by J. K. Gray
Wendy is clearly upset.
“They killed Barbara,” she sobs.
“What?” Amber starts towards Wendy.
The man in charge of the four man unit points his firearm at Amber. “Stay where you are.”
“She kept walking when they told her to stop,” Wendy goes on, “so they shot her. It wasn't her fault. She had no idea what was going on.”
The man behind Wendy grabs her by the arm. “Keep talking if you want to see Heaven.”
Amber's temper surges. “Leave her alone. She's just a girl - and she's pregnant.”
Laura places a hand on Amber's shoulder and steps forward. She addresses the man in charge: “You're here for Michael Rhodes, right? I'm your contact. He's in the next car - and lower your weapons. No one here is going to harm you.” She shoots Amber a look.
“How do I know you're our contact?” the man says.
Laura approaches him. “They don't tell you anything, do they?” She looks at the other men. “What's wrong, have none of you saw a woman before?”
Slightly embarrassed, the men shift their focus. One looks at his feet, another looks to the side, while the third man appears to be a serial offender and switches his attention to Amber.
Laura flicks her hair over her shoulder. The cuts and scratches inflicted by Amber have long healed.
“You're a very large man,” she says to the unit leader. “What's your name?” She reaches into the rear pocket of her tight-fitting jeans. All eyes are upon her again.
“Matthews.”
“Okay, Matthews, I'm Laura Novak.” She holds up a badge with her picture on the front. “I haven't had the pleasure of being injected with the company microchip just yet, but you're more than welcome to scan my badge with that cute little reader thing you have built into your eyepiece. It'll tell you everything you want to know - even my bust size, I believe.”
Matthews, looking a little flustered, replies: “Uh, no, that'll be okay, ma'am.”
“Please, don't call me that. It makes me sound like an old woman.” Laura looks round at Amber and cracks a smile.
“You say he's in the next car?” Matthews asks.
“Yes,” Laura replies. “He's all yours.”
“Wait a moment," Amber protests. “You can't just-”
“I suggest you let them pass,” Laura says. “Unless you want shot full of holes. Again.”
Amber struggles to contain herself. “You're a bitch, d'you know that?”
“I am aware of this, yes,” Laura replies. She looks to Wendy - “You'll stay with us” - then switches her attention to a rather fresh-faced young man. "And I want you ... what's your name?"
“Johnson.”
“Okay, Johnson, I'll need you to remain here to protect me from ... whatever.”
Johnson looks to Matthews. Matthews nods.
“It's settled then,” Laura says. “I believe Michael's already at the mercy of one of your men. Either that or he enjoys talking to himself.”
Matthews and the other two men start moving.
Amber, understandably, looks agitated.
Matthews stops in front of her. “Don't even think about warning him. Not unless you want that girl over there to get a bullet in the head.”
“I hope he kills you,” Amber says.
Matthews brushes off the remark and continues on his way.
Laura turns to Johnson. “So, what's your first name, handsome?” Before Johnson has a chance to answer, she grabs his trachea and squeezes it tightly.
Wendy gasps and covers her mouth.
“Ssh,” Laura says.
Johnson tries to call out to the departing unit. He lifts his rifle. Laura snatches it from his trembling hands and gives it to Wendy, who, upon taking it, looks at it like it's some sort of alien artifact.
Johnson struggles to pry Laura's fingers from his throat. His eyes are bulging grotesquely.
Laura watches the last man exit the car. Once he's gone, she turns back to Johnson – "Time to find out if there's an afterlife” - then crushes his throat completely.
Johnson makes a croaking sound then drops.
Laura turns to Wendy, who seems to be caught somewhere between awe and horror, and tells her: “I'm already so bored with these people.”
Amber looks at the dead man. “You killed him.”
“You're surely not complaining,” Laura replies.
“You people are crazy,” Wendy says. She looks at Laura. “And what you did to Stan...”
Laura looks to Amber. “Stan?”
“The guy she was with when you met her,” Amber replies.
“Oh, him.” Laura takes the rifle from Wendy. “Maybe I'd better have this.”
“Wendy, he wasn't a good person,” Amber explains. “You were in danger. That's why I was coming after you.”
“But he never did anything wrong,” Wendy protests.
“He never got the chance,” Amber replies.
Wendy folds her arms. “How can you know that?”
“You just have to trust me. He was almost certainly going to harm you.”
Laura kneels over the body of Johnson. “I suggest you look away, Wendy.”
“Why?”
“You know what,” Laura says, “I don't care what you do.”
Wendy sighs and covers her eyes.
Amber watches Laura pull the uniform away from Johnson's neck. “What are you doing?”
“You're in no fit state to help Michael,” Laura replies. She uses her thumbnail to make an incision on the dead man's neck. “His heart isn't pumping, so you're going to have to work a little harder than usual.” She looks at Amber. “Now drink.”
*
Matthews is the first to enter the car. He sees Michael at the far end of the aisle, down on one knee and facing them with his head bowed. In front of Michael is the body of a woman in a pink top. She looks dead. Behind Michael, and looking every bit as dead as the woman, is the body of Alan Stiles. “Michael Rhodes, put your hands on your head and stand up slowly.”
