“Here, put these on.” Jimmy stood at the back of the panel truck and set a pair of faded, blue coveralls on the bumper along with a pair of knee-high, green rubber boots and a yellow hard hat with a light attached to the front. Everything was filthy.
The rain was still coming down, but not as hard. Mike was setting up a barricade around the open manhole. His raincoat was wet and shiny. Jack sat on the bumper of the truck and pulled the coveralls on. He stood up, pulled the bottoms up past his waist, and struggled to get one arm in, then the other. He pulled the zipper up to his chin and swung his arms around to get the coveralls to sit right on his frame. They fit, but they smelled; a combination of sweat, long-wet cloth, and whatever was in the sewer.
“You’ll get used to the smell,” Jimmy said. “They look like they fit. The main thing is to keep you dry and warm. It’s damp down there and always cool. The boots are the most important part. They’ll keep your feet dry, as long as you don’t fall down.”
Jack pulled the boots on and fastened the chin strap for the hard hat. The rain drops echoed off of the shell like rim shots on a drum. He sat on the bumper and waited for Jimmy and tried not to think about what they were going to do. He told himself that he could do it. He had to do it. The Governor had to still be down below ground and they were going to find him. If they could find a clue at the tee that Jimmy described, they would catch him. He was trying not to think about going in the sewer, but that wasn’t working.
“You don’t look so good,” Jimmy said.
Jack just peered up at him.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s actually kind of neat. There’s all sorts of history down there and if we go outside of the sewers into some of the caves there’s flowstone and stuff. It’s pretty.”
Jack stood up and faced Jimmy. “I’ll be all right. One thing I’m worried about is you.” Jack tugged at the seam on the shoulder of the coveralls to adjust them a bit. “I don’t want to put you in any danger. But this guy we’re after? I have to catch him and he’s dangerous. And I can’t go down there alone. I don’t know my way around.”
“Hey, you’re not forcing me to go down there. I know my way around better than anybody. Once we get down there he won’t be able to hear us and if we go with low lights he shouldn’t see us coming either.”
Hearing “low lights,” Jack’s chest tightened and his throat constricted, making it hard to breathe. He closed his eyes and tried to force a deep breath into his lungs. He got a small amount of air in. He tilted his head back and looked at the sky in attempt to open his airway further. He still couldn’t breathe.
“Hey, you OK?”
Jack looked at Jimmy, almost panting to get a small amount of air in and out of his lungs.
“Here, sit down and try to relax.” Jimmy lightly grabbed Jack’s upper arm and guided him back a couple of steps to the bumper of the truck. “You need to relax.”
Jack leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He focused on a spot on the ground between his feet and slowed his breathing. He felt his chest start to relax and he worked on taking larger breaths.
“You sure you want to do this?” Jimmy asked.
“I have to get this guy.” Jack took another deep breath. “I’ll be OK in a minute. Then we have to go.”
“All right. Don’t hyperventilate. Just sit here and relax. Long, deep breaths.” Jimmy climbed into the truck. “We’ll give her a shot in a second!” he called from inside the truck.
Jack sat on the bumper and closed his eyes. His chest was still tight, like a belt cinched around it keeping him from breathing. He concentrated on taking shallower breaths and tried to slow his breathing. He cupped his hands over his mouth, remembering that people who were hyperventilating sometimes breathed into a paper sack.
Jimmy was banging around in the truck. Above the sound of the rain hammering the top of the truck, it sounded like Jimmy was opening drawers, poking around through tools. Jack caught movement out of the corner of his eye and tensed. His right hand instinctively reached for his gun, which was at his waist under the coveralls.
One of the Federal Reserve guards dressed in black, a hood protecting his head from the rain, and a short machine gun slung across his shoulder and hanging below his chest, approached Jack. “Are you Agent Miller?”
“Yeah,” Jack answered without getting up, working at slowing his heart again.
“Granowski sent me over.” He handed Jack a couple of bundles. “The other agent, the guy with his arm in a sling, thought you needed these.”
“Thanks. No other developments?”
“I haven’t heard anything,” the guard answered and walked away through the rain.
Jack looked at Mike standing at the manhole smoking a cigarette in the rain. The guy was used to waiting; Jack wasn’t. He turned around and yelled over his shoulder. “Jimmy, let’s go!”
Two nylon belts landed on the ground and Jimmy jumped out of the truck. “So, you’re ready to go through with this?”
“Yeah,” was all Jack said.
Jimmy held out a closed right fist and a bottle of water in his left hand. “Take this?”
“What is it?”
“Something to help you relax, take the edge off. I can’t afford to have you freak out down there.”
Jack just looked at him.
“It’s not illegal.”
“What is it?” Jack asked.
“It’s Xanax. As long as you aren’t pregnant, plan to become pregnant, you’ll be fine. It’ll calm you down.”
Jack laughed and held out his left hand, palm up.
“Take one now and save on for later, just in case.” Jimmy dropped the pills into his hand and handed him the bottle of water. He waited for Jack to take the one, then he handed him one of the nylon belts. “Now put this on. The tag goes in back.”
Jack handed Jimmy one of the Kevlar vests the guard had brought him. “And this if for you.”
“Is this what I think it is?” Jimmy asked.
“It is if you think it’s a bullet-proof vest. I told you, this guy’s dangerous.”