Entry #22 - Zak - So Unbelievably Late That No Amends Could Ever Be Made

Ok, so maybe my first reaction when the room I’m in goes black and my eardrums feel like they’re gonna pop is to book it the hell out of there. So sue me. Maybe I’m not the bravest dude ever. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s a fact, and I have to live with it. My cowardice has gotten me into some pretty awkward situations. Like, this one time, I was at a dinner with a friend whose dad is some kind of dot-com big-wig, and the party’s theme was “The Jungle,” so there were all these live animals wandering around amongst the tables, and there was this some parakeet who—

Excuse me.

That’s not the point.

The point is that I high-tailed it right out of that station, banging my shins and jamming my fingers on those filthy cement steps, until I stumbled out at the top. But darkness had followed me aboveground. The screaming throbbed in my ears. From the sidewalk, my eyes strained to make out a building, a person, anything.

But there was nothing. Only dense, opaque, suffocating darkness. I looked for the sun, but it as gone. And then, in the distance, was a pale figure, making its way towards me. It was impossible to tell how far away it was. I squinted, trying to figure out what it was, this fellow traveler through the black.

But then I blinked. The pale figure flicked out of my vision for a second, and when my eyes opened, it was right there, towering over me. It was like a person, sort of, in a ragged, hooded cloak, sitting atop a big horse with eyes that glowed a deep red. Both of them were huge, kind of ethereal and shifting. The rider clutched a massive scythe in one bony hand. All of the sudden, I realized how cold I was.

It looked down at me from its saddle. I couldn’t see its face, but the icy fist around my heart told me that it was looked right at me, right through me. Slowly, painstakingly, it extended a finger towards me. I watched, frozen in place, as the ethereal, shifting, fingertip drew closer. I couldn’t even bring myself to flinch. And then, as if compelled by some new piece of information, it hesitated. The finger withdrew, the horse snorted, and the duo continued along its way.

I blinked again, and when my eyes opened, the darkness was gone, the sun was shining, and the screaming has stopped. But an inch from my nose, I saw what had been screaming. A corpse had its arms clasped behind my neck, and I was staring into its eyes. The scream was frozen there in its eyes, a plead for mercy received too late. I threw it off, bile rising in my throat, and realized that there was more than one corpse. I was ankle-deep in bodies, contorted into a frozen ballet of excruciating pain. My clothes were drenched in blood. The bile rose right on out of my throat, and kept on coming until I was on my knees, spitting, coughing, sobbing, wiping blood off my face.

“Jesus, Chuck,” said Rufus from behind me.

“What happened up here?” Eira demanded.

They ran over to me and helped me to my feet.

“Are you ok, Chuck?” Rufus asked. I tried to say something, even though I didn’t know what to say, but I just ended up vomiting on his shoes.

“Jesus fucking Christ, man,” said Eira. “You look like you just saw death itself or something.”

The only response I could manage was: “I think I might have.”

Amanda - Entry #21 - Late, but Unapologetic

Rufus grabbed my wrist and spun me around to face him. Decomposing Fuck had made a semi-lunge toward me, but had settled back into her seat. Rufus was not so quick to calm down. I could see his pulse thundering at his throat, and his eyes had an almost wild look to them. I tried to twist my wrist around in his grip, using the basic break we were taught in middle school to free myself, but Rufus was having none of it. “Rufus!” I yelled, a bit more high-pitched than I had intended, “You’re hurting me!”

He blinked once, shook his head, and dropped my hand slowly. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking around like he was confused.

I shrugged, scrambling to regain composure. Chuck looked like he was halfway between furious and terrified. “Forget it. Let’s just get back on the train and get the fuck out of here.”

My companions nodded and we left, still clutching our sections of the hat. Rufus kept giving me strange looks, apologizing every time he even slightly bumped me. I wanted to shake him out of it, grab his shoulders and force him to tell me what was going on. I had known Rufus long enough at that point (a few hours that seemed longer) to know that it would do no good. Instead, I kept quiet and went wherever the other two seemed to be headed.

We shuffled onto one of the rear cars of the train just as the doors closed with a hiss. I looked at the other two, wondering if it was okay to talk. Chuck broke the silence for me, asking what had been on my mind. “Are we safe now? Can we let go of this thing?” He moved as if to drop the hat.