Michael doesn't respond.
The other two men position themselves on either side of Matthews and train their weapons on Michael.
Matthews starts to move cautiously along the aisle. His men dutifully follow. “I said put your hands on your head and stand up.”
Michael lifts his head then erects himself. His hair is messy and partially obscuring his left eye. His shirt is wide open, exposing his chest.
Matthews stops abruptly. He sees something he doesn't like. It's Michael's left eye: despite being only partially visible, he can see it's completely yellow with a strange, elongated pupil. He curses under his breath and taps a button on the side of his headset. “Put a tranq in him, Powell. Now.”
Standing to the left of Matthews, Powell fumbles for the tranquilizer gun strapped to his side.
Michael's reptilian looking eye blinks.
Powell frees the tranquilizer gun and points it at Michael. His hand is shaking.
“It's me,” Matthews says into his headset. “I think we have a problem. Send all reserve units.”
Powell looks anxiously at the tranquilizer gun in his hand. “I think it's jammed.”
Looking directly at Michael, Matthews says into his headset: “Yes, everyone.”
The other man now pulls out his tranquilizer gun. He aims at Michael and fires. He appears to miss. He fires again, and the result is the same. Rather than questioning his aim, he looks at the gun.
Matthews is losing his patience with whoever is on the other end of the line. “How hard can this be? Send everyone we have - send the fucking World!” He taps a button on his headset, severing communication, then points his rifle at Michael. “Don't you move a muscle.”
Michael remains still.
“What the hell's wrong with him?” Powell says.
“I have no god damn idea, but it doesn't look good.” Matthews turns to the man on his right. “Scott, go get Johnson - and the woman, Novak. We need everyone we can get
in here until the rest arrive.”
Scott nods and moves quickly back along the aisle.
“What do we do in the meantime?” Powell asks.
Matthews reaffirms his grip on his rifle. “Pray he doesn't move.”
*
Having just finished with Johnson, Laura asks Amber: “Do I have blood around my mouth? Is my lipstick smudged?”
Amber looks closely. “No, I think you're alright.”
“Good.”
At some point, Wendy had decided to have a peek at what was going on with Johnson. When it became apparent what Amber and Laura were doing, she couldn't help but watch, fascinated. “I've saw people like you before. In those Twilight movies.”
“Not really my kind of thing,” Amber says.
Wendy twists her beads around her finger. “Do you shimmer in the daylight? Sparkle and stuff?”
Laura folds her arms and says to Wendy: “Seriously ... fuck off.”
Just then, the door at the opposite end of the aisle opens.
Laura positions herself in front of Johnson.
“We need you in the other car,” Scott says. “This guy's a little weird.”
“Weird?” Amber says.
“Come see for yourself,” Scott replies.
And then he leaves.
Amber looks to Laura. “I wonder what he means by 'weird'?”
“You're all weird,” Wendy says.
Both women look at Wendy. She just shrugs in response.
*
Scott Joins Matthews and Powell. “Think I interrupted them in the middle of girl talk.”
“Johnson's such a fag,” Powell says.
Looking at Michael, Scott asks: “How long until reinforcements get here?”
“Won't be long,” Matthews replies. “They're not far.”
“Wouldn't it have made more sense to just send everyone straight away?”
“They reckoned the element of surprise was all we'd need. And they didn't want witnesses - or as few as possible.” Matthews looks at Michael. “But now, with this, everything's went fucked times ten.”
“His left eye's all creepy and weird,” Powell says.
“That,” Matthews says, “is why I'm taking no chances. Something's not right.”
“Can't we just shoot him in the legs?” Scott asks. “Incapacitate him?”
“Look at him,” Matthews replies. “He looks like he's jacked up on something. There's no telling what might happen if something doesn't go to plan – and I got a wife and kids I wanna see again.”
“But he's just one man,” Scott persists.
“He's one very fucking abnormal and dangerous man,” Matthews says. “Plus, he got Stiles, and that's a big enough red flag for me.”
Laura enters the car, followed by Amber. Both women approach the three men.
Matthews looks past Laura. “Where's Johnson?”
Laura stops before Matthews. “I had to kill him.” She sees Scott increase his grip on his rifle from the corner of her eye.
“I don't understand,” Matthews says. “I mean ... why?”
Laura shrugs. “Why not?” She reaches out and grabs Matthews by the face and Scott by the throat. With a flick of the wrist, she snaps Matthews' head to one side, killing him outright.
Overcome by alarm, Scott accidentally fires his rifle into the floor. Multiple bullets tear through one of his heavy boots. He screams and drops the weapon. Moments later, a large chunk of his throat is in Laura's hand and he's lying dead on the floor beside Matthews.
Fear roots Powell to the spot. He opens his mouth - perhaps to say something, or maybe just to scream. Before he has the chance to do either, Amber pulls him close and sinks her teeth into his throat.
Laura wipes her bloody hand on Scott's uniform. “Ugh, so filthy.”
