started to pull switches and press buttons. John heard a whoosh in his ears as the blood flowed to his brain and his vision clouded. He tried to breathe, but instead threw up all over the train floor.
He spit the bile from his mouth and wiped his mouth with his hands. Frank was staring at him, his lips tilted at the edges.
“Please tell me what’s going on,” John said.
The train took about twenty minutes to power up, just like the conductor said. During that time Frank did his best to ignore John. He wouldn’t answer any questions; he just watched the rest of the passengers. There were only five other people. Three of them were like John, sitting on the train’s floor, knees pulled tight to their chest.
Frank moved over to him and said, “Listen to me.”
John opened his eyes.
“When we get to Weehawken, we’re probably going to have another problem, the police.”
“Oh G—”
“Shut up. You’re going to do exactly what I say. As soon as the train stops, I’m going to get off and take care of the police. You’re going to keep moving. Get to the ferry station and get on the boat. I’ve ridden it before. It should be just about to pull away from the dock when we get there.”
A tremor shook John. “I can’t. I lost my cell phone. I don’t know where it went. It’s gone. That guy, his head. There’s blood. The police.”
“Just do it. I’ll be right behind you, and we’ll sort this out.”
Outside the window, the lights of the New York skyline and the ferry station were getting closer. Another five minutes, maybe. John watched Frank replace his gun in his holster and took a deep breath.
The train screeched into the station, and Frank moved toward the doors. On the platform stood two police officers, hands on their weapons. A few people milled about behind them, wondering what was up.
Frank took John by the crook of his elbow and pulled him to his feet. John’s legs wobbled, but he kept his balance. He edged up near the double doors, Frank standing directly in front of him. John watched a line of sweat drip from Frank’s neck down into the collar of his shirt.
“Everyone stays on the train until I get off,” Frank said. “That way, no one gets hurt.”
A few people mumbled back. Frank nodded to the conductor, who opened the doors.
Stepping off, Frank said, “Evening officers.”
Just like that. John’s vision blurred. Like nothing happened tonight.
The conductor yelled through the doors, “That’s him!” As if the blood on his face wasn’t enough of an indicator.
Both policemen pulled their guns and told him to freeze. Frank did the opposite.
He took a step closer to the officers, snapped his left hand out, grabbed one officer’s wrist, and twisted until the gun fell out of his hand. The other officer took Frank’s right elbow to the jaw and went down.
“John, go!” he barked.
Frank turned toward the first officer who was still watching his gun skitter across the concrete. John ran behind them and paused for a second to watch. Out of the corner of his eye, John noticed one of the onlookers holding out his open cell phone, aimed toward them as if he were taking a picture.
Oh no.
“John, the ferry!”
John’s head snapped up and he started to run again. Frank must have flattened the other cop, because when John turned to glance over his shoulder, he saw Frank sprinting right behind him.
The ferry horns sounded as John clattered up the metal ramp. He stepped on to the ferry just as it was pulling away from the dock. Frank must have had to jump a few feet, as John heard the thunk of his feet against the floor behind him. It appeared there were only two others on board.
The boat rocked once to the left, and John felt as if a rubber band had tightened across his chest. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. A deep breath through the nose. In his mind he saw one of Frank’s bullets rip into a trenchcoat’s chest. His saliva tasted sour. John took a few steps to the middle of the boat and collapsed on to a bench.
He watched Frank lean against the railing, twenty feet away, phone pressed to his ear.
He heard the water slapping off the sides of the boat. It reminded John of the gunfire. Dark clouds formed at the corner of his vision. His temples throbbed.
He stared between his knees at the cracked floor. The boat looked like it was in need of refurbishing. He saw Frank’s shoe in between his feet. Frank must have come over from the railing.
But when Frank spoke, it sounded like he was miles away. “What were you doing back there?”
John leaned forward and tucked his knees behind his wrists. Rocked once.
“This was a bad idea,” he heard himself say.
“Yeah, no kidding.”
Who was that talking? The ground dissolved into a pool of red washing over his shoes. He imagined Frank killing that guy on the train, blood everywhere, the screaming. The body going limp.
“This was a bad idea. This was a bad idea,” John repeated.
“Did you at least see which way the Arab guy went? I needed to talk to him. Did you see where he ran?”
John didn’t say anything, just rocked back and forth.
“Okay.” He heard the voice again. “Okay. It’s fine. Come on. You need some air.”
He felt himself standing again, and looked up. Frank was pulling John to his feet as the floor rocked underneath him.
John was walking out from the center of the boat toward the starboard side. The ferry canted left and John felt his knees lock. He watched one of the other passengers lose his balance and fall into a pole to keep himself up. John went down like one of the men struck by the bullets.
So many people dead.
And now Frank was dragging him to the ferry’s edge. Toward the water. To do what? Dump him in? Get rid of another witness? He could see the dark water sparkle under the lights from the skyscrapers.
The water.
John’s muscles went tight and he froze. The slapping of the water against the ferry was louder. The gunshots went off in John’s head. The edge of the boat came closer. John could see water now. The dead men of the night faded into Hannah’s face, eyes open wide in horror.
More death.
“No,” John said. “No. Let’s go sit. I need to sit.”
“Breathe,”
