The
clouds hang low and heavy, the dark grey that promises more rain.
You
shiver as a gust of cold wind whips up under the hem of your coat.
Rain
begins to fall; fat cold drops that slip down the back of your neck. You step
away from the edge of the subway platform, back under the protection of the
metal awning, as the rain falls faster.
The ting, ting turns to a dull roar, the only sound on this empty
platform, as you continue your miserable vigil.
There
are never many people at this stop at this time in the evening, but the rain
must have convinced them all to stay home. Even the older salary man with the
salt and pepper hair and identical black suit every day is missing. Jealously
burns in your chest as you blow on your icy hands.
Although
it is only five, the gathering dark makes it feel much later. The street lights
have been on all day. You look at your watch, just to make sure it isn't really
eight or nine. No. Five thirteen. The
train should be here in one minute.
Chimes
blast from the loudspeakers, overly loud on this quite night. You jump. But it
is just the notice of the approaching train. The train you have been waiting
ten minutes for.
Through
the curtain of rain, you see the warm, yellow lights approaching, seeming so
much more inviting in the gloom than they usually do. The train slides toward
you, driving a wind before it that blows the rain toward you for a moment. Then
the doors whoosh open and you sprint through the icy downpour.
There
are noticeably fewer passengers inside. There is only one other person seated on
the dark red, velvet seats- an old lady, quietly sleeping with her chin resting
on her wrinkled chest. You move past her, toward the furthest door of the car,
and take a seat. Through the open connecting door you notice the rest of the
train is empty. It is just you, the sleeping old woman, and the driver three
cars in front of you.
The
doors close and you sway slightly in your seat as the train accelerates away
from the station.
The
heaters have been turned on. They warm the back of your legs. The warmth seeps
into your stiff, cold limbs. The steady beat of rain on the roof and the sound
of the tracks zipping by beneath you fill your ears. You find yourself sinking
into the seat, the weight of the weather and stress at work being pulled out of
you by the slightly prickly fibers. The subway car is a metal cocoon of warmth
and safety from the weather.
You
stare blindly out the far window. You can only see the droplets and streams of
rain; the rest is obscured by darkness and the raging downpour. As the train
speeds on, your eyelids grow heavier and heavier. You fight to remain conscious,
but the harder you fight the closer sleep comes to claiming you.
Just
a moment, you tell yourself. I will just close my eyes for a moment. There is
still quite a bit of time before your stop. But a moment passes and you have
not opened your eyes. You are asleep.
Do
you wake up in time for your stop?
Yes - Go to number 1.
No - Go to number 2.
1.
You
awake with a stat as the doors next to you slide open. Still somewhat groggy,
you only half recognize the name of the station printed on the glowing sign.
Realization
surges through you and you lunge onto the platform just as the doors are
closing.
You
trudge up the steps into the cold, clear air. The rain has stopped, but it is completely
dark now. You walk quickly down the
glistening streets toward home, the taste of hot cider filling your tired, cold
mind.
2.
You
wake with a start; your eyes popping open, but your mind still heavy with
sleep. It takes a moment to get your bearings.
The
rhythmic shh thunk, shh thunk of the train speeding along tells you that you are
still moving, but outside it is now full dark. Lights shine from the windows of
buildings, but their shape and relation are blurred by the pouring rain. The
sleeping old woman is gone. You are alone in the car.
How
long were you asleep? It feels like just a moment that you closed your eyes,
yet things have changed in the subway car. Your heart starts to beat faster.
What if you missed your stop? You glance at your watch - five forty seven. Have
you missed it? The darkness and rain make it impossible to tell.
You
curse yourself for falling asleep. It has always been one of your worst fears, ever
since you took a job with such a long commute. But tonight, between the rain
and the darkness, you are especially upset with yourself.
Where
are you? When will the driver announce the next station? You wait impatiently,
drumming your fingers on your thigh. A knot is forming in your throat,
threatening to choke you.
You
glance into the car behind you. A figure in a long, dark coat is standing in
front of the middle door of that car. His hat is pulled down low and his collar
pulled up high, hiding his face in shadow.
You
turn to look out the window, struggling to make out the buildings through the
rain.
Suddenly,
lightening streaks across the sky, lighting up the landscape.