I stopped him, forcing him to keep his hand on the hat until I could explain. “What if she,” I made a gesture that encompassed the whole train car, “is still watching? Let’s stay invisible until we get out, then we can plan.”

Heads nodded on both sides. We sat together on a bench, leaning in to keep a hold of the hat. It wasn’t a comfortable position, huddling far too close together in order to stay invisible. Rufus’ semi-transparent cheeks were glowing a more than healthy pink, his hand almost painfully bent in order to avoid my lap. Chuck wasn’t quite so careful, but he, too, seemed very aware of where his body was. I wondered briefly if I’d scared them, then wondered whether it was a good thing if I had. At least I’d be left alone, no off-color jokes about this repopulating humanity business.

The train finally pulled to a halt down beneath Manhattan. I hardly listened to hear the station name before pulling Rufus and Chuck out of the train car by the hat. I inhaled deeply, ready to smell the deep under-New York City air, then immediately regretted my decision.

The train had dropped us off right back where we started, Spring Street Station. The dead and the dying lay in piles around us, some still sizzling from the explosion. I stepped backward, suddenly less eager to put distance between me and my fellow travelers. I bit back a whimper as the first wave of the smell hit me.

“Would it be completely sick to say it smells like fried chicken down here?” Chuck asked in a small voice.

Rufus looked completely horrified with him, but I just shrugged. “It would be tasteless, but it would be accurate.”

I turned to Rufus, who seemed to be off in his own apocalypse again. I snapped two fingers in front of his face, but he merely stared at a small child, wailing in the corner closest to us. Rufus’ hands were moving, as if he was itching to do something. I smoothed a hand over his shoulder, trying not to be offended when he flinched at my touch. “Breathe, Rufus,” I murmured with all the calm I could muster. “There’s nothing you can do for him.”

Then, the wailing stopped. Everything stopped. The station fell completely silent, the only sounds our heavy breathing as the lights went out.

And then the screaming began.

Entry #20 - Zachy

We waited.

And waited.

I chewed my fingernails.

And continued to wait.

A zombie tapped Eira on the shoulder. "Excuse me?" it asked in a voice that gurgled in an unpleasant manner that no voice has any business gurgling in.

Eira turned around. "Can I help you?"

"No need to be rude!" said the zombie, who I now thought might once have been a middle-aged woman. "I only wondered if you might speed this along."

"We can't exactly ... " I said.

"Why not?" asked the zombie, putting its hands on the remains of its hips.

"Well, you see ... " said Chuck.

"Er ... " I offered.

"Because we can't, you decomposing fuck, that's why." Eira turned her back to the zombie.

"Well, I shall be seeing somebody about this," replied Decomposing Fuck, stalking off.

I put a hand on Eira's shoulder. She made a small motion as though she wanted to jerk it away, but didn't move. "You probably shouldn't have said that," I said, trying to adopt a tone I'd have used with my kids if I'd ever had kids. "We don't really have a clue how things work here, you know?"

"I don't care. She was a decomposing fuck."

"That's not the point."

"And she smelled like crap, too."

"What I think he means," said Chuck, "is that what you just said might be the death of us."

She rounded on Chuck. "'Death of us'? Really?"

"What else do you call that?" Chuck replied, pointing at something behind her.

I followed his eyeline. Decomposing Fuck was standing beside the great, horned thing that had been directing these souls in different directions, and said horned thing was looking directly at us, eyes flaring, tail flicking ominously, its hands twisting around something in its arms that looked like a mix between a baseball bat, a barbed wire fence, and a large snapping turtle. It was the sort of thing that had been designed with the sole intention of smashing things into pulp, and had no other purpose in this world, whatsoever. The horned beast carressed it as though it were a beloved family pet.

"Hey, you! You're holding up the line!" it roared, shambling toward us. It sounded an awful lot like Arnold Schwarzeneggar. Had I not been about to be smashed into jelly, I would have pointed this out.

"Fuck off!" shouted Eira, just as I put my hand over her mouth to prevent her from saying just that. She bit me, hard, and I jerked my fingers away. Well, that had been a profoundly stupid move on my part.

The horned beast was feet away, smiling wickledly, baring impossibly-large teeth. "Well, well, live ones? Lucky me, I could do with a palate cleanser." He raised the weapon high above his head. I closed my eyes. At least I was already in the Underworld; it wouldn't be a very long journey. Well, so much for saving the world. The club swished through the air, then -

"Geryon, enough of that!"

