Vespers Page 27

  The steps ascended in a tight, dizzying spiral up the central steel core. Almost at once they saw that the central column had been breached. There was a gouge in the side, and it appeared as if the rent metal had sliced the cables. Sparks sizzled from the frayed ends and Joyce wondered if the statue had ever seen a lonelier fireworks display.

  Gilheany was stepping quietly and Joyce was wearing running shoes. The scientist listened carefully for sounds from above; the mother wailing, the pups mewling, the noise of nursing or movement-anything. But there was nothing save the distant howl of the wind as it slipped around the statue. At least there was no scratching from outside. Whatever bats were left were inactive.

  All around them were the monument’s zig-zagging stainless-steel support struts. Joyce knew that the bat could be hanging from any one of them. Or from the steps. Or from the central column itself.

  Or the dark folds of the statue’s skin.

  The light from the flashlight threw ever-changing shadows on the copper plates that comprised the statue’s robe. The shifting light and dark made the skin appear to crawl, made it seem more liquid than solid. And though her mind told her the bat was nestled somewhere above them, Joyce couldn’t rid herself of the feelings she’d had as a child, that the night, the darkness, held more than she could ever know. That any of those fluid changes to the side or above them could have been the bat moving its wings, preparing to jump-

  Joyce started when Gilheany spoke. As if her heart weren’t thumping fast enough from the climb.

  “How soon before she knows we’re here?” the sergeant asked quietly.

  “She already knows,” Joyce assured her. “The bat heard us as soon as we entered the pedestal.”

  “So there’s no reason to whisper.”

  “None. And she’ll smell us soon, if she hasn’t already.”

  “You said downstairs that you were hoping she would. Why?”

  “Because if the bat gives birth quickly, and if she feels strong enough, she may try and intercept us. We’ll hear her.”

  “If she’s already given birth, how dangerous will the babies be?”

  “I don’t know,” Joyce admitted. “Vesper pups tend to be about twenty-five percent as large as the parent. Their wings aren’t developed enough for flight, and many of them are born with their eyes shut. But the way this bat was mutated it’s impossible to say.”

  They passed the statue’s midriff. The tablet in the figure’s left arm loomed above. Joyce turned her light there and made sure the bat wasn’t inside. In the dull light that bounced back she could see Sergeant Gilheany’s expression. A great deal of her gung-ho had been sucked into the shadows. If time hadn’t been so short, Joyce might have insisted that Gilheany stay behind with Gentry and let her have the shotgun. She probably had more wildlife experience than either of them.

  But Joyce was glad it hadn’t worked out that way because she might not have been able to get off a steady shot. Her thigh muscles were aflame and trembling from the running she’d done and now from the climbing. She’d had to put the radio in her back pocket, hold on to the handrail, and pull herself along. The higher they went the hotter it also became. Her jumpsuit was thick with perspiration, and the fresh bites she’d suffered stung continuously as sweat dripped into them. Her hand was clammy around the flashlight’s rubber handle.

  The climb did provide one unexpected compensation for Joyce. She liked knowing that Gentry was on the other end of the radio, listening silently, worrying about her. Not being alone was a new and different kind of feeling for her.

  Just above them were the statue’s massive shoulders; straight above them was the neck and the ascent to the crown. Between the shoulders, to the right, was a small rest area with a relatively wide landing beyond it. Past that, Joyce saw dark, narrow steps that rose into the statue’s raised arm to the torch. The ladder that rose through the statue’s raised arm to the torch was there. Joyce heard the wind rushing around the arm, swift and ghostly. And while she heard only that, she knew that wherever the bat was it could hear everything. She wished there were something she could do to neutralize that advantage. Feedback from the radio wouldn’t distract the bat because there was no signal to disrupt. The flashlight might blind her momentarily, but she’d still be able to hear. They could fire a shotgun blast and deafen her, but they’d also deafen themselves. And there was still the bat’s olfactory sense.

  Joyce shined the flashlight toward the upraised arm. She ducked under a low strut and walked slowly toward it. She looked up inside.

