than you’ve needed anyone in your life.’
‘Fuck.’
‘There’s an alternative.’
Cloke unzipped the trauma bag. He took out a cardboard box. The box looked like it had sat on a shelf for a couple of decades. Faded serial number. Faded radiation emblem.
He opened the box. Little brass cylinders in rows, like a pack of rifle bullets. He put a cylinder in Wade’s hand. Wade held it to his ear and shook it. Faint rattle.
‘What’s this? Lipstick?’
He uncapped the cylinder and shook a glass ampoule into his palm. He rolled it between his fingers.
‘Cyanide,’ said Cloke. ‘We all carry one. My advice? Keep that capsule in your pocket. Hold out as long as you can, then use it.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘Like I said. Forget about fleeing south. You got bigger problems.’
Wade stroked cold glass.
‘Does it hurt?’
‘Cyanide? I hear it’s a pretty quick way to go. Takes effect within seconds. Shuts down respiration. You might convulse a little, fight for breath, but not for long. Your world will be over in less than a minute.’
‘Christ.’
‘Better than the alternative.’
‘You should have just put it on my tongue,’ he said quietly. ‘Told me it was a painkiller or some shit.’
‘If I were dying, if I had hours to live, I would want to know. I would want to choose my moment, make my peace.’
‘Sorry man,’ said Nariko. ‘Guess you reached the end of the line.’
22
Wade turned the cyanide cylinder between his fingers.
‘Do you think he’s lying?’
‘About the radiation?’ said Lupe. ‘About the bomb? I doubt it.’
‘You trust him?’ asked Wade.
‘Yeah, I guess. Broom up his ass, but he’s on the level.’
‘We were below ground. Me and Sicknote. Miles from the blast site. We didn’t set foot outside. We didn’t breathe fallout. Maybe we’ll be all right.’
‘Yeah,’ said Lupe. ‘
Asi es, asi será
. Some people beat the odds. It’s like cancer. Someone has a big-ass tumour. Melanoma the size of an apple lodged in their lung. Next time they take an X-ray it’s gone. It happens. Don’t bite that capsule just yet.’
She looked towards Sicknote. He sat on the street exit steps, staring into space, lost in waking nightmares. His lips moved. He whispered to himself. He pulled strands of hair out of his scalp and watched them drift to the floor.
‘Is he cool with this truce?’
‘He’ll do whatever I say.’
‘So what do we tell him?’ asked Lupe.
‘Nothing. When the time comes, I’ll feed him the capsule myself. Say it’s vitamins or some shit. Let him bite down and fall asleep.’
Nariko and Cloke stood in the IRT supervisor’s office. They leaned over schematics spread on the table.
Cloke uncapped a Sharpie and scribbled a break in a Liberty Line tunnel.
‘One of the buildings flanking Broadway must have pancaked, crushed the tunnel flat. And I’m guessing there was another collapse, further north.’ He scribbled a second break. ‘It’s created an air pocket. That’s how this Ivanek guy, the young man you heard on the radio, survived. The subway train must be sitting in a sealed section of tunnel, cut off from rising flood water.’
‘We haven’t got equipment to shift that much concrete aside,’ said Nariko.
‘We brought scuba gear,’ said Cloke. ‘We could check beneath the waterline. There might be a gap between some of those big slabs. Some way to worm our way to the other side.’
‘The flood water is tainted with fallout,’ said Nariko. ‘You said it yourself: if anyone dives in that water, they will get seriously irradiated. It’s potential suicide.’
‘I’ll go,’ said Cloke. ‘This is a military mission. I brought you here. It’s my responsibility.’
Nariko wearily shook her head.
‘How long since you pulled basic? Twenty years? Thirty? You’re a lab tech. You spend your time behind a microscope. I trained for this shit. Confined space operations. I do it every day.’
‘This is a little bit
‘Fuck.’
‘There’s an alternative.’
Cloke unzipped the trauma bag. He took out a cardboard box. The box looked like it had sat on a shelf for a couple of decades. Faded serial number. Faded radiation emblem.
He opened the box. Little brass cylinders in rows, like a pack of rifle bullets. He put a cylinder in Wade’s hand. Wade held it to his ear and shook it. Faint rattle.
‘What’s this? Lipstick?’
He uncapped the cylinder and shook a glass ampoule into his palm. He rolled it between his fingers.
‘Cyanide,’ said Cloke. ‘We all carry one. My advice? Keep that capsule in your pocket. Hold out as long as you can, then use it.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘Like I said. Forget about fleeing south. You got bigger problems.’
Wade stroked cold glass.
‘Does it hurt?’
‘Cyanide? I hear it’s a pretty quick way to go. Takes effect within seconds. Shuts down respiration. You might convulse a little, fight for breath, but not for long. Your world will be over in less than a minute.’
‘Christ.’
‘Better than the alternative.’
‘You should have just put it on my tongue,’ he said quietly. ‘Told me it was a painkiller or some shit.’
‘If I were dying, if I had hours to live, I would want to know. I would want to choose my moment, make my peace.’
‘Sorry man,’ said Nariko. ‘Guess you reached the end of the line.’
22
Wade turned the cyanide cylinder between his fingers.
‘Do you think he’s lying?’
‘About the radiation?’ said Lupe. ‘About the bomb? I doubt it.’
‘You trust him?’ asked Wade.
‘Yeah, I guess. Broom up his ass, but he’s on the level.’
‘We were below ground. Me and Sicknote. Miles from the blast site. We didn’t set foot outside. We didn’t breathe fallout. Maybe we’ll be all right.’
‘Yeah,’ said Lupe. ‘
Asi es, asi será
. Some people beat the odds. It’s like cancer. Someone has a big-ass tumour. Melanoma the size of an apple lodged in their lung. Next time they take an X-ray it’s gone. It happens. Don’t bite that capsule just yet.’
She looked towards Sicknote. He sat on the street exit steps, staring into space, lost in waking nightmares. His lips moved. He whispered to himself. He pulled strands of hair out of his scalp and watched them drift to the floor.
‘Is he cool with this truce?’
‘He’ll do whatever I say.’
‘So what do we tell him?’ asked Lupe.
‘Nothing. When the time comes, I’ll feed him the capsule myself. Say it’s vitamins or some shit. Let him bite down and fall asleep.’
Nariko and Cloke stood in the IRT supervisor’s office. They leaned over schematics spread on the table.
Cloke uncapped a Sharpie and scribbled a break in a Liberty Line tunnel.
‘One of the buildings flanking Broadway must have pancaked, crushed the tunnel flat. And I’m guessing there was another collapse, further north.’ He scribbled a second break. ‘It’s created an air pocket. That’s how this Ivanek guy, the young man you heard on the radio, survived. The subway train must be sitting in a sealed section of tunnel, cut off from rising flood water.’
‘We haven’t got equipment to shift that much concrete aside,’ said Nariko.
‘We brought scuba gear,’ said Cloke. ‘We could check beneath the waterline. There might be a gap between some of those big slabs. Some way to worm our way to the other side.’
‘The flood water is tainted with fallout,’ said Nariko. ‘You said it yourself: if anyone dives in that water, they will get seriously irradiated. It’s potential suicide.’
‘I’ll go,’ said Cloke. ‘This is a military mission. I brought you here. It’s my responsibility.’
Nariko wearily shook her head.
‘How long since you pulled basic? Twenty years? Thirty? You’re a lab tech. You spend your time behind a microscope. I trained for this shit. Confined space operations. I do it every day.’
‘This is a little bit
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