by Glen Krisch
The car was empty but for him, even with the early morning thrown into chaos by the startling events of the last twenty-four hours. Dreams escaping from a museum? He didn't know if he believed the stories, but he did know he would find his work easier. As soon as he heard the news on his shower radio this morning, he was certain he would find his victims easier to ply away from their relative safety. After all, with all of the hullabaloo, who would question his appearance, find fear or unease in his proximity?
Whatever was happening in the streets and alleyways, he was happy for the extra layer of tumult cast over the city.
White noise, disinformation.
He brushed his hand affectionately over his attaché. He'd had it long enough. After finishing work for the day, he would have to find a new case to carry his tools. No sense in allowing a pattern of details to develop. Ah, his tools. His diamond-tipped augers, his crude sail thread and needles… he had to clear his mind of them or risk allowing to surface a clue to his intentions.
But the train is empty, he thought. But all the better for the practice. The facade must be flawless. Who's to say who's secretly watching him?
Besides, the train is slowing.
The L-train bored through the dimly-lit tunnel, bored through it like his tools at work on human flesh. A gentle hiss of the air brakes indicated the train coming to a stop. He leaned against his inertia until the momentum died, until the train exited the tunnel and eased next to the elevated platform. The young man smiled inside as he casually looked out the window.
A lone woman with luminous auburn hair stood on the elevated platform. She hugged her arms in front of her as if she was trying to hold herself together.
The train doors split open, and the woman tentatively stepped aboard. Her indecision and insecurity made her an interesting possibility for his day. He saw much potential in the curve of her hip, the swell of her breast. And her eyes--alive with some unconventional light. He would explore and insinuate his tools into her soft tissues until he discovered its origin. Then once he understood this woman, he would sew her up again. Leave no trace of his violation.
Without looking at him, the woman braced her hand on a metal handrail, then turned down the narrow aisle, quickly taking a seat with seeming randomness. When she glanced about the train compartment, he offered her his most charming smile.
White noise, disinformation.
The world was too big, too overwhelming. The scope and complexity--the unending gray blanket of sky, the indistinguishable city blocks, the innumerable buildings. The build up of details, the minutia of every single thing…
Juliet's hand began to twitch.
Tears flowed down her cheeks. She didn't know what she was doing or where she was going. Or really, buried in the back of her mind, who she was.
At least no one took notice of her; her disguise was working. No one noticed her for being what she was. At least so far.
She fell in behind a group of people, trying to blend in as she collected her thoughts. The people were in such a hurry, jogging through crosswalks a split second after speeding cars rushed by.
She couldn't hide forever. Eventually, her emotions would give her away. And when the tears started to flow unbidden, when her moods darkened, things would happen. Strange things. The clouds would clear, the sun would shine, a drizzle of warm rain would patter over her skin. And then she would have the insatiable desire to kill herself. She wouldn't be able to think of anything else but ending her own life.
Her hand continued to twitch. Soon she would conjure up the handgun, then place it to her chin or temple. Maybe seeing her braincase exploding into a cloud of brain and blood--seeing her seemingly dead body tumble to the sidewalk, and then her wounds fade to nonexistence and watch her rise again--maybe that would give these strangers a clue as to who exactly they were walking with.
Juliet hugged the twitching limb to her chest, aware now how hard she was breathing. She hadn't a clue as to where to start looking for Maury, or even how to make her way through the city. At a busy intersection, Juliet fell into lockstep with a woman who exuded confidence. She wore a gray wool jacket the color of smoke. Her feet were clad in white walking shoes. The cuffs of her black pleated pants swayed at her ankles as she walked. She seemed to look down on the world from an unturned gaze. Her lips were tight, her eyes alert.
Without the woman noticing, Juliet followed her for a short while, not taking her eyes from the back of her coat. She was able to block out the rest of the world; as long as she followed this woman, she would be able to keep her dark thoughts at bay. The woman turned down a stairway that looked like an entrance to a catacomb. After a moment's hesitation, Juliet followed. At the bottom of the stairs, they reached a turnstiles, over which the woman deftly jumped.
For the first time, the woman acknowledged Juliet.
"Come on over, no one's here. We shouldn't have to miss our train just because they can't keep up on their repairs."
Juliet noticed a handwritten out-of-order sign hanging from the turnstiles. It also indicated they should enter the subway two blocks north.
The confident woman didn't wait for her reaction, and soon, a man in a business suit was impatiently waiting behind Juliet.
She had latched on to this unsuspecting woman as a chick will imprint on its parent after cracking through its eggshell. She felt a surge of panic as the woman walked down yet another set of concrete steps. Juliet hopped over the out-of-order turnstile, hurrying down the steps after the woman.
Before exiting the stairwell, Juliet looked over her shoulder. The view of the sky was shrinking. Seeing this, her heartbeat slowed, and she was regaining her composure somewhat.
She needed Maury. He was the only human she could trust. He was so kind, and she knew, even in her self-aware naiveté, that they shared a flawless love.
