I was concentrating on only one thing. The man I was following. It was all that mattered. I focused on him. He walked swiftly ahead of me. Just as I was about to reach out and grab him, he stepped off the sidewalk and into traffic. He moved fast, dodging in-between speeding cars, like he was daring me to follow. I held my breath, watching to see if he made it. Once he got to the other side of the street, he jumped on to the curb and turned a corner. I followed, trying to catch up. I was determined to stay with him.

I darted between passing cars, almost getting clipped by a van. The driver screamed obscenities at me as he passed. Horns honked as people slammed on their brakes, barely avoiding collision. He never stopped to see what was happening behind him, he just kept walking. Fear crept through me. I wondered if I was headed for a trap. I kept my eyes trained on him as he walked down the street, disappearing into a nearby alley. I ran faster. I didn't care if he saw me. He already knew I was following him.

The alley was dark. Hidden from the afternoon sun by the brick buildings that stood on either side. I stopped before it, motionless. I was afraid of going in without some kind of backup. I had no time. It was now or never. I approached cautiously. Uncomfortable with the thought that I would lose him if I didn't just move in now. Although every fiber of my being told me I shouldn't, I went in. It was dark and forbidding. I put my back to the wall and crept slowly into the darkness. My pulse was racing. Fear was trying to get the best of me. I pushed it aside and kept going.

I slid slowly forward, listening to the noises of the street behind me as they echoed off the walls. I was trying to hear the small sounds coming from the alley itself. It was quiet. No rats scurrying away, no bottles rolling, no sounds of paper blown by a breeze. It was as if the alley knew something was here, and it was afraid with me. I started to second guess my approach as I listened for sounds of footsteps or even a paper crunching under someone's foot. Nothing. It was eerie. A car horn went off in the distance behind me; I jumped, relieved that I could still hear the world behind me. I turned my focus away from my fear and kept going.

My gun was at my side. I held it tight. Worried that if I relaxed my grip, it would disappear. This was a blind alley. A place for trash dumpsters and junkies. There was nowhere to go, but plenty of places to hide. The man would be trapped. I smiled, knowing that I finally had him. No way out unless he climbed up one of the fire escapes. I looked up, checking above me. There was enough light above to see no ladders pulled down. No way to climb up. He was here, somewhere in this space. I could feel him. I moved my foot forward, inching in one step at a time.

My heart was pounding. Now it was all I could hear. I tried to block it, concentrate on the noises around me, but it was overpowering, like a pulse that would not stop. I slowly moved into the murkiness. My gun out in front of me as I crept further in.

A large green dumpster sat to the right of the alley. Around it, stacks of cardboard. Empty cartons and discarded pizza boxes. Strangely, they were all Pino's boxes. Pino's Pizza was miles from where I was. Why would they be here, in this alley? Suddenly my focus was gone. I took a deep breath, pushing the questions away. This was no time to ask myself stupid questions.

There were two dumpsters, not just one. They sat side by side. My attention was now on both of them and the space in between the two. This will be where the man is hiding, I am almost sure of it. The second dumpster is so dirty it is hard to see that it was once blue. It is just as large as the first. I inch gradually towards the space between the two. I was losing valuable time being cautious, but unable to move any quicker. I approach the gap, spinning to the side, checking between them. I am careful to keep my gun up and trained on the area in front of me. My finger is on the trigger, ready to pull. Ready to kill, if anyone dares attack. There is no one hiding in the open space between them. I do a quick check of the inside of each dumpster only to find more discarded cardboard, boxes and trash bags. No one lurking, nobody waiting for me. I check every possible hiding place, each time expecting to find him. Instead, finding more boxes ready to be recycled. I use my boot to kick some of the trash, hoping to find him there.

I move in further,past the dumpsters now less cautious. I am beginning to second guess myself. Did he really run into the alley? Did I miss him as he disappeared into a crowd? I play the scene back in my head. He went into this alley, he did not come back out, I was sure of it. How could he have escaped me? I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that he wasn't here.

I feel myself starting to panic. Was I wasting my time? He could be far away by now. The time taken to scour the alley, was it all in vain? I would never find him. This was a ruse. I was had. It was imperative that I didn't lose him. I needed him, although I wasn't sure why this was.

I walked more rapidly, hastily checking for him. I was starting to feel desperate, throwing caution into the wind. He escaped from me somehow. Ahead was the brick wall, the dead end. He wasn't here. I stopped before it. Frustration overcame me. I had lost him. I had made a mistake. I looked at the wall in front of me. Then looked down. That was when I noticed I wasn't wearing any pants. What? What the hell!

Suddenly all I cared about was how I was going to get out of the alley. I had no pants. I thought back to the cars slamming on their brakes, and the people yelling as I ran across the street. I tried to remember where I had left my pants, and why? Had I left the apartment this morning with out them? Why didn't anyone say anything? The dumpers, maybe there would be something in them i could use. I turned to go back to them, lowering my gun. The man was standing behind me. Close. I could feel his breath on my face. He was smiling. I dropped my gun in panic. He opened his mouth and shrieked.

