Ted stood stock still as water bottles, thermoses, and danish fell clattering at his feet and rolled away.

"I presume," the man's voice said, "that you did receive a call." The figure came closer and emerged from shadow. He was in his mid forties, Ted guessed, solidly built, and balding. He was dressed in jeans, expensive sneakers, and a well-worn New York Yankees T shirt. He had an air of toughness about him, but not in a menacing way.

"Who are you?" Ted asked, in astonishment. "Where did you come from?"

"John O'Mally," the man said. "I just came from Manhattan, on my way to Boston. Same as you, I suspect."

"Manhattan?" Ted asked, "Is there anyone there?" The words themselves sounded absurd to his ears.

"If there is, I didn't find them," O'Mally said. "And, believe me, it wasn't for lack of looking. I'd been all over the city since about four this morning. It's like a goddamned ghost town. Then I got a call from my partner. I traced the number to MIT in Boston."

"Traced it?"

"I'm a cop," he said. "FBI, actually. I know a thing or two about tracing calls. And believe me, that call came from MIT. That's where I'm heading now."

O'Mally didn't look like FBI.  Must have been the Yankees shirt. Ted tried to picture him in a dark suit and tie.

"Yeah, I got a call from my girlfriend," Ted told him. "It looked like a Boston exchange to me."

He started picking up the waters and thermoses. O'Mally came over and helped him.

"So," Ted said, "what the hell is going on?"

"Damned if I know. I was on surveillance on the lower East side. My relief never showed. I must have fallen asleep in the car. When I called in on the radio I got nothing. When I couldn't reach anyone on the cell phone either, I got out and started snooping around. There was no one around. I mean no one. The guy I was watching was gone. Everyone in the damn building was gone. Vanished. I broke into every apartment in the place. Every single one of them -- empty. At four a.m.  But what really shook me was the streets. They were deserted. Streets in New York City are never deserted. Not like that. I headed back to the office. Empty. that's when I got the call."

"And what did your partner tell you?" Ted asked.

"Not a whole lot," O"Mally said. "Connection was lousy. But I'll tell you one thing -- he was scared. And this is a guy who doesn't scare easy. He said he was in his apartment one minute, getting ready to relieve me at the sight, and the next he was in this room with a lot of other people. He didn't know what the hell happened. Couldn't find his wife. So what about your girlfriend? What did he have to say."

"Pretty much the same thing," Ted told him. "One minute she was in the shower and the next she was... somewhere else. She was really scared. I need to find her."

"Might be best if we travelled together," O'Mally said. We can go in my car, if you want. I have the radio and the police scanner. Might come in handy."

"That sounds like a good idea," Ted began, "but...well...how do I know you're really FBI?  Excuse me for saying so, but I just don't know who to trust. This whole thing is a little twilight zone, you know?"

O'Mally took out his walley and flashed his FBI badge at Ted. It looked real enough, but Ted wouldn't have known the difference.

"Don't be sorry," O'Mally said. "Under the circumstances, I don't blame you for being suspicious. But let's face it, we don't have much of a choice here. We stand a better chance by staying together."

"Agreed. I'll just get some things from my car. C'mon Murph." The dog looked expectantly at Ted and wagged his tail.

"I'll load up some more provisions." O'Mally said. "Mine's the black SUV out front. Meet you there in ten  minutes."

Murphy followed as Ted went to retrieve Becky's bag and the phone recharger from the car. He had to admit feeling better knowing he wasn't the only person left. And the fact that O'Mally knew the call came from MIT felt like one step closer to Becky.