The humans were getting restless. She could feel it building; soon blood would be shed. The city was a powder keg. In the few hours since she left the museum, the streets had cleared of most people. They had scurried into buildings, into the security of their homes, hiding from the uncertainty and fear that had so suddenly swept over the city. Somehow she knew those who remained on the streets were either trying desperately to get home, or were predators seeking out easy prey.
At the bottom of the stairwell, train rails ran on either side of the platform. A few people were boarding a train, and as Juliet scanned the crowd, she noticed the confident woman boarding just as the doors were sliding shut. The woman looked ahead of her without flinching or a sign of fear and the train quickly pulled away from the platform, disappearing as it rounded a bend in the tunnel.
Juliet was alone. She sensed rats nearby. The subway's air was heavy, pungent with the odor of urine and something else, something possibly wicked. Her hand began to twitch again, and tears gathered at her lashes, ready to fall.
She pulled her trembling hand tight to her body, and willed the dark thoughts away.
She didn't know what she was going to do. She didn't exactly have a plan beyond following that woman, and it wouldn't have taken long for the woman to grow weary of having someone straggle behind her like a neurotic shadow. And now she was alone in this oppressive, dank place. At least the world felt smaller, more manageable.
White light, shining like starlight, gleamed around the bend of the tunnel. The ground was shaking, and then in short order, a train appeared. At first, Juliet thought the confident woman had come back for her. She felt certain she would step from inside the train, calling out to her. She would invite Juliet to come home with her and welcome her into her confident family. But this train was following the previous one. Her brief hope snuffed out like a blown match.
She didn't know what else to do, or where to go, so she stepped aboard the train when the doors opened. She kept her eyes to the floor, hurrying down the aisle to find a seat before the train took off again. She scanned the car, noticing only one other person.
An odd man with a sneer of a smi
le pinching his face.
His gray hair was creeping through a dye job the color of drying mud. His skin shone like that of a cooked turkey. He looked old, used up, unhinged.
Juliet had been free of confinement and able to walk the streets for a total of a few hours. Even so, right away she knew this man was trouble.
He stood up, holding his briefcase at his side, and approached her. His stomach was paunchy, straining against a shirt that might have fit him in his youth. He stopped less than a foot away from her, taking hold of the vertical metal handrail. Her eyes leveled on his protruding stomach. She saw crumbs dotting the brown shirt's wash-faded fabric.
She didn't want to look up.
When she did, the man was smiling his ugly smile.
"Hello."
He shifted his weight as the L-train jounced against the rails. The side of his leg came in contact with her knee. He didn't move away when he righted himself.
She didn't respond to him, and after a few tense moments of silence, his leg wedged between her knees, spreading her legs slightly. She still didn't say anything, and could only look ahead, look ahead and hope this nightmare would end.
The tunnel blurred outside the window, becoming a dirty, milk-white sky.
Her hands were now quaking.
She wondered if she would be able to turn the dream-gun on this man to scare him off before she would inevitably blow her brains out.
The train shifted speeds, adjusting to climb a slight incline. The unnatural tunnel light was meshing with the day-lit sky. They were rising from the underground.
The first building she saw was on fire. Flames guttered from broken windows; black smoke billowed into the sky. For an instant, Juliet was distracted from the creepy man. She knew he was still looking down at her, and his leg was still pressed between her knees, but suddenly someone shattered an apartment window with their face. She couldn't tell if it was a man or woman. The flames had done too much damage. Just as soon as the building appeared, the train left it behind. Another building appeared, also on fire. The whole neighborhood seemed to be in flames.
"I like your eyes."
The man's gravelly voice ripped back her attention.
Before she could react, the train slowed as the hiss of air breaks punctured the steady hum of the ride. They were coming to another train stop.
The man quickly sat down next to her, and placed a hand on her thigh. She gasped. His grip hurt, but she didn't want to find out what he would do to her if she tried to move away.
"This was going to be our stop. It's near a secret place I know. Looks like that's out of the question."
As the train slowed, Juliet hoped she could make a break for the open doors. After seeing the burning neighborhood, and the people crowding the train stop, she'd changed her mind.
The doors opened and a handful of people filed onto the train. They looked like they had been through war. Their eyes were vacant, their faces grimed with ash. A man was crying into his hands.
The doors closed, and they were soon away.
"Don't worry." The man's hot breath licked her ear. "I know another place. A better place. Then we'll have time to get to know one another. Just keep on doing what you're doing. Everything'll be just fine."
A girl clung to her mother's arm. The mother was spacing out, her mind off to some saner place. But the girl was staring down at Juliet, staring at her, then to the crazed man. She looked worried.
The man noticed the girl watching them. He leaned over to Juliet, whispering, "Smile for the little girl. You're scaring her."
She did her best to comply. The girl looked away, not really satisfied by the gesture.
The man squeezed her thigh again, painfully, and said, "Good job, honey."
The young man imagined how he looked with his new lady. They probably looked like a young couple on a date. His hand squeezing her thigh, just one of those impetuous gestures of youth.
White noise, disinformation.