Where
are you?
A part of town you've never seen
before - Go to number 3.
Somewhere frighteningly different -
Go to number 4.
3.
In
the brief flash, the skyline is seared into your eyes. Where are you? You see the
buildings on the back of your eye lids. You don't recognize their shapes. This
is a part of town you have never seen.
Panic
floods your mind. Your heart pounds and you realize you've been holding your
breath.
The
intercom crackles and the driver announces the next stop. You leap from your
seat and rush for the map posted above the far door. Frantically you scan the
stop names, searching for the one you just heard. You find it, four stops past
yours.
You
have never ridden the train past your stop. Right or wrong, you always thought
of everything past your stop as the bad part of town. It is full of large
apartment complexes, factories, and has a reputation for violent crime.
Your
eyes continue down the map. You breathe a sigh of relief when you count one,
two, three stops till the end of the line. You return to your seat to wait for
the train to turn around.
You
feel drained as you sink back onto the prickly seat. The panic has begun to dissipate,
leaving you exhausted. You are still frustrated with yourself, but the problem
will be resolved soon. Mentally, you calculate how much change you might need
for the fare adjustment. You have never done this before. Will they make you
pay for this blunder? You have missed a stop before, got off, changed trains,
and returned without being charged before. But would it be okay? Would they
catch the extra time and make you pay more?
You
are lost in your thoughts as the train pulls into the next station. The doors
open and a trio of people step into your car. You are pulled from your
thoughts.
Like
the man in the car behind you, these three are dressed for very cold weather.
One is a young girl. Her stockinged knees peek out between the hem of her red
jacket and the top of her black boots. She has on a dark grey wool cap and a grey and
red plaid scarf that covers the bottom half of her face. The only things uncovered
are her bright blue eyes. She catches you with those icy orbs.
You
quickly look at her companions - two large men, made even larger by their heavy
garments. Each one holds one of the girl's gloved hands in his own massive paw.
Both wear black wool caps pulled down to just above their eyes. One has a long,
dark brown ponytail falling down his back.
His face is covered with thick black stubble. The second has a full red
beard that hides his mouth and neck. Both men watch you with eyes so dark brown
they are almost black. Silently the trio sits across from you on the empty
train. Silently they stare at you as the subway lurches to life.
You
turn to the car behind you. The man in the heavy coat is still standing in front
of the middle door. A dark skinned woman with white hair and a hunter green
jacket sits on the far side of him.
You
look back at the strange trio in your own car. The bearded man has closed his
eyes and is resting his head against the window behind him. The other man has
pulled out a magazine. Between them, the
girl continues to stare at you.
You
close your own eyes to escape her stare. There is no trace of your earlier
lethargy. The last few minutes have left you wide away.
At
the next stop a young man with spiked black hair, a black leather jacket, and
tight denim jeans saunters into the car.
His music, playing through lime green headphones, is loud enough to hear
over the rain still pounding on the metal roof.
He sits at the far end of your seat.
Behind him, you see the man in the dark coat step off the train.
At
the next stop no one gets on. You breathe a sigh of relief. The weather, the
strange people, the scary neighborhood...your mind is running wild.
Finally
you come to the last stop. The strange, silent trio stands and exits the car. The
young man sings under his breath and bobs his head to the beating music as he
follows him. You are alone again.
The
driver, a lanky man in his early forties, who looks out of time in his dark
conductor uniform, opens the door from the car in front of yours.
"End
of the line," he calls.
You
nod. "I missed my stop. I was just going to ride back."
Does
he make you get off?
No - Go to number 5.
Yes - Go to number 6.
4.
In the sudden blackness that
follows the lightning flash, you try to comprehend what you just saw. Outside
the window was a vast plain of black grass, dotted with crumbling buildings and
gnarled white trees reaching their naked limbs toward the dark sky like souls
in agony. You are dreaming. You must be dreaming.
Wildly you glance around the
empty train. There must be some clue that this is all a dream. But why aren't
you waking up? You pinch the skin on the back of your right hand, your nails
leaving white indentations from the pressure. White like the skeletal trees still
burned into your eyelids.
Thunder rolls across the car, rattling
the handholds swinging above your head. The train begins to slow as if
approaching a station. There was no announcement. Where can you be? You squeeze
your eyes shut, afraid of where this nightmare might be going. Wake up. Wake
up.
