However, these heavy rock walls were going to require a bit more than tamping the lid down on a paint can and walking away.

The bodyguard had left the headlights on, illuminating Robert Earl Bailey. He was about twenty yards down the tunnel, assembling all his shit where the tunnel opened up into the vast space filled with garbage and hazardous waste. He had been kneeling in the same spot for damn near half an hour, preparing the explosives. Robert Earl might be an expert in all kinds of useful shit, but he was fucking slow.

Back at his house earlier, Robert Earl had brought his supplies out to the car from his basement, and the bodyguard had balked at putting all that shit in the trunk.

“What happens, we hit a pothole?” the bodyguard, Bryan, had demanded. Bryan didn’t like Robert Earl, probably because the bodyguard was black, and Robert Earl had a giant Confederate flag hanging in his living room.

Robert Earl had snorted. “It’s harmless. Watch.” He’d dropped the heavy duffel bag on his driveway. Lee and Bryan had flinched. Robert Earl had giggled like a toddler who had just inhaled half a gallon of birthday ice cream. “See? Harmless. Until you send an electric current through it. Then it goes bang.”

Now, an hour later, down in the tunnel, Bryan kept pacing, saying, “We shouldn’t be here tonight. It’s not smart, you being this close.”

Lee waved that away. “Sometimes, you gotta make sure something is done right. That means being hands-on.”

Bryan exhaled in a hiss. “Boss, I’ve been with you on some crazy shit, and most of it turned out okay. Some things, though, you and I both know, they sometimes turned out not to be good ideas. Hindsight being twenty-twenty and all that, and I gotta say, this does not look like a good idea. Just walk away. Nothing down here tied to us.”

“They start poking around down here it won’t take a fucking genius to start looking around at waste disposal companies. And believe me, they’d start at the top. With me. This way”—meaning sealing off the tunnel—“they got nothing.”

“You telling me you can blow up a tunnel this size under the city of Chicago and nobody’s gonna notice?”

“We’re not gonna blow it up. Robert Earl’s just gonna make the roof cave in. Just seal it off. He says all they’ll see is a blip, if they notice it at all. Just a burp.”

Robert Earl came jogging back to the car, fiddling with the remote detonator. He put it on the hood between them and said, “Don’t touch this,” giving Bryan a meaningful look. He retrieved a box of drill bits and scuffled back where he had laid out the assembled explosives.

He hit the trigger on the De Walt twice, tightening the drill’s grip on the bit. The high whine filled the tunnel and echoed back into the darkness beyond the reach of the headlights. He rolled a pair of orange foam ear plugs between his thumb and forefinger and screwed them into his ears.

Lee and Bryan glanced at each other, then stuck their fingers in their ears.

Robert Earl braced himself against the wall and wedged the bit into a seam he’d chipped out earlier. He flexed his grip on the DeWalt, squeezed the trigger, and leaned into it, putting some weight behind the spinning bit.

This time, the drill’s engine was engulfed in the sound of the grinding howl of the bit chewing into the rock wall.

Shards of something reflective flickered in the darkness beyond Robert Earl. Lee pushed off the car and took several steps forward. He turned back to Bryan and yelled over the sound of the drill, “Did you see that?”

Bryan squinted, put his hand over his eyes. “What?”

“I don’t know. . . .” Lee moved back and stood in front of the right headlight. His voice trailed off. Then, in the darkness of his shadow, he saw them. Hundreds of red eyes, glinting at Robert Earl. He pointed.

“Holy fuck.” Bryan jumped off the hood and went for his gun. “Hey!” he yelled at Robert Earl, but the sound was swallowed by the sound of disintegrating rock. Bryan squeezed off two shots at the rats.

Robert Earl released the trigger, peering through the cloud of dust at the drill. He’d heard something, but couldn’t tell if it had come from the drill or something else.

Bryan walked past him and fired three more times.

That got Robert Earl’s attention. His head flicked around, but his hips and feet didn’t move, anchored into the wall with the drill.

Back at the car, Lee snatched the remote detonator off the hood.

Bryan emptied the clip. He dropped it, slipping it into his jacket pocket, loading a fresh one in less than two seconds. He squeezed another burst into the darkness.

“Let’s go,” Lee shouted.

Bryan either ignored Lee or couldn’t hear him and fired once more. He paused for a moment, ultimately realizing his bullets were futile. There was a moment of stillness. Bryan flinched at something. He hopped backwards, twisting in midair, and started running full out for the car.

Robert Earl watched him run past, hands still on the drill.

The rats swarmed out of the gloom and launched themselves at Robert Earl, slashing with inch-long teeth and ragged claws. The combined weight of the attack knocked him off his feet. His screams echoed through the tunnel. He managed to struggle to his feet once, standing against the onslaught. He ripped a rat away from his face. Most of his nose was still between a rat’s front teeth. Other rats dangled from his arm. He stumbled forward a couple of steps, swayed. Rats writhed around his legs. One of them chewed through his Achilles tendon. He took one more step and the ankle gave way.

He fell into the swarm and disappeared.

Thousands of rats exploded out of the cloud of dust, a tsunami of rats shooting up the tunnel.

Lee saw very quickly that most of the rats were still chasing Bryan. He jumped behind the wheel and slammed the door. Bryan was halfway to the car.

More rats poured from the shadows, a goddamn tidal wave.

Lee said, “Fucking Christ,” and started the car. He jerked it into reverse and hit the gas.

Bryan faltered, and risked a look behind him. “Oh fuck, oh fuck!” he yelled and ran even faster.

Lee guided the car by keeping an eye on the side mirrors. He flicked the detonator’s protective cap open. When he judged the distance from the explosion to be at least fifty yards, he hit the brakes. The rats kept coming. Lee armed the detonator. Bryan ran and yelled, “Wait, wait, wait!”

Lee waited until Bryan was nearly to the car and clicked the button. Thunder erupted in the dust. The blast cracked the windshield and knocked the bodyguard on his face. Billowing clouds obscured the view and Lee couldn’t tell what had happened to the structure of the tunnel. Pieces of rats splattered across the hood.

Bryan got up and held his head, making an irritated noise in his throat. He coughed and spit a wad of bloody phlegm at the ground. He pulled open the back door and fell into the backseat. The front half of a rat was stuck to his chest. He grabbed hold of one ear and peeled it off. Shredded internal organs came loose and plopped into his lap. He flung it out into the tunnel and slammed the door.

Lee watched the swirling nightmare of dust and smoke through the windshield for a moment, turned around to face the back window, and hit the gas. The Mercedes scraped the side of the tunnel once or twice, but Lee didn’t slow down.

PHASE 4

CHAPTER 34

7:49 AM

August 13

Ed’s phone chirped, and he jerked awake. For a moment, he couldn’t figure out where he was. All he knew was that his back hurt. He blinked sleep from his eyes, and found himself in the front seat of their Crown Vic. A black metal fence loomed in front of the hood.