Chapter Twenty
Twenty
The weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders.
For the first time in weeks, I could breathe properly again.
We’d come close to disaster, but everything was fine now.
As I walked back to the elevators, I planned my triumphant presentation to the executive board.
I’d have Sukariel descend from on high and proclaim me as the savior of the world, maybe with a few other angels there to really drive home how amazing I was.
The board would give me a standing ovation, and Ms. Crenshaw would smile—actually smile!
—as she draped me in the robes of middle management.
Sunil and Tamsin would be torn to pieces by whatever nightmarish thing they were trying to secure as an investor, and before I knew it I’d be rolling in money and power.
Then Eric and I could live happily ever after with our two rescue dogs, Sonny and Cher.
Thinking of Eric, I pulled out my phone. The tension and awkwardness of our last conversation was in the past. It was time to celebrate.
“Hey.” His deep voice was quiet when he answered. “I’m glad you called. I shouldn’t have gotten so frustrated with—”
“That’s okay,” I interrupted. “You’re worried about me. I appreciate that. Why don’t we do something special later? Like, uh…” Pausing, I considered our options. What could we do in a city on the brink of ruin? “A picnic in the park,” I ventured at last.
There was a small pause before he responded, his tone cautious now. “Are you sure you want to risk it? The city is a mess right now.”
“I’m sure. We don’t have anything to worry about.” I said that with consummate assurance, puffing out my chest even though he couldn’t see me.
He was silent for a long time. “Okay,” he said at last. “When and where?”
We settled on a time and place to meet, though he sounded very uncertain about the whole idea. I couldn’t blame him. Now that I’d fixed New York, though, it was time to focus on fixing whatever had gone wrong between us. A romantic picnic always worked in the movies. It would work for us as well.
There’s a particular kind of high that follows rescuing the world from certain doom, a feeling that literally anything is possible.
It buoyed me along for the rest of the day.
Several times I had to stop myself from sauntering into Ms. Crenshaw’s office and telling her, Hey, no big deal, but I just saved everyone and I’ll take that promotion now.
Best to do that in front of the entire board.
Instead, I occupied myself with sorting through Ms. Crenshaw’s emails, most of which were panicked inquiries from local clients asking for company protection and offering just about anything in exchange.
I flagged a couple of intriguing possibilities—one woman was willing to part with her firstborn (he’d always been something of a disappointment), while a state representative had promised the souls of everyone in his district—and sent them on for review.
Then I texted Amira to let her know I would be home late.
No matter how many times I tried, though, my message failed to go through.
That was worrying. Cell service was either breaking down or overwhelmed.
Before leaving work, I tucked the angel-summoning pamphlet into a drawer of my desk.
Maybe I’d frame it and hang it on the wall of my future corner office, to remind myself that the only bad ideas were the ones you never acted on, or something like that.
Then, still buoyed by a deep sense of confidence, I decided to walk to my meeting with Eric, first up Broadway to Columbus Circle and then along Central Park West. Less than a block from Dark Enterprises, however, I suspected that this might have been a mistake.
The streets were mostly empty, but shouts rose from somewhere south of me, and when I looked down Seventh Avenue there was smoke in the distance, as if Times Square was burning.
Just before I turned onto Broadway, I saw people sprinting out of a dry cleaner down the block, arms piled with suits and blouses and duvets.
It looked like all the better storefronts had already been looted.
When I reached Columbus Circle, three huge trucks rumbled past, crowded with soldiers in full combat gear.
They turned their helmeted heads to stare at me as they went past, hands moving restlessly along their assault rifles, and I tried to look like someone who wasn’t interested in rioting or looting.
It was unnerving. Once they’d disappeared down West 59th, I made a beeline for the Whole Foods off the Circle and found it trashed, its ravaged aisles haunted by thirty-something white people in skinny jeans and flannel shirts searching for vegan and/or gluten-free options.