Amber pushes Powell away from her. He falls to the floor. Blood pumps copiously from the puncture wounds on his neck.
“Aren't you going to put him out of his misery?” Laura asks.
“They were going to kill us,” Amber replies. “One of them killed Barbara. Let him bleed out.”
Laura walks over to Powell. The man is clasping his throat and coughing up blood. “I don't like to see suffering.” She crouches and takes his head in her hands - “let me help you” - then quickly snaps his neck.
Amber approaches Michael. “Michael, are you okay?” She clears the hair away from his face.
Michael blinks several times, as though he's just awoken from a trance. He stares back at Amber through familiar green eyes. “I ... what happened?”
“What's the last thing you remember?”
“Amanda ...”
Amber looks at the woman in the pink top. “Is this Amanda? Who is she? Who was she?”
“Someone from before,” Michael replies. “... it's not important now.”
“Someone you know? Did these men kill her?”
“No ... she just collapsed.”
“Just collapsed?”
Laura brushes past Amber. “I see you got Stiles.” She turns to Michael. “Just so you know ... he wasn't a bad man. I didn't know him very long, but he genuinely thought bringing you in was the right thing to do.”
Michael looks away. “A lot of good people are dying around me.”
“Hey, from what I see, they're the ones coming after you,” Amber says. “This isn't your fault.”
“You don't know that,” Michael replies.
“Then tell me I'm wrong.”
When Michael doesn't say anything, Amber asks: “What do you have that's so important to these people?”
“That's what I'd like to know,” Laura says. She looks down at the body of Amanda. “And what the hell is it with this weird woman? I thought I already dealt with her.”
“I'll try to explain everything when we get out of here,” Michael says.
Laura crouches before Stiles and pulls a silver St. Christopher necklace out from under his uniform. “I'm taking this for his son.”
“Michael,” Amber says. “what are we doing here – us, I mean?”
“I honestly don't know,” Michael replies.
“This situation … it isn't normal. Everything is happening so fast.”
“We can slow things down once this is over if you like.”
Amber folds her arms - “I'm not sure that's what I'm trying to say” - then unfolds them once she realizes she's being defensive towards her own feelings.
“Ugh, get a rooftop,” Laura says. She walks over to one of the windows and peers out into the tunnel.
“She saw us?” Michael asks.
“I guess she must have,” Amber replies.
The two of them can't help but chuckle.
“She's your reason for being in New York,” Amber says.
Michael looks confused. “You mean Laura is my client?”
“Uh huh. The people who are after you hired her.”
“Jesus,” Michael says. “I had no idea – so what went wrong?”
“I guess I did – and Laura rearranging carefully organized plans to suit herself.”
Laura turns away from the window and starts back along the aisle. “I'm going to check on Wendy.”
“Wendy?” Michael says. “She's still here?”
“They brought her back,” Amber replies. “… and they killed Barbara.”
“What?”
“She wouldn't stop walking when they told her to stop, so they shot her.”
Michael shakes his head. “Still think this isn't my fault? I shouldn't have sent them out there on their own.”
“Hey, don't do that. The only people to blame here are the ones that kill innocent old ladies.”
Michael's not as convinced as Amber in regard to who's ultimately to blame for Barbara's death - for all of this - but decides this isn't the time or place to challenge her opinion.
“One more thing,” Amber says. “Wendy's pregnant.”
“Pregnant? And you're not concerned Laura's just went to check on h
er?”
“It's okay. I think Wendy's pregnancy has had an impact on Laura's behavior – for the better.”
“You think?”
“I'm positive.”
“How can you know this? That woman looks like a loose cannon.”
There's a noticeable pause before Amber responds. “She was pregnant herself once. I'm sure she'll do everything within her power to get Wendy out of this situation. After that, how she'll behave is anyone's guess.”
“We'll have to keep an eye on her,” Michael says. “In the meantime, we should focus on getting out of here. We're going to have the cops and the MTA crawling all over this place soon. Unicorn must have pulled some serious strings to have them hold off this long.”
“Unicorn?”
“Unified Conglomerate of Nations – or something to that effect. The one's that are after me.”
Amber looks perplexed. “That just went right over my head – don't tell me, you'll explain when we get out of here.”
“I'll try.”
“So, what happens if we run into more of these ... Unicorns?”
“I don't think there'll be many more of them - at least, nothing we can't easily handle. I imagine they'll have wanted to keep this operation as low key as possible. We're as good as out of this now.”
At that moment, Laura comes hurrying back into the car. She's got blood on her face and neck, and she's pulling Wendy along behind her. “We need to get moving.”
Amber starts towards them. “What the hell happened?”
Without stopping, Laura replies: “I just killed one, but there's more of them.” Keeping a firm grasp of Wendy's hand, she runs past Michael and opens the end door.
“How many?” Michael asks.
Looking back briefly, Laura replies: “More than I could count.”
FIFTEEN
02:38 am ...
Amber motions to follow Laura and Wendy, but Michael holds her back.
“What are you doing?” she says. “We need to get out of here.”
“This doesn't make any sense,” he replies. “She's running back towards the front of the train.”
“And?”