Greg stared vacantly at the van entrance to the sewer system that most of the humans used when they made the trip underground. His heart pounded harder as the flow of water exiting from the tunnel increased in magnitude.
The guys got out - they must have, he tried to assure himself. There would have been time to escape before things got really bad. I guess there's no point in sitting around outside, not when the van isn't even here.
The sandy-haired man glanced at the cell phone sitting on the seat next to him. Reception had been spotty at best, and when he'd actually achieved a signal during his drive, only the "busy" message had greeted his attempts to contact anyone. Greg picked up the phone, and glared at the one measly bar that indicated he had service available. With a sense of futility he pressed one of the speed dials, and held the phone up to his ear.
"We're sorry. All circuits are busy now. Please hang up, and try your call again later."
Greg swore under his breath and barely resisted the urge to hurl his phone. He dropped it onto the passenger seat instead, and threw his Jeep into reverse.
I don't know what to do, except try to find everyone else. Doc and Kat's loft is the closest from here. If they were going to run somewhere, it seems like that would be their first stop.
He took a sharp breath as he pulled back out onto the main road. This doesn't feel real. It seems like if I blink, things ought to turn back to normal.
Greg mutely took in the sight of debris and shattered glass that lined the street.
The damage could have been worse, but this still feels...disturbing.
He hit the button to try listening to the radio. The last time he'd turned it on, very little information was being relayed about the city as a whole. The radio news was full of eye-witness accounts that were walking in off the streets, and not much else. Greg got irritated as static persisted on the station he'd listened to before, and the man tried adjusting the knob to find a better signal strength.
"C'mon," he muttered. "It's the 21st century. How can the entire communications infrastructure just collapse?"
Greg could hear voices in the background of static, but couldn't decipher what they were saying. He swore as he slammed his palm against the steering wheel in frustration. This is ridiculous!
Greg drove up a deserted block, and waited at the end of the intersection for the chance to turn right onto the street he needed. His heart rate fluctuated at the sight of fires and smoke in the distance, and the utter gridlock directly in front of him. He wasn't even going to find room to squeeze onto the street he was trying to access.
With a grunt of anger he backed up several feet and made an illegal u-turn.
I'd like to see someone pull me over.
In his rear-view mirror he suddenly noticed a yellow cab on the traffic-filled road, with a line of people leading to it. Greg's brow furrowed as he tried to imagine what they could be doing.
God knows they're not getting a ride somewhere. Why on earth are they lining up?
Greg was intrigued enough that he had to check it out. He pulled his Jeep off into a parking lot with an unattended booth, and found that someone (or something) had already snapped the stop arm. The shattered remains of the gate were strewn across the pavement.
I guess this is as good as it's going to get.
He parked his Jeep and swiftly set off on foot, heading toward the scene of the action he'd just witnessed. Greg joined the back of the line that was about eight people deep, and tapped the bearded man in front of him.
"Hey, what's the deal here?" Greg asked the stranger.
"There's a cabbie helping relay information to people, for a price," the man answered.
"What kind of information?"
"Just depends on who he can reach on his radio. The cabbies are communicating through their own network, passing on news about the different neighborhoods and road conditions of where they're located."
"Is the damage worse in other areas?"
The man stared at him incredulously. "Take a look for yourself, Buddy. Traffic hasn't budged on this street for close to two hours. Nothing's getting in or out of the Upper East Side. I hope you don't live that direction."
Greg shook his head as chills ran down his spine. "I don't, but my friends..."
The stranger grimaced. "Rumors on the street are that entire buildings collapsed."
"You seem to have heard a few things already. What are you doing in this line?"
"Looking for a way out," the man replied, and took a couple of steps to follow the woman that moved in front of him. "I want off this island, and it's probably not going to be easy."
Greg lapsed into silence. In the time they'd been talking, his fear had increased exponentially. Now, more than ever, he wished his cell-phone was working.
I could try to head home; Brandon might be working his way that direction too. But I'm more interested in finding out how everyone else is doing than in checking to see if my roof is still standing.
It was a good hour and a half before Greg saw the front of the line, and an aging cab driver focused shrewd brown eyes on him.
"Cash?" the man asked stoically.
Greg nodded, reaching for his wallet. "What's the going rate?"
"Fifty bucks will buy you fifteen minutes of air-time. Make it a hundred, and you can have all the time you want."
Greg simply counted out the bills, and the cabbie pocketed his $100.
"No guarantees here, fella, but I'll put a feeder out on the line for any area you wanna know about. Where am I looking first?"
"Upper East Side."
The cabbie winced. "Not a good idea to head that direction. Word is it was one of the hardest areas hit."
"I'm looking for an apartment building on East 59th. The closest cross street is 3rd Avenue." Greg recited the actual address, and breathlessly waited while the driver ducked back into his vehicle.
"C'mon over here, mate, and I'll see what I can find out for you."
Greg lingered near the cracked window, while the cabbie said something over his radio and waited for a response.
"Hang on, okay?" the driver encouraged. "It could take a few minutes to reach somebody in the target area you're trying to hit, but I'll get as close to it as I can."
Greg leaned slightly against the cab while he waited, and his gaze returned to the sidewalks teeming with people. Their dazed expressions were uncomfortably familiar. He remembered watching people walk around on the streets in utter shock after 9/11, and it wasn't an experience he'd ever wanted to relive.
