Chapter 3: Welcome Home
Daniel's eyes adjusted to the bright lights. The station was bustling as people hurried by. Wooden stalls, covered in goods, lined up in rows. Old stores that hadn't been boarded up or caved in glimmered with inviting, colorful lights. Shop keepers shouted and waved their arms, trying to lure people to their stalls to buy their goods. Fruits, vegetables, vitamins, guns, ammunition, gas masks, air filters, auto parts, oil; anything Daniel could ever need was right here in the market. There was even a stall selling condoms and beer. One shop keeper tossed an apple to Ross. Ross turned and handed it to Daniel with a smile and shouted something. Daniel couldn't hear him over the crowd, but took the apple anyway. Ross led Daniel through the crowd. They passed by an ammo vendor apathetically trading different types of bullets with costumers. An arms-dealer jauntily conversed with a costumer about how reliable his guns were. A man sat against a wall, munching away on a granola bar.
They stopped at a local bar to get Daniel a drink. As they waited for the bartender to bring them their order, Daniel surveyed the room. Melancholy figures slouched over the bar, devoid of all hope. Others sang happily at their tables. Two men compared strength with arm-wrestling. Others enjoyed idle conversation. Daniel watched a waitress dressed in hardly anything – high-heels, jeans cut extremely short, and a black t-shirt tied at the waist – strut from table to table with drinks. Two men got into an argument. One lunged across their table and punched the other. They began to fight, battering each other and knocking over tables. They had to be broken up by two Peacemakers, the law enforcement of the station, who then proceeded to throw the drunken combatants out of the bar. After the commotion was through with, the bartender placed a large bottle of vodka on the counter. Daniel took the bottle and followed Ross out of the bar.
They came to the industrial platforms. Crates stacked atop one another towered over the pair. Men carried boxes back and forth. Hand carts periodically rolled in to unload cargo. Daniel and Ross passed by a make-shift ranch. A rooster crossed their path and arrogantly strolled in front of them. Ross swatted the conceited cockerel. It clucked and fluttered its wings before making its way back to a pen with other chickens. Pigs locked in pens shuffled and squealed. A couple of kids poked and prodded one pig until an old man stormed out of his home and shouted at them. They scurried away giggling.
Daniel and Ross passed through the common area. The crowded underground hallway stretched wide. Musicians strummed away at guitars and banged on old paint-buckets. One man performed magic tricks for a group of children. A woman sat against a pillar and read a book aloud to her son. Daniel and Ross passed by the armory. Looking into a door-way as he passed by, Daniel saw a young man firing a gun at a target on the wall. He was a terrible shot but it probably didn't help that he was using a "P. o. S." They passed by two men strapping on heavy vests and other assorted equipment ranging from belts wrenches and hammers hanging from them to bandoliers littered with ammunition and explosives. They strolled right through a guard checkpoint, vaulting over the gate made from a collection of rusty fences. A civilian trying to get through became angry and shouted at the guard.
Ross led Daniel into a dingy office and closed the door behind them. A bookshelf repurposed as a liquor cabinet stood against the back wall of the room. The bottles gleamed in the dim candle light. Ross pulled two small glass cups and a bottle of whiskey from the shelf and sat behind his desk. Neat stacks of paper and books littered one end of the desk. He placed one glass on either side of his desk and gestured for Daniel to take a seat. Daniel set the bottle of vodka on the desk and sat in the chair across the desk from Ross. He unhooked the buckle on his helmet and pulled it off. The gas mask attached to the helmet slid off along with it. He set them on the ground amd wiped his hands down his face. The short strings of hair clinging to his chin were damp with sweat and the moisture from his breath. Daniel preferred to shave as often as he could, but a decent razor was hard to come by. Ross twisted open the scotch and poured some into his glass. He set the bottle down on another table beside him between a typewriter and a desk lamp. Daniel decided to pour himself a drink as well. As Daniel opened his bottle, Ross began to reminisce.
"Boy, this takes me back," he sighed and sat back in his chair, "Last time we shared a drink, you broke my nose!"
Daniel took a sip of his drink.
Daniel asked, "Yeah, I remember a certain someone bragging about his younger days and saying he could take anyone in a fight. You were a real tough guy."
