Chapter 42
Paupers Drop - Fishbowl Diner
Jack Ryan, accompanied by his twp Big Sisters and a rather sheepish looking Dr Wells stepped through the doorway out into the open chasm that house the Fishbowl Diner. Despite the hundreds of men and women inside, many spliced out of their minds, an eerie hush fell over the entire hall, so much so that Jack could even hear the faint gurgling of the ocean overhead.
"What y'all gone and done now?" Finally one voice called out, a fat, sluggish splicer who clearly originated from Texas. "Thought y'all were s'posed to be helpin' us, not undoin' all the fine work Carson and his boys been doin' lately!" A few more of the crowd began to cheer him on.
Jack held out his arms and begged for quiet once more, before trying to speak over the last few mumbles. "Friends - please bare with us. Grace sent me on a mission, to seek out the truth about Edward Carson's reign over Rapture. To check upon his methods and dealings before he gathers more momentum and you... we, have no choice but to allow him complete control over us all. I need to speak with Grace immediately." Jack began to continue forward, Beth and Ellie striding ahead to clear a path, when suddenly, the massive exterior doors overhead heaved open with great effort and a deafening grinding of aged metal, and an Atlantic Express Car came racing through at immense speed, so fast that its coupling to the tracks was sparking and breaking loose. With no attempt at slowing, the express carriage ploughed straight into the back of another parked Express Carriage that had hung undisturbed over the diner for the last decade. Both disintegrated upon impact, smashing open and careening off the tracks down into the crowds below.
With screams and panic, a wave of terrified splicers began to rage through the hall away from the scene of the crash, where almost twenty unsuspecting souls had already been crushed beneath the falling wreckage. The rush gave way to a stampede, and the mindless, hysterical crowds began to trample those not quick enough to find their feet and clear the way.
Saved from the same fate only by his two towering, metal-clad companions, Jack fought against the tide, rushing towards the crash in a vain effort to try and save any survivors. "I don't know why you bother - nobody here would try to save you!" Dr Wells cried out as she clung to his jacket, struggling to keep up among the crowd. Jack knew she was right, but he couldn't shake his natural instinct - his human instinct, to help. Everyone in that room used to have it once, but had lost it involuntarily to their ADAM addiction.
They reached the smoldering wreckage, it was impossible to tell the two carriages apart they were so twisted and broken, the second carriage having actually entered the first upon impact. Having exhausted what was left of their ADAM, Beth and Ellie could only help by manually lifting the pieces of wreckage, and dragging out the bodies of the splicers that had been caught beneath it all. As they dug deeper, Jack was able to climb up and actually get inside what was left of the second carriage's interior - he pushed aside the leather cushions and shattered mahogany paneling, trying to find any sign of who had been travelling in the second carriage. Even he had to think to himself "Christ, this would be so much easier with some ADAM..."
Jack had been able to pull away the access door into the control booth, and found it to be crushed, but clearly empty. "There was nobody driving, it was set on automatic - must have been a short circuit triggered when we reset The Thinker?" He called out to Dr Wells, and a small crowd of splicers that had overcome the initial herd mentality and let their panic subside in favor of their curiosity.
"No way Jack - I worked on the initial installation of the express systems with Prentice Mill's engineers. The Thinker checked routes and green lit access to tracks once it had confirmed they were clear, but the carriages still required someone to manually hit the go button - even if they set it on autopilot, it had to be set manually." Dr Wells informed him, pulling out a sneaky bottle of Chechnya Vodka she'd kept in her labcoat pocket and taking a gulp to try and steady her nerves - she was not comfortably among so many people - for years she had locked herself away with her machines, and preferred it.
Retreating from the claustrophobic confines of the compressed control booth, Jack was about to leap back out from the wreck, when his foot came down on something soft and spongy beneath a large shred of red velvet that had come away from the ceiling. Reaching down he pulled the fabric away, and recoiled in horror. The face of Grace Holloway, at least he was fairly sure it was Grace, looked up with bloodshot, lifeless eyes. Her face was smashed inwards, and smothered with blood. Jack reached down carefully, and with a hand under each arm, gently pulled her heavy corpse from the tangled mess of steel and wood, and dragged her down onto the tiled floor. The watching splicers gasped, and two broke out into uncontrolled, maniacal sobs.
"Who is this?" Dr Wells asked, perplexed by the attention this old woman was receiving over any of the other thousands of dead one could walk past in the corridor on a daily basis.
"Grace Holloway - she was the one who sent me over to see you. She was governor of Paupers Drop during Sofia Lamb's rule - a true believe in the Rapture family, in family at all." Jack sighed, brushing Grace's hair, knotted with blood, from her face. "Why on earth was she in that express carriage? And why didn't she stop? Did the brakes fail?" Jack asked openly to anyone listening, as he looked up at the now-broken railway overhead.
"ahhh shit... guess I'm too late to speak to Gracey now, eh?" A strange, wiry little voice spoke out from behind the crowd. Jack stood up and beckoned the newcomer forward. Stanely Poole pushed past the gawping splicers and brushed his sweaty hair back. "Stan Poole - at your service Mr Ryan." He held out a greasy, filthy hand. Jack politely refused to take it, but stepped closer.
"You have me at a disadvantage sir - you seem to know me?" He asked, instead brushing Grace's blood off his hands onto his trousers.
"Everyone that has survived this long in Rapture knows you Mr Ryan, don't get flattered so easy. I used to be one of Rapture's foremost paparazzi - Rapture Tribune." He smiled, displaying two rows of rotten, brown teeth.
"That rag? We only had use for it to wipe our asses with in the Den..." Dr Wells sneered,
Stanley gave her the most fleeting of glances; "You ain't the only ones sweetheart". He then yanked his camera from his coat pocket, and held it out.
"Seein' how Grace has checked out, I'm guessin' she'd have me deliver this to you. You weren't the only guy she sent out on a scoutin' mission."