What if someone already grabbed it?

What if someone stepped on it?

He squints in the dimmer stairway light, bending forward, scanning desperately.

This is where he bumped that guy. Nothing.

This is where he brushed past those people. Nothing.

He looks farther down the stairs.

There.

Against the wall at the bottom of the landing.

Shit, no—did it tumble down the stairs? Will it still work? He reaches the phone and scoops it up. Glass cover intact. He can’t try dialing till he’s out of the subway again. Another precious minute, lost.

Ten minutes, asshole.

He looks at the diePhone.

It’s still working.

Showing him much of those ten minutes already gone.

Back on the street, Zack dials.

Feels only a moment of relief that the phone works. That the call goes through.

“What?” Gruff, impatient.

“I’m on my way. Subway trouble.”

“You expect me to buy that? Just when you had to be here to save your friend, that’s when there’s subway trouble?”

“It’s true. I’m on the street. Trying to get a cab.”

“Try harder. Now you’ve got six minutes.”

Dial tone.

Shit.

Zack waves frantically. Sees a cab pull in across the street. He dashes out across the street, narrowly dodging a delivery truck, in order to grab it.

Jumps in. Gives the address.

He aims the phone’s camera at the cross street sign. Shoots a photo. Texts it to his phone.

Proof.

Proof he’s on his way.

The guy respects photographic proof, thinks Zack.

The text comes back. You better go faster.

Okay, he got the photo. He knows Zack is on his way. You better go faster. Making Zack sweat. Giving him a little shit. Fooling with him a little. Someone who’s fooling with him a little isn’t going to kill his friend, is he?

Zack shoots another photo, a cross street ten blocks closer. Sends it.

The next text comes back. I don’t think you’re gonna make it. Are you?

Making it a game. Good sign.

He’ll make it.

He’ll be a few minutes late, sure.

But he’ll make it.

Zack presses the icon to switch the camera around. Takes a selfie. Sends it. More proof. Clear proof. On my way.

Joey paces in the apartment. Gun in his belt. Steve gagged and tied on a kitchen chair in the middle of the floor.

There’s nothing here. Kid’s got nothing worth taking. This annoys Joey. He thought there’d be something here to pay himself back a little for the hit he lost. Make it worthwhile. The fact that the kid has nothing only makes him madder.

Subway not running? All of a sudden? Come on.

And now this kid’s sending him travel photos. Like this is a game.

Sending him “proof” photos. What, mocking Joey’s photos?