Dark Days (19 page)

I
t had been two weeks since our adventure at the Chrysler Building, and the results had been both emotional (Beth and Mom's tearful reunion) and educational (all the information Grayson had retrieved from the files of the Empire State Tungsten Company). But so far they hadn't been dangerous. Marek had yet to deliver on his threat to start an all-out war between the undead and Omega, and that had us worried.

Not that you could tell from the oh-so-enlightening conversation the boys were having as Grayson, Alex, and I looked across the harbor at the Statue of Liberty.

“Did you ever notice that the Statue of Liberty's butt is pointed right at New Jersey?” Grayson asked. “I mean, that's their view.”

“Maybe they should put that on the license plates,” replied Alex. “New Jersey—the Butt of Liberty.”

We were waiting in Battery Park at the southernmost tip of Manhattan. In addition to its view of the harbor, the park is the starting point of the George Washington walking tour of New York City. The tour was laid on the map that my anonymous informant mailed to me. I wanted to walk it as part of my search to see what the father of our country had to do with Marek Blackwell's plan to reinvent underground New York. But, since we didn't know when Marek was going to strike back, the others thought it would be safer if they came along.

“You know, I've never even been there,” I said, pointing at the statue. “My whole life in New York and I've never been to the Statue of Liberty.”

“Me neither,” said Alex.

Grayson shook his head. “Molly I understand, because she's terrified of heights, but why not you?”

“No reason,” Alex said. “It's just something you figure you'll get around to one day, so there's no rush. Every time I thought about going, I put it off because I knew I'd get another chance.”

We were all quiet for a moment, and then Grayson said something that revealed what was on all of our minds.

“I wonder if Natalie thought the same thing,” he said. “I wonder if she thought she'd do it sometime and never got around to it. 'Cause she sure can't do it now.”

The three of us had not really talked about Natalie's situation yet.

“I think about stuff like that all the time,” Alex said. “I think about all the things she can't do. All the places she'll never get to go.”

“Do her parents know?” asked Grayson.

“They must,” said Alex. “After all, they moved from the twelfth to the second floor.”

They both turned to me. “How'd they take it?” asked Grayson.

I shrugged. “I don't know,” I said. “Natalie and I weren't really talking much in the month and a half after I found out, so I never got the chance to ask her about her parents.”

“Why weren't you talking?” asked Alex.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, embarrassed by what I was about to say. “I accused her of being a Level 2.”

They both laughed.

“That must have been fun,” said Grayson.

“Did she try to rearrange your face?” asked Alex.

I thought about it for a moment, then asked them, “Is it really that impossible to believe? I mean, did either of you two think she might be an L2?”

“For about a nanosecond,” said Grayson. “But we were about to fight the Dead Squad. It was pretty obvious what side she was on. I might have wondered about it if it had just come up in conversation.”

“Not me,” said Alex. “But I can understand why you would.”

“Why not you?” I asked.

Alex thought about it for a moment. “The best that I can understand is that the person's state of mind at the moment of death is what determines whether or not they become a Level 2. So it comes down to this: Does she have the type of heart that forgives or the type of heart that blames? And when you think of it that way, it's not even a question.”

He was absolutely right. Before I could reply, we were interrupted.

“I hope you guys don't mind, but I brought a friend,” Natalie said as she walked up with Liberty.

“Not at all!” I replied, happy to see him. He gave me a hug and then did the whole fist bump, handshake thing with the boys.

“We can use the help,” I continued. “I've already done this tour twice and come up empty both times.”

Left unsaid was the full reason he was with her. He'd been protecting her in the one place we couldn't. Every day when Natalie went underground into Dead City to recharge her energy levels, Liberty went with her.

“So what brings us to the Battery?” he asked.

“This,” I said, handing him the envelope. “It came addressed to me and contained a map of the George Washington walking tour and a note.”

He pulled out the note and read it aloud.

“ ‘Reserve a place in history.' ”

He looked up at us and asked, “What does that even mean?”

“I wish I knew,” I replied. “I thought maybe I needed to reserve a spot on an official tour of the locations, but there isn't one. Then I looked into getting reservations at different places along the route, but that didn't lead anywhere. So basically I'm stumped.”

“That's why we're here,” Natalie said, taking charge. “With four really smart people working together, we should be able to figure it out.”

“You know there are five of us, right?” said Alex.

“I know,” she said as she put an arm around him. “I'm sure you'll help too.”

I absolutely loved the fact that they were able to joke the same as always. It was a sign their friendship was strong no matter what. That same relaxed mood continued as we followed the map from the Battery up to Bowling Green Park. I acted as tour guide, since I'd already walked it twice before and because I had been reading up on New York during the Revolution ever since I got the assignment months earlier.

“This is where they used to have a statue of King George III riding a horse,” I said as we entered the park. “And don't ask me which way the horse's rear end was facing.”

Natalie and Liberty exchanged confused looks, but I didn't bother to explain. Instead I told them a story that I'd learned in the history book about the city during the Revolution.

“Washington and his troops were in Manhattan when the Declaration of Independence was signed. And after he had it read to the troops and the local citizens, a bunch of people came here to the park, toppled the statue, and melted it down.”

“What did they do with it after they melted it?” asked Natalie.

