Vespers (32 page)

The bat stopped. She listened. She heard countless smaller sounds ahead and above and to the sides. But she knew what those were: food. There were also lesser bats flying around her in all directions. She stopped wailing as she felt the loss again. Along the top of her wings, her fingers moved as though searching for something.

Where had it gone?

And then, as the lesser bats settled onto posts and ledges and wires, as the fluttering of their wings stopped, she heard it again. The sound, distant but distinct. She turned to the side.

There was another cave, larger than her own. That was where the sound was coming from. And the sound was making an echo. This cave had a back. Whatever was making the sound would not be able to leave.

Bunching her wings beside her and turning, the bat flung herself forward and soared into the air.

She’s in!”

Charlie Schrank’s shout punched through the silence in the ventilation tower. No one cheered, though. Getting the bat in the tunnel was only the first step. Now everything was up to this crew.

Joyce watched the tired, wounded creature crawl, leap, or occasionally fly past the succession of wide-angle video cameras. Because the optics for the black-and-white security cameras were designed to show stopped vehicles in low light, not to capture motion, the moving bat was a blur whenever she passed. It was difficult to see details, though only one seemed to matter: the bat had entered the tunnel. Joyce experienced a soaring sense of vindication. Not only had the bat gone in, she’d entered the tunnel alone and she wasn’t wailing. She’d bought the fact that the video game was her mother.

It also felt very good having Gentry hold her hand. He’d been with her almost every step of this, and she knew that he shared the satisfaction she was feeling right now.

Schrank had told them that the twelve vents in this tower covered the center section of the tunnel. That was the section farthest from populated areas. Three other ventilation buildings-two in lower Manhattan, one across Buttermilk Channel in Brooklyn -were responsible for the ends of the tunnel. If for any reason the fans overshot their sections, the chance of spreading ethyl chloride into Manhattan or Brooklyn was remote.

The center of the tunnel was slightly northwest of Governors Island, closer to Manhattan. Once the bat had passed that point, the four fans of Group One would begin blowing. That would make it impossible for her to go back. Then the four fans of Group Three would be engaged. Those were closer to the Brooklyn side and would trap her in the middle. Then Group Two, the four center fans, would be turned on. Joyce wondered if she’d still feel vindicated while she watched the pregnant bat freeze to death.

“On Group One,” Schrank said calmly as the bat moved past the video camera there.

The supervisor had come upstairs. He shouted down for the Group One canisters to be opened. When there were four hands in the air, signaling that the flow was underway, he pressed the buttons that started the fans. The blades began to spin below them. They caused a deep, pleasant hum and a gentle vibration that could be felt throughout the building.

“On Group Three,” Schrank said.

The next batch of canisters and fans was activated. The noise and vibration increased proportionately.

“She’s trapped,” Gentry said as he looked at the monitors. “Son of a bitch, we got her!”

Suddenly, the bat stopped. Her wings held wide, she turned toward the northern side wall of the tunnel. She was just shy of the center vents.

“That’s strange,” Joyce said. “She must be tired.”

“Or maybe she’s already feeling the cold,” Schrank said.

“It’s possible,” Joyce said, “though she’s not doing anything about it.”

“Like what?” Gentry asked.

“Folding her wings around her. Going back the way she came. Trying to get to the top of the tunnel where it’d be warmer.”

“Charlie, can we still zap her there?” Gentry asked.

“Yeah,” Schrank said. “It’ll just take longer. Let’s wait a minute and see if she starts up again.”

The view was from nearly directly overhead. Joyce watched as the bat moved her head around in slow, wide circles.

“That’s weird,” Joyce said. “She’s not listening anymore-” And then it hit her. “Shit!Shit! ”

“What?” Gentry asked.

She smacked her forehead. “I’m a fuckingidiot! The sound of the fans is drowning out the video game.” Still watching the monitor she said to Schrank, “Tell OEM to turn up the sound of-”

She didn’t finish. She watched as the bat unexpectedly cocked her first digits back, well past her head, and slammed them forward. Joyce couldn’t see what she was hitting, but she heard and felt the assault.

