The Black (26 page)

I had to make myself invisible. There was no way I could talk my way out of that particular Trouble Town again, especially since I had a black sword. That pretty much proved I was with Damon. The longer I could maneuver without being seen, the better chance I had of success, so I sprinted to the nearest building and jumped into a doorway. I held my breath, waiting for the jokers on motorcycles to appear
again. I scanned the street. It was empty. No motorcycles. No clowns on bicycles. No Mardi Gras masks. No Watchers. Nobody. It gave me the creeps to be in a city that was so completely deserted, though I didn't mind being alone if the only choice of company was Adeipho's spirit posse.

I moved out of my hiding spot and worked my way along the sidewalk, close to the buildings. My plan was to go back to the garage where Adeipho had trapped me and Maggie. It was as good a place as any to start searching for the crucible. As I crept along, I kept glancing up at the windows that loomed above me. Eyes could have been anywhere. Or everywhere. For all I knew they were all watching me, holding back their laughter, waiting for me to drop into their laps. The street was completely silent, which only added to the eeriness. There were no traffic sounds or
laughter or music or anything else that gave a city life. The loudest thing I heard was the crunching of my Pumas on the sidewalk.

I made it to the garage without any trouble. The big door was closed so I had to find another way in. I was in front of a small florist. The flowers inside looked fresh but there was nobody there to buy them. Or sell them. Farther on was a door. After that was the big garage door, which was closed. I decided to go through the small door, thinking it might connect to the garage somewhere inside. I gripped the doorknob and twisted. It was unlocked. Adeipho didn't worry about people breaking into buildings in his vision. Fool. The creaking of the door tore through the silence.

Anybody within earshot could have heard it. I slipped inside quickly and closed the door as quietly as possible. I
was in, but where was I? I could have gone straight along a corridor or up the flight of stairs that was just inside the door. I chose the stairs, thinking it was better to take the high ground and be able to look down on the garage floor.

With one hand on the sword I took the stairs two at a time, keeping my eyes on the floor above. I reached a landing,
turned left, and stepped up into a second-floor corridor. A quick glance to the left showed I was alone. A look to my right showed me . . . I wasn't.

Standing twenty feet away was a guy in a clown mask and a business suit. He was shorter than me with black hair to his shoulders. He stood with his legs apart and his fists clenched, ready to fight.

I said, "I don't want any trouble—"

Apparently the clown did. Before I could say another word, he charged. I was so surprised I didn't have time to pull the sword. He tackled me, driving his
clown face square into my chest. I flew backward and hit the floor on my back with the guy on top of me, punching wildly from his knees. It was like fighting a wild cat. He had no idea how to fight and was making up for it with effort. He wasn't a very big clown so I easily knocked him off my chest. He hit the wall, shoulder first, and squealed in pain.

But that didn't stop him. He bounced off the wall and tackled me again as I tried to get to my feet. I was in an awkward position so I stumbled and went down again, this time falling onto the landing. He threw himself at me, grabbing at my shirt to try and push me down the stairs but he didn't have the strength. I'm a solid 180 and this guy couldn't have weighed more than 120. I shot both hands up through his and drove them out, breaking his grip, and then lashed out with one short jab to his solar plexus. The punch stunned him, driving him backward.

I scrambled to my feet. Knowing how this guy fought, I had to be ready. He came at me with his arms flailing totally out of control. I turned sideways and raised my fists, easily blocking his wild punches. He was no threat. I waited for an opening and drove the heel of my palm right into his clown
chin. The guy's head snapped to his left and I followed up with another quick shot to his exposed cheek.

The clown reeled back, stumbled, hit the far wall, and fell to the floor. Before he hit I pulled out the black sword, the weapon that could end his existence. He knew it, too. Instead of attacking again he tried to crawl away but I stood over him, holding the point of the sword to his neck.

"Do you know what this can do to you?" I asked.

The guy was fired up and breathing hard. I could see his wild eyes through his mask but couldn't tell if he was angry or scared.

"Tell me where the crucible is," I commanded.

The guy didn't budge, his eyes locked on mine.

I repeated, "Tell me where the crucible is."

He didn't react. Maybe he didn't know where it was. Or
what
it was. If the threat of annihilation didn't scare him into talking, what else could I do?

"Do you understand what I'm saying?" I asked.

He gave me a slight nod.

"Then understand this, if you don't tell me, your existence is going to end right here in this crummy hallway."

The guy didn't react. He wasn't going to talk, and I was stuck. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't torture him into telling me anything. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't know how. If I let him go, he'd run for help and I'd be done. It seemed as if the only thing I could do was make good on my threat. All I had to do was lean forward. The tip of the sword would enter his neck and he'd be smoke. It would be so easy.

"Take off your mask," I ordered.

He slowly lifted his hand and pulled the mask away from his face, and I saw that the guy wasn't a guy. I found myself holding the tip of the executioner's sword into the neck of a frightened young girl. A girl! I was expecting
some gnarly old soldier from ancient times, not a pretty girl who wasn't any older than me. I pulled the sword away and
took a step back, desperately trying to calculate my next move. The only thing I knew for sure was that there was no way I could destroy her.

"I'll give you one more chance—," I said.

But she wasn't giving
me
another chance. The second I took my eyes off her to slip the sword into its sheath, she
leaped up and was on me again. She knocked me off balance
and drove me toward the wall. This time we hit a door. The force blew the door open and we tumbled onto a narrow
balcony that ringed the garage. The girl wasn't done. She
kept driving her legs forward and I couldn't stop her. She was small, but powerful. Two steps later we hit a wooden
railing and crashed through that too. We were in freefall. The balcony was only on the second floor so we didn't fall far. We hit a stack of rubber tires, which I guess was good luck but it still hurt. The tires tumbled over and so did we, landing in a tangled heap on the cement floor.

