Chapter Three
Ice-cold wind bit into exposed flesh with the same conviction as cruel fangs. This, the coldest day of the month, had sprouted vicious teeth and nails, which would have given any beast from the Jurassic Age a run for its money. Winter held on with unsympathetic malevolence. The branches of the trees that lined the streets and avenues were burdened with frost – stark white limbs reaching desperately towards the washed-out February sun. In some places, patches of grey snow lingered on colourless swathes of frozen land, out of reach of the sun and children alike.
The remnants of snowmen lurked along sidewalks; obese sentinels watching the hub of New York City go about its business. Like a superhuman heart, Manhattan Island pumped people into its core – millions of corpuscles, each charged with enthusiasm – held them there momentarily, and then sent them home, worn-out and defused. Wrapped in long scarves, thick overcoats and insulated boots, the city’s inhabitants rushed home in the early-evening twilight, eager to take refuge from the biting wind.
In stark contrast to the freezing horrors of outside, indoors was a warm haven, which offered sanctuary to both saints and sinners, irrespective of whether their hearts were filled with innocence or murderous intent.
The aroma of the bowl of stew beneath Thomas Carter’s nose barely registered. Small, unidentifiable pieces of god-knows-what floated on the surface and seemed to avoid Carter’s spoon, no matter how hard he tried to scoop them up. A crusty bread roll lay untouched beside the bowl. Carter eyed it with uncertainty. The roll looked stale enough to have come from some recently unearthed Egyptian tomb. Dark crumbs dotted the bread intermittently, reminding him of sand. He'd read somewhere that ancient Egyptians had mixed fine sand with dough in an attempt to make supplies of flour go further, before offering it to unsuspecting slaves.
“Are you gonna eat that?” someone at his side asked.
A dreadful stench wafted towards Carter. He turned to his right and found a wrinkled old face looking at him expectantly. The old man’s head bobbed towards the crust, his hooked nose almost close enough to peck at it.