The train stops.
The doors hiss open, bringing the
sound of pouring rain and a cold blast of air.
After a moment they hiss closed
again. You did not hear anyone get on.
The train begins to move.
Slowly you open your eyes. Your breath
catches in your throat. Across from you sits a young woman dressed in a frilly
black Victorian looking costume. The skin on her thin face is almost perfectly
white except for the smudges of dirt. Her eyes are closed, but the lids and area
under her eyes is black, making her cheekbones even more prominent. Her dark
hair hangs in tussled ringlets around her face. There is a small red leaf
clinging to it near her left temple. You look away before she can open her eyes
and see you.
You look into the car behind you.
The man in the long, dark coat has taken a seat on the dark red closest to your
car. You still cannot see his face clearly. You heart begins to beat even
faster.
There are a half dozen more
people in the car now. They are all dressed in various shades of black, charcoal,
and navy. Four are seated. Two stand. They all give off the same feeling of
sadness as the woman seated across from you. Every hair on your body stands on
end as you look quickly from one to the other.
A flash of color catches your
eyes. A young girl in a red coat, who had been hidden by the large man in black
seated next to her, leans forward. Blonde hair covers her face. She is swinging
her short legs. She has no feet. Her black stockings disappear into nothing.
Quickly you turn back to the woman
across from you. The hem of her gothic skirt hangs a little above the train
floor. There are no shoes under it.
You are on a train with ghosts.
You struggle to stay calm as the
storm rages outside and the ghost sits quietly across from you. Fear wraps
itself around your throat, threatening to choke you. You want to scream. You
want to cry. You want to run.
Slowly you turn to look at the
man in the dark coat. He meets your gaze with blazing yellow eyes. He smiles, exposing a mouth full of sharpened
teeth.
You start to leap from your seat,
but the ghost across from you stirs. Frozen with fear, you grip the armrest to
your left. You can still feel your hand shaking even through your white knuckle
grip. You squeeze your eyes shut.
You feel the train slowing again
as it pulls into a new station. As the doors open, you open your eyes, ready to
run. The platform is filled with pale people in dark clothing with no feet. The
smell of wet earth and decay fills the air.
Do you flee through the crowd of
ghosts?
No?
- Go to number 7.
Yes?
- Go to number 8.
5.
The
conductor smiles, "You wouldn't be the first. We'll leave in two minutes. Don't
fall asleep this time."
"I
won't," you promise. You consider asking him about an extra fare charge as
he moves past you into the next car, but you hold your tongue. You will cross
that bridge when you come to it.
You
watch the strange riders from your car disappear down the steps of the
platform. The girl glances your way last time before disappearing from sight. You
shiver and press into the warm seat a little more.
The
doors close and the train takes off in the opposite direction. You lean your
head against the window behind you. Its cold mingles with the warmth of the
car. It feels good.
The
return trip is uneventful. At each stop the doors open on empty platforms. Soon
it is your stop. You pull your jacket
tight around you and step out into a light drizzle.
It
is now 6:07. You are only half an hour later than usual. Pushing your hands a
little deeper into your pockets, you think about the warm cup of coco, with a
generous splash of vodka, that you will cap off this adventure with.
6.
"This
train is going out of service. You will have to wait for the next one,"
the conductor says, covering the distance between you quickly with long, quiet
strides.
"When
is it," you ask.
"Fifteen
minutes."
He
floats past you into the next car.
You
take a deep breath and push yourself up from the warm seat. Pulling your jacket
tight around you, you step out onto the platform. The strange trio from your car
is still on the platform. The youth in black stands near them, nonchalantly
leaning against the wall and tapping his foot to the music. The white head of the
dark skinned woman is disappearing slowly down the platform steps.
You
move just far enough from the train to be protected from the icy rain, which seems
to have picked up again. You feel the little girl's eyes on your back as you
face the departing train.
The
warm yellow glow from the windows snakes through the darkness, leaving you
alone in the cold, white light of the station platform.
You
hear movement behind you. You turn to find the youth has moved from the wall
and taken a seat in the light blue plastic chairs right behind you. His long
legs are splayed out in front of him.