Schrank looked straight down. “Oh crap.The elevator.”

“Don’t tell me,” Gentry said. “The shaft-”

“-leads right from the tunnel to here,” Schrank finished. “The bat’s trying to get out.”

“Turn on Group Twofast! ” Joyce yelled.

Schrank ordered the last group of fans turned on. The video screens went white as the freezing gas rolled in.

“Man, did I fuck up big-time,” Joyce said.

“No,” Gentry said. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I don’t mean that,” Joyce said. “This isn’t about the bat hearing the video game anymore. She isn’t trying to getout. She’s trying to getin -here.”

“Why?” Gentry asked.

Joyce glanced at the monitor as the bat reared back and slammed her hooks forward again. The elevator door rattled, the sound echoing through the tower. They saw the bat retreat, then bend, then put her muscled shoulders against the doorway. Joyce felt completely and utterly inept.

“You saw what she was doing before?” Joyce asked. “Moving her head around?”

“Yeah.”

“She was smelling.”

“Smelling what?” Gentry asked.

“Me,Robert. When the fans came on, my scent was one of the things they drew into the tunnel!”

The phone beeped and Schrank snapped it up. Pace was calling to report that the vespers along the tunnel entrance on the Manhattan side had turned violent. Obviously, the bat had started wailing again. Schrank informed Pace what had happened on the tower end; Pace told him to hold on. Schrank was perspiring along the temples, neck, and forehead.

They heard metal tear. Everyone downstairs was looking up.

“There’s nothing else your people can do here,” Joyce said. “You better start getting them out, just in case.”

Schrank nodded. He sent the supervisor downstairs to evacuate the team; he said he wanted everyone to go to the old air raid shelters in the hospital ward. The crew didn’t have to be told a second time.

“You really think she’s going to get out of the tunnel before she freezes?” Gentry asked.

“Very probably,” Joyce said.

The building shook.There was a series of metallic slaps.

“That has to be the elevator car,” Schrank said. “The shaft is made of concrete.”

“She’s coming through,” Gentry muttered. He turned to Joyce. “I say we make a stand.”

“Sure, fine.How? ”

“We call the police in from downstairs,” Gentry said. “When the bat comes out we tag her.”

“Uh, that might be a good idea ordinarily,” Schrank said, “but not with all those ethyl chloride canisters down there and the building shaking. If they fall over, you’re iced.”

“All right,” Gentry said, “then can weuse the canisters somehow? Spray her with them, or dump them into the elevator shaft?”

“We haven’t got any nozzles,” Schrank said, “and if we open the canisters and pour them down the shaft, the liquid will only vaporize and rise.”

Gentry swore.

Weeks came on the line and Schrank briefed him. When he was finished, the OEM director said that they’d made a good try but he was preparing to send over a launch with two six-person SWAT teams. He had no intention of letting the giant bat get back into New York.

Schrank hung up. He told the others what Weeks had said as the tower rumbled again. This time the lights went out and the fans shut down.

“I was afraid of that,” Schrank said.

“What?” Gentry asked.

“The electric cables. They run up through the shaft.”

Emergency spotlights had snapped on up and down the stairways. The fan blades continued to turn for several seconds and then they died. The quiet was unnerving, though it didn’t last long. After a few moments there were shouts from outside.

“The other vespers,” Joyce said. “Goddamn this all. Goddamn it to hell.” It was maddening that something so small, so preventable as her own smell getting into the tunnel had brought them to this point.

Directly below them, under the concrete floor of the tower, metal broke in thunderous volleys.

“Charlie, you’d better get out of here,” Gentry said. “Join your people in the shelters.”

He nodded. “What about you?”

“I don’t know,” Joyce said.

“The bat’s going to go wherever Nancy is,” Gentry said. “We’ll think of something else.”

“No!” Joyce snapped. “You’regetting out of here.”

“Sorry, but that’s not an option.”

“Robert,go! ”

Gentry had let go of Joyce’s hand when Schrank was on the telephone with Weeks. He took it again and held it hard. She looked at him for a long moment. He looked back. They said nothing more.

