Part 35 (1/2)
It didn't matter. His legs worked well enough, and he could move almost as silently as before. He could still smell the prey waiting for him somewhere ahead. Nearer. Near. Very close. He could hear sounds: squeaks, squeals, the scurrying of feet, the brush of furry bodies against stone.
They wouldn't expect him; there were few predators in these tunnels deep down. He was upon them in an instant, the first one crushed between his jaws, its death-cry warning the others. The prey scattered in panic. Except for those without escape routes, there was no attempt to fight back. They ran.
Most who lived longest scurried away from the monster in their midst-and encountered the bricked-up end of the tunnel. Others tried to sprint around him-one even daring to leap across his scaly back-but the las.h.i.+ng tail smashed them against the unyielding walls. Still others ran directly into his mouth, cowering only in the split second before the great teeth came together.
The agonized squeals peaked and subsided. The blood flowed deliciously. The meat and hair and bones lay satisfyingly in his stomach. A few among the prey still lived. They crawled away from the slaughter as best they could. The hunter started to follow, but his meal sat heavily. For now he was too sated to follow, or to care. He made it as far as the edge of the water and then stopped. Now he wanted to sleep.
First he would break the silence. It was allowed. This was his territory. It was all all his territory. The great jaws opened and he issued a penetrating, rumbling roar that echoed for many seconds through the seemingly endless labyrinth of tunnels and ducts, pa.s.sageways and stone corridors. his territory. The great jaws opened and he issued a penetrating, rumbling roar that echoed for many seconds through the seemingly endless labyrinth of tunnels and ducts, pa.s.sageways and stone corridors.
When the echoes finally died, the predator slept. But he was the only one.
Rosemary said h.e.l.lo to Alfredo, who was on security duty tonight. He smiled at her as she signed in, and shook his head when he saw the stack of books she carried.
”I can get you help with that, Miss Maria.”
”No thanks, Alfredo. I can manage just fine.”
”I remember carrying your books for you when you were just a bambina bambina, Miss Maria. You used to say you wanted to marry me when you grew up. No more, eh?”
”Sorry, Alfredo, I'm just fickle.” Rosemary smiled and batted her eyes. It wasn't easy to joke or even be pleasant. She wanted this evening, this day, to end.
She was alone in the elevator and took the opportunity to rest her head against the side of the car for a moment. She indeed remembered Alfredo carrying her books to school. It had been during one of the wars in her childhood. What a family.
When the elevator doors opened, the two men in front of the entry to the penthouse came to attention. They relaxed as she approached, but each looked unusually solemn.
”Max. What's happened?” Rosemary looked questioningly at the taller of the two identically black-suited men.
Max shook his head and opened the door for her.
Rosemary walked between the oppressive, dark oak-paneled walls toward the library. The ancient oil paintings did nothing to relieve the gloom.
At the door of the library, she started to knock, but the heavy, carved doors swung inward before she struck them. Her father stood in the doorway, his silhouette illuminated by the lamp on his desk.
He took both her hands and held them tightly. ”Maria, it's Lombardo. He's no longer with us.”
”What happened?” She stared at her father's face. The areas beneath his eyes were dark. His jowls sagged even more than she remembered.
Her father gestured. ”These young men brought the news.”
Frankie, Joey, and Little Renaldo stood clumped together. Joey literally held his hat in his hands.
”We told Don Carlos, Maria. Lucky Lum-er, Lombardo was coming right over here but he stopped for a minute in the subway.”
”He wanted to get some gum, I think.” Frankie volunteered the information as if it had some significance.
”Yeah, anyway. He didn't come out. We were just hanging around,” said Joey, ”so we decided to find out what was going on when we heard about a . . . disturbance in the station. When we got there, we found out what happened.”
”Yeah, they found him in about two dozen-”
”Frankie!”
”Yes, Don Carlo.”
”That will be all for tonight, boys. I will see you in the morning.”
The three young men nodded and touched their foreheads in Rosemary's direction as they left.
”I'm sorry, Maria,” said her father.
”I don't understand. Who would have done this?”
”Maria, you know Lombardo worked with our family business. Others knew that. And they knew he was about to become my son. We think it may have been someone trying to hurt me.” Don Carlo's voice sounded sad. ”There have been other incidents lately. There are those who want to take away what we have worked for a lifetime to achieve.” His voice hardened again. ”We won't let them get away with this. I promise, Maria!”
”Maria, I have some nice lasagna. Your favorite. Please, try to eat.” Rosemary's mother spoke from out of the shadows. She rose to take Rosemary to the kitchen, escorting her with an arm around her shoulders.
”Mama, you shouldn't have held supper for me.”
”I didn't. I knew you would be late and so I saved some for you.”
Rosemary said to her mother, ”Mama, I didn't love him.”
”Ssh. I know.” She touched her daughter's lips. ”But you would have grown to care for him. I could see how well you got along.”
”Mama, you don't-” Rosemary was interrupted by her father's voice following them from the library.
”It has to be melanzanes melanzanes, blacks! Who else would be attacking us now? They have to be coming down from Harlem through the tunnels. They've wanted our territories for years. Especially they want a susina susina like Jokertown. No, jokers would never dare do this on their own, but the blacks could be using them as a distraction.” like Jokertown. No, jokers would never dare do this on their own, but the blacks could be using them as a distraction.”
Rosemary heard silence, followed by tinny squeaks from the telephone. Her mother tugged at her arm.
Don Carlo said, ”They must be stopped now or they will threaten all the Families. They're savages.”
Another pause.
”I do not not exaggerate.” exaggerate.”
”Maria . . .” said her mother.
”Tomorrow morning, then,” said Don Carlo. ”Early. Good.”
”See, Maria. Your father will take care of it.” Her mother led Rosemary into the harvest-gold kitchen with all its bright appliances, the walls lined with framed samplers of old-country homilies. She thought of telling her mother about C.C. and the subway, but it seemed impossible now. It had to have been her imagination. She just wanted to sleep. She didn't want to eat. She couldn't take anything else tonight.
The bag lady stirred in her sleep and one of the pair of large cats beside her moved out of the way. He raised his head and sniffed at his companion. Leaving the woman with an opossum curled against her stomach, the two cats silently stalked out into the darkness of the abandoned subway tunnel. The neglected 86th Street cutoff took them toward food.
Both cats were hungry themselves, but now they hunted for their woman's breakfast. Using a drainage tunnel, they exited into the park and out beneath the maples to the street. When a New York Times New York Times delivery truck paused at a light, the black cat looked at the calico and pointed his muzzle at the truck. As the truck pulled away, they leaped aboard. Settled on the back of the truck, the black created the image of mounds of fish and shared it with the calico. Watching the city blocks pa.s.s, they waited for the telltale scent of fish. Finally, as the truck slowed, the calico smelled fish and impatiently jumped down from the vehicle. Yowling angrily, the black followed her down an alley. Both stopped when the scent of strange humans overwhelmed the food. Farther down the alley was a crowd of jokers, crude parodies of normal humans. Dressed in rags, they searched through the garbage for food. delivery truck paused at a light, the black cat looked at the calico and pointed his muzzle at the truck. As the truck pulled away, they leaped aboard. Settled on the back of the truck, the black created the image of mounds of fish and shared it with the calico. Watching the city blocks pa.s.s, they waited for the telltale scent of fish. Finally, as the truck slowed, the calico smelled fish and impatiently jumped down from the vehicle. Yowling angrily, the black followed her down an alley. Both stopped when the scent of strange humans overwhelmed the food. Farther down the alley was a crowd of jokers, crude parodies of normal humans. Dressed in rags, they searched through the garbage for food.