(Max's POV)
"What does that mean?" the Gasman asked, pointing at a small metal plaque that said Stay off the third rail!
"It means the third rail has seven hundred volts of direct current running through it," Fang said. "Touch it and you're human popcorn."
"Okay," I said. "Good tip. Everyone stay off the third rail."
Then I shot Fang a look that said, Thank you for that lovely image. He almost grinned at me.
Iggy felt the train first. "Everyone off the rails," he said, standing still until I took his arm. We all stepped over to a yucky, disgusting wall and pressed ourselves as flat against it as possible.
Thirty seconds later, a train rushed past so fast that its slipstream made us sway toward it. I kept my knee shoved against Angel so she wouldn't be pulled off her feet.
"Well, that was fairly nerve-racking," I said as we gingerly peeled ourselves off the wall.
"Who's there?" The voice was querulous, aggressive, and rough, as if its owner had spent the last fifty years smoking cigarettes. Maybe he had.
We walked forward, on the alert, wings starting to unfold a tiny bit in case we suddenly needed to go airborne.
"Nobody," I called convincingly as we turned the bend of the tunnel.
"Whoa," the Gasman breathed.
Before us was a city. A small, ragged city in Manhattan's basement. Groups of people clotted a large concrete cavern. The ceiling was three stories above us and dripped with paint stalactites and humid condensation.
Several unwashed faces looked toward us, and someone said, "Not cops. Kids."
They turned away, uninterested, except for one woman who seemed to be wearing about five layers of clothing. "You got food?" she barked.
Silently, Nudge pulled a napkin-wrapped knish out of her pocket and handed it over. The woman sniffed it, looked at it, then turned her back to us and started eating.
Here and there the cavern was dotted with fifty-gallon oil drums in which people had made fires. It was a warm night, but the fires provided the only light and helped get rid of the dank chill that was creeping up my legs.
It was a whole new world, made up of homeless people, people who didn't fit in anywhere, runaways… We saw a handful of kids who looked around our age.
I realized that my head was aching. It had been growing worse all evening, and now I just wanted to go to sleep.
"Over there," said the knish woman, pointing. We looked and saw a narrow concreteledge built into a wall. It was hundreds of feet long, and people were sleeping on it, sitting on it, marking off their territory with old blankets or cardboard boxes. The woman had pointed out a thirty-foot-long section that seemed unoccupied.
I looked at Fang, and he shrugged. It wasn't as nice as the park, but it was warm, dry, and seemed somewhat safe. We scrambled up the ledge, with me boosting Angel. Fang had some trouble getting up onto the ledge with the unconscious Cookie. Keeping our backs to everyone, we stacked our fists and tapped twice. Almost instantly, Nudge lay down, pillowing her head on her hands. Fang put Cookie down next to him, resting her head on his lap trying to make her comfortable.
Fang and I sat with our backs against the wall. I dropped my head into my hands and started rubbing my temples.
"You okay?" Fang asked.
"Yeah," I muttered. "I'll be better tomorrow."
"Go to sleep," said Fang. "I'll take the first watch."
I gave him a grateful smile, and soon I was out, out, out-with no idea how we would ever know it was morning.