The Chemistry of Death

Chapter 21

Edison jumped on him, paws striking Joe square in the chest. Joe stumbled back a pace, lost his balance, and fell onto the wooden boards. He smelled fresh paint. He was on his own front porch. Safe.

Edison licked his face. His wet tongue came for Joe’s eyes, and Joe closed them. Edison’s tongue felt warm against his eyelids, his cheeks, his forehead. It was darker here on the floor with his eyes closed, safer.

The dog’s heavy, furry body rested on Joe’s chest. Warm weight pressed down. Joe couldn’t take a deep breath because Edison was so heavy. The reassuring smell of dog filled his nostrils.

Joe took a single shallow breath, then struggled for another. Without trying, his breaths slowed. He wasn’t hyperventilating anymore. The light wasn’t blinding him. He was going to be OK.

Joe wrapped both arms around Edison’s furry body. “We got this.”

Edison’s tail wagged against Joe’s stomach, and he snuffled into Joe’s ear.

“You’re the best dog in the world,” Joe said. “You know that, right?”

Edison rested his head against Joe’s cheek. He knew.

“I’m totally giving you the whole sandwich now.”

It felt like Edison nodded.

Joe lay still for a long time, hugging his dog. Eventually, he gently pushed Edison off and sat. He took the sandwich out of his backpack, unwrapped it, and gave it to the dog as promised.

“That was a doozy,” he said. “I need to change my shirt, maybe get some tea to calm down. But then we’ll head out, OK?”

Edison was too busy wolfing down the bread and meat to respond.

Joe pulled himself to his feet. His legs felt shaky, and he grabbed the railing to steady himself. It had been a long time since he’d had such a bad panic attack. He took a couple of deep breaths. See, body? he told himself. You didn’t die from that. Stop freaking out.

His body never listened to him, but that didn’t stop him from talking to it. Maybe one of these days he’d make a breakthrough. Maybe one of these days he’d be a billionaire making a difference in the outside world, like Alan. Of course, maybe that’d turn him into a complete asshole like Alan. That thought made him smile, which got a tentative tail wag from Edison.

A faint beeping sounded from the parlor. Was it the electric fireplace? Maybe it needed to be reset after a power failure. Or maybe he had the direction wrong, and the sound was coming from some electronic device upstairs.

He went through the open door and headed into the parlor. The parlor looked as it always did. Wall sconces bathed the room in warm, comforting light, but he kept one hand on the wall and the other on his flashlight. He wasn’t going to be caught without it if the lights went out again.

His laptop rested on the ottoman, the screen facing the door. Since it had a battery, it hadn’t been affected by the power outage. It was beeping. His A line surveillance app must have spotted something.

Joe sat in his leather chair and picked up the laptop. Probably another stoner sneaking off the platform to find bliss a few feet from the station or a couple of workers headed down to replace a recalcitrant piece of track. He would do a quick check, then change his sweat-soaked shirt, grab a couple of those damn nutrition bars for dinner, and head out. He wasn’t going to let a panic attack keep him from patrolling the tunnels. His fear must not be allowed to own him any more than it already did.

The real-time laptop camera showed nothing amiss. He rewound the footage. It took a few extra seconds to get everything working because he had the shakes from the adrenalin he’d pumped out during his panic attack. A jog in the tunnels would clear the rest of the adrenalin out of his system. He’d be OK.

Edison was already beside him, resting his head next to Joe’s lap and looking up at him with worried eyes.

“We got this,” Joe said. “Everything is fine.”

He glanced past the dog’s head at the computer screen. Surveillance footage showed a transit employee approaching the end of the platform. He wore a reflective vest and had a paper cup of coffee in one hand, a toolbox in the other. He was alone. Nothing to worry about there.

A few minutes later, Joe was dressed and ready to head out. He had a lot of tunnel to patrol, and it was already late. He stood on his porch, studying the bright green plants, the whitewashed ceiling, and the seagull. The room calmed him. He was home. He was safe here. That sense of safety would give him strength in the tunnels.

A tiny spark of light caught his eye. Had one of the ceiling LEDs fallen? He hadn’t had any trouble with them before, but tonight seemed like the night for glitches. He walked toward the light, careful not to step on the young plants.

The object was tiny, smaller than his thumb. As he got closer, he saw it was painted white except for a tiny stripe around the edges. Light reflecting off that stripe had revealed it. It must have slipped out of position.

The object dangled a couple of feet above his head. It must be part of the LED system Maeve had installed to keep the plants alive, although he didn’t recall seeing anything quite like it when they were setting things up. He’d had to work most of the time, so he must have missed it. He hadn’t tracked every detail.

He looked up at the object. He couldn’t reach it. He thought of going back into the house for a stepladder, but decided to jump for it. He jumped and missed, jumped again and grabbed at it. The object came off the wall with a tearing sound. Maeve wasn’t going to be happy about that.

He opened his fist and examined a small plastic object with a round opening at one end. He recognized its purpose at once. It wasn’t a fallen LED. It was a spy camera.