BooksBarbecue
Back Die Next Save as PDF
Chapters (97)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. 1.
  6. 2.
  7. 3.
  8. 4.
  9. 5.
  10. 6.
  11. 7.
  12. 8.
  13. 9.
  14. 10.
  15. 11.
  16. 12.
  17. 13.
  18. 14.
  19. 15.
  20. 16.
  21. 17.
  22. 18.
  23. 19.
  24. SIX MONTHS LATER
  25. 20.
  26. 21.
  27. 22.
  28. 23.
  29. 24.
  30. 25.
  31. 26.
  32. 27.
  33. 28.
  34. 29.
  35. 30.
  36. 31.
  37. 32.
  38. 33.
  39. 34.
  40. 35.
  41. 36.
  42. 37.
  43. 38.
  44. 39.
  45. 40.
  46. 41.
  47. 42.
  48. 43.
  49. 44.
  50. 45.
  51. 46.
  52. 47.
  53. 48.
  54. 49.
  55. 50.
  56. 51.
  57. 52.
  58. 53.
  59. 54.
  60. 55.
  61. 56.
  62. 57.
  63. 58.
  64. 59.
  65. 60.
  66. 61.
  67. 62.
  68. 63.
  69. 64.
  70. 65.
  71. 66.
  72. 67.
  73. 68.
  74. 69.
  75. 70.
  76. 71.
  77. 72.
  78. 73.
  79. 74.
  80. 75.
  81. 76.
  82. 77.
  83. 78.
  84. 79.
  85. 80.
  86. 81.
  87. 82.
  88. 83.
  89. 84.
  90. 85.
  91. 86.
  92. 87.
  93. SIX MORE MONTHS LATER
  94. 88.
  95. 89.
  96. Discover More
  97. About the Author

Can Zack take that risk? Take that risk with his friend’s life?

He scampers down the stairs to the subway platform, turning over the odds in his head.

He yanks his subway pass from his wallet, inserts it, and blasts through the turnstile.

And waits.

Waits.

Checks one of the electronic info boards dangling above the platform. NEXT TRAIN: 3 MINUTES.

He watches the board obsessively, leg jiggling, heart thrumming, waiting to see it change.

It does.

NEXT TRAIN: 5 MINUTES.

What? Oh no…

It changes again. NEXT TRAIN: 8 MINUTES.

Oh fuck. Delayed. Some kind of problem.

Maybe not even running.

Holy shit. He can’t get there in ten minutes.

Wait here and hope it comes? Go upstairs to hail a cab? Call an Uber, hoping there’s one close by? What’s fastest?

The same question a million city dwellers wrestle with when they’re late for a meeting. When they’re about to get reamed out by a boss.

That’s in the real world. The real world going on around him.

He’s in an alternate world, a dark world right next to it, where if he’s late for his next meeting, a friend could die.

Shit. He can’t even dial or text from here to say the subway isn’t running. No cell signal in this subway station.

He flies up out of the subway, three stairs at a time.

Brushing frantically past the clot of people flowing down the subway stairs, he bumps into one guy pretty hard. “Hey, asshole!” the guy says. Zack keeps going. But it’s true—he’s suddenly one of those arrogant assholes people can’t stand, going against the flow.

He emerges at street level and throws his right arm high in the air, searching the traffic frantically to hail a cab.

He’s picturing Steve’s walk-up. Old run-down building. He’s never seen anyone go in or out of it besides Steve. The apartment is at the back. It’s easy to imagine that Joey has him there, at gunpoint, that no one even saw them go in. No doorman. No security. Unfortunately perfect for this guy Joey and his purposes.

Zack reaches into his pocket for the diePhone, to call his own phone and say he’s on his way.

The diePhone isn’t there.

Shit.

Holy shit.

His heart seizes. His legs feel wobbly.

It must have dropped out of his pocket when brushing past the crowd on the subway stairs. Bumping into some of them.

An empty cab pulls up to him where he was standing with his arm up. He stares at the cab.

“You gettin’ in, buddy?”

All the other cabs are passing by full. He’s lucky to get this one.

Shit. He can’t show up at Steve’s without the phone. No way. That won’t save anyone.

He has no time. But he has no choice.

He turns and heads back down the subway stairs.