NEW YORK CITY, 1919
Ned Duffy was certain that he had a hangover. The headache thundered inside his brain like a loose cannon caroming along the sides of his head. His mouth was dry and he staggered into the tiny bathroom of his bed-sitter and filled his tooth glass with water. The mirror above the sink showed him a haggard face with bloodshot eyes. It took him a minute to realize that he hadn’t had anything to drink for months. Not since Mary had given birth to little Sam.
He groaned and staggered back to the bed, falling heavily on it. He supposed he’d have to call in sick. Now that the newsroom was nearly back up to full strength he wondered how Green would take it.
He pulled himself off the bed and managed to slip on a pair of pants and a shirt. He staggered down the hallway to the communal phone, fumbling with coins until he found the right one.
“City Desk,” he said to the exchange. Green came on the line.
“It’s Duffy,” he managed to croak. “Can’t make it in.” There was silence on the end of the line and for a moment Duffy thought that he hadn’t managed to speak loudly enough. He was gathering the energy to speak again, when Green replied.
“You don’t sound too good.”
“Feel rotten,” Duffy gasped. “I’ll be in tomorrow.”
“Sure,” Green said. “See you tomorrow.” There was a pause, then Green continued, “Duffy, take care.”
Duffy nodded then realized that Green couldn’t see him. What the hell, he lurched back toward his room, not noticing that he had left the receiver hanging. His knees gave way halfway there.
The tunnel was hot, there was no air. It was stifling and he couldn’t breathe. He clawed at his celluloid collar to remove the tightness at his throat. Everywhere shadows floated around him like disembodied souls. He could hear the cries of people trapped in the train wreck. He wanted to turn back, but it was so dark he had lost his sense of direction.
Suddenly ahead of him he saw a dark form, so deeply black that it shone like polished jet. He felt himself moving forward. As he came closer he could make out the figure of a woman dressed in black. She was the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen. Lust grew in him with a heat that threatened to consume him.
She reached out a hand to take his, but his own felt like lead. Somehow he knew that to touch her was to touch a fire that no man could withstand. His hand moved forward of its own accord.
The tunnel started to leak and rivulets of water coursed down his head. A hand grasped his, but it was cool and lifesaving. He opened his eyes and saw the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
“Mary,” he sighed.
“Welcome back to the living, Ned Duffy.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks.
“How long have you been here?”
“It’s been three days. That’s how long you’ve been out of your head.”
“How did you know that I was sick?”
“I’d come to tell you that I’d got bad news. I got a letter from a supply company complaining that Sam had never come to pick up an order of goods he had placed. It took them two months to track me down. You know that he hadn’t written in a while. I put it down to the isolation and the work, but he would have needed those supplies.”
“Don’t be afraid, Mary.” Duffy tried to rise, but found that he didn’t have the strength to lift his head. “When I get over this we’ll track him down. I’m a reporter, remember. That’s what we do, track things down.”
She shook her head. “We both know he’s gone. I think we knew the day we decided to name the boy Sam instead of Ned.”
“Mary, I…”
“Rest easy.” Mary smiled. “You’ve been more than good to me, Ned Duffy. Whatever the future holds, I can tell you this, with you by my side I’ll never be afraid.”