I opened an eye.

The small demon thing, the director of Unit Five, was returning with a taller, decidedly more human, figure, whose head was in his hands. Geryon was poised with his club hanging over Eira, Chuck, and I.

"Really, Geryon, you can't just eat any living folk who waltz in, you've got to clear these things with me, first."

"Sorry, sir, won't happen again, sir, and may I say, sir, you look absolutely - "

"Geryon."

"Sorry, sir."

Geryon slouched back to his original position, next to a scowling Decomposing Fuck. The taller figure came forward, and very suddenly, I recognized him - he was fiddling with his black hat, talking absent-mindedly to the small thing, the director of Unit Five. It was the man who'd saved me and driven me to the station.

"This back-up'll kill us, you know, put us out of business. Bloody damned apocalypse, more souls than we know what to do with - "

He paused.

"Rufus?"

"You know him?" asked Chuck

"Yup," I said. "Hey, again."

"This is awkward," said the man.

"Who are you?" asked Eira.

"It's not important."

"Bullshit it's not important."

"I'm not going to argue. Jesus, Rufus, how'd you guys get here?"

"Caught a train," replied Chuck.

"Did you send a train for live ones, master?" said the small thing.

"What? No, that's absurd," said the man. "Go away, Nysrogh" - the small thing called Nysrogh scuttled away - "I didn't send for a train, especially not for you. I sort of wanted you guys to ... you know, stay alive. That's not even the point. You've got to get out of here."

"How exactly are we supposed to do that?" I asked.

"Okay, listen, just take this. No, don't wear it, just keep your hands on it, all of you."

He handed me his black hat, and I felt suddenly ... incorporeal. Does that make sense? No, I suppose not. Eira and Chuck reached out and grasped it, too, and seemed to go slightly, well, see-through. I could still see them, but the man apparently couldn't, because his gaze drifted away from us, though he continued to speak. I had a funny feeling I knew who he might be.

"That's a Hat of Invisibility. Sneak back onto the train - I'll send it to New York to pick up some more passengers, and you can get off before the conductor can catch you again. Then, leave the city. As soon as possible."

"Why?" I asked. "It's my home, I can't just ... leave."

"I dunno," said Chuck, "I mean, I thought it'd be safer till everyone up there in the station started catching fire ... "

"It is the apocalypse, you know," said Eira, darkly.

"You think that was the apocalypse?" said the man, gazing blankly over our heads. "Ha. Hasn't even started yet, this is pre-game warm-up. New York City's been a cesspool of humanity's crap for ages upon ages - don't look at me like that - " Eira and I were glaring at him - "it's had it's moments, but it'll be where the first big strike happens, no doubt."

"First strike?" Chuck asked.

"Yep," the man replied. "in the form of a nuclear missile, probably."

A pause.

"Well, this'll be fun," said Chuck, rolling his eyes.

I gave him an imitation of a stern look. "Come on, let's get back to the train."

We did. As we left, we passed Decomposing Fuck. Eira kicked her in the shin.

Zak - Entry #19 - Late and Apologetic

As if on cue, the orgy of swirling prismatic colors that had been outside the car melted into a dense black. I gradually became aware that we were no longer moving. The doors slid open, allowing the zombie things we’d been sharing the car with out onto the platform.

“This is the final stop. The train will not be leaving the station until each car has been completely vacated,” said the conductor.

We three prophets sort of looked at one another, shrugged, and followed the zombies.

The platform outside was swarming with human forms in various states of disrepair, and they were all headed in the same direction. There was only one sign, with one arrow indicating straight-ahead, and one word: Customs.

The sign and the trains and the platform and the dead on the platform were visible by virtue of some ambient light of uncertain source, but everything beyond that was just this startling black. It’s hard to describe. If darkness ever could be bright, it was that nothingness off the edge of that platform. It was a black that felt present, as if I could have reached out and touched it. But I never would have dared, even if I could have. That dark was probably the single scariest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. I almost want to say it felt like if I disrupted it, it would grow talons and fangs and rend me to shreds on the spot, but that’s not quite right. It was more like that darkness was capable of doing something far worse than slashing or biting or devouring me, something I wouldn’t ever be able to completely understand, but was so scary in the simple fact of its existence that I could feel something clench around my stomach.

I shook my head.