The driver appeared to be getting emphatic with someone over the radio, then gave Greg a lingering glance that made him extremely nervous. The cabbie opened his window further, and he shook his head at Greg. "I'm sorry, pal. The building you're asking about is down."
"Down?"
"Witnesses say it all came crashing to the ground, not ten minutes after the quake."
It felt like someone had just sucker-punched Greg in the face. "O-okay. Um..." His mind was reeling with questions of whether or not Luke and Kat had been home at the time, or if they would have had the chance to escape. Out of all their extended "family" members, they were the most likely to be at home during the day with Reina. Kat hadn't worked since getting pregnant, and Luke's limited shifts at St. Joseph's Hospital were mostly on the third watch.
Mmm...St. Joseph's. That's a good place to go next.
"Okay." Greg steadied his voice with some difficultly. "What can you tell me about St. Joseph's Hospital? I'd like to know if it's operating normally, and if it's possible to get there."
"Alrighty, pal. Hang on." The driver turned back to his radio, and sent out a second bulletin. He received a faster response this time, and motioned Greg to come closer. "Hospital is fine, but it's overloaded. Can't get you information on a specific patient. They're not gonna release that kind of thing."
"No, I understand. Is it accessible?"
"The cops have shut down traffic to everything besides emergency vehicles in that vicinity. Closest you could probably get a car is about ten blocks out."
Greg nodded, and he decided to ask about Marc and April's apartment at the same time. "There's another building I'd like to ask about, in the same neighborhood as the hospital. The closest intersection is Ludlow and 4th."
"Just a sec." After a couple of minutes, the driver looked at him. "Witnesses are saying that the police have it cordoned off. There are reports that part of it was on fire, but the building is still standing."
Greg sighed gratefully. "What about the Civic Center?"
"That's a pretty big place. Can you narrow it down at all?"
"I'm curious about the Javits Federal building, FBI headquarters."
The cabbie gave him a wary look. "Are you in law enforcement?"
Greg withdrew his badge, and the man paled. "Hey, I'm not here to get you in trouble," he assured him. "I'm just using your services. Can you find out for me please?"
"Uh, yeah, I'll...hold on a minute."
Under different circumstances, Greg would have laughed at the extent of the man's sudden nervousness. The cabbie's voice was still a little shaky when he returned with information.
"The Civic Center experienced some structural damage and lost several windows. I'm hearing that the high rise is intact."
Greg ran down the line with the driver to ask about the Consulate where Victoria had likely been working, and followed it up with inquiries about the condo that she and Timothy shared. He was grateful for no bad news about the Consulate, but the cabbie wasn't able to find out anything about their condo building.
Greg had intentionally saved the apartment he shared with Brandon for last, and he rattled off the address evenly for the cabbie. After about ten minutes, the driver looked back at him.
"The building is in good shape; it didn't take much of a beating. There's word of fires in the area, but they've been contained to a couple of buildings, and haven't spread to the one you're asking about. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
Greg started to shake his head, but then re-thought the matter. "I want to try and make it as close to St. Joseph's as I can. I'm fine to walk several blocks, but I'd rather not get caught in gridlock en route. Is there any direction I should definitely avoid?"
After a little more research, the driver returned to him. "It's gonna involve some slow-going, no matter what direction you're heading. Your best bet is to steer clear of Madison, because they had to close the bridge. That neighborhood has seen a lot of falling debris. Honestly, the sooner you ditch your car, the better off you'll be. You'll get through faster on foot. Head north to meet up with Wiltshire, and stick to the side streets as much as you can.
Be careful where you leave your car, pal. The looting has already started, and it's only going to get worse after dark."
"Okay. Thanks for all your help." As Greg walked away from the cab, the weight of his unknowing made his limbs feel heavy. The thought of Luke and Katherine's loft in shambles was bothering him the most, but fear for the turtles was plaguing him too.
Where would they go, he had to wonder. They'd better be all right.
He silently jogged toward the parking lot where he'd left his car. An inner voice told him to reserve his energy for later, but he couldn't shake the desire to get to St. Joseph's.
It wouldn't hurt to drive past Marc and April's building in the process.
As he picked up speed, he jerked his cell phone out of his pocket. I hope they can work the kinks out of the cell phone towers soon. Then again...He trailed off as something else occurred to him. Donatello had already enabled their cell-phones to transmit off the satellites when necessary because of their overseas exploits.I wonder if I could figure out how to switch the phone over. He probably wouldn't have made it difficult. Maybe if I play around with the settings, I could work it out a satellite connection on my own.
Later, he added. Greg dropped the phone back into his pocket as he hit the parking lot, and sprinted to retrieve his Jeep. The weird sense of "unreality" persisted as he put the car into gear and pulled out onto the street. He flipped the dial of the radio experimentally, and grinned when a voice came in stronger.
"...Officials are in the process of digging out a stretch of Lincoln Tunnel that collapsed earlier this afternoon, with the hope of finding trapped motorists before it's too late. With word of the strain on local hospitals and EMS, triage stations are springing up around major intersections and further impeding roadways. Authorities have asked us to convey their desire that citizens stay where they are, and not venture out on the streets due to curiosity or fear..."
Greg snorted. What are they going to do, arrest us? Sorry, NYPD. There's no way I'm gonna sit at home and wait for something else to happen.