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.