  The wind blew hard in the crown above, almost as though the statue were drawing a breath.

  “I don’t think she can fit in the arm,” Gilheany said, without looking over. She was peering up. “The neck would give her a little more room.”

  “You’re probably right, but I want to check anyway,” Joyce said. “How thick are the copper plates?”

  “Three-thirty-seconds of an inch. About the thickness of a dime.”

  “The bat could bend them out, make herself fit. Squeezing into places is something bats are very good at. They also like to hang upside down and there’s a ladder in the arm.”

  Gilheany was walking close behind Joyce. She was breathing heavily. “When we do see the bat, where should I aim?”

  “For her head,” Joyce said. “She’s got sheets of muscles around her torso. It may be difficult to inflict a fatal wound below the neck.”

  The wind stopped blowing for a moment, and Joyce stopped. They heard a scraping sound behind them. She and Gilheany both spun around. The officer raised the shotgun to her shoulder.

  There was nothing there. But the scraping came again, definitely from above the neck.

  “She’s in the crown,” Gilheany said softly.

  Joyce slipped the radio from her pocket. Then she walked around the sergeant toward the statue’s neck.

  The staircase here was like a large loop with the right side higher than the left. The upward steps curved up along the back of the statue’s neck and followed the contour of the statue’s right cheek, past her right eye into the crown. The downward steps were different. They didn’t follow the curve on the left side. At the end of the observation area they turned sharply toward the right, dropping and passing under the ascending stairs.

  Joyce stood on the bottom step and shined the light up. The beam glinted off the curving rails of the staircase. They were bent away from the deck, as though something had pushed them outward. She saw the rolling copper curves of the statue’s hair and heard more scratching. Slowly, she went up another step. The flashlight roamed higher to the upright support beams that ran up the crown and along the top of the head. Joyce saw that they bulged outward, slightly distorting the shape of the head.

  She put the radio to her mouth. “Robert?”

  “I’m here.”

  “The bat was definitely in the crown. She may still be up there.”

  “I know. I heard Sergeant Gilheany. Nancy, the SWAT team will be here soon. Why don’t you leave this-”

  “Shit!”Gilheany screamed.

  Joyce had heard it too. The loud creak of metal. She ran down the stairs to the landing. Gilheany was facing the statue’s arm. She raised the shotgun as Joyce shined the flashlight in that direction.

  “I don’t get up here a lot. I didn’t even notice that before.”

  “What?” Joyce asked. Gilheany pointed the light to an area left of the arm, at the very edge of the ledge. A gate that had been erected to keep tourists out lay wadded and crushed off to the side. The light climbed higher.

  Officer Berk’s body fell to the landing an instant before the giant bat dropped from the arm.The copper sides rattled as she landed. There was blood on the creature’s mouth and nose; she was no longer pregnant and looked thin and bedraggled. The birth had obviously been an ordeal for her.

  Gentry shouted something, but his voice was swallowed by Gilheany’s oath as she fired. The blast was deafening, and Joyce screamed from the pain.
The shot punched a bloody wound in the side of the bat’s neck, but it didn’t stop her. The giant screamed audibly as she jumped forward, her wings folded against her sides so that she could move through the confines of the statue. Gilheany raised her sights and fired a second shot. But the bat lowered her head and charged like a bull, and the bullet flew past her, blowing a hole in the copper.

  Joyce ran to the left and Gilheany dove to the right. The sergeant landed hard on her shoulder. She rolled to the edge of the landing, losing the shotgun. The bat cannonballed past, toward the spiral staircase. A moment later the severity of the wound finally seemed to hit the creature as she staggered forward and struck the side of the spiral staircase with her shoulder.

  Gilheany scrambled toward the shotgun. Joyce had had the same idea, but the sergeant got in her way. Joyce kept running toward the arm, hugging the radio and flashlight to her chest to keep from losing them.