Rufus and Eira were kind of impatiently looking at me. I had to jog a bit to catch up to them.

We moved with the flow of the walking dead around us. They seemed to be somewhat conspicuously ignoring us. And then everyone sort of started to slow down and finally came to a complete halt. And I realized that we were at the back of a line, a massive fucking line.

Should’ve seen this one coming.

Eira looked like she was about ready to just Hulk out and push her way to the front of the line. “Are we expected to wait in this goddamn line?”

“It doesn’t look there’s really another option,” said Rufus, looking around.

It was true. It seemed like we could either stand in line, fight our way against the swarm of zombies to what was probably just more platform, or take our chances with the darkness.

“I vote for staying in the line,” I said.

Eira sighed.

Luckily, the line was pretty quick-moving and before long we could see that there was a bank of tired-looking creatures in little boxes. There was a massive horned beast with a tail directing different small groups to various boxes. When we got to it, it said: “Unit five, please,” in a voice that I thought was eerily like Arnold Schwartenegger, but I chose not to impart this observation on my compatriots. I figured it would be inappropriate.

Unit five was staffed by a ghastly little thing with bat wings, a pot belly, and a barbed tail.

“Cause of death?” it recited.

“Well, it’s kind of complicated,” said Rufus.

“I hope there’s an abridged version.”

“We didn’t die, per se, is the thing,” I chimed in. “We just sort of ended up here.”

The creature stood up on its chair and looked Rufus right in the eye. It tapped him on the forehead.

“Well I’ll be!” it exclaimed. “Why, you aren’t dead at all! Not even close!”

I allowed myself a smile. Probably good news.

“So, uh, where should we go?” asked Eira.

“I certainly can’t let you in here,” it said. “It’s no place for the living, in there.”

“Is… is there an exit?” I asked.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to talk to my supervisor,” it said, hopping down from its chair.

Amanda - Entry #18

The three of us gave each other “holy shit” looks. The zombies sat, unperturbed, in their section of the train. I was about to tell whoever was hyperventilating to quit it, until I realized it was me. Finding out we were prophets had not magically made the three of us fearless superheroes. Well, Chuck and Rufus were prophets. I was Lifthsrasir, whatever that was. Rufus still wouldn’t tell me, and, if I hadn’t been so terrified, I probably would have been genuinely pissed at him by that point.

I stood up, running my fingers through the ends of my hair. Sitting felt too helpless. I realized I was going to look insane, pacing up and down the car, tugging at my hair, and mumbling to myself, but I had finished caring about appearances. My companions looked on, an adorably confused expression on each of their faces. I almost wanted to reach out and pat them each on the cheek, but there were things to be done. Plans to be made. Underworlds to avoid arriving at.

I reached my hand down my shirt for my phone, trying to avoid rolling my eyes as the boys’ eyes grew to roughly the size of dinner plates. They shifted in their seats, suddenly uncomfortable in the cramped car. My cell phone was followed quickly by my keys. “Turn out your pockets,” I demanded, hoping I sounded even slightly authoritative. Someone had to take charge here.

My cell phone was joined by two other generic, free-with-contract phones. Both also had wallets with them. Chucks was made of duct tape but was still, somehow, falling apart, while Rufus’ was a more reserved dark leather. Chuck also contributed a pair of dice, a movie ticket stub, and a token from some sort of arcade. I set those aside and picked up the wallets.

Chuck’s wallet seemed sort of scattered. Bills were stuck in at odd angles, crumpled without any semblance of order. Aside from a driver’s license, he carried a Metro Card, a student ID, and a bank card. Receipts with notes and phone numbers scribbled on them were jumbled up with his money.

Rufus’ wallet, on the other hand, was nearly meticulous. Bills were smoothed flat and organized by denomination. He carried the same cards as Chuck, as well as a few credit cards. A picture was tucked into a pocket of an extremely attractive woman. I assumed this was the recently deceased Nellie, and bit down on the jealous comments threatening to escape. I had already developed a bizarrely protective feeling toward my fellow lost travelers. Even if I had been, originally, about to kill them, no one else was going to. I didn’t trust them, but I wasn’t going to let anything happen to the two of them until we got some answers.

As revealing as my quick search was, it did not yield any obviously helpful items. We weren’t going to be able to MacGyver our way out of this sticky situation with a few cell phones, some cash, and dice. I returned everything to its rightful place, Chuck and Rufus studiously averting their eyes as I replaced my phone and keys. Boys.