I jumped up from the bed with a scream. My eyes wide open as I tried to remember just where I was. Suddenly relieved, realizing it was just a nightmare. I checked quickly to make sure I had on my underwear. Ranger was in the alley with me. I didn't want to think to hard about that part. He was the one who made that terrible noise. Although I was now awake, the shriek continued.

I covered my ears. It was deafening. My hair was damp from sweat, and the loud squeal pierced my skull, but they were not screams, they were alarms. The building alarms were going off. They surrounded the room. Lights flashed outside of RangeMan. I could see them pulse on the walls in front of me. I went to the window, looking down at the front of the building.

Three fire trucks and two police cars were parked haphazardly at the entrance of RangeMan. I pulled on a pair of cargo pants and laced up my chucks. RangeMan was a secure building. The only reason that alarms would be going off was because of the tapes. This wasn't a coincidence. Someone broke in. Real fear pulsed through me now. I had no idea what was happening on the floors below me. What ever it was, it was bad enough that the fire department and the police were called.

Someone started pounding on the door. Rangers front door. My first thought, the killer was here for me. I quickly pushed it away. If the killer was at the door, he probably wouldn't be knocking. Just in case, I found my gun. We should have listened to the tapes last night instead of waiting to copy them.

The tapes were downstairs. I was hoping they were locked up in a vault where no one could get them. I would be relieved when we could hand them over to the proper authorities. I wasn't sure who the proper authorities were at any given moment, but I thought Joe would be a good start. I didn't exactly want Joe to have this kind of trouble; I just didn't want me to have it anymore.

My attention was back at the front door. The knocking turned to pounding. My phone started buzzing. I checked to see if my gun was loaded. No bullets. Crap. Maybe I could bluff, or maybe the bullets were in my pocketbook. Why was it that in my nightmare, I was so much more prepared? Even without any pants.

I padded silently into the kitchen in search of my bag. I grabbed it. Whoever was at my door was calling my name. "Stephanie. Open the door. I will give you five more minutes, and then I'm shooting the lock out and coming in."

I knew that voice but I walked over and checked the peep-hole to be sure. It was Tank. He stood there looking back at me. He gave me a frustrated wave. "Let me in, Stephanie. There's not much time."

I unlocked the door. Tank pushed it open almost knocking me over as he barreled through.

"Hey!" I screamed. "Manners!"

"We need to leave." He said quickly. "Manners are not in the equation today. RangeMan is not secure."

It was hard to imagine RangeMan not being secure, since the place is built like Fort Knox. A well-known New Jersey wise guy owned this building. He was known for a lot of things. Gun running, racketeering, and a speakeasy that the cops knew about but pretended they couldn't find. Where the gun range is now, was a successful underground club. When Prohibition was in full effect the club was one of the few places you could get alcohol, gamble, and buy guns if you knew who to talk to. It also was a great place to be ambushed. If the guys wanted you dead, you got dead in a hurry walking into a joint like that. This guy did everything from this building. He ran his whole operation from this big square. There were four total underground levels. They say he died like he lived, fast. Shot in the back by one of his own men.

I asked Ranger about it, and he said the club was dismantled many years before they bought the building. When they got it, it was just an empty room. No sign of what it had been.

The building was bought by an eccentric millionaire after that, and he used the basement floors for safe-rooms. He was a scared little man from what I knew about him. When he was locked up for tax evasion, the city took the building from him and put it up for sale without even really checking it out. It was on the market for a long time. The city was about to give up on selling it. RangeMan bought it before it could be demolished.

Now that RangeMan owned the building, a gun range was on basement level one and a gym on two. Level three was empty, left as it was, a safe room. Level four was the real basement. It opened up to numerous escape routes that were built way back when. They led into the jersey sewer system. Not the greatest means for running alcohol, drugs and guns, but in a pinch, it got the job done. How this place was not safe was beyond comprehension.

"You have bullets in that gun?" Tank said. He seemed to take notice that I armed myself before opening the door to him.

"No. I think there are some in my pocketbook." I started rummaging around, looking for them.

"Find them. You need to be loaded."

"Where are we going?" I said as I found a few shells floating around in the trash and loose change that filled the bottom of the bag.

Tank watched me curiously as I wiped the cookie crumbs off the bullets and started to load them in my gun. "Not sure, but you better put your boots on. It's a possibility we are going into the tunnels."

I stopped loading my gun. "What?" I said. I stood still for a moment. Processing what he had just said. The tunnels? As in the tunnels that led to the sewer? As in the sewer where alligators were legend to be, and rats were as large as dogs? Those tunnels? When Lester had mentioned this escape route, it was just a note about the history of the building, a little fun fact. Not something I would be going to have to take part in.

I wanted to ask some relevant questions, like why in the hell did we need to use the tunnels? Tank's phone buzzed and he told me to hurry.