His fingers fly across the face of his phone. His head bobs to the
music.
The
girl and one of her companions, the one with the ponytail, sit on another set
of chairs a little further away. There
is no sign of the bearded man. What are they waiting for? Before the girl can
catch your gaze again, you look back toward the sheets of rain falling on the
empty tracks.
The
minutes pass like hours. Your hands and feet are stiff with cold. Each breath
fogs and hangs in the damp air as the temperature drops further. To keep warm,
you decide to walk further down the platform.
As
you pass the seats with the little girl and the two large men, the girl
giggles. You look without thinking. She is sitting between the two men, swinging
her feet. The scarf has been pulled down so she can drink the bottle of red
juice she holds. Her lips are blood red and curled in a slight smile. You freeze in the gaze of her icy eyes.
"Good
evening," she says. Her voice sounds overly childish, like an adult trying
to seem younger. It seems strange.
"Good
evening," you stutter.
Her
companions are looking at you now. Your heart beats faster. But her eyes hold
you in place. "I like the rain," she says.
The
bearded man moves. He puts his hand on hers. She turns toward him, releasing
you from her spell. You turn quickly and resume your walk down the
platform.
"Mister,"
she calls after you, "do you like the rain?"
You
turn and smile, keeping your eyes closed. "Not tonight. I forgot my
umbrella."
"That's
too bad."
You
turn again and keep walking to the end of the platform. You check your watch. Still
five more minutes before the next train. You stare off into the darkness,
waiting for the familiar yellow light to appear.
But
it doesn't. The appointed time comes, but the train has not arrived. You glance
down the platform. The other passengers from your car are still there. The girl
leans over and smiles at you.
Five
more minutes pass and the train has still not arrived.
Do
you continue to wait?
Yes - Go to number 9.
No - Go to number 10.
7.
You try to stand, but fear has
turned your legs to boneless lumps of flesh. The ghosts silently stream onto
the train. One sits next to you. Others push in and cling to the handholds
above you.
The smell of decay is
overwhelming. It erodes the mental dam holding back your tears. They stream
freely and silently down your face.
The doors slide closed. The train
begins to move. The intercom crackles to life. A hoarse whisper relates that
you are approaching the final stop.
"I'm sorry," the ghost
on your right says.
You turn and look at him. Unlike
the others, his skin is blistered and charred. He wears a tattered conductor's
uniform. The smell of smoke clings to him. "I'm sorry," he says again.
You stare at his disfigured face
and milky eyes.
"There was a car on the
tracks. I couldn't stop. I'm sorry."
You realize why you are on this
train of the dead.
8.
With a deep breath, you propel
yourself from the seat. You push through the cold fog of spirits and burst onto
the platform as the doors slide closed behind you.
Your body shakes with fear and
fatigue as you stand doubled over on the platform, panting. The
train pulls away, leaving you alone. The storm rages around you, the cold wind
freezing the sweat that clings to the back of your neck. Thunder cracks and the
wind howls through the metal rafters of the depot awning. In the flashes of
lightening you look out over the bleak landscape.
Where should you go? If you stay
here, another train might appear. More ghosts and devils might show up. The burning
eyes of the passenger in the long black coat flash across your mind. You can't
stay here. But you don't know where you are. You have given up on waking from this
dream, if it is a dream.
Slowly you stand. With a deep,
searing breath you take one step toward the exit. Then you take another. You
don't know where you will end up, but anything is better than this train
station for the dead.
There are no gates or turnstiles
on this platform. You walk straight out onto the deserted plain. You pause just at the edge of the platform's
shelter. You look left. Through the curtains of rain, you cannot see far. Maybe
those are figures approaching slowly. Maybe they are just the remains of a
building decaying in this land of death. You struggle to see more than ten feet
from your current position. Turning right you think you can make out a light in
the distance. It is just a slight glow obscured by the rain and storm. Is it
even really there?
Which way do you turn?
To
the left - Go to number 11.
To
the right - Go to number 12.
9.
The
rain begins to let up. You don't notice at first, but soon the downpour has
become a trickle and then even that stops. The platform is eerily quiet after
the constant roar of the rain on the metal awning. The air feels clean and the
smell of wet concrete rises up from the platform and buildings around you.