"Hey! If I remember correctly, I still knocked you out!"
"I don't remember that part."
They both looked at each other for a moment before sharing a laugh.
"Hey, you remember when we first found what was going on in the stadium?"
"Yeah, don't remind me."
"Oh, man! I couldn't believe it! New York was always a fucked up town, but Jesus!"
Daniel cleared his throat.
"Ah, my bad."
"Forget it. I'm just glad we got those kids out of there."
"Ha-yeah. Times are rough, but eating other people? I feel like that's a bit extreme. Howler ribs are just as good as pork!"
"Whatever happened to Roy after that?"
"You mean Freckle-Face? I think he's on beat out in Residential."
Daniel leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. A fan slowly rotated in a circle.
"So, Danny-boy, give me the det's."
"Everything went according to plan. No problems, minor obstacles."
"You mean the flooded exit?"
"Yeah."
"Casualties?"
"Nil."
"Anything else?"
"I collapsed a shack. Nothing they can't just rebuild."
"Were you seen?"
"Not a chance."
"For once, I'm not going to have an angry mob boss banging on my door tomorrow, am I?"
Ross laughed aloud.
"Looks like I owe you that bonus, then."
Ross opened a safe under his desk and pulled out several clips of bullets; high-end, military-grade ammunition. The brass casing of the bullets sparkled like gold in the flickering light.
"Here you go, old friend," Ross said after presenting the bullets, "Fifteen five-point-five-six-by-forty-five military-grade rounds; ten for the job and five for the bonus; the only thing still worth more than garbage down here."
Daniel leaned over the desk, nearly pushing over his glass, and took the clip. He didn't need to count them. Ross was never the type of man to cheat someone. He dropped them into his pocket. He then re-sealed the bottle of vodka and placed it in a side pouch on his rucksack.
"I'll let you know if anything else comes up," Ross said as he closed his safe.
Daniel gave a quick and relaxed salute with his index and middle fingers and headed out the door. He passed back through the Commons. He stopped and leaned against a pillar to listen to a musician strumming a guitar. The guitar was tuned terribly, but it was still a beautiful, rustic melody. He took the clip of military-grade rounds out of his pocket, pulled two rounds off, and dropped them into the man's guitar case. The man gave Daniel a grateful smile.
"Thank you, sir," he said as he continued to play his guitar.
Daniel walked down a nearby hallway. Make-shift wooden doors closed off doorways to bathrooms and closets. Light shone through the cracks and Daniel could hear people moving or talking behind them. At the end of the hall was a boarding platform. A derelict train rested on the tracks. Daniel could see bunk beds through the train car windows. Some were even occupied. He followed the overhead signs that read "S" emblazoned in a grey circle. It was easy to see that some had been replaced with plywood and paint. Daniel reached another boarding platform. Several railbikes rested at the station. The railbikes looked like motorcycles with sidecar passenger seats to Daniel. However, they were more like motorized handcars than anything else. Four wheels gripped the tracks tightly. The handle bars were merely for control of the throttle and brakes, but could be used to turn the railbike manually in an emergency. A man sitting on one of the railbikes took notice of Daniel.
"Transport to Grand Station'll cost you two Tabby-killers," the driver said.
Daniel pulled two more bullets from his clip and placed them in the driver's hand. Daniel took his seat in the sidecar. The driver started the engine. It sputtered on and the scent of gasoline mingled with the already musty air. It wasn't a particularly long trip, but Daniel grew impatient. Drowsiness sat on his shoulders like a heavy weight and he wanted to sleep. He watched the guards and workers zip by as he passed them. It didn't help Daniel's mood when traffic was held up by a de-railed railbike. One of its wheels had come loose from the tracks. Two old men sat by a campfire playing with cards and talking. Daniel listened to them talk.
"I remember, long time ago there w's another war. Rattled the bones of the whole city," one droned on, "Struct'ral integrity and what-not got all shook up and they had to rebuild the whole subway!"
The other man scoffed in disbelief, "That weren't no war! It was terrorists, you old coot!"
"Then why'd they have the army block off all the exits all those years ago?"
