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.
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