The
youth in black stands. He holds his hand out from under the shelter. After a
moment he shoves it into the pocket of his tight jeans and saunters toward the
stairs.
The
girl and two men follow. The girl smiles and waves at you before the man with
the ponytail takes her hand. "Swing," she giggles. The two men lift
her easily by the arms and swing her between them as they approach the stairs.
Now
you are alone.
The
night sounds of the city travel over the concrete walls of the station. A car
splashing through puddles as it speeds through the darkness. A cacophony of
radios and TVs as windows are opened in the many apartments around the station
to let in the fresh air.
Now
that the rain has cleared, you can make out the buildings. Huge apartment
complexes tower over the subway platform, which in turn stands a few stories
over the street. There are lights everywhere as people are probably sitting
down to dinner.
At
6:38 the train finally arrives. You hear it coming. It is a yellow snake of
light moving through a forest of multicolored lights that reach far into the
still cloudy sky.
A
wave of warmth washes over you as you step through the doors. You collapse onto
the silvery blue velvet seat. Your hands begin to ache as the warmth works its
way into your body. You rest your head against the cold window behind you. You
close your eyes, but you won't fall asleep. You open them briefly to watch the
new conductor pass by, and then close them again.
The
doors hiss closed. The train begins to move. Your mind replays the events of
tonight's adventure. You realize that the youth and the trio did not have
umbrellas either. That is probably why they stayed on the platform after the
train. You almost laugh, but the little girl's eyes still haunt you as you
speed toward home. Instead you think of how good a hot toddy would be. Just
thinking about it fills your stomach with warmth.
10.
Gradually,
the rain tapers off from a downpour to a light drizzle. The train has still not
arrived. You glance at your watch. It
has been over half an hour, twice what the conductor told you.
Soon
the rain stops. The other passengers from your car begin to leave the platform.
The young man in black leather goes first. His whole body moves to the beat of the
music still blasting from his headphones. He slowly disappears down the
station's steps. The girl gives her legs an extra swing and propels herself
from the seat between the two men. She spins around as her companions slowly
rise and stretch.
"The
rain stopped," she calls to you as each man takes one of her small hands. "You
can go home now."
"I
am waiting on the next train," you find yourself saying.
She
giggles as the men lead her away. The sound is ominous in the sudden quiet
after the rain.
You
breathe a sigh of relief when you are finally alone.
With
the rain stopped, you can finally see the buildings. In the dark, they don't
look particularly ominous. Just huge black structures dotted with bright
windows, like the Lite-Brite you used to play with as a child. The sounds of the
city coming to life travel up to you from the street below. A car splashing through puddles as it speeds
through the darkness. Shouts of greeting and farewell as people leave the
buildings they have been sheltering in. A cacophony of radios and TVs poured out as people
open windows to let in the fresh, cold air. You take a deep breath, the smell
of wet concrete and asphalt filling your nose. You exhale. Your breath fogs and
hangs in the cold, damp air.
The
minutes continue to tick by. Thirty-five. Forty. Forty-five. Is there another
train? The girl's haunting laugh comes back to you. Doubt creeps in. Fifty
minutes.
Your
hands are frozen. Your feet tired. Hunger gnaws at your insides. You realize
you haven't eaten since the apple you had for lunch. As if reproaching you,
your stomach rumbles loudly. After fifty-five minutes, you decide the train is
not coming.
Hesitantly
you move toward the steps. As soon as you leave, you know the train will show. You
stop at the top of the steps and look down the black ribbon of tracks. There is
no train, no sound, no lights. With a heavy sigh, you take the first step down.
The
gate is deserted. The lights are on in the employees’ booth, but there is no
one there.
"Hello,"
you call, hoping someone will answer. But there is only silence and the buzz of
fluorescent lights.
"Hello,"
you try again, desperation just barely tinging your voice. Still silence.
You
wait a moment longer then swipe your subway card and step through the gate.
On
the other side, fear starts to wrap itself around your chest. You don't know
where you are. How will you find your way? You had thought to hail a taxi, but
now the possibility that there won't be one clouds your determination. You take
one last look at the employee booth, hoping someone has miraculously appeared. You
are greeted by empty glass.