It was then that I turned to Mr. Smith (who, in my head, would remain Mr. Smith, no matter who he was revealed to be). “Didn’t you say your job was to keep me alive?”

He snorted. “I’ve never been particularly good at following directions.”

Zachy - Entry #17

We picked ourselves up cautiously; I rubbed at my bruised elbow. Outside, the light show had stopped, leaving behind a shadowy stillness. For some reason, I found it way more creepy than the kaleidoscope/aurora borealis/fireworks display-thingy that we'd been traveling through only moments ago. Mr. Smith - or was it Loki? -, who'd been slipping out of my mind every time I looked away from him, had gone hurtling into the wall, and was rubbing his nose. This amused me, before I forgot about him again.

I heard Chuck groan behind me. "Would it be completely stupid of me to ask what just happened?"

"No," said Eira, "but it would be stupid to expect any kind of sane answer."

The conductor's voice rang once more through the train car. "Sorry about that, but we had to make a bit of a pit-stop. We'll be taking on some passengers, and then continuing on our way."

"Passengers?" Chuck asked, just as I shushed him - the train doors were hissing open, and the whispering voices I'd heard from before had come back. We backed toward the far end of the train car, just as a small group of people entered the train. Though I was rather busy staring at them, I'm certain beyond any shadow of a doubt that both Chuck's and Eira's jaws had dropped, just like mine.

The people were not people, per se. Only two of what I quickly counted to be a group of six still had faces; the other four had grinning skulls with varying degrees of flesh still left on them. Their clothes were ripped and torn and, from what I could tell, charred black, some of them still smoking. They chatted companionably, gesturing emphatically with fingers that had become clicking bones, setting themselves down carefully. Two of them were small children, and another was a female - with long, black tresses that had become tangled and knotted, and the rest were probably male. I say probably not because I couldn't distinguish their gender, but because at this point, I don't think I was really sure of anything.

"Hmm, that's curious," said Loki, "just ignore them." I promptly forgot about him again.

Chuck opened his mouth to point out how creepy as fuck these passengers were, and Eira and I quickly gave him identical looks, clearly saying, "Don't even say it. We know."

We didn't talk much as the train began to move again, and the light show outside resumed. The zombie-people talked among themselves, and the adults didn't seem to have noticed us yet. What I assumed was the older child, however, with a grinning skull of a face beneath blond pigtails, pointed at me, jumping up and down. "Look Mummy!" she cried, "Live 'uns, live 'uns!"

"Just ignore them, sweety ... " said the woman-zombie.

"But Mummy!"

"I said just ignore them."

"Fine," the child-zombie said, crossing her arms and sitting down next to her mother. She continued to stare at us.

Chuck tapped his fingers anxiously, and Eira was giving the zombies an icy look. So Chuck was a prophet of Christian theology ... I wondered which of the angels - if, indeed, it were angels - had contacted him, and if we'd be meeting up with any of the horsemen. I hoped it'd be Pestilence. At least, as a doctor, I might have some chance against him ... and we'd figured out that Eira was Norse mythology, too. I was a little envious that her pantheon was something I knew rather well, whereas I'd gotten stuck with someone I'd never heard of. And then, there was that mysterious man, who'd given me no clues as to his identity at all ...

What was it that Loki had said though? (This time, I remembered him for a full ten seconds before he drifted out of my memory.) Lifthsrasir ... essentially, an Eve. She'd be one of the last women alive - I assumed there'd be more, though, because if there was an Lif, and she found him, and they had children, there'd have to be other children from other families involved to continue the line, right? And did that mean me or Chuck was the Lif, in this case? I looked at Chuck ... he wasn't exactly a model, but if he lost a bit of weight, I didn't think any girl would think he was so bad. I mean, clearly, it'd have to be him, right? I was old and already starting to go grey. She was cute, but I couldn't possibly date someone like her - or endanger her life, as I reminded myself of the madman inhabiting my brainspace. Okay, technically speaking, it was up to her (if, I told myself, she was really this person, and if, I again told myself, either Chuck or I was this other person). Not exactly a hard choice, though I didn't imagine I'd be seeing girls choosing between Team Chuck or Team Rufus any time soon -

Of course you won't, my friend, said the all-too-familiar voice of Kalki within my head. They will be dead, after all.

