The homeless guy started waving his arms for emphasis. “You! I’m talkin’ to you! I want you out of my castle!” he yelled at the cop.
I was afraid the cop would pull his gun on the guy for his own protection. But he didn’t. He just stood there, staring at Uncle Press. They looked like two gunslingers, each waiting for the other to blink. Then he gave a little smile and said, “What was your first clue?”
“The uniform. City cops in this territory wear blue, not khaki,” answered Uncle Press.
This guy wasn’t a cop? Then who was he? The train horn blared and the screeching of metal wheels on track grew closer.
“I’m flattered though,” said Uncle Press calmly. “You came yourself.”
Uncle Press knew who this guy was! The homeless guy kept getting closer to the cop, or whoever he was.
“That’s it! That’s it! If you don’t git now I’m gonna-”
Suddenly the cop snapped a look to the homeless guy. It was a cold look that made me catch my breath. It stopped the homeless guy in his tracks. The cop stared at him with an intensity I’d never seen. The guy froze, and then began to shake like he had a fever.
The subway horn blared. The train was almost in the station.
The homeless guy looked as if he wanted to get away, but the cop’s laserlike gaze had him locked in place. Then, something happened that I won’t forget as long as I live, though I wish I could. The homeless guy opened his mouth and let out a horrifying, anguished cry. Then he ran. But he didn’t run away, he ran for the tracks! The train entered the station in a blur, and this guy was running toward it.
“No! Stop!” I shouted. But it didn’t matter. The homeless guy kept running…and jumped in front of the train!
I turned away at the last second, but that didn’t stop me from hearing it. It was a sickening thud, and his scream was suddenly cut off. The train didn’t even stop. I’ll bet no one onboard knew what had happened. But I did and I wanted to puke. I looked to Uncle Press, who had a pained look. He wiped it away in the next instant and looked back to the cop, who stood there with a smug little smile.
“That was beneath you, Saint Dane,” said Uncle Press through clenched teeth.
Saint Dane.That was the first time I heard the name. I had the grim feeling it wouldn’t be the last.
The cop, Saint Dane, gave an innocent little shrug and said, “Just wanted to give the boy a taste of what is in store for him.”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
And then Saint Dane began to transform. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, but it was real. His face, his clothes, everything about him changed. I watched in absolute, stupefied awe as he became a different person. His hair grew long and straight till it was over his shoulders. His body grew until he was nearly seven feet tall. His skin became ghostly pale white. His clothes changed from the khaki brown cop uniform, to an all-black suit that vaguely reminded me of the Far East. But none of that mattered as much as his eyes. His eyes grew icy blue and flashed with an evil intensity that made me understand the sheer force of will he possessed that could make someone jump to their death in front of a speeding train.
There was only one thing that didn’t change. He still had a gun. And I was surprised to discover, so did Uncle Press. With an expertise that made me feel as if he had done this sort of thing many times before, Uncle Press reached into his long coat and pulled out an automatic. Saint Dane went for his gun as well. I stood frozen. Ever hear the term “deer in the headlights”? That was me. I couldn’t move. The next thing I knew I was on my butt on the floor. Uncle Press had shoved me down behind a wooden bench. We were protected from Saint Dane, but for how long?
Uncle Press looked at me, and in a voice that was way more calm than the situation warranted, said one simple word, “Run.”
“But what about-”
“Run!” He then dove out from behind the protection of the bench and started shooting. I stayed there long enough to see Saint Dane dive behind a pillar for protection. Uncle Press was a pretty good shot because the tiles on the pillar splintered and shattered as they were slammed with his bullets. It was clear what he was doing. He was keeping Saint Dane occupied to give me time to run. But run where?
“Bobby, the door!”
Right! The door with the star and the abracadabra. Got it. I started to crawl away, when Uncle Press called to me, “Watch out for the quigs!”
Huh? What’s a quig? Bang! A tile shattered right near my head. Saint Dane was now shooting back, and I was the target! That’s all the encouragement I needed. I ran. Behind me the sound of the blasts from the gun battle rang through the empty station. It was deafening. I ran past a pillar andbang! A bullet pulverized another tile. Pieces of flying tile stung the back of my neck. That’s how close it was. I got to the far end of the platform and saw the stairs leading down to the tracks, just as Uncle Press described. I stopped for a second, thinking I’d have to be crazy to crawl down onto subway tracks. But the alternative was worse. It would be easier facing a subway train than that Saint Dane guy. So I took a quick breath and climbed down the stairs.
Once I was down on the tracks, the gun battle seemed far away. I still heard the occasional crack of a gun, but I was now more concerned about what was in front of me than behind. For a moment I thought I should go back and help Uncle Press, but jumping into the middle of a blazing gun battle didn’t seem like such a hot idea. I could only hope that he could handle the situation. The only thing I could do was follow his instructions.
It was dark. I had to feel my way along the greasy wall to make sure I didn’t accidentally step on the tracks. I’d heard about the infamous electric “third rail” that powered the trains. If you stepped on that thing, you were bacon. So I stayed as close to the wall as I could. Uncle Press said this door was about thirty yards down from the platform. I tried to picture a football field to visualize how far thirty yards was. It didn’t help. I figured I’d just keep moving until my hand hit this mysterious door. My biggest fear was that I’d miss it and then…
Grrrrrrr.
A grumble came from behind me. What was that? Was it a train? Was it power surging through the third rail? It was neither, because I heard it again and it came from a different direction.
Grrrrrrr.
It sounded like growling. But I didn’t think rats growled, so it couldn’t be rats. Good thing. I hated rats. I looked around slowly and in the dim light, I saw something that nearly made my heart stop. Across the tracks, looking straight at me, were a pair of eyes. They were low to the ground and caught the light in such a way that it made them flash yellow. It was some kind of animal. Could this be the “quig” Uncle Press had told me to watch out for? Or maybe it was a wild dog. Whatever it was, it was big, and it had friends, because more eyes appeared. It was a pack of animals gathering, and their growling told me they weren’t friendly. Gulp. My plan was to do everything I could not to threaten them. I decided to move very slowly, very deliberately and make my way toward the door and…
GRRRRRRR!
Too late! The entire pack of dogs, or quigs, or whatever they were leaped from the shadows and charged me! Suddenly the third rail didn’t seem all that dangerous. I turned and ran. There must have been a dozen of them. I could hear their teeth gnashing and their claws scratching on the metal rails as they bounded over one another to get to me and…and I didn’t want to think of what would happen if they did. I remember having a fleeting thought that maybe they’d hit the third rail and vaporize, but that didn’t happen. My only hope was finding that door. It was so dark I kept tripping over stones and garbage and railroad ties and everything else down there, but I kept going. I had no choice. If I fell, I was kibble.
Then, like a lifeline to a drowning man, I saw it. The only light came from dirty, old bulbs strung above the tracks, but it was enough for me to see. Recessed into the cement wall was a small door with a faint star shape carved into the wood. This was it! I ran up to the door, only to discover there was no door handle. I couldn’t open it!
I looked back and saw the pack of animals nearly on me. I only had a few more seconds. I leaned my weight against the door and it opened! The door opened in, not out! I fell inside and quickly scrambled back to close the door just as-slam slam slam! — the animals hit the door. I leaned back on the door, desperate to keep them out, but they were strong. I could hear their claws feverishly scratching at the wooden door. I couldn’t keep them out for long.
