As a member of theImpractical Jokersteam,James S. Murray(a.k.a.
Murr) tries to have TV viewers in stitches.
Ive always loved the horror/sci-fi genre (some would argue that what we do onImpractical Jokersis horror!
), says Murray.
The idea forAwakenedcame to me one night on my long commute home to Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.
The subway station was empty and eerily quite, and I could barely see into the darkened tunnel ahead.
The further I peered, the darker the tunnel became.
I wondered what could live in there…or under there.
When the train finally arrived, those thoughts still floated around in my mind.
Needless to say, I moved seats.
The novel,available June 26, is co-written byDarren Wearmouthand published by Harper Voyager.
Read an exclusive excerpt fromAwakened, below.
If there were terrorists still here, the cops didnt want to alert them to their presence.
By now, the whole world knew about the attack on the Z Train and lives were at stake.
They pushed deeper, closing on the halfway point.
No idea what caused this, Bradshaw said.
But it doesnt look good.
Bradshaw pressed his back against the tunnel wall and edged to the side of the hole.
He flicked on his flashlight and aimed the beam downward; it speared into the dark, dusty air.
Donaldson grabbed a rock from the pile of rubble and tossed it down.
Im no geologist, Donaldson said, but that aint right, is it?
Its safe to say weve discovered our breach.
Diego, weve found part of the problem.
The speaker let out a static squelch.Goahead, Carl.
Were by marker 119.
It looks like the railroad ties buckled under the track.
Theres a pretty deep hole.
We dont know how far down it goes.
Did you get that?
Roger.Is the track still intact?
Its bent upward on both sides of the hole, but the track hasnt ripped off the ties entirely.
Isthereany way you’re free to block or fill in the hole?
Not unless you send down a backhoe and a shit ton of dirt.
Any signs of life?
Inthatcase, you andJimpullback andreturntothestation.Dontforgetto keep your weapons holstered and stay alert.
The men turned to retreat, and Bradshaws shoe made a squishing sound.
He looked down to examine the ground and gasped.
Were standing in a goddamn pool of blood.
And what are those clumps on the floor?
Bradshaw leaned down to get a closer look.
What looked like a giant hock of flesh.
Bradshaw stumbled back in shock, nearly tripping over his own feet.
The walkie-talkie slipped from his hand and plunged into the abyss.
Thats the least of our concerns, Donaldson snapped.
Lets get outta here.
The officers retreated up the tunnel.
At the next marker, the walkie-talkie on Donaldsons belt crackled.
Come on, Bradshaw said.
Donaldson unclipped his walkie-talkie.
Diego, did you just pick anything up?
Nothing.What are you hearing?
Give us a minute.
Donaldson slowly walked back in the direction of the hole.
The speaker hissed, followed by a whisper.
It sounds like a kid, Bradshaw said.
Both men froze, silently waiting for another transmission.
Helpme,a little girl said more clearly through the speaker.
Donaldson pried away his gas mask and raised his walkie-talkie.
Helpme,she repeated.
Youre not hearing this, Diego?
Donaldson didnt answer as he took in the situation.
He knew he wasnt imagining things, because Carl definitely heard the girl, too.
Which meant that Munoz was probably out of her range.
And since her voice became clearer when he neared the damaged part of the tunnel .
He was pretty sure a passenger who had fallen into the hole had Bradshaws radio.
Donaldson sprinted for the hole and lifted his walkie-talkie.
We have a passenger alive.
May need medical assistance.
Were going back, over.
Negative,Munoz replied through the speaker.Returntoperimeter.
To hell with that.
Theres a kid down there.
He grabbed a basic medical pack and unhooked a coil of orange rope and an LED lantern.
Bradshaw knelt by the hole and raised his mask again.
Sweetheart, can you hear me?
Helpme,came through the walkie-talkie.
Were coming, Donaldson yelled.
Carl, tie this end to the track.
You cant go down there.
Hell, you dont even know how far down it goes!
Are you prepared to leave that kid to die?
Donaldson tore off his jacket and slipped on a pair of gloves.
We have to at least try, dont we?
Tie the goddamn rope, Carl.
Bradshaw hesitated for a moment before he secured an end to the track.
Donaldson cast the other end into the abyss.
Keep Munoz in the loop.
And be careful with it this time.
Donaldson planted his feet, leaned back, and lowered himself into the pitch-black shaft.
The dim orange light from his swinging lantern bounced off the walls.
He descended slowly, careful to avoid brushing against the jagged edges of the rock.
You see anything, Jim?
The shaft narrowed toward an opening and he had twenty feet to go.
Sweetheart, Donaldson said.
Can you hear me?
Help me, echoed from below.
Hearing the little girls voice directly for the first time struck him as odd.
It sounded the same every time, like a talking doll.
He paused to catch his breath and listened more intently.
The rock snapped below his boots and gave way.
He clamped his hands around the rope to stop his slide.
The light from the lantern cut.
Donaldson winced as strength drained from his body.
The rope slipped from between his fingers.
He plunged toward the opening and braced himself for the moment of impact.
He shook the lantern and tapped its side.
Jim, Bradshaws voice echoed from above.
Can you hear me?
Ill live but I think I broke my ankle.
Do you see the girl?
Something rustled in the darkness.
Sweetie, is that you?
Darling, head toward the light.
Im here to help you.
Im a police officer.
Donaldson crawled through the cavern and entered a tighter space where the stalactites scraped his back.
His lungs burned and his ankle throbbed, but his determination to save the girl drove him on.
His hand hit something soft, and he lifted a childs tattered and bloodstained white dress.
Sweetie, my God, Im coming.
Theres no need to be afraid.
A figure darted across his front.
Reach for my hand, honey.
Donaldsons shirt snagged on a stalactite.
He lowered the lantern and reached back to free his shirt.
In his peripheral vision, the figure lunged at him.
Blood spurted from his mouth and his vision blurred.
Jim, Bradshaw screamed in the distance.
Jim, are you there?
Through the darkness, a snarling face appeared below Donaldsons torn-open torso.
A scaly hand lifted Bradshaws walkie-talkie, and a dirty fingernail hit the transmit button.