Fending off a hungry-looking man with a bad ponytail, I grabbed an unopened box of Kashi cereal and then struck gold when I discovered a bottle of sparkling apple cider that had rolled to the back of a bottom shelf.
Stopping to pick up two sustainably sourced disposable spoons from the empty café, I hurried outside, checking for armed soldiers as I turned onto Central Park West. Normally a bustling boulevard, it was eerily empty except for the occasional taxi cruising along, hoping for a fare.
Eric was waiting where West 65th sloped down into the park, leaning casually against a sleek motorcycle. My heart did a little flip when I saw him, and I waved as I hurried closer. “Hi,” I said breathlessly.
“Hi.” Straightening from his bike, he offered a faint smile and reached out to touch my arm. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m great, actually.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Absolutely. It’s Friday, the sun is shining, and I have cereal. Let’s grab a patch of grass and relax.”
Bemused, he nudged his bike’s kickstand with one foot and pushed it along as we walked into the park. “It seems like something’s changed since we spoke earlier,” he observed cautiously.
“You could say that, yeah.”
“Care to fill me in?”
“I guess my perspective has shifted. I’m feeling more glass half-full about things.”
Eric didn’t reply, but out of the corner of my eye I could see him watching me as we reached Sheep Meadow, a vast swath of green grass normally dotted with people sunbathing or tossing Frisbees.
We had the whole place to ourselves, though, which felt special, like we were the only people left in the city.
Parking his bike on a paved pathway where he could keep an eye on it, he joined me on the lawn, sinking down next to me with a faint sigh.
“This feels weird,” he said after a while.
“Why?”
He gestured to the Midtown skyline in front of us, marred by plumes of dark smoke. Off in the distance, sirens wailed. “Doesn’t this bother you?”
I shrugged uncomfortably. “Of course it bothers me. But it’s almost over.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I have it on the highest authority. Like, literally the highest.”
He studied me carefully as I opened the box of cereal and passed him a spoon. “You think this is all going to stop? The riots, the panic, the disappearances?”
“Yup. Now stop worrying and eat some cereal.”
Doubtfully, he dipped his spoon into the box while I popped the cap off the bottle of sparkling cider.
Bubbles fizzed and danced as I took a sip, imagining as I did so that it was incredibly expensive champagne.
Once things returned to normal, I promised myself, I’d track down a bottle of the good stuff and celebrate in style. For now, though, this would have to do.
We were quiet for a few minutes, passing cereal and cider back and forth while distant shouts washed over us, carried by a cool breeze.
This was nice, I decided, in an apocalyptic sort of way.
The grass was soft, the sunlight was warm, and though Eric looked decidedly tense, that would change once he realized we were going to be okay.
Then we’d have nothing but time to figure out this whole relationship thing.
My feelings of contentment ended abruptly at the nearby sound of frightened yelling.
Three people ran toward us across the grass, strung out in a line.
In the lead was a middle-aged white woman with a backpack bouncing on her shoulders, eyes wide and mouth open.
Behind her was a tall Black man wearing another backpack, followed by a teenaged girl who looked like their daughter.
“Help us!” the woman screamed as she caught sight of us. “It’s coming!”
Eric rose to his feet and I scrambled upright as well, heart suddenly pounding. What did she mean, it’s coming…?
Reality stuttered and lurched sideways, and then the Thing hovered behind the teenager, one slender hand fastened around her arm.
Her devouring was swift, punctuated by a single scream as her body disappeared into the swirling shadows of the Thing’s face.
Then it flickered and reappeared behind her father, snatching him from the ground as if he weighed nothing.
He twisted and fought, hands scrabbling at the sharp lines of the bloodred suit, but there was no escape.
“Jessica, run!” he cried as he was shoved into that hungry darkness.
Some twenty feet ahead, the woman went sprawling onto the grass with a pained grunt.
As she started to push herself upright, spidery fingers tangled in her hair and hoisted her off the ground before she, too, was devoured.
It had taken mere moments to end their entire family.