"That's 'cause your memory's all flip-flopped, you ding-bat. Them blockin' the exits was 'cause of the war."
Further down the tunnel a guard shouted, "All clear! Send 'em through!"
The railbike rattled onward. Daniel soon reached another station platform.
"Welcome to Grand Central," the driver said apathetically, "Thank you for using Grand Square transportation. We hope to see you again."
Daniel could tell that the driver had repeated the same line a million times before. He stepped onto the platform.
"This city never changes," Daniel mumbled to himself as he walked away from the tracks.
Further down the track he watched a group of men use a crane to pull railbikes off the tracks and set them on the opposite set to head the other direction. The crane was made of thick, sturdy wooden beams and rope. Lifting and lowering was all done by a few muscular men. Daniel headed deeper into the station. He passed by the mess hall. He looked up at a sign hanging from the ceiling. The words had become marred and illegible. The mess hall was always and had always been a crowded place. It had been a restaurant in the past. He pushed his way through the crowd. It was always tough, but his suit helped to encourage people to move aside and let him pass. His suit was composed of old Army fatigues that had been painted black. He had hard leather braces strapped to his forearms and shins, as well as a Kevlar vest on under his coat. His helmet was like those of the modern Army's, but it had been painted black as well. The straps of his gasmask embraced his helmet like tendrils. He headed down a flight of stairs and through another wide hallway. He passed by shanties and people squatting around lamps or lanterns. He stopped at a door in the wall, hidden between two of the makeshift houses. He grasped the handle tightly. He quickly jerked the knob up and twisted it. The door cracked open and Daniel stepped inside. Daniel closed the door to his home behind him. It was a tiny room, but it was one of the more spacious anyone outside of the wealthy neighborhood could find in the subway. His cot sat against the back wall two large steps from the door. His desk rested against another wall with only a radio and desk lamp on it. Daniel didn't know why he had the desk as he felt it just took up space. On the opposite wall hung a bulletin board with a map of the subway and assorted notes pinned to it. Underneath that was a bookshelf with various books, papers, and cups scattered about on the shelves. Daniel removed his backpack and set it on the floor next to his desk. He pulled a mug from the bookshelf and sat in the chair at his desk. It creaked and wobbled under his weight. He removed the half-empty bottle of vodka from his bag and placed it on the desk. He flipped on the lamp and the radio. A voice started blaring from the speakers.
"A-hoy, you salty scallywags," it said, "This is your one and only favorite: Captain Blackbeard, on your one and only favorite pirate radio broadcast. Why do they call me 'Blackbeard?' Well, hell-fire and a good singe will do that to ya."
Daniel poured himself a drink.
"I'm sailing the high sea and surfing the radio waves, because there's no one left to stop me!"
Daniel swiftly gulped down his drink. He stood up and began unfastening the pieces of armor on his suit and placing them beside his desk.
"Speaking of waves, we've got a welcome change from our usual line-up of depressing Government declaration speeches, heart-breaking love songs, and head-rattling beats for something nice and smooth. But first, we've got a bit of news for all of you out there."
Daniel sat on his bed.
"My good man in the old crow's nest informs me of impending doom deep down south…"
Daniel stretched out on his bed and covered his eyes with his arm.
"Apparently, Howlers have been acting mighty finicky lately. Sounds like something's got 'em spooked. My guess is a pack of tabbies making claims on their waters. Others have reported a strange, blue glow deep in the tunnels. Army says they've got it under control, but you Stalkers better keep your eyes open…"
Daniel listened closely with intrigue. The story had piqued his interest.
"Anyway, getting this ship back on course: our latest score is teeming with all kinds of treasure."
"Every time…" Daniel scoffed quietly.
Blackbeard continued, "Here's a special treat for you all out there from the Captain's secret chest. I dunno what an 'Ipanema' is, but it sure sounds damned interesting."
The radio started playing a song. It was gentle and easy on the ears, unlike what is usually played. Daniel recognized the song. As he drifted to sleep, he tried to remember the name of the song, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Daniel kept thinking about it, while the song started to fade away. As it grew further and further away, Daniel only thought harder. It was on the tip of his tongue. The song finally faded until it was gone and Daniel drifted to sleep.