  The bat turned quickly and looked back. Blood trickled down her front and back. Her expression fierce, she leaned forward and snapped her wings ahead of her. The thick muscles of her shoulders bunched and rolled as she pulled her wings back and sailed across the landing.

  Sergeant Gilheany reached the gun and dropped onto her back. She swung it around as the bat bore down, but the creature landed on Gilheany before she could fire. The impact caused the gun to spin free and drop from the landing. Joyce heard it clatter down through the struts. The claws of the bat’s feet dug deeply into the officer’s hips, and the sergeant cried out. She screamed again as the bat drove her hooks into Gilheany’s chest.

  Joyce fell against the steps that led up the statue’s arm. She heard the sergeant’s cries but didn’t look back; she knew what was happening. Physically and emotionally exhausted, she sobbed as she scrambled up the rickety, steep steps toward the next small landing. The staircase was slippery with blood and guano from when the bat had roosted here, and Joyce stumbled as she ascended. She dropped the flashlight but kept going until she reached the landing. Her eyes were blurry with tears and sweat, and there was nothing to see here anyway except the narrowing confines of the arm and the dead end of the torch.

  “ Nancy!”

  She was startled to find herself still holding the radio. She brought it to her lips. “Robert!”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in the arm. The sergeant’s dead. The bat’s wounded and it’s chasing me-”

  Just then the creature slammed against the stairs at the base of the arm. The entire structure rattled; the support struts creaked around her. Joyce looked down. The flashlight beam spilled across the floor, silhouetting the bat in its glow. Joyce was just ten feet above the animal.

  She turned to the ladder and started climbing. The ladder twisted as she reached the elbow. It was awkward to negotiate as the copper literally rubbed against her hips and shoulders. Still holding the radio, she tucked it in her belt, followed the trapezoidal turn, then retrieved the radio.

  “Robert, I blew it and I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry-”

  “ Nancy, this is Kathy Leung! Robert and T-Bone are coming up. Do you hear me?”

  Joyce was about to acknowledge this when the bat pulled her wings to her body and forced herself into the opening. The arm shook more violently than before, and the scientist lost the radio as she was forced to hold on with both hands…

  Forty-Three

  Gentry and T-Bone had left the communications center with no plan other than to reach the statue’s arm and attempt to get Nancy out. T-Bone was holding a crowbar he’d found in a broom closet; that was their only weapon.

  Gentry was carrying a flashlight he’d taken from a tool rack and wearing a bandage he’d found in a first aid kit. The pain of his wounded Achilles tendon was a hobbling constant, but it was tolerable.

  He was also carrying a lot of anger.

  “I never should have let her go up there,” he’d said as he handed the radio to Kathy. “Never.”

  “You didn’t ‘let’ her do anything,” Kathy had pointed out. “Bats are her livelihood.”

  Bats, yes-not monsters.

  As they reentered the fort he couldn’t have been more disgusted with himself. There was an unpleasant groaning high above them, like a tree listing in the wind. Gentry also thought he heard scratching outside the statue.

  “Uh-oh,” T-Bone said. “The little peckers are back.”

  “I hear.”

  The men started up through the pedestal, Gentry in front. He was struggling to keep the weight off his foot.

  “You gonna be okay?” T-Bone asked.

  “Yeah,” Gentry said. He was using the pain to stay alert. He was aware of every damn step.

  As they entered the statue, Gentry felt the way he used to when he chased scum through the tunnels under Grand Central. His senses were high-intensity, as they were as he listened for quarry, watched for trains, stayed wide of the third rail.

  Gentry stopped suddenly. T-Bone ran into him.

  “Hey,” the camera operator complained, panting.

  Gentry turned the flashlight back toward the pedestal. “The third rail,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  “The third rail,” he repeated, as he moved the light down the stairs. “You step on it and you’re fried.”

  “Man, what thehell are you talkin’ about?”

  “T-Bone,” Gentry said urgently, “didn’t Gilheany say there was a transformer down here?”