I'd only known this girl for two minutes but knew she wasn't going to let a little thing like falling off a landing
stop her from coming after me again. I rolled away from her, scrambled to my feet, and stood up, ready for her next attack.

The attack never came. When I looked up, I was faced with a dozen people in masks. It was the same group of soldiers, clowns, and warriors from my first visit. Before any of them could move on me, I yanked the sword out of the sheath and held it up menacingly.

Nobody moved. They all knew the power I held. I took a quick look behind me to make sure the way was clear and slowly backed toward a door on the far side of the garage. It was the only move I had. If I couldn't make this girl tell me where the crucible was, there was no way I could intimidate
a whole group into talking. My mission was done before it had gotten started. I needed to be gone before somebody else with a sword showed up.
Somebody who knew how to use it. Like Adeipho. As I walked backward, the group moved with me but kept their distance.

I imagined being back in my own vision and looked around to see if the swirling colors had appeared. They hadn't.

"Nobody follow me and we'll all be okay," I said.

I didn't think they'd listen but I had to give it a try. I made it to the door and glanced inside to see an empty office with a door to the outside. I backed through the door and then instantly scrambled for the outside door. I didn't even look back to see if they were coming after me because I knew they were.

I yanked the door open and found myself in an alleyway. I was out! I turned and sprinted for the street. Whatever was preventing me from leaving this vision was still in play. I had to get back to the spot where we were able to leave the last time. The edge of the vision.

Good plan.

Didn't work.

When I blasted out of the alley into the street and turned west, my way was blocked by a gang of guys on BMX bikes who flashed onto the street a block ahead. The alarm had been sounded. I looked back into the alley to see that the circus was following. My only escape route was to run the other way, deeper into the city.

I turned and ran. The one advantage I had was that I knew where I was going. I had to play offense and hope they couldn't react fast enough. I may have been dead, but I was still fast. I ran cross-country, so my legs knew what to do. I ran
through back alleys, climbed over chain-link fences, detoured through parking garages . . . making as
many turns as possible to throw off my pursuers. It was a foxhunt, and I was the fox. Each time I felt as if I'd gotten
away, I'd turn a corner to face more guys in clown masks sprinting toward me, or a handful of bikers running me down. It was like they knew ahead of time which way I'd be going. I started to think that there were eyes in every window after all, and they were directing the pursuit.

I tried going back to my own vision a few times but nothing happened. It was clear that to get out of there I was going to have to find the far edge, just as Maggie and I had done before.

I don't know how many blocks I traveled but it felt like miles and I was getting winded. Something had to give. I cautiously took a look out from a doorway to see a handful of guys on BMX-style bikes turning onto the street behind me and realized I had my chance. The large group of riders had split up to hunt for me and only five guys were headed my way. In seconds they would fly right past me. The setup was perfect. I leaned back, pressing myself against the wall so they wouldn't see me when they rode past. I held my breath and waited. Two seconds later the first bike flew by. Followed by two more. Then a fourth. That's when I made my move. I jumped out and went for the trailing bike. The guy was looking straight ahead and didn't see me coming. I tackled him high, knocking him off the bike. We both hit the pavement, hard, but I used him to cushion my own fall. It probably hurt but my adrenaline was spiked too high to notice. Before the guy had a chance to recover and understand what
had happened, I was on my feet and going for his bike.

The others kept going. They had no idea what was happening behind them. I picked up the bike and started running to get up enough speed to ride, when I was grabbed from behind by the guy I'd dumped. I whipped my elbow
into his ribs and heard him grunt as the wind flew out of his lungs. He doubled over and I took off.

I had wheels. A quick look around told me that I wasn't being followed and didn't have to be as evasive. I poured on the speed, hoping to find the far edge of the vision and get the hell out of there. As I rode, I kept looking for the colorful wall that would mark the boundary of the vision, but didn't see a thing. After riding for block after deserted block, I reached a park and found the first clue as to what this vision was about.

I rode beneath a tall gray archway that looked familiar. I realized I had been there before. I knew where I was! The arch sat in Washington Square Park at the beginning of Fifth Avenue in New York City. Marsh and I had gone there for a showing of some Eastern European horror movie at NYU, which surrounded the park. The movie sucked but it was a great day because Marsh and I were on our own in the city. It wasn't as much fun being there this time. I stopped beneath the arch to catch my breath. Knowing where I was had answered one question but raised a few more. How could this be Adeipho's vision? He was a warrior from ancient times, not a New Yorker.

Nothing was out of the ordinary except that the normally busy park was deserted. A few yards from the arch was a street lined with parked cars.
Something seemed off and not just because of the lack of people. I couldn't put my finger on exactly what it was, but there was something odd about the cars. It wasn't until I focused on a license plate that it became clear. The expiration date on the tag read: DEC 78. I walked my bike along the sidewalk to see the same thing on the other license plates. Every last one of the cars was old, but it wasn't like they were Junkers. Some actually looked new. It was the style that was old. There was an electric blue number called a Plymouth Duster, a Volvo that looked more
like a giant shoe box than a car, and a big yellow land yacht with a black vinyl top called a Ford
Galaxie
500. It was like being in a car museum.

I walked the bike farther along until I came to a corner pizza place. In the window was a New York Yankees World Series Championship poster. The Yankees were always winning the World Series, nothing strange there, but this poster looked fresh and new like it was hung that morning, and the players were Reggie Jackson, Ron Guidry, and Willie Randolph . . . guys I only saw play on Old-Timers' Day. It was a championship poster from 1977, but it was new, which meant only one thing: This was a vision of New York City in the seventies. That made it all the more unlikely that the vision was Adeipho's. So, then, whose was it?