The Immortality Plot

The Immortality Plot - chapter 16

There are many kinds of pollutants in Brooklyn’s Newtown Creek. There is flammable oil that seeps in from an underground oil spill that makes it dangerous to smoke in the area, despite the guys who pump out the oil once every week. Oil comes under the boom that was put there to keep it contained. There is garbage: wooden pallets, clothes, sneakers, candy wrappers, bottles, chairs and there is street run-off during rains and high tides.

There are heavy metals, including copper, mercury, cadmium and lead, which come from various industrial sites along the creek, and which settle at the bottom and are ingested by marine life.

There is raw sewage entering the creek from illegally tapped pipes. Even though most people don't care about the creek – it’s probably New York’s least visited spot, some people are trying to clean it, like the NYC Department of Environmental Protection, the NY State Department of Environmental Conservation, the East River Apprenticeship, the Riverkeeper and Baykeeper, and the Newtown Creek Alliance.

Surprisingly, life still thrives in such a contaminated environment with crustaceans and snapper providing some sport for fishermen. Whether it is advisable to eat whatever is lifted wriggling and dripping out of the creek is another matter.

Theodore Moss worked along the creek. He had a part-time job with the Riverkeeper now he’d retired. He tried his best to stop those people who did venture creek side from throwing more garbage into the murky waters and he generally kept an eye out for unusual evidence of new pollution or of new oil slicks appearing.

Generally, Theodore didn’t see too many people on his lonely beat. He kind of liked that. He could see the Pulaski Bridge opening and closing behind him, like Tower Bridge in London, he thought, remembering the retirement trip he and his wife had made to the English capital. Before him and to the side he could appreciate the scale of Manhattan’s towering buildings, with two obvious exceptions now that the twin towers had gone. Theodore had witnessed the 9/11 attacks from the safe distance of Newtown Creek and had been so devastated he had collapsed onto a grassy bank of scrub to catch his breath and stop the tears from flowing.

Mostly Theodore was creek conscious. He kept his attention focused on the waterside. He didn’t often check out anything land side. This was a nondescript area. There were some houses and apartments a little inland and there were industrial operations along the creek. And there was that old gospel chapel he used to attend when he was a boy. Newtown Creek had been different then. It had been a vibrant community. Theodore believed that when the gospel hall closed down for good then God just up and left Newton Creek forever.

It was early afternoon when he noticed them.

Rats.

Nothing special around here, he thought.

But you didn’t see colonies of rats so often, not in full view. And they were circling around the ruins of the old gospel hall. That’s odd, thought Theodore and his instincts as an observer, honed from the years he had spent patrolling the creek since he retired, alerted him. That’s very odd. That’s never happened before.

What’s attracting the rats?

He thought he had better take a look. The gospel hall was an abandoned building set behind a graffiti-ridden and partly collapsed galvanized metal fence on about an acre or so of wasteland. It wasn’t far from the water’s edge. There was the track where Theodore was standing and there was some scrub land, a few rusting and long abandoned vehicles, the gospel hall and nothing much else had been left standing. It was truly a God forsaken place.

Theodore picked his way carefully through rubble and garbage and as he approached the side of the old chapel the rats took fright and scuttled off screaming abuse. Carefully and slowly Theodore reached the open door at the side of the hall and tentatively entered.