City Dark(8)

The work was a little weird. He was handling sex offender civil commitment cases, a new kind of litigation that was different from both traditional prosecution and anything he’d done in criminal defense. But he was back in public service in downtown Manhattan, working with a good group of people and a great boss. He had cleaned himself up and found something like a sense of purpose again.

But Joe was still drinking.





CHAPTER 8


Wednesday, July 13, 1977

Upper West Side, Manhattan

9:39 p.m.

“Can we make it to Uncle Mike’s in this?” Robbie asked as their mother pulled away, joining the careful procession on the highway.

“Of course! It’s just a power loss. Hopefully just a few minutes.” Lois turned the knob on the radio, moving through static until she found a news station. There were reports coming in of a blackout in New York City. A major one, affecting all five boroughs and parts of southern Westchester. Joe watched with growing anxiety as she scanned the highway ahead.

One thing Joe did know was that the car needed gas, badly. His mother had said something about a station right off the Ninety-Fifth Street exit, but now as the exit approached, she wondered aloud if you could pump gas in a blackout. Joe and Robbie knew the question wasn’t meant for them, but they looked at each other and shrugged anyway.

“Jesus, why the hell didn’t I go over the GW?” he heard her mumble. “I could have put a gallon in right on the other side.”

“The tolls,” Joe said, assuming he was being helpful. “I thought we were saving money going through the city. The Staten Island Ferry is only two dollars.”

“Know-it-all,” Robbie said with practiced disgust. “She just said that, like, ten minutes ago.”

“He’s right,” she said, shaking her head. “Even if I had enough change for the turnpike, after the gas I wouldn’t have made it over the Goethals.”

Joe wasn’t sure what the Goethals was, but it must have been something requiring a toll. He had read a book once about a little troll that lived under a bridge and demanded money from people crossing it, so maybe it was a bridge.

A few seconds later, as if on cue, the car started to sputter. Lois spoke through gritted teeth as Robbie announced that they were passing the Ninety-Fifth Street exit.

“We can’t get gas if the stations are dark,” she said. “Look, at the next exit there’s a boat dock. Someone might have gas there, like in a can.”

“How long is it to the boat place?” Joe asked in almost a whimper.

“Like a mile. Just relax, okay?”

“Something’s wrong with the car, Mom,” Robbie said. His usual insouciant tone was gone. He sounded worried. It was really dark in the car now. Lois stole a look at Joe in the rearview mirror, and Joe’s eyes started to tear up. His mother looked like she was about to cry.

Lois put two hands on the wheel as the sign for the Seventy-Ninth Street Boat Basin emerged out of the darkness. Joe saw the first dotted lines of the exit in the headlights. Lois drifted right, and the car stalled. She shifted to neutral and cranked the engine. It roared to life, then stalled again. That was it. She rolled off the ramp onto some gravel.

“Oh, dear God.”

“We’re out of gas?” Robbie asked, high-pitched with fright.

“Yes.”

The southbound parkway at Seventy-Ninth Street exited onto a traffic circle that overlooked the Hudson River. From the exit, you entered the circle at a six o’clock position. If you kept going around, you would be at a nine o’clock position and on Seventy-Ninth Street, going east into the city. Or you could get back on the parkway southbound at a twelve o’clock position. There was a little side road down into Riverside Park at around one o’clock on the circle. That road led to the boat basin, behind iron gates at the water’s edge.

As the car came to a stop, Joe felt clammy fear slip into his belly. All around them it was as black as pitch. The car’s headlights cut a path of light straight ahead—three o’clock—toward the concrete wall at the edge of the circle overlooking the water. Across the river was New Jersey, still lit up and normal looking but far away and disconnected.

“Mom, what’re we gonna do?” Joe asked.

His mother lit a cigarette and sighed. She turned off the headlights, which placed them in terrible darkness for a moment, then clicked on the yellowing dome light in the car. “I’ll have to go looking for gas.” She turned around to Robbie. “You need to stay here with Joe, okay?”

“What? Mom, no way! It’s dark as all hell.”

“H-e-double toothpicks,” Joe said.

“Shut up.”

“Robbie, please,” Lois said. To Joe her eyes looked red rimmed and pleading. “Please, I need you now.”

“C-can we leave the light on?” he asked.

“No, honey,” she said. “The battery will go dead; you know that.” She dug through her purse and produced a Bic lighter. “Here. Use it if you need it, but be careful with it. Anyway, your eyes will adjust.”

“Mom, please,” Joe whined. “Take us with you.”

“I can’t, baby. Everything we own is in this car. We can’t leave it. Just give me a few minutes. I’ll find help and get us a can of gas. Once we get to the ferry, it’ll all be fine. I’ll call Uncle Mike and have him meet us in Saint George.”