Outside, the cries of the reporters were joined by the sound of boat engines being fired up.

Schrank started jogging toward the steps. “I think you’re both crazy, but I wish you luck. If you change your mind, the hospital is-”

“Wait!” Gentry shouted suddenly.

Schrank stopped.

“No, not you,” Gentry said.

Schrank waved and disappeared down the steps.

Gentry regarded Joyce. “How spry did the bat look to you?”

“You saw. It’s tough to say.”

The floor shuddered. Still holding Joyce’s hand, Gentry turned and followed Schrank toward the steps.

“Where are we going?”

“How far do you think our girl can fly?”

“God, Robert, I don’t know. Why? What are you going to do?”

They started down the rattling steps. “I’m going to find out how bad Kathy Leung wants an exclusive.”

Leaving the ventilation tower and running across the boardwalk, Gentry found Kathy Leung and her brawny camera operator T-Bone Harrold where he knew they’d be: right where he’d left them. Waiting for a story.

The small bats were beginning to swarm around the ventilation tower, and police were asking the reporters to withdraw to the nearby Coast Guard buildings. Several of the print journalists were cooperating but not Kathy, T-Bone, and their small mobile crew. Gentry knew that she wouldn’t be going anywhere without a video of the bat. In fact, he had been counting on that.

As they’d run from the tower, Joyce and Gentry had agreed that they couldn’t go back to Manhattan. With the tunnel fans shut down, the giant bat would be able to backtrack through the tunnel and fight her way back to her nest. Or if she got free of the elevator shaft, she would be able to follow Nancy by air. Either way, it would be bad for the city.

When the bat’s attack became audible on the island itself, Gentry surprised Kathy by asking for a ride.

“Sorry, but I’m not going back!” she informed him. T-Bone had the video camera on his shoulder. Kathy motioned for him to snap on his lights.

“I’m not asking you to go back,” Gentry said.

She seemed startled.

“I’m asking for a ride to Liberty Island.”

Kathy regarded him suspiciously. “Why?”

“Because the big bat made Nancy.”

“The bat what?”

“It knows she’s the one who killed her mate!” Gentry said.

“The bat’s breaking through the tunnel toget to me,” Joyce said. “When we leave she’ll probably follow us. What we want to do is lead her and the other vespersaway from the city.”

“And you want us to take you.”

“Right, Kath,” Gentry said.

“What a story,” Kathy said. “Thank you, God.”

Gentry said, “I’ve gotta warn you, though. Things will get hairy if the bat reaches the island.”

“If?”

Joyce said, “She’s tired and extremely pregnant, and we’re hoping she belly-flops into the sea.”

“T-Bone.”

“I’ll keep my camera pointed in her direction.”

As they started toward the boat, Gentry reiterated that the bat was obviously very determined. Kathy said she understood the risks. T-Bone shrugged his big shoulders and said that he was with the lady.

As large chunks of stone fell from the south side of the ventilation tower, the reporter dismissed her mobile unit. She said that she and T-Bone would go directly to the studio when they had their footage. In time for the morning news show, she promised.

Meanwhile, Gentry and Joyce helped T-Bone load his equipment behind the two pedestal seats of his producer’s twenty-one-foot fishing boat. Gentry knew there was no way he’d be leaving that behind, so he didn’t even attempt to persuade him. The three of them had to stop every few seconds to swat at vesper advance guards. More than the crashes echoing from the tower, the vespers were an indication of how close the female was.

Kathy started the engine and took the helm. Gentry slid into the seat beside her. Joyce and T-Bone crouched in the cramped stern, looking back at the tower. T-Bone pulled a bottle of seltzer from his equipment vest and offered some to Joyce. She declined. When everyone was secure, Kathy pushed the 225-horsepower engine to its maximum speed and tore from the dock.

As the island receded, Gentry ducked low behind the windscreen. He turned and asked Joyce for her radio. Holding it close to protect it from the wild sea spray, Gentry called Weeks.

“Where are you?” Weeks demanded.

“We’re in one of the news boats heading west!” Gentry shouted into the mouthpiece.