The Chemistry of Death

Chapter 48

Ziggy saw a flash of understanding in Tesla’s eyes. The man trembled with fear, just as the women had. The drug caused that, and it should have incapacitated him, but his gaze never wavered. Tesla knew what choice he would be forced to make, but he didn’t seem too upset about it.

Tesla turned away from the rooftop, stood up as much as he could with his arm tied to the wheelchair, and limped to the door that led back into the apartment. He pulled his wheelchair behind him. He’d not get through that sturdy metal fire door. Ziggy had locked it himself, and he had the key in his pocket.

Ziggy reached down and picked up a weathered pine board. He put it against the roof’s parapet. The board was long, and it provided a gentle slope up over the roof’s edge. He’d brought the board weeks before, to be part of a privacy fence he’d never need to build now.

He pulled his sister’s wheelchair up onto the board and stood balanced on top of the wall that ran around the edge of the roof. That wall designed to keep people from falling off. Far below people crawled like flies across the corpse of New York.

His sister’s eyes never left Tesla, and Ziggy hated her for that, even as he loved her so much it hurt.

“Do you smell that?” Ziggy asked. Tesla sniffed, as Ziggy had known he would, and coughed violently. “It smells like bleach, doesn’t it?”

“What does he smell?” she whispered.

“Chlorine gas,” Ziggy explained. “First used by the Germans in Ypres in 1915. It’s surprisingly easy to make in this day and age. Just mix together two common ingredients to create something new and deadly. Simple chemistry.”

Tesla coughed again. The gas was acting faster than Ziggy had expected, or perhaps the cocktail of drugs in Tesla’s system were increasing its effects.

“It’s fast-acting when you get enough of it.” Ziggy directed his next words to Tesla. “I’ve set it to release in small increments to give you enough time to make your choice.”

“What choice?” she asked.

“To live or die,” Ziggy said. “Just like the women in the tunnels.”

“Tell me about them.” Her breathy voice was still commanding.

“He brought women down into the subway tunnels, drugged them like he did me, and threw them in front of the train.” Tesla spoke between coughs.

Ziggy held tightly to the wheelchair, controlling his anger. “I didn’t throw them. Not at all. They chose. Every single woman chose her fate.”

“You drugged them?” Her voice broke.

“With my own special drug.” He needed her to understand how clever he was. “I invented it myself when I worked with Dr. Bilous. It’s a drug that gives you clarity.”

“Have you ever drugged me?” she asked. “Did you drug Joe?”

“He needed clarity, and now he has it.”

“How long does he have?” she asked.

“Ten minutes, more or less.” Ziggy couldn’t be any more precise. “After that his lungs will be too compromised. We’ll stay and watch.”

“What’s his choice?” she asked.

“He can walk out through the glass door onto the roof. If he comes outside, the wind will blow the chlorine away, and he’ll be safe. Or he can choose to stay in that room and die.”