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.”
