"Much neater than your usual epidemic," Cal said.
A flash of disbelief went through me; this wasn't really the Manhattan I'd grown up in. For a moment, it was all a big movie set - a giant, evil version of Disney World. There weren't really any monsters under our feet, or crazy people hiding in the darkened buildings, and all our parents were actually back in the real Manhattan, wondering where we were.
But then we passed an empty school yard, the concrete ripped and torn from one end to the other. An ice-cream truck waited beside it - split almost in half, ripped open from underneath. It was bleeding white goo into the street, and the breeze carried a smell like spoiled milk and burnt sugar through the open windows.
A basketball sat abandoned in the middle of the playground. It stirred in the wind, and the realness of everything settled over me again.
Our convoy weaved slowly downtown, avoiding the worst streets and any people we spotted. Small groups were scurrying from place to place, carrying water and food and other stuff they must have looted from the stores. Smashed and gaping windows were everywhere.
"Are all these people infected?" Pearl asked.
"If they are, they're not symptomatic yet," Cal said. "Peeps can't stand direct sunlight."
I looked out the back window, twisting my neck to see up. It was almost noon, the sun reaching down into the narrow canyons of downtown. The angels all wore dark glasses, except for Cal.
The problem was, this close to winter the sun went down early in New York. An hour from now the shadows of the empty skyscrapers would begin to lengthen.
I hoped this wasn't going to be a long conversation.
We made our way down to the Stock Exchange. It was the worst part of the city we'd seen, the streets empty and broken. Papers and trash blew in little cyclones around us, and Lace honked her horn to scatter a big posse of rats. I guessed the stock market wasn't going to open back up anytime soon.
Lace turned the vehicle's engine off, rolling the last dozen yards to a silent halt. The angels climbed carefully down, drawing their swords and forming a circle around us. The asphalt was pitted and gouged, as if worms popped through all the time around here.
"Everybody out," Lace said. "Step lightly, though. The worms can hear our footsteps." I opened my door and stared down at the street. It was stained with black water, with old gum, and with something viscous and red.
Crap, I thought. All my life I'd been at the top of the food chain and had never really appreciated it. Peeps were bad enough, even worse than junkies, I figured. But the worms - something about the ground opening up and swallowing people was just wrong.
I lowered one foot softly to the street, then the other, a shiver of nerves traveling through my body. The asphalt felt fragile, like the ice on the Central Park Reservoir does when you sneak onto it in early spring. As I took my first step, my foot resisted, and I almost screamed, imagining a hungry mouth bursting through to grab my leg.
But it was just the old wad of gum, softened to stickiness by the sun. It tugged at my sole with every step, making a sucking sound.
The angels led us into a long, crooked alley. The old-fashioned cobblestones were broken and bulging, with a few gaping holes that seethed with rats. I shivered at the sight of all those furry bodies. Cal and Lace talked about rats like they were on our side, something about them storing the parasite and bubbling up to spread it when the worms began to rise. But how that was a good thing, I had no idea...
We crept slowly down the alley, keeping clear of the wormholes. At the end was an old town house, its stoop covered with silent, watchful cats.
Their red eyes followed us as we went in.
There really was a red line on the floor.
A breeze pushed me toward it, like a gentle hand pressing against my back. Cal had explained that all the air in the house moved toward Dr. Prolix, sucking her ancient germs away from us and down into a big, germ-killing furnace. She was immune to all her own diseases, being infected like the rest of the angels, but we'd be dead meat if we got too close. Even Cal and Lace kept away from the line. Didn't want their fexcellent ninja suits burned, I guess.
I stayed against the back wall, as far away as I could get. Not just to stay away from the Plague Lady but to be farther from the weird old dolls that lined the shelves of her office. Real-looking hair sprouted from their crumbling heads, and all their faces were painted with smiles.
Kids in the old days must have loved nightmares or something.
"You're the one who sings," Dr. Prolix said, her gaze dismissing the rest of us and locking onto Minerva. Her voice was dry and raspy, like two sheets of paper rubbing together. Her unwrinkled face didn't look that old, except for the thinness of her skin and the stiffness of her smile. She looked like one of her own dolls, decorated with glowing human eyes.
"Yeah, that's me," Minerva said in a small voice.
"And where did you learn these songs, young woman?"
"When I first got sick, I felt something down in my basement calling me, making me sort of..." She let out a giggle.
"Sexually aroused?" Dr. Prolix asked.
"Yeah, I guess. When I went there in my fevers, I could hear whispering from the cracks." Minerva shrugged. "So I started writing down what they said."
I swallowed. I'd never really thought about where her lyrics had come from, but then, Minerva had never mentioned that they'd bubbled up from underground. That seemed like the kind of thing you might mention.
"Perhaps I might hear a few words?" Dr. Prolix said.
"Um, is that a good idea?" Pearl asked softly.
"Don't sing, dear," the old woman said. "Just speak them."
Minerva paused a moment, then cleared her throat.
A few syllables came from her mouth, at first halting and tangled, like someone trying to imitate the sound of a sink gurgling. But then she started speaking in rhythm, and the weird sounds smoothed into words.
Then Minerva fell into the verses and choruses Pearl had built around the nonsense syllables, pitching her voice in a singsong way. I recognized a few phrases from Piece Two, and my fingers moved half-consciously, playing the bass line in the air, so I didn't notice when she started singing.
Maybe the floor trembled a little.
"Stop that!" Dr. Prolix snapped.
Minerva came to a halt, shaking her head as though she were snapping out of a daydream. Then she shrugged. "Sorry."