Michael Ledwidge - Alert

The glittering, unmoving strings of Manhattan’s lights.

Despite the mayor’s directive not to drive, it was obvious that the streets were completely impassable because of traffic.

Staring at the sea of dead-stopped cars, I thought about Martin and the kids. The last message I had received from them, about an hour and a half ago, was that they were all together and crossing into Westchester.

Were they far enough away? I wondered, looking north up the lightless river. They had to be, right? Or at least they would be far enough away by the deadline tomorrow.

At least that’s what I was going to keep telling myself, I decided, as I took out my phone again.

“Mike? Hello? Are you there?” said Seamus as my call, surprisingly, went through.

“Yes, Seamus. It’s me,” I said straining to hear over the engine whine. “Where are you? Did you get out? Where are you?”

“We’re—”

Then the signal went screwy.

I ripped the phone off my ear and stared at the screen. It was still connected.

“Seamus?” I said. “Seamus?”

Then I looked at the screen again and cursed.

The line was dead.

“Mike? Are you there, Mike?” said Seamus as he lifted the phone off his ear and stared at its screen.

“It cut off,” he said.

“Ah, the cell sites are just melting, Father. Must be millions trying to get through now,” Martin said as he let out an extra-large breath.

Martin’s glance went from the standstill traffic to the needle of the gas gauge, which was at the halfway point now, then back to the traffic again. He wiped his sweating forehead. He’d give it another minute, then turn off the engine to conserve gas, he decided.

They were on Broadway in Yonkers. It was a sketchy part of town — run-down houses and buildings and stores. They’d been stopped for almost five minutes, which meant God only knows what was happening up ahead. In the last hour, they had probably traveled less than a mile.

As Martin watched, two stocky young Hispanic kids zoomed past on a Kawasaki dirt bike. The one on the back was seated backwards, and he gave Martin and the good Father the finger as his buddy threaded between the cars.

“Did ya see that, Father?” Martin said. “That wasn’t very neighborly, now, was it?”

“We’re not on the old sod anymore, Martin,” Seamus said, shaking his head. “It’s probably best to pretend you’re blind.”

Martin turned to his left and looked beyond an empty parking lot as the Metro-North Hudson Line train went slowly by. It was incredibly packed with people in and even standing between the cars. On the last car, there were several people sitting on the roof!

It was like something out of news footage from the Great Depression or a science fiction film, Martin thought. This crazy country. He’d just wanted to make a little pocket money with the nanny job, and now look where he was. Wandering the set of The War of the Worlds 2 .

When the train finally passed, he could see the Hudson River. Great, he thought, drumming his fingers on the wheel. They were right next to water, the one place Mike had specifically told them not to be.

Should they leave the van and try to get on a train? Martin thought, staring at the gas gauge again. He let out another long breath as he bit at his lower lip. It was impossible to know what to do.

“Martin?” Jane called from the back, distress in her voice.

“What is it?” Martin said, trying to keep his tone light for the children.

“Bad news, Martin,” she said.

“How is that even possible?” Martin said under his breath.

“It’s Jasper. I think... well, I think he has to tinkle.”

“You want to walk the dog out there in the ’hood?” Seamus said, turning around in the passenger seat with a flabbergasted look.

“It’s either out there, Gramps,” said Jane, shrugging, “or right here in the van.”

“Okay, okay. Brian and Eddie and Ricky and — what the heck — you, too, Trent. Look lively and get the leash. I have an important mission for you boys. You’re all on Jasper tinkle patrol,” Seamus said.

“Yes!” said Brian, putting the now-moaning Jasper on the leash. “Finally something to do!”

“Buddy system, okay, boys?” Martin said. “Leave no man behind.”

“Or dog!” said Chrissy frantically. “Or dog!”

“Exactly. No man or dog, okay? Now hit it!”

They burst out of the van and ran with Jasper through the traffic to a concrete wall beside a run-down tenement.

“I see them,” said Bridget, cupping her hands over her eyes and looking out the window. “He’s tinkling! Jasper is tinkling!”

“Yay!” said Fiona.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day, isn’t it, Father?” said Martin.

Seamus rolled his eyes.

The van burst into applause as the boys arrived back, breathless, with the pup. The happy, excited dog started barking like mad as Chrissy grabbed him to her chest in a bear hug while Socky, the cat, remained aloof, snuggled in one of Shawna’s sweatshirts on the floor of the van.

“We’re clear,” said Brian, slamming the door. “Quick! Martin! Hit the gas!”

If only, Martin thought as he stared out at the sea of brake lights.

There had to be well over a hundred military people scurrying around three large cargo planes on the tarmac of Teterboro Airport in northern New Jersey when we landed in the helicopter ten minutes later.

And it wasn’t just men being moved in and out of the C-130s. As we landed, I watched a Jeep drive up a ramp into the plane’s belly, followed quickly by a small tractor towing in a Black Hawk helicopter with its rotors folded back.

“The US military is truly incredible, isn’t it?” I said to Emily. “I mean, the mayor made the call — what? Four hours ago? Now look at this! It’s unbelievable how quickly this thing is being mobilized.”

“Let’s just hope it’s fast enough,” Emily said.

We asked around, then met up with Lieutenant Commander Nate Gardner, the leader of the SEALs team that had been assigned to head up the mission. Nate was a tall, fit, clean-cut guy around thirty, with light-blue eyes and black hair. He was sitting on a four-wheeler under the wing of one of the planes eating pizza with his team of commandos.

He and his thirty or so SEALs were sitting beside their weapons and kit bags talking quietly with one another or napping. They seemed to be the only still and calm people in the whole airport.

Make that the tristate area, I thought as we walked up.

“NYPD!” Nate said, smiling and wiping pizza grease on the thighs of his olive-drab desert-camo uniform before standing up to shake our hands. “Now we’re talking. I love you guys. I’m from Rochester, but I lived in a shit hole in Alphabet City with my friends after college and saw up close how you guys operate. I was actually on the cop list before deciding to join the navy.”

“Pleased to meet you, Lieutenant Commander,” Emily jumped in. “But what are we supposed to do now?”

“Please, it’s Nate,” the soldier said, grinning. “Or Commander Nate, if you must. Basically, ma’am, we’ll board after the toys are packed. You got my two teams as well as five of the army’s explosive ordnance disposal teams en route.”

“Right, but how are we going to play this?” she said. “What’s the strategy? Just head to Árvore Preta and start looking?”

“The US ambassador to Cape Verde will meet us at the airport on the other side to smooth things out with the locals,” Nate said. “They will provide us with island guides, and we’ll locate these bombs. Once we find them, we let the EOD teams do their thing disarming them. My team will provide security for everybody. I recommend you guys try to get some sleep on the flight.”