Dark Matter
By Sheree R. ThomasWarner Aspect
Copyright © 2000 Sheree R. Thomas
All right reserved. ISBN: 0-446-67724-8Chapter One
The CometW. E. B. Du Bois(1920)He stood a moment on the steps of the bank, watching the human riverthat swirled down Broadway. Few noticed him. Few ever noticed himsave in a way that stung. He was outside the world-"nothing!" as hesaid bitterly. Bits of the words of the walkers came to him.
"The comet?"
"The comet-"
Everybody was talking of it. Even the president, as he entered,smiled patronizingly at him, and asked: "Well, Jim, are you scared?"
"No," said the messenger shortly.
"I thought we'd journeyed through the comet's tail once," broke inthe junior clerk affably.
"Oh, that was Haley's," said the president. "This is a new comet,quite a stranger, they say-wonderful, wonderful! I saw it lastnight. Oh, by the way, Jim," turning again to the messenger, "I wantyou to go down into the lower vaults today."
The messenger followed the president silently. Of course, theywanted him to go down to the lower vaults. It was too dangerous formore valuable men. He smiled grimly and listened.
"Everything of value has been moved out since the water began toseep in," said the president, "but we miss two volumes of oldrecords. Suppose you nose around down there-it isn't very pleasant,I suppose."
"Not very," said the messenger, as he walked out.
"Well, Jim, the tail of the new comet hits us at noon this time,"said the vault clerk, as he passed over the keys; but the messengerpassed silently down the stairs. Down he went beneath Broadway,where the dim light filtered through the feet of hurrying men; downto the dark basement beneath; down into the blackness and silencebeneath that lowest cavern. Here with his dark lantern he groped inthe bowels of the earth, under the world.
He drew a long breath as he threw back the last great iron door andstepped into the fetid slime within. Here at last was peace, and hegroped moodily forward. A great rat leaped past him and cobwebscrept across his face. He felt carefully around the room, shelf byshelf, on the muddied floor, and in crevice and corner. Nothing.Then he went back to the far end, where somehow the wall feltdifferent. He pounded and pushed and pried. Nothing. He startedaway. Then something brought him back. He was pounding and workingagain when suddenly the whole black wall swung as on mighty hinges,and blackness yawned beyond. He peered in; it was evidently a secretvault-some hiding place of the old bank unknown in newer times. Heentered hesitatingly. It was a long, narrow room with shelves, andat the far end, an old iron chest. On a high shelf lay two volumesof records, and others. He put them carefully aside and stepped tothe chest. It was old, strong, and rusty. He looked at the vast andold-fashioned lock and flashed his light on the hinges. They were deeplyincrusted with rust. Looking about, he found a bit of iron and beganto pry. The rust had eaten a hundred years, and it had gone deep.Slowly, wearily, the old lid lifted, and with a last, low groan laybare its treasure-and he saw the dull sheen of gold!
"Boom!"
A low, grinding, reverberating crash struck upon his ear. He startedup and looked about. All was black and still. He groped for hislight and swung it about him. Then he knew! The great stone door hadswung to. He forgot the gold and looked death squarely in the face.Then with a sigh he went methodically to work. The cold sweat stoodon his forehead; but he searched, pounded, pushed, and worked untilafter what seemed endless hours his hand struck a cold bit of metaland the great door swung again harshly on its hinges, and then,striking against something soft and heavy, stopped. He had just roomto squeeze through. There lay the body of the vault clerk, cold andstiff. He stared at it, and then felt sick and nauseated. The airseemed unaccountably foul, with a strong, peculiar odor. He steppedforward, clutched at the air, and fell fainting across the corpse.
* * *
He awoke with a sense of horror, leaped from the body, and groped upthe stairs, calling to the guard. The watchman sat as if asleep,with the gate swinging free. With one glance at him the messengerhurried up to the sub-vault. In vain he called to the guards. Hisvoice echoed and re-echoed weirdly. Up into the great basement herushed. Here another guard lay prostrate on his face, cold andstill. A fear arose in the messenger's heart. He dashed up to thecellar floor, up into the bank. The stillness of death layeverywhere and everywhere bowed, bent, and stretched the silentforms of men. The messenger paused and glanced about. He was not aman easily moved; but the sight was appalling! "Robbery and murder,"he whispered slowly to himself as he saw the twisted, oozing mouthof the president where he lay half-buried on his desk. Then a newthought seized him: If they found him here alone-with all this moneyand all these dead men-what would his life be worth? He glancedabout, tiptoed cautiously to a side door, and again looked behind.Quietly he turned the latch and stepped out into Wall Street.
How silent the street was! Not a soul was stirring, and yet it washigh noon-Wall Street? Broadway? He glanced almost wildly up anddown, then across the street, and as he looked, a sickening horrorfroze in his limbs. With a choking cry of utter fright he lunged,leaned giddily against the cold building, and stared helplessly atthe sight.
In the great stone doorway a hundred men and women and children laycrushed and twisted and jammed, forced into that great, gapingdoorway like refuse in a can-as if in one wild, frantic rush tosafety, they had crushed and ground themselves to death. Slowly themessenger crept along the walls, trying to comprehend, stilling thetremor in his limbs and the rising terror in his heart. He met abusiness man, silk-hatted and frock-coated, who had crept, too,along that smooth wall and stood now stone dead with wonder writtenon his lips.
The messenger turned his eyes hastily away and sought the curb. Awoman leaned wearily against the signpost, her head bowed motionlesson her lace and silken bosom. Before her stood a streetcar, silent,and within-but the messenger but glanced and hurried on. A grimynewsboy sat in the gutter with the "last edition" in his upliftedhand: "Danger!" screamed its black headlines. "Warnings wired aroundthe world. The Comet's tail sweeps past us at noon. Deadly gasesexpected. Close doors and windows. Seek the cellar." The messengerread and staggered on. Far out from a window above, a girl lay withgasping face and sleevelets on her arms. On a store step sat alittle, sweet-faced girl looking upward toward the skies, and in thecarriage by her lay-but the messenger looked no longer. The cordsgave way-the terror burst in his veins, and with one great, gaspingcry he sprang desperately forward and ran-ran as only the frightenedrun, shrieking and fighting the air until with one last wail of painhe sank on the grass of Madison Square and lay prone and still.
When he arose, he gave no glance at the still and silent forms onthe benches, but, going to a fountain, bathed his face; then hidinghimself in a corner away from the drama of death, he quietly grippedhimself and thought the thing through: The comet had swept the earthand this was the end. Was everybody dead? He must search and see.
He knew that he must steady himself and keep calm, or he would goinsane. First he must go to a restaurant. He walked up Fifth Avenueto a famous hostelry and entered its gorgeous, ghost-haunted halls.He beat back the nausea, and, seizing a tray from dead hands,hurried into the street and ate ravenously, hiding to keep...
