Deadfall by Anna Carey Read Free Book Online

here,” Rafe says, his voice low.
    “We need to draw them apart,” you say, knowing it’s only a matter of seconds before they’ve got you on both sides. “I’ll go into the subway, you cut through the park. Go east.”
    You take off toward the stairs as Rafe crosses the street. You realize a moment too late that you haven’t made a plan of where to meet up next. You want to call out to him, but it’s too dangerous. From the sound of his footsteps, you can tell that the man behind you has doubled his pace.
    The wind from the oncoming train rushes up the stairs, tangling your hair. You glance up once more before you’re underground. The woman is coming toward the subway stop.
    She notices Rafe but keeps going, heading toward you instead. You take the remaining stairs two at a time, landing hard at the bottom. The information booth is empty. You press your hands flat on both sides of the turnstile and sling your legs over.
    Just hearing the noise of the train, the screeching stop of the brakes, brings back the panic of the day you woke up. Your muscles tense up. As the train pulls into the station you run to the end of the platform.
    You can’t see the hunters—you hope they were sloweddown at the turnstiles. You head for the back of the train. Behind the last car there’s a metal ledge just a foot deep. Three chains, waist-high, run across it. There’s just enough room for you to stand there, hiding behind the back door.
    This is a Brooklyn-bound C train. The next stop is One Hundred Third Street. Stand clear of the closing doors, please.
    You grab on to the chains and swing your leg over. You press yourself against the back door, duck beneath the window, and take a deep breath.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    THE TRAIN RUSHES forward, the platform disappearing from view. You don’t see the hunters in the station or coming down the stairs, but you know they were right behind you. They may have already made it onto the train.
    You grip the chains and peek through the square window into the last car. The hunter is at the opposite end of the subway car, his hand on the metal door that leads into the next compartment. Nothing about him looks familiar. His light blue dress shirt is tucked in, his dark brown hair is combed in place, the jacket still over his right arm. He looks to be in his thirties. He slides back the door and continues through the train.
    He’s searching for you.
    You pull the knapsack off and drop down, getting the knife that’s hidden in the bottom of it. No matter how manytimes you’ve washed it the handle is still stained with Goss’s blood, the brownish-red flecks dried into the grooves. You hold it in your hand. If both hunters made it on board it’ll be useless against two of them.
    As the train rolls into the next stop you stay completely still, wondering if the hunters will get off here.
    The next stop is Ninety-Sixth Street. Stand clear of the closing doors, please.
    When the train pulls back out, they aren’t on the platform. They’re still somewhere inside the cars. You stay pressed against the back of the subway car. Two more stops go past, then four. At each stop, you check the platform and they aren’t there. They’re still somewhere inside the train.
    They’ll find you if they keep looking. You grab the handle on the back door. It’s locked from the outside. When you look through the window again the female hunter is in the next car, and you catch a glimpse of her profile as she surveys the passengers. She ignores the young man reading his Kindle, and the mother who rolls a stroller back and forth, trying to soothe her baby. But as she pushes open the door to the next compartment, she looks back one last time. You duck down, but it’s too late. She’s seen you.
    The train barrels on into darkness. You crouch down, and pray for the pressure of the brakes, signaling the next stop. Another train rushes past, all sound and air, and you make yourself as small as you can, pressing into the