happy family.
"Get outta the
way!" Xavier was screaming. He grabbed Olik unceremoniously by the
waist of his pants and hauled him forward. Jim saw that the Georgian's
legs were still hanging out into the no-man's-land between cars. But not
for long: with one yank, Xavier had Olik tumbling ass over elbows the rest of
the way into the car.
Olik grunted as he
hit a bank of seats with bruising force. He sprang to his feet almost
instantly, both guns in his hands, his face a mask of rage.
"What you
think you're doing?" he bellowed, training the guns on Xavier.
Xavier didn't even
seem to notice the twin cannons pointed at him. He had his hands on the
small lip of the subway door that was protruding from the steel bulkhead.
Pulling on it with all his might. "Help me," he said.
"Help me, dammit!"
Jim felt his brain
spinning like a drunken top. "Where's Adolfa?" he said.
His words sounded slurred. His brain fuzzed. He didn't know if that
was an effect of passing through the dark wall, or just sensory overload.
Either way, he was having trouble processing things.
"I'm
here," said a familiar voice.
Jim looked toward
the sound. It was the old woman, huddled at the other end of the
car. Looking terrified.
Thuds.
Movement. Jim looked back at the doorway he had just stumbled
through. Saw that Olik was now helping Xavier pull the door shut.
And then Karen joined them, as though heedless of the fact that only a moment
ago she had been forced through that very door at gunpoint by these men.
She knelt below Xavier and dropped her satchel in order to pull on the door as
well.
Jim looked
up. Shook his head. What's going on? he wondered.
Then he realized
that he could see through the door; that whatever power had kept them from
seeing into the car, it did not keep them from seeing out. It was like a
one-way mirror. Only in this case it wasn't a reflective surface on one
side, it was a fathomless plane cut from deepest space.
But from this side…
from this side they could see into the car they had just come from.
They could see what
was coming for them.
FIVE
================
================
Zombies.
That was the first
thought that came into Jim's head when he saw the shuffling mass of people in
the car that they had just exited.
The second thought
that popped into his head was, Where did they all come from?
Then he realized
that question was second to the issue that mattered most: survival.
They weren't
zombies. They couldn't be. But they were something bad.
Something monstrous and evil and deadly.
They were
young. Or had been young, before… whatever happened to them.
Most of them, he saw, were women. No, not women: girls, young
teens. Were they the figures he had seen clambering along the outside of
the train before? The ones he had glimpsed out of the corners of his
eyes? He didn't know how that could be possible. But then, what of
this day so far fell into the realm of possibility?
The girls – at
least fifty of them, with a few teen boys mixed among them as well – weren't
paying attention to Jim, or to any of the people in this car. They were
standing around something in the rear car, the one Jim and the others had just
come from. At first Jim couldn't see what the things were fixated on, but
then he realized: they were standing where Freddy the Perv had been.
Where he managed to both disintegrate and explode.
The girl-things
looked emaciated. Used. Dead in soul if not in body. Their
skin was scabbed and gray, diseased and lifeless. Their hair hung in
lusterless locks, their scalps easily visible in large areas where the hair had
thinned or fallen out completely.
Only their eyes
held something like life. They shone with a feral need, a hunger.
They focused on the circle of gore at the back of the rear subway car.
And when the things that had once been young girls had completely circled the
blood-spattered area that marked
"Get outta the
way!" Xavier was screaming. He grabbed Olik unceremoniously by the
waist of his pants and hauled him forward. Jim saw that the Georgian's
legs were still hanging out into the no-man's-land between cars. But not
for long: with one yank, Xavier had Olik tumbling ass over elbows the rest of
the way into the car.
Olik grunted as he
hit a bank of seats with bruising force. He sprang to his feet almost
instantly, both guns in his hands, his face a mask of rage.
"What you
think you're doing?" he bellowed, training the guns on Xavier.
Xavier didn't even
seem to notice the twin cannons pointed at him. He had his hands on the
small lip of the subway door that was protruding from the steel bulkhead.
Pulling on it with all his might. "Help me," he said.
"Help me, dammit!"
Jim felt his brain
spinning like a drunken top. "Where's Adolfa?" he said.
His words sounded slurred. His brain fuzzed. He didn't know if that
was an effect of passing through the dark wall, or just sensory overload.
Either way, he was having trouble processing things.
"I'm
here," said a familiar voice.
Jim looked toward
the sound. It was the old woman, huddled at the other end of the
car. Looking terrified.
Thuds.
Movement. Jim looked back at the doorway he had just stumbled
through. Saw that Olik was now helping Xavier pull the door shut.
And then Karen joined them, as though heedless of the fact that only a moment
ago she had been forced through that very door at gunpoint by these men.
She knelt below Xavier and dropped her satchel in order to pull on the door as
well.
Jim looked
up. Shook his head. What's going on? he wondered.
Then he realized
that he could see through the door; that whatever power had kept them from
seeing into the car, it did not keep them from seeing out. It was like a
one-way mirror. Only in this case it wasn't a reflective surface on one
side, it was a fathomless plane cut from deepest space.
But from this side…
from this side they could see into the car they had just come from.
They could see what
was coming for them.
FIVE
================
================
Zombies.
That was the first
thought that came into Jim's head when he saw the shuffling mass of people in
the car that they had just exited.
The second thought
that popped into his head was, Where did they all come from?
Then he realized
that question was second to the issue that mattered most: survival.
They weren't
zombies. They couldn't be. But they were something bad.
Something monstrous and evil and deadly.
They were
young. Or had been young, before… whatever happened to them.
Most of them, he saw, were women. No, not women: girls, young
teens. Were they the figures he had seen clambering along the outside of
the train before? The ones he had glimpsed out of the corners of his
eyes? He didn't know how that could be possible. But then, what of
this day so far fell into the realm of possibility?
The girls – at
least fifty of them, with a few teen boys mixed among them as well – weren't
paying attention to Jim, or to any of the people in this car. They were
standing around something in the rear car, the one Jim and the others had just
come from. At first Jim couldn't see what the things were fixated on, but
then he realized: they were standing where Freddy the Perv had been.
Where he managed to both disintegrate and explode.
The girl-things
looked emaciated. Used. Dead in soul if not in body. Their
skin was scabbed and gray, diseased and lifeless. Their hair hung in
lusterless locks, their scalps easily visible in large areas where the hair had
thinned or fallen out completely.
Only their eyes
held something like life. They shone with a feral need, a hunger.
They focused on the circle of gore at the back of the rear subway car.
And when the things that had once been young girls had completely circled the
blood-spattered area that marked
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