I grabbed my black hoodie. Wearing it made me feel brave for some strange reason. Then, I reluctantly took off my chucks and replaced them with my Cat boots. At least they were waterproof, but I doubted they were sewer smell proof. I had a feeling none of these clothes would survive after tonight. They were dumpster bound. I don't think Jersey sewer smell came off regular clothes.

Tank had answered his phone without even saying hello. Instead of the normal salutations, he answered with "Tank", and then he just listened. Eventually spewing out a few small words. This is what I heard.

"Ok. Good. Ok. We will get out another way. Yes. Seventh floor. We are going to Base Four. Out."

I didn't need Tank to tell me what that meant. I already knew. I looked down, trying to regain some composure. We would be leaving through the tunnels. The decision was already made. I didn't have a say in it.

I took a deep breath and waited for him to finish his call. He closed his phone and put it back in his pocket.

"So, we are leaving through the tunnels?" I tried not to sound panicked, but my voice shook a little.

"Yeah." Tank checked his gun, and then he found the ammo for mine that wasn't covered in crumbs and loaded it, handing it back to me. "You ready?"

"No." I said reluctantly. "Isn't there some other way out? I mean, why do we even need to leave? Can't we just stay here? You can shoot anyone who comes through the door. It would be perfectly safe." I was trying hard to make it sound like staying here was an excellent idea, but I knew I sounded scared.

Tank's eyes met mine. "You afraid of the tunnels?"

I hated for anyone to think I was afraid. I stood up a little straighter. I hesitated a little. "No, I am afraid of the alligators."

Tank paused before answering. "Alligators?" He raised his eyebrows and a little smile cracked on his serious face.

Honestly, I did not think alligators were something that was funny. They could be toxic alligators. I stood my ground. Everyone knew about the alligators. "Yeah. you don't know about them?" I said as panic was making it to the surface now. I paced, throwing my best hand gestures out for effect. I remembered the stories well. They scared the crap out of me when I was a little kid. To this day, I still steered clear of the storm drains. "Mary Jo Riymer said, her cousin's friend's brother saw one in there when he worked for the city. Scared the bejesus out of him. He quit the next day. Said he saw an arm in there with it, and the alligator had glowing red eyes!"

The moment it left my lips, I knew the story sounded unbelievable. I had never needed to tell someone about the sewers. It was a well-known fact. All the kids who grew up here knew. You didn't mess with the storm drains, ever. Tank looked at me like I had said something funny. I wish I could tell the story like Mary Jo did. I was scared to death when she told us about it.

"Who is Mary Jo Riymer?"

"She was a friend of my sisters." I said defiantly.

"Don't you think it's possible she was telling you that to scare you?"

"She told my sister, not me. I was secretly listening from the closet. Mary told her not to tell anyone. Valerie was scared, so was Mary."

"Uh huh, how long ago was this?"

I had to think about it. I knew that age would make a difference. Everyone knew there were alligators in the sewer. "I was ten." I crossed my arms boldly. My chin was up. I was a believer.

Tank put his gun in his vest holster. "If there really were alligators in the sewer, don't you think they would have gotten them out by now? I mean, crews go down there all the time."

I knew what he was doing; trying to punch holes in a story I have believed all my life. No one questioned the alligator story. It was a known fact. It was the reason none of us chased any balls that went in the drains. Plus, what if the clown from IT was real? No one wanted to find out, that's for damn sure.

I squinted my eyes at him. "It's true."

"Yeah? Well I can tell you what is really true. Ramon found four packages that may or may not be loaded with dynamite. Do you want to stay here and find out if they go off? Or do you want to take your chances with the dragon alligators and giant rats? You have a gun. Shoot anything that looks like an alligator and your good."

"They found packages inside RangeMan?

"The alarms went off. We smelled smoke on floor one, two and three. Someone is in the building who isn't suppose to be. Lester and Ramon have him somewhere on the fourth floor, in one of the apartments. Whoever it is has some of the security codes and also some of the key cards. At the moment, they can't find the guy. He is probably headed up to the next level. We don't know who it is but my best guess is that they are looking for the vault. The copies of the tapes are in it. I didn't have time to get them.

"Where are the originals?" I said, thinking it would be a damn shame to have gone through all of this just to lose the tapes at the last moment.

Tank patted his leg. "Right here with me. The pack is waterproof, fire proof and bulletproof. If anything happens to me, the tapes will still be ok."

I hated to mention it, but I thought that if anything happened to Tank, the tapes would not only be in the hands of whoever killed him, but there would be a good chance that I would be dead too. If not, Lula would kill me anyway. I needed to keep Tank safe. No way I would make it thorough the alligator sewer without him.

I took a deep breath. Relieved he had the tapes, but it did put targets on our backs.

"Some of the cameras have been disabled. We need to move the tapes and you into a secure location. Whoever it is is leaving packages as they move through the floors of the building. They could be bombs. They could be scare tactics to make us move."

I picked up my bag and walked towards the door. I was convinced. I could handle sewer monsters better than I could handle bombs and mad men.

My cell phone started to ring. It was in the bedroom. I went to get it. I looked at the number calling. "It's Joe."

Tank took the phone from me and answered it.