  “She did, but we ain’t got time to fix the lights-”

  “Not the lights,” Gentry said. “She said they passed them at the bottom of the statue. And that the transformer was intact.”

  “Yeah, she said that,” T-Bone said impatiently.“And?”

  Gentry hurried down the steps. He kept his left palm pressed against the left side of the stairwell to keep as much weight as possible off his leg. He felt like he was on a caffeine high, his heart racing and nerves crawling. He could see and hear the faint crackling of the broken wire above. He kept the light directed at the core of the statue.

  “De-tec-tive,” T-Bone said.

  “There!” Gentry said. He shined the light on a series of large metal boxes that lined the stone walls.

  “Okay,” T-Bone said. “The juice. And the fuse boxes. So?”

  “Situated less then fifteen feet from a shaft that goes all the way up the statue,” Gentry said. “A shaft made of steel.”

  T-Bone said, “Fuck, man. Yeah.Yeah! ”

  The big man elbowed around Gentry. He looked at the locked boxes then put the crowbar to the faceplate of one of them.

  “You worked with transformers when you were a lineman, didn’t you?” Gentry asked.

  “Every friggin’ day,” he said as he drew back the crowbar.

  “How much power would it take to kill that bat?”

  “Five amperes of current at two thousand volts should do it.”

  The panel snapped open. Gentry took the crowbar and handed him the flashlight.

  “They sure have solid-stated a lot of this shit,” T-Bone said.

  “Can you work with it?”

  “I’m lookin’.”

  The scratching outside became louder. The bat was echolocating again. He hoped that meant Nancy was still on the run.

  “This is a major transformer,” he said. “I bet they’re runnin’ Ellis Island from here too.”

  “Can youdo it?” Gentry pressed.

  “I don’t know-!” He looked at the bundles of wires tucked above and behind the transformer. Pulling a pocket knife from his vest, he carefully stripped away some of the casing.

  Gentry was growing impatient. But he stood there quietly and waited.

  T-Bone shined the flashlight on the wires and bent close. “High temperature wire. Looks like adequate ampacity… galvanized steel armor.” He backed away and slipped a screwdriver and pliers from his tool vest. “I can run some of this to the steel core, close the circuit, and turn the juice back on-yeah. I think it’s doable
. But I seem to recall it’s all metal up there. Anyplace you stand you’re gonna get zapped.”

  Gentry started limping up the staircase. “You rig it and wait for me to come back with Nancy.”

  “Man, you sure? The two of us stand a better chance up there-”

  “I’m sure,” he said. “Just be ready to turn the transformer on when I give you the word.”

  “It’ll take me about five minutes,” T-Bone called after him. “Just don’t bring that motherfucking bat with you!”

  “I’ll try not to,” he called back.

  It was dark inside the statue but not black; the earliest rays of dawn were beginning to filter down from the statue’s eyes and from the windows in the crown.He heard the sound of grinding metal and he saw several vespers flitting above. He also saw the body of Sergeant Gilheany crumpled on one of the rest platforms off the staircase.

  There was a slight breeze coming from above. The statue had obviously been breached somewhere, which was how the bats were getting in. But there was no way he was going to let the vespers stop him. As his heart and legs pumped ferociously, as he prepared to take the pain of the vesper attack to do whatever it took to draw the big bat away, Gentry had just one concern.

  That he wasn’t too late to help Nancy.

  Forty-Four

  When there was nowhere left for her to go and nothing else she could do, Nancy Joyce had become surprisingly calm. It wasn’t peace but a combination of things that gave the semblance of that state: being drained, frightened, numb, and resigned.

  She had climbed to the top of the arm and was standing on a small platform beside the highest rung of the ladder. There were two handrails, and there was room for only one person. Above her was the solid base of the torch. Behind her was a steel door. The door obviously led to the small balcony that surrounded the torch, but it was double-locked. And even if she went out there, what would she do? Jump?

  Perhaps. She’d rather leap than die under the hooks and teeth of the bat. And if she jumped she would live an extra-how long would it take to fall? A second or two?