He smelled her auburn curls, trying to pin down its light scent. Couldn't place it. Puzzling--he normally could name the scents of shampoos, perfume, feminine hygiene sprays. His new lady was a mystery.
He had planned to get the girl off the train when it stopped, but there was no way he could wend his way with her through all that smoke. His secret room at the factory would most likely be in flames. The place manufactured electronic components. If looters hit any place, it would be that factory. In a way, he hoped they torched the place, sent it to the ground in gouts of fire and ash. He needed to find a new place; four months was probably too long as it was. The flames would clean the abandoned storage room of any trace evidence of his work. Would incinerate the blood-stained mattress, the tapestry of skins he'd left to dry on clotheslines.
The little girl glanced at his new woman, her face pulled taut with concern. She looked up to her mother, but sensed it was useless asking her for help.
His new woman's hands were shaking in her lap; he could feel it through the flesh of her thigh. He found her mounting fear arousing.
She turned to him, whispering through gritted teeth, "Don't hurt anyone. Please."
He purposefully laughed loud enough so everyone in the train car could hear. He leaned over to his new woman and kissed her on the cheek, again squeezing her thigh, this time playfully.
White noise, disinformation.
A couple of mousy women looked their way, then quickly turned back to face the chaos sweeping the city. They were quite obviously seething with jealousy.
The two women looked at Juliet with sympathy; a sad look that reminded her of Sophie Marigold's expression when she would come to visit her in her enclosure at the museum. They sensed something was wrong, Juliet could see it in their eyes, but there was little they could do.
The L-train left the warehouse district to cut through a neighborhood of old brick apartments. It looked like the buildings would have been in sad shape even before the tenants had taken up arms against one another. As the train blurred by, Juliet caught a glimpse of a handgun held pointblank in someone's face. Then, somewhere at street level, gunshots resounded like scattered firecrackers, punctuated by occasional explosions of automatic weapons' fire.
The other passengers instinctively ducked down, and she imitated them. The man took this time of confusion to grope her breast.
Juliet slapped his hand away, and he exploded with oily-slick laughter.
"You're right, honey. Such displays are impolite in public. I can wait until we get home."
The train quickly left behind the battle zone neighborhood, and for the time being, it was quiet.
When Juliet sat back in her seat, her hand was trembling. It was going to be soon. In an instant, a gun would appear, and then she would add one more fright to the day of these strangers.
She overheard bits of a conversation between the women who had earlier looked to her with concern, "I heard she's covered in rats."
"Me too! They cover her like a winter coat."
"And she doesn't seem to be bothered at all by them."
"Can you imagine?"
"I think I would die."
"So would I. I just can't believe what the world is coming to."
"Don't worry. The mayor will call the president. The military will swoop in. Everything will be back to normal in a week."
"I hope you're right."
"I know I'm right. Dream creatures running wild through the city? Who would've ever thought…"
Juliet looked to her clasped hands resting in her lap. It was time. In the blink of an eye, the heavy steel appeared in her sweaty palm. She felt her arm begin to raise the gun.
The sunlight outside brightened, the gray cloud cover instantly burned away. Clear, warm rain peppered the train's windows.
"Well, would you look at that?" one woman turned to the other. "The sun's out, and it's raining. Some day this is turning out to be."
The man noticed the gun. His brow tightened, perplexed.
"What the
hell?" he blurted, pulling his hand from her thigh and sliding away.
The air brakes hissed as the train slowed. The passengers didn't notice the gun. They all seemed intent on leaving the train. They gathered at the closed doors, waiting for the instant they could leave the train and then do whatever they could to make sense of what was happened to a once sane world.
"Don't touch me. Ever again."
The doors split open a second after the train stopped, and the people spilled through the opening. Juliet's rain clouds pushed under the corrugated metal ceiling of the train stop, pushed clear through the doors and into the train car. The man watched all of this happening, then turned his gaze to Juliet.
She was struggling against the suicidal impulses guiding her hand. The gun was at shoulder height, cocked towards her head, moving jerkily towards her temple. She was fighting it, fighting it and losing. The car was once again empty but for the two of them.
Understanding swept over the man's features. His crow's feet deepened, and his hair seemed somehow grayer than just moments before.
"You… you're one of them! You're a dream-woman!" he shouted accusingly at her.
Juliet stood and backed away from the man. Back all the way to the still-open doors. She exited the train, but held her arm inside the doorway. The doors slammed shut on her wrist, and just as she hoped, the dream-gun fired directly at him.
Of course, he was unharmed--her dream-gun could hurt no one other than herself--but his hands flew up to his chest anyway. His horrified expression shifted to one of defeat. The train pulled away, stripping the gun from her grip.
Juliet saw a group of policemen disembark from the train a few cars ahead. They wore riot gear--helmets with visors protecting their faces, shields held out as if they were medieval knights--and they were heading in her direction. One man broke ranks from the rest, approaching her.
She was on the verge of running when the man spoke to her, his brown eyes like pits of chocolate buried behind the visor, "Are you okay, ma'am?"