those same eyes blacken over and the pupils turn yellow and elongate.
Before Gary has time to react to what he's seeing, the Amanda-Thing thrusts its long, blood encrusted fingernails into the underside of his chin.
It stands erect and lifts him off his feet.
Sheri starts to scream.
Jack, apparently, still does give a crap. He brushes past Steve and makes for the end door.
“I told you!” Wiley shouts, and flips open his knife. He takes advantage of Steve's surprise and twists free of him.
Steve has no idea what to respond to. Too much is happening all at once.
“Fucker,” Wiley spits, and thrusts his knife into Steve's throat.
Steve's face contorts. He clasps one hand over his throat and reaches for Becky with the other.
Becky screams and steps away from Steve.
Wiley stabs Steve repeatedly in the belly. “You had to play the hero, didn't