You
move toward the escalator. As you step on, you think you hear the distant
rumble of the train. You scramble back
toward the gate. But the sound is gone. You stand frozen at the gate, ready to
swipe your card. Silence. After a minute, you turn back to the escalator. As
you do, you can swear you hear the giggle of a little girl. A chill runs down
the length of your spine and into your legs. You shiver.
The
station is two stories above the street. As you descend, the sounds of the
street get louder. When you reach the bottom, you find yourself in a glittering,
deserted concrete jungle. You had hoped for a restaurant or store, but there
are just dark windows. There are no people, and, as you expected, no
taxis. You look right then left, taking in this bleak landscape of wet, silent
buildings.
A
ways down the street opposite the subway exit you glimpse what seems to be a livelier
area. You cannot make out the words on the signs, but it is definitely
brighter. There seems to be people.
You
glance along the subway track heading back to your own station. It is dark. But
following it would eventually lead you home.
Which
way do you go?
Follow the tracks - Go to number 13.
Go toward the lights - Go to number
14.
11.
You step out
into the rain. The drops feel like icy needles on your exposed skin. You burrow
as far into your coat as possible. You close your eyes, the driving rain making
it nearly impossible to see anyway. Blindly, you begin your trek. You walk
slowly, your feet barely leaving the ground in a shuffle you hope will keep you
from running into anything – or any one. You focus on your breathing and your
steps, trying to block out the fantastic imaginings of your frightened mind.
Something
brushes against your leg. You keep your eyes shut. Hot tears flow from the
cracks between your eyelids.
Something is in
front of you. You sense it. Pulling your left hand from your pocket, you grope
the air in front of you. Your hand touches hard, cold stone. You open your
eyes.
The station is
behind you, an island of sharp white light in the overwhelming darkness. Ahead
you can make out buildings slightly darker against the black sky.
The rain begins
to slack off as you approach one of these silent structures. You find a door
hanging open. Inside it is cold, but dry.
You remove your
wet coat and shoes. You cannot start a fire, but maybe you can warm up a
little. Your find a corner near the
front of the building and collapse. You draw your knees up to your chin and
stare into the black void of the room. You mind has moved past confusion. There
are no answers for your questions. There is just the cold concrete at your
back, the dark room in front of you, and the sound of rain falling outside.
Eventually you
sleep, dreaming of the hot apple cider your grandfather used to make on nights
like these.
12.
It must be a
city or some kind of building, you decide. You pull your jacket close around
you and take a step into the squall. The rain drops barrage you like icy
bullets. You struggle to see the path ahead. You squint against the driving rain.
You lower you head and begin you trek.
Time passes. You
do not know how long. You cannot read your watch in the darkness. You are
soaked. Rain drips down the back of your neck, off your nose, from your hair. The
light is getting brighter, though. You quicken your pace.
You begin to
hear another sound, barely audible under the howl of the wind and the drum of
rain. It is almost like a roar. You keep
moving toward the fluctuating light ahead. Does it waver because of the rain? Or
is it something else. As you approach, you realize why it seems to flicker.
It is a city
engulfed in flames.
You move closer,
the warmth calling to you. You can hear the roar of the flames now, distinct
over the sounds of the storm.
A group of
figures stands near the edge of the flames. They are outlined black against the
wall of orange and red rising in front of them. They stand apart from each
other, but all stare deep into the inferno. You move closer. The figures do not notice. Their pale faces appear
to twist and contort in the unsteady light of the flames.
You turn to the
flames.
You see a derailed
subway car some way ahead in the fire. Two figures sit inside with their backs
to you. As you look, one of the figures moves. The glowing eyes of the
passenger in the long black coat stare at you through the broken window. The
demon smiles through the flames.
13.
You take one last look at the
brightly lit area several streets away. Your stomach growls in protest as you
turn toward the dark road that runs parallel to the raised train tracks. With a
sigh you start off on cold, tired feet. You try and imagine how far you must be
from home. Four stops. It could be miles.
As you walk, you offer fervent
prayers to any gods willing to listen. Please let there be a passing taxi. Please
let there be a restaurant. Please let you make it home safely.
You trudge on for what feels like
hours. You glance at your watch, 8:37. Already two hours late. The road is dark
and deserted. You walk with your stomach in your throat, ready to burst forth
in a scream. Stray cats, crows, and other animals peer at you from the gloom. You
jump as they move away from you. You imagine more sinister creatures in the
darker shadows.
