Creepers

10 P.M.

7

In the darkness to Balenger's right, the crash of the waves on the beach seemed louder than when he'd arrived. His heart beat faster. The October breeze strengthened, blowing sand that stung his face. Clang. Clang. Like a fractured bell, the strip of flapping sheet metal whacked harder against a wall in the abandoned building two blocks farther north. The sound wore on Balenger's nerves as he, Cora, and Rick surveyed their desolate surroundings. Cracked sidewalks. Weeds in ravaged lots. A few sagging buildings silhouetted against the night.

But in the foreground were the seven stories of the Paragon Hotel. In the starry darkness, it did resemble a Mayan pyramid. As Balenger approached, the hotel seemed to grow, the symmetry of its receding levels capped by the penthouse. In moonlight, it so resembled art-deco buildings from the 1920s that Carlisle seemed to have been able to peer into the future.

Balenger turned toward his companions. "You said the three of you were in Professor Conklin's history class in Buffalo. Do you still keep in touch between your yearly expeditions?"

"Not as much as we used to," Rick answered.

"Holidays. Birthdays. That sort of thing. Vi

"But in those days, we sure were close. Hell, Vi

"Wasn't that uncomfortable, the three of you hanging out together?"

"Not really," Cora answered. "Vi

"Why do you suppose the professor chose the three of you?"

"I don't understand."

"Over the years, he must have had plenty of other students to choose from. Why you?"

"I guess I always assumed he just liked us," Cora said.

Balenger nodded, thinking, And maybe the professor liked Cora in particular, liked to look at her, invited her then-boyfriends to make her feel comfortable and disguise the interest of an aging man whose wife was dead.

Balenger tensed, seeing a figure rise eerily from the weeds. It rose straight up and stopped at stomach level, as if materializing from the earth.

He took a moment to realize that the figure was Vi

"Over here."

Balenger saw a circular hole, a manhole cover next to it. Vi

The clang of the sheet metal in the condominium building became fainter. The air got cooler, with a smell of moisture and must. Balenger's boots sounded on concrete as he reached the bottom.

The darkness thickened. Metal scraped as Rick came down the ladder and tugged the manhole cover into place. It was a mark of his strength that he was able to do so. Finally, the darkness was complete, and the outside clang could no longer be heard.

Balenger became conscious of the sound of his breathing. He couldn't seem to get enough air, as if the darkness were something pressed against his face. Although the tu

Then Balenger heard Rick arrive at the bottom, heard the scratch of zippers and cloth as Rick and Cora took their hard hats from their knapsacks. Balenger did the same, feeling uncomfortable from the weight he put on his head.

Everybody spread out, trying not to crowd each other. At the same time, Balenger sensed they wanted to remain close. Their five headlamps bobbed and veered as they studied a tu

"The city's so eager for urban renewal," Conklin said, "all I had to do was hint I was a developer and ask for the charts of storm drains and utility tu

"And this leads to the hotel?" Vi

"With a few detours. Carlisle put in this tu

They took thick belts from their knapsacks. The belts had loops, clips, and pouches, reminding Balenger of the utility belts that electricians and carpenters wore. He was also reminded of police and military belts. Walkie-talkies, flashlights, cameras, and other equipment were quickly attached to them. Balenger did the same, adjusting the weight around his hips. Then everyone put on work gloves.

"We're wearing Petzl cavers' headlamps," the professor told Balenger. "They're capable of switching between halogen and LED bulbs, depending on how much light you need. At the extreme, the batteries can last two hundred and eighty hours before they need changing. That's one thing we don't need to worry about. But there are others. Safety check," he told the group.

Vi

"Normal," Cora said.

"We're checking for carbon monoxide, carbon dioxide, and methane," Rick told Balenger. "All of them are odorless. I've got a slight reading on methane. It barely registers."

"Regardless," the professor said, "if you feel dizzy, sick to your stomach, headachy, uncoordinated, let us know immediately. Don't wait till you think you might be in trouble. By the time symptoms are serious, we might be too far into the tu

Balenger listened to the echo of their footsteps and breathing. In the lead, the professor glanced periodically at a diagram.

The tu

"Smells like the ocean," Vi

"We're just above the high-tide mark," Conklin explained. "During the 1944 hurricane, these tu

"Here's something for your article," Vi

"Whitman?"

"The poet. In 1861, he was a reporter in Brooklyn. He wrote about exploring the abandoned Atlantic Avenue subway tu

"Look out!" Cora yelled.

"Are you okay?" Rick held out a hand.

"A rat." Cora tilted her helmet's light up toward a section of pipe in front of them.

A pink-eyed rat glared and scurried away, its long tail sliding along the pipe.

"I've seen so many, you'd think I'd have gotten used to them by now," Cora said.

"Looks like it has a friend."

Ahead, a second rat joined the first and raced along the pipe.

Now a half-dozen rats scurried. Now a dozen.

Balenger tasted something bitter.