Read The Cross: An Eddie Flynn Novella for Free Online Page A

two I lay on my back at the bottom of a set of tiled steps that led to the fence and the water’s edge. If I’d jumped into the river anywhere else, I might not have had a chance to climb out of it.
    Blind luck.
    I tasted salt in my mouth from the river and the blood. From where I lay, I couldn’t see the ferry, and no one on the bike trail would be able to see me, sunk below the boardwalk on the bottom steps of what was once a slipway for canoes.
    Only when my teeth began to pummel each other did I realize that I was trembling fiercely. The shakes had set in, and the pain from the dirty ice bath returned with a vengeance. I moaned and stood. Stamped my feet. Took off my shirt, which felt as cold as a priest’s hands. I’d already lost my tie somewhere. Rubbing my arms vigorously, willing the blood into each limb, I tried to shut my mouth before I broke a tooth. My jaw wouldn’t stay closed, no matter how hard I clenched. Blood in my mouth; I’d managed to bite my tongue, but not too bad.
    Twisting the water out of my shirt, I then slapped it on the stone steps. Puddles of water appeared everywhere as the river drained out of my suit pants. Patting my pockets, I discovered I’d lost my office keys and cell phone. My car keys had made it, along with my dripping-wet wallet. In my left pocket I found the Post-it note with McAllister’s cell number. The last digit of the number had washed away, with only the faint traces of what could’ve been a three, a five, a six, or an eight. Thankfully, the dip in the river had masked the bloodstains on my shirt. It was just one sodden mess. I felt my scalp and found the bleeding had slowed.
    I had to move. My shirt clung to my skin, and I left it hanging out over my pants.
    Slowly I made my way up the steps. Nobody on the bike trail beneath the overpass, and a small crowd of teenagers to my right, maybe seven hundred feet away. They had nestled beneath the overpass and were examining their cell phones. To my left, the last of the passengers were filing onto the ferry, headed back to DUMBO. None of the passengers would head to the top deck. The bodies could lie up there, undiscovered, for some time.Straight ahead, on South Drive, a line of people were climbing aboard a bus. I made for the line, glancing toward the ferry with every other step.
    Two men bolted off the ferry. Their guns drawn, heads circling; they were looking for me. The passengers were being shuttled off the ferry. The two men had known to check the top deck, and had found the bodies. I ducked behind a supporting wall for the FDR Drive, taking shelter in the shadows as I watched the bus line. The last two people were about to board.
    Hold .
    A grandma in a floral dress fumbled for change as she charmed the driver. The young guy in the ball cap behind her shook his head, his MetroCard in his hand.
    Another quick glance. The two cops jogged my way. They were closing in, only two, maybe three hundred feet away.
    At last the grandma paid the bus driver and began fussing with her purse. I watched the young guy in the ball cap shake his head from side to side. The steel beams roofing the overpass above me screeched and whipped in metallic song, strummed by the long-distance haulage trucks that shook the road. It was the same sound as the high-pitched vibration that preceded a subway train. That monotonous sound was soon accompanied by the slap-echo of two pairs of fast, hard-soled shoes. They were close. I had my back to the concrete support wall. The crowd of kids standing at the opposite support wall, maybe eighty feet away, put their phones away and looked casual. They’d spotted the cops coming their way.
    My shoe touched an empty soda can. I fished a wet MetroCard out of my wallet, threw the can to my right and ran left. The can bounced down the steps I’d ascended only seconds before. I got to the bus at the same moment the driver hit the switch to close the doors.

 
    Chapter Nine
    I got an arm through the doors,