A lone biker pedals toward you. He
wears a black hoodie and a black scarf wrapped around the bottom half of his
face. You pass between a rare streetlight. He looks at you with black eyes. He
continues on into the night. Did you really see that? You pick up the pace.
Sweat freezes on the back of your
neck. Your breathing comes in ragged gasps as you move as quickly as you can
without running.
Ahead of you, you see your
station, peeking over the shorter houses and shops. You feel tears forming in
the corners of your eyes as your stomach descends to its usual place in your
belly. You are almost home. You burst
into the lights of your station, relief washing over you like the light. Finally you are safe. Finally you are almost
home. You lean against the cold railing. Railing you pass every day. It has
never felt so good under your hand - solid, real, reassuring. You hold tight to
the rail as you catch your breath, as if you are afraid to let go. The night
air now feels refreshing on your hot, sweaty face. You breathe deeply as
familiar smells calm your raw nerves.
Finally, you straighten up,
adjust your jacket, and begin the short walk home. As the fear and tension of
the day disappear with each step you take, the hunger returns. You decide to
stop by your favorite restaurant, a small family place that serves the best
homemade pizza. Your mouth waters at the thought of cheese and sauce. And an
ice cold beer. You pick up your pace again, but not out of fear this time.
14.
Your heart sinks as your eyes
travel further and further down the dark street that will lead you home. You
hesitate. It would be wiser to find a restaurant or a shop and figure out
exactly where you are before traipsing off into the night with no idea where
you will end up. You turn again to the distant lights in the opposite
direction. Your stomach growls in
agreement.
Despite the logic of your
decision, you are hesitant at first. Like a young animal venturing from the
safety of cover for the first time, you are afraid to leave the only tie you
have to your normal world. Even if the train hasn't come, this is
still the only link you have to home. But hunger steels your resolve. You
convince yourself that the distant lights are a restaurant. You push forward,
each step more confident than the last.
As you approach the lights, your
hopes are somewhat dashed. Instead of a restaurant, you find a convenient
store.
From behind protective glass the
clerk watches you enter. He is young, maybe early twenties, with a heavy brow
and small, deep-set eyes. His suspicious glare makes you pause before asking
directions. Instead you turn down a
cramped aisle full of off brand snacks. You make your selection quickly, a
candy bar and some chips, and step toward the register.
You slip your items through a
metal drawer to the clerk. Without a work he rings them up. You bite your lip, trying
to figure out how to ask this silent man for directions.
He points to the total on the
register.
"Um," you start, desperately.
"I'm lost. Can you give me directions?" He frowns, but doesn't reply.
You push on. "The train didn't come." Why are you telling him this? The
man doesn't need or want to know the details. But you can't stop. The dam has
burst. "I need to get back to my station, but I don't know where I
am."
With a glare, the man pulls out
his phone. He brings up a map and holds it against the glass. You stare at it,
unable to orient yourself on the tiny screen.
The clerk growls and pulls the
phone back. "Where to?"
You tell him your home station,
afraid to be more specific.
He grabs a crumpled piece of
paper from under the register and smoothes it out. He writes down the
directions. He passes the grungy paper through the drawer. As you struggle to decipher
the writing he explains.
You feel more lost than ever, but
the look on his face keeps you from asking him to repeat himself. You pay for your items and shuffle back out
onto the street. Dejected, you head back to the dark subway station, the
starting point of your directions.
You do your best to follow the
directions, but soon you find yourself standing in the middle of an
intersection on a quiet residential street trying to figure out if you have
gone three blocks or not. Should you turn left or keep going? Did the clerk
count the street that teed into this one? Or not? The houses are all dark and
not even a dog barks. You feel completely alone.
You look right then left, then
put the scrap of paper in your pocket. You turn around and head back toward the
station. Maybe the clerk will call a taxi for you. Or maybe you will just sleep
at the station. Either seems better than wandering unfamiliar streets all
night.
As you retrace your steps, you
think about how good a soda would be right now. Your mouth is dry and your
stomach upset from all the ups and downs of this evening's adventure. Maybe a
soda mixed with something stronger.
