Bioterror by Tim Curran

Author:Tim Curran [Curran, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodshot Books
Published: 2021-03-20T22:00:00+00:00

MANHATTAN, 50th AND BROADWAY:

THE THEATER DISTRICT, 2:59 A.M.

Robin Hewitt saw the whole thing and moments after it had transpired, she was still standing there, slack-jawed, wide-eyed, listening to the woman in the I LUV NY hoodie screaming her tourist brains out. It happened fast, of course, like all truly weird and wild things. It came and went with such rapidity that she questioned exactly what she had seen.

Robin and her three associates—Kim, Cherise, and Tony R—had watched Wicked at the Gershwin, did a little clubbing and bar-hopping, and by the time they were standing on the downtown platform of the 50th IRT Broadway, waiting for the A train, they were feeling no pain. The dozen or so people standing around with them were mostly theater people coming back from late-night parties. They gathered in little groups, laughing and chatting and then—

“Hey!” said the lady in the I LUV NY hoodie. “Hey! Lookit! There’s a lady on the tracks!”

Robin hadn’t actually heard what she said, but she’d noted the volume.

Kim said, “No shit! Check it out!”

And by then Robin was looking. In fact, they’d all inched closer to the edge of the platform to see something down on the tracks which was not rats like usual.

As Robin stared, a voice in her skull was saying, what’s that crazy bitch doing? Doesn’t she know the A is coming any second now?

Maybe she was expecting some crazy old bag lady or homeless person with a paper bag of empties because no one in their right minds got down on the tracks…but what she saw was a young woman. And although she was dirty, her face streaked with grit, her dishwater blonde hair hanging over her face in a greasy tangle, one look and Robin knew she was no street person.

It was the way she was dressed more than anything.

Robin was a buyer for Macy’s and she knew money when she saw it. The wool crepe executive jacket, finely-tailored… the matching pencil skirt… there was no doubt in Robin’s mind that the woman was wearing at least $2000 and that didn’t take in the torn hose, the jewelry, or the single black pump she wore. And it was more than the money because this lady knew how to wear that suit. There was something very elegant about her.

And that made it all that much more insane.

“Ma’am!” Cherise called to her. “There’s a train coming! You have to get out of there!”

Already, two or three people were down on their knees reaching out helping hands.

The woman just stood there, staring at them.

There was something devastated about her. Like she was a vessel that had been poured out and filled with something poisonous. She stared up at them through strands of hair, her mouth moving but no words coming out. Her skirt was slit up one side, revealing more leg than the designer had intended. One spidery white hand was pressed to her belly and everyone saw the curious mound beneath it.

Pregnant?

This woman’s pregnant and wandering

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