Go away, I thought at him.

I couldn't see him, but I knew, somehow, that he was grinning broadly. Of course, of course, he said in my head. We shall catch up later, when you are not so busy.

Fine, then.

He didn't reply.

The world was really ending. I kept forgetting. Chuck and Eira were still total strangers, and yet they were really all I had left. Nellie, of course, was dead. My parents were most likely dead, or going to be dead very soon, as were most of my good friends, which I didn't have many of in the first place. There was going to be no more society, no more late-night calls at the hospital, no more McDonald's - which was okay, since their food was terrible, but it was always a fascinating place to study people - and no more movie theaters or book stores -

Damn it all.

I looked over at the zombies. The little girl had broken off, and was walking toward us, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that her mother was not looking. I thought her expression looked vaguely curious, but I wouldn't put my money on that. It was hard to tell, without the face.

"Hello," she said, staring at us.

"Er ... hello," I replied, leaning toward her. I'd always been good with kids. "Who are you?"

"Oh, we're the recently departed," she said cheerily.

"Sounds like a really bad band name," muttered Chuck behind me. "Opening tonight - Recently Departed!" Eira snickered, then shushed him.

"Oh," I said, a bit nonplussed. "Well, that's interesting ... "

"Vivian, really! What did I tell you? Get back here!" shouted the zombie-woman from across the train.

"I'm coming, Mummy!"

Vivian frowned and shrugged at us apologetically, then turned around and raced back to her mother, heel bones snapping against the train car's floor like tap shoes. Chuck pulled himself up and began to follow her. Eira grabbed him roughly by the arm.

"What are you doing?"

"I was just going to ask them where we're going. I mean ... they could know." He looked to me for support.

"Maybe," I said, and Eira hesitantly let go.

"But they're ... you know, zombies," she said awkwardly, like the word didn't feel right on her tongue.

"True," I replied. "But they don't seem like the brain-eating type." I turned to Chuck. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Yeah, sure thing."

He walked over, and began trying to ask the zombies questions. They studiously ignored him, turning their backs as he walked between and around them. Eira and I looked awkwardly back and forth at him and each other, occasionally meeting eyes, at which point we would both very quickly look down. I tried to smooth out my hair, which felt grimy beneath my fingers. I must have looked like shit. Eira looked slightly ruffled, but very pretty, and was I really, actually thinking that when my girlfriend had just been savagely murdered? What was wrong with me?

I kept my eyes focused on Chuck, who walked back to us five minutes later, shaking his head. "No dice."

I smirked at the choice of words, as did Eira.

"Shut up," said Chuck, though he smiled as he said it, and very soon, we were all laughing. The zombies looked at us as though we were mad.

I sighed. "Well, I'm out of ideas."

"Hey, wait!" said Eira, her eyes glinting in a way I rather liked, but would not admit to myself. "Why can't we ask the train-lady thing?"

"I ask that you please refer to me as 'the conductor'," said the intercom-voice, sounding agitated. "Not, the 'train-lady thing'."

I jumped, slamming my knee into one of the poles. Chuck and Eira had both been startled, as well, Chuck having jumped backwards at least two or three feet, and Eira muttering a variety of colorful curse words.

"Oh, we just wanted to know ... " I began, rubbing my kneecap.

"Where the hell are we going?" asked Eira.

"I thought I told you," said the voice, "A place of safety."

"You did," said Eira, "but where exactly is that?"

"Why, the Underworld, of course. The pit-stop was not originally planned, but I figured if we were going that way ... "

"The ... the Underworld?" Eira asked, flustered.

"Yes, indeed. No safer place."

"Wait, why?" asked Eira, a panicky edge to her voice.

"Orders."

"But won't that mean ... that will mean that we're ... " Chuck fumbled for words.

"That we'll be dead?" I finished for him.

"I should imagine so, young man." She sounded snippy. "Rather difficult to endanger your life if you're dead, wouldn't you say?"

"But we'll be dead!" Chuck shouted. The zombies gave him dirty looks.

"Yes," said the intercom-voice. "But the important thing is, you'll be safe." The intercom clicked off.

Eira's eyes had gone as wide as saucers, and Chuck was shaking his head, muttering, "You've got be be shitting me" under his breath. I looked back and forth between them and the zombies at the train's other end. This was bad. This was very, very bad. I turned to Chuck and Eira.

