Sleep Tight by Jeff Jacobson Read Free Book Online

down between the long lines of derelict hulks. The spill of the headlights briefly illuminated the dusty, opaque windows, reflecting distorted, ghostly images of the truck. It gave Tommy a skittish feeling.
    He found he was having a hard time taking a deep breath. The thought of all that rock above, the weight of the entire city pressing down, down . . . He dried the palms of his hands on his jeans. The motion led him to his boots and he remembered that he wasn’t wearing the right kind of boots and that made things worse.
    The El train corpses passed out of sight and the walls swallowed them up again. This one was shorter though, before long they came to a circular area, with a number of smaller tunnels branching off. It was clear which tunnel to use; the tire tracks had crushed the gravel into two easy-to-follow paths. Don pulled off to the side of the tire tracks and shifted into park. He pointed to an empty ring on the wall next to the tunnel. “Flag’s gone. That means somebody’s down in there. Tunnel isn’t wide enough for two vehicles. ’Specially garbage trucks.”
    “Garbage trucks?”
    “Sure. Why do you think we’re here? You want to find rats, you go looking for garbage.”
    “Wait, there’s a dump down here?’
    “Oh, yeah. An awful damn big one.”
    “Why go to the trouble of driving all the way down here?”
    Don spread his hands. “Landfills are big business. Nobody wants a garbage dump in their backyard, so these places, they can get away with charging an arm and a leg. ’Specially if it’s Uncle Sam picking up the bill. Your pal and mine, friend of the people Mr. Cornelius Shea, when he found out about this place, he had about a third of his drivers start dumping their loads down here. See, then he charges the city for the regular landfill costs, and pockets the surplus.”
    Tommy was quiet for a while. “Jesus Christ. All I can think about are the assholes in my neighborhood, these wannabe crooks and gangbangers. They’ll bust open the back window of somebody’s piece-of-shit car, crawl in, see what they can steal. If they get a stereo, they’ll take off down the block, hoopin’ and hollerin’, thinkin’ they hit the jackpot. What a score.” He shook his head. “Those douche bags got nothing on these goddamn politicians.”
    “What, you saying our elected officials aren’t going into politics to serve their fellow man?” Don laughed. “It’s the Machine, kid. Don’t look so shocked. And it ain’t just regular garbage down there. Shit, you think a landfill costs money? Try finding somewhere legal to dump toxic waste. If I were you, I wouldn’t linger when we’re getting the rats. I try to breathe through my shirt, you know?”
     
     
    A bobbing light appeared in the darkness, growing in intensity by the second. Don flashed his brights. The approaching lights flashed back. A pale blue garbage truck filled the entrance, with only a foot or two between metal and rock. It rumbled out of the tunnel and pulled abreast of their van.
    The driver’s window rolled down and a hairy arm held out a red flag on a three-foot PVC pipe to Don. Don said, “Working late.”
    The garbage truck driver spit. “Boss got spooked. Heard a rumor that somebody was watchin’. Wanted the times we came dumping staggered even more. Wants at least an hour between each truck, you believe that shit?”
    Don shrugged. “Be seein’ ya.”
    The driver saluted, and headed back toward the surface. Don put the van in drive and they entered the tunnel. Their van was smaller than the garbage truck, but the walls were still uncomfortably close. Tommy never thought he would ever worry about claustrophobia, but this shit was getting old.
    “What’s above us?” Tommy asked. “I mean, where in the Loop?”
    “Dunno exactly. All I know is that we’re far enough down, you can’t even hear the subway.”
    The right wall fell away into nothingness.
    “And here we are,” Don said, turning the van off the road.