They ran to the corner. Will glanced back, but it didn’t look like anyone had decided to follow them. He slowed to a stop,panting, feeling his heart throb.
“I think we’re okay,” he said.
Hamza leaned against the side of the nearest building, catching his breath. He held up a hand in acknowledgment.
Will looked up the avenue. People had spilled out of every bar and restaurant and were goggling up at the city gone dark allaround them, their breath steaming in the cold April air.
“What’s going on?” Hamza said.
“Blackout,” Will answered.
“I can see that. I wonder if it’s the whole city. Did the Oracle see this coming?”
“Nope,” Will said. “Surprised me as much as it did you.”
Hamza tried his cell phone.
“No signal,” he said. “Weird. The phones still worked down here when Sandy shut the power off below Fourteenth. The towersare on a separate grid from the rest of the city’s power.”
“Maybe they changed it since then. Who were you trying to call? Miko?”
“Yeah. I’m sure she’s fine—we have tons of candles, batteries, all that. Just want to let her know I’m okay.”
Will looked up and, for the first time he could remember, saw stars in the city’s sky.
“What are the chances the trains are running?”
“No chance,” Hamza answered.
“Mm,” Will said. “You know, there had to be people on the subway when this happened, down in the tunnels.”
Hamza shuddered.
An aproned man stepped out of a nearby bar and set down a sign with a message chalked on it, letting passersby know that thetaps were still flowing, but it was cash only until the lights came back on.
Will gestured at the sign, giving Hamza a questioning look.
“No, man. I just want to get home,” Hamza said.
Will nodded.
“Yeah. All right. Probably for the best,” he said. He looked uptown. “I guess we’re walking.”
“I guess we are. Figures,” Hamza said. “Stupid sailors had to pick a bar way the hell down in the Village. No way in hellwe’ll find a free cab. Not tonight. I’ve got like fifty blocks to walk, and it can’t be much over thirty degrees out.”
“Could be worse. You could live on Ninety-Fourth.”
“Yeah,” Hamza said. “That would suck.”
Will shot him a look.
“I’m just playing around,” Hamza said. “Come back to my place. Sleep on the foldout tonight.”
“You sure? Miko won’t mind?” Will said.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Hamza said.
“All right, good,” Will said. “I’ll take you up on that. Feels like a weird night to be solo. I’m sure the lights will beback on in an hour, but you know.”
“I do.”
They headed north, hunching their shoulders against the cold. After a few minutes, Will spoke.
“Thanks for trying to help back there. You sort of did a crap job, but thank you.”
“Just pray life never puts me in that situation again,” Hamza said. “I don’t like being forced to hurt people.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Did you actually get anything from those guys before they decided to kill you? What did you say to get them so riled up?”
“I asked them if they were in New York for some kind of leave, and they said no, they were supposed to be carrying a bunchof soldiers from a base in Northern Ireland to somewhere in Asia, one of the ’Stans, I think. It was hard to understand them—theywere Welsh. But then their boat got diverted, and they put in here instead.”
“Huh,” Hamza said, considering.
“That’s about it. I tried to ask them what the soldiers were going to do over there, and that’s when it fell apart. I guessI pushed too hard.”
“I guess so.”
“So what we get from that is this: either the Site doesn’t want soldiers in that ’Stan or does want them here. But why? Ihave no idea.”
“And so here we are, out in the cold, having learned essentially nothing. Great night out, Will.”
“Mmm.”
“And so I suppose you still want to do that interview.”
“Suppose so. But I’ll stick to what I said. No crowdsourcing.”
“It’s a start,” Hamza said.
They trudged along Lafayette Street in silence for a few moments, both taking in how dark the streets were, even with thelights from traffic.
“You know,” Hamza said. “The walk uptown will take us through Union Square. I don’t think I’ve been back there since the riot.”
“Me neither,” Will said, his voice tight.
“You remember that woman who interviewed us for a minute that day? The hot one?”
Will stopped. He turned his head, meeting Hamza’s eyes.
“Yeah,” he said.
Will looked away.
“Thought so,” Hamza said. “I looked her up. Leigh Shore. I don’t even know why you told me her name. You didn’t think I’dlook her up? Why her, Will?”
“I’ve read her work. She’s actually written about the Oracle before, and she’s good. Maybe I thought I’d give the interviewto someone who could actually use the break,” Will said. “Or maybe it’s because she wasn’t afraid. You saw her, man—even whenthose riots started, she wanted to rush right in. If I’m going to do this, I want to talk to someone who isn’t afraid.”
“Uh-huh. Whatever you tell yourself, just remember that she’s seen you before. She’s talked to you. You don’t think she couldmake the connection? I know you want to do this in disguise, but still. It just seems . . .”
“What does it seem like? What?” Will said, shouting.
“It seems like . . . you’re walking into traffic again,” Hamza said, his voice quiet.
Will looked out at the dark city, the streets lit only by headlights, shadows trudging along the sidewalks. Sirens from everydirection.
“Maybe I am,” he said.
He put his hand on Hamza’s shoulder.
“Guess you’ll have to make sure I don’t get hit.”
He turned and walked north, Hamza following a moment later.
Fifty blocks and twenty-three flights of stairs later, Will pulled open the thick steel fire door leading out to Hamza’s floor.He paused to look back down the stairwell, where flashlight beams sliced through the pitch black, weaving through the shadows.Snatches of echoed conversation bounced off the concrete walls.
Out in the hall, Hamza pulled his keys from his pocket and inserted them in the lock. The handle turned before he had