“They made it into forty thousand musket balls for the Continental Army.”

“Hey, maybe that's what Marek's doing with all of that Tungsten he's melting down,” Grayson said. “Turning it into musket balls.”

“Is that what you think he's doing?” asked Natalie. “Melting it?”

“I know he is,” Grayson responded. “I've gone through all the files that Beth got on the flash drive and can track all of the shipments from the moment he buys it up until he melts it.”

“And then?” asked Alex.

“And then . . . nothing,” said Grayson. “He just buys it and melts it down. I can't find any record of what he does with it after that. I don't know if he's turning it into something or if he's just storing it to use later.”

Grayson was down. Despite his lighthearted observations about the Statue of Liberty, he'd been in a funk for a while. First he was upset that he hadn't been more “heroic” (his words not mine) during the fight on New Year's. Then Natalie had to rescue him when the cop from the Dead Squad was trying to throw him off the Chrysler Building. And now he was struggling to solve what was going on with Empire State Tungsten, even though he had tons of data. He felt like he wasn't helping the team at all, even though we all knew that wasn't the case.

“If anyone can figure it out, it's you,” I said, trying to boost his morale.

“This conversation has gotten me hungry for cheeseburgers,” Alex said. “Did George Washington have a favorite cheeseburger joint?”

Natalie stopped and looked at him. “In what way did this conversation make you think of cheeseburgers?”

“Melted statue, melted cheese,” he explained, incredulous. “It's kind of obvious.”

“Only to you,” she said.

“Maybe,” I added. “But a cheeseburger does sound really good.”

We took a break from the walking tour and found a burger place that was just greasy enough to be delicious. This was also important for Natalie and Liberty because, while the undead crave different tastes than us, they do like greasy foods. We all crowded around a table as we ate our burgers and shared a couple large orders of fries.

“So do you suppose old George liked burgers?” asked Alex right before he took a big chomp out of his.

“We can check,” I said. “One of his favorite places to eat is still open over on Pearl Street. It's also where the Sons of Liberty held their secret meetings.”

“I didn't know you had any sons,” Natalie joked to Liberty.

“Neither did I,” he replied.

“The Sons of Liberty were a secret society of patriots,” I explained. “They were the ones who toppled the statue of King George and had it melted down.”

“
They
were a secret society,
we're
a secret society,” Alex said. “We should call ourselves The Friends of Liberty.”

Liberty looked both embarrassed and pleased. We held up our sodas in a toast and said, “The Friends of Liberty.”

We continued eating, and a couple moments later Grayson was nibbling on a fry when he looked at Natalie.

“Can I ask something personal?”

Natalie shrugged. “I've been wondering when you would.”

He hesitated for a moment, then asked, “How did you tell your parents?”

She chuckled for a moment and looked at Liberty before answering.

“I didn't.”

“They don't know?” I asked surprised.

“They know,” she said. “But I didn't tell them.”

“Then who did?” asked Alex.

Natalie nodded to Liberty.

“First of all you have to remember that her parents are surgeons,” he said. “They knew something was wrong with what they were reading in her medical charts and I knew that they'd have to change their whole world for her to survive. So I got my mother to come with me and we met with them in the hospital.”

“And you just blurted out that Natalie was undead?” Grayson asked, incredulous.

“I was a little more subtle than that. Although, I couldn't be too subtle. At one point I performed a couple demonstrations to show them my state of undeadness,” he said. “I think it was my ability to completely dislocate my fingers and snap them back into place without screaming that really convinced them.”

“And then?” asked Alex.

“Then my mom came in and told them the parents' side of it all,” he said.

“They came around amazingly well,” Natalie said. “It's funny, because when you think of them being plastic surgeons on Fifth Avenue, you think about all the rich women who come in for facelifts and nose jobs. But every year they go down to Haiti and spend two weeks helping children and really saving lives. That's the side of them I've been seeing. I think the medical component helps. Sometimes I have to remind them that I'm their daughter and not an experiment. But they've done great.”

Not only did this surprise me, but so did Alex's response. He turned to Liberty.

“Thank you for looking out for her,” he said. “I really am proud to be a Friend of Liberty.”

Liberty smiled.

A
fter we ate, we resumed our tour and continued on to Trinity Church and St. Paul's Chapel. Trinity is where some Revolutionary War heroes like Alexander Hamilton are buried, and St. Paul's is where Washington went to church every Sunday when he was President. (New York City was the capital back then.)

“What does any of this have to do with reserving a place in history?” Grayson asked, trying to solve the mystery of the note.

“Think about what the word means,” Natalie suggested. “How can you reserve something if it's already happened?”

“I know what it could be,” Alex said, getting our hopes up. “Molly said that the tavern where George Washington liked to eat is still operating. Maybe we need to make a reservation there. Oooh, we can eat dinner there tonight. I could use a good meal.”

“Seriously? You're already thinking about dinner?” Natalie said. “You just ate. You still have a little burger juice on your chin.”

“I can't help it,” he complained. “You guys keep bringing up food.”

“Actually,” she said, “you're the only one who's bringing up food.”

“About his idea, though,” I said. “You can make reservations there. It's called the Fraunces Tavern and it's a museum and a restaurant. They serve old-style food from the Colonial era. That might be the solution.”