir, everyone else has to go through the same thing as you.”

  Maggie had been a technical customer service rep for Dell Computers for the past three years. The number of reps had dwindled over the years as Dell handed support over to offshore companies whose employees could barely speak English, but the company she worked for still had a contract with Dell. They were the last of a dying breed, her friend Lexi said. She spun in her chair and eyed Lexi. They didn’t need to say anything to each other; they both knew when the other was dealing with a difficult customer.

  “Are you going to help or not?” the guy bellowed.

  “I just told you.”

  “Shut up. You don’t tell me anything, bitch. Get up now and get me a support rep before I get you fired.”

  She could take a lot from a customer but she drew the line at being called a bitch.

  “You know, pal, with one click of a button I could send your ass to Mexico for support.”

  “You do that and…”

  She leaned forward. Click.

  “Happy New Year, asshole,” she said over the line that was now dead.

  Yeah, she could have lost her job over it, but she’d just about had enough of that guy bellyaching. Besides, she was already five minutes past the end of her shift. Usually they were required to take phone calls up to the last minute of their shift but that meant she could land a call that would send her into overtime and this job didn’t pay enough to warrant staying more than five minutes longer.

  “I wondered when you were going to dump his ass,” Lexi said tossing off her headset and logging out of her phone. Maggie started shutting down her computer and tossed her water bottle into her backpack.

  “I was just waiting for the right moment.”

  “He called you a bitch, didn’t he?”

  “Yep!” she said without even looking at her.

  “So you’re coming with me tonight?”

  “Uh, I don’t know, Lexi.”

  “Come on. Do you really want to see the New Year in alone at home?”

  “I’m not alone.”

  “Right, you have your fish.”

  “It’s all the company I need.”

  “Brad’s going to be there.”

  Maggie smiled. “Lexi. How many times have I told you? I’m not interested.”

  “You might not be but he is. He still talks about you.”

  Lexi had tricked her into going out a month ago, only to find out that she’d arranged a double date and told Brad Wilerman that Maggie was interested in him. It had been the most awkward dinner date she’d ever been on. He was a nice enough guy — good looking, a secure job as a banker and no baggage, but he was as boring as hell. All he ever went on about was his job. It was like nothing else existed in the world. Lexi had been trying to play matchmaker for the past year after Maggie had cut ties with Eric, her boyfriend of two years.

  “Lexi, I have a few things to do.”

  “Like what? You are going to order in Chinese, watch a teary-eyed movie and wake up and wish you had been with us. Admit it.”

  “Actually I was thinking of going for seafood tonight.”

  “Maggie!”

  Silence stretched between them before Lexi scooped up her bag and they headed out. Maggie waved to a few of her colleagues and wished them a Happy New Year before swiping out.

  “You run into Eric lately?” Lexi asked.

  “He showed up at my place three days ago, drunk out of his mind. I had to call the cops.”

  “How did he find you?”

  “That’s what I would like to know.”

  “Really, you should move into the apartment across from me. At least then if he shows up I can be there to help, or Matt can.”

  Eric had been a pain in the ass since they’d broken up. He’d never once laid a hand on her in the two years they’d been together, then that all changed when he started accusing her of seeing another guy. It was out of character for him. Anyway, she wore a black eye for two weeks, and had to listen to his apologies about never doing it again before she made the decision to leave him. Even then she had to leave in the middle of the night because he’d watch her every move. She was even convinced he had followed her on the few times she’d gone out with Lexi.

  “Yeah, I might take you up on that.”

  “Listen, we’ll head back to your place. You can grab a few items. Stay at my place tonight as we’re going to get back late. How’s that sound?”

  “And my fish?”

  She laughed. “I think they’ll survive.”

  She gripped her arm as they walked across the parking lot. A cold wind nipped at her ears and she pulled in her coat. Being outside on a cold night like this wasn’t her idea of fun. But that was Lexi’s style. She couldn’t stay still for a minute. She had to be the center of attention. She had to be right there in the middle of the action otherwise she felt she was missing out. Lexi flipped her long red hair, her heels clicking against the sidewalk.

  “You were already there last year. Why go again?” Maggie asked.

  “It’s going to be different this year.”

  “How so?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Lexi, you know I hate surprises.”

  “That’s why I’m not telling you,” Lexi said with a grin as she retrieved her keys from her purse and pressed the key fob to unlock her red Toyota Prius. It took them twenty minutes to arrive at her one-bedroom apartment in Bushwick. Lexi lived over in Williamsburg with her fiancé Matt. The two of them had been together for close to six years. As they pulled up outside, Maggie did her usual check of looking up and down the road for Eric’s SUV before getting out.

  “You want me to come inside?” Lexi yelled from her car as she pulled ahead.

  “No, I’ll just be a few minutes.”

  Maggie double-timed it up the steps and pushed open the doors which led into an apartment block that had four apartments, two on the lower floor and two above. She checked her mailbox first before heading upstairs. There was nothing but bills. It hadn’t been easy living alone, and she hadn’t told her parents about Eric hitting her. They’d already been against her moving to the city after she turned twenty-two but there were no jobs in the small town of Andale, Kansas. At least not the kind that she was after. She’d studied media in the hopes of getting involved in TV but it hadn’t worked out. It was all about who you knew and besides Lexi and Matt, she didn’t know anyone else in New York. She’d even thought about moving home after the whole incident with Eric but Lexi had managed to talk her out of it. She’d even helped her land a job at the call center. Things will improve, she said. And for a few months she thought maybe they would until Eric tracked her down.

  Maggie jammed the key into the lock and let herself into her apartment. It wasn’t much to look at, just a simple one-bedroom place, hardwood floors, open kitchen with just enough furniture and living space to entertain two other people. She tossed her bag on the couch and went over and fed the fish, crumbling a few pieces of food into the bowl. She’d named her two fish after the old comedy actors Laurel and Hardy.

  “Hey guys, I’m gonna be out for the night. Don’t wait up.”

  She went about stuffing a small backpack with a fresh outfit of clothing, some makeup and toiletries. Maggie was in the bathroom when she heard the front door creak open.

  “I know, I’m taking forever. Be right there, Lexi.”

  She was so caught up in gathering what she needed that she didn’t think to check. Not that it would have helped. She heard the door close and the lock click, that’s when she poked her head out. “Lexi?”

  “We need to talk, Maggie.”

  Her stomach dropped. It was Eric.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “You don’t return my phone calls. You’ve got the police involved. All I want to do is talk.”

  She came out and went to get her belongings. Eric stood there, six foot three, a rugged-looking individual who had played football all through high school. Dark hair, chiseled jaw and far bigger than she was. She’d met him in her first year of film school. Back then he seemed fine. “We are done talking, now get out before I call the cops,” she yelled.