"We need to get off the train."

Zak - Entry #16

Apparently, it was time for show-and-tell. Well, I guess there was more telling than showing going on, but the world around us was the showing bit. We were to play the role the tellers. By the way, the theme of telling pops up later, so hang in there.

I was a bit self-conscious around these two. At that point I was getting a bit anxious about going down in the gospels as “The Chubby Prophet” or “Chuck the Chubster, Prophet.” The sentence And the new world was built up out of the ashes by two attractive and competent people, and one kind of awkward unfit guy kept running through my head. But I finally worked up the courage to stand, because it sounded like the appropriate thing to do.

“So, hi, I’m Chuck, and I’ve been seeing some pretty crazy shit. I guess I’ll start at the beginning. Last night, at least I think it was last night, I’ve sort of lost track of time. Anyways, last night I was playing D&D with a couple of buddies. We were just getting into an encounter with an Ancient Red Dragon, which was actually probably too hard or a thirteenth-level party, and just as I was figuring that out ‘cause they couldn’t get a hit in, my- we, uh, looked outside and the moon was bleeding. Like, it was dripping big fucking drops of red stuff, and the hamlet (I live a bit outside of the hamlet, up on a hill, well, lived, I guess) was on fire and there was some sort of riot going on. It sounded like a warzone had just dropped on top of my town. And then we ran outside because, well, I was still in the habit of avoiding things that seemed dangerous back then.”

I allowed myself a bit of a chuckle.

“But, uh, when we got to the car, there was a guy, I guess that’s what he was, by the car, and he was like all red and on fire and on this red horse. In retrospect, I guess he was a horseman of the apocalypse. Which one is the red one? It’s definitely something I knew once. Like in fifth grade or some shit.”

“I have to say my knowledge of the Norse myths is a lot stronger than the Christian ones,” said Rufus. He had a look of really deep concentration on his face. I looked at Eira. She honestly looked pretty lost.

“Well,” continued Rufus, “what are the four horsemen? There’s four, right?”

“Yeah, I think so,” agreed Eira. She was eying a patch of air next to her very suspiciously.

“I think so too,” I said. “But, actually, can we just bracket that for now so I can finish my story? Sorry.”

I felt a bit pushy saying it, but they seemed cool with it.

“So, he blew up my car, and I’m pretty sure he chopped off my buddy Liam’s arm with that flaming sword of his. So then this voice pops into my head and tells me the horseman can’t touch me at all, but I have to run away or the riot thing in the town is going to kill me, so I ran away and left my buddies there in my driveway.”

I felt like I should probably be crying, but I didn’t need to at all.

“So it turns out that this voice is a sort of like a messenger whose job it is to tell me what’s up. As you guys can probably guess, he told me the world was ending. He was a bit slippery about it, and just sort of ended the conversation in the middle. And then I hitchhiked out here from Brockhaven and got picked up by this guy who was even more cryptic and creepy than the voice in my head. He some really ominous things that sounded like he was going to kill me at some point, and he brought me here. It’s just been really bizarre to be me lately. You guys too, I guess.”

“War!” shouted Rufus.

“What?” Eira and I said in stereo.

“That horseman must’ve been War. The four horsemen are War, Famine, Death and… one other one. I can’t remember. But I’m pretty sure that red is War.”

“Huh,” was really all I could say. He really was quite the well of mythological knowledge.

“Wait!” said Eira, seeming to get excited. “You said it sounded like a warzone got dropped on your town, right? It must have been the horseman.”

“Shit, yeah!” I said. I felt uncool right after I said it.

The general atmosphere of the train car was a stoked one. We were finally unpacking our crazy days. It felt good be working things out with fellow people, as opposed to getting garbled messages from on high.

On a whim, I went for a high-five with Rufus, and he accepted. Then, so as to avoid exclusion, we both high-fived Eira. That was a little awkward.

This story time idea had worked out pretty well. I was pretty sure it had been my idea. I was proud.

“So D&D?” asked Rufus. “I played a bit of it back in undergrad, but I never quite got really into it. My interests shifted, I suppose.”

“Oh man,” I said. “I’m like an encyclopedia of D&D. I go head-to-head with the best! Like, for instance, if you look at a Wyvern-“

It was then that the train stopped, abruptly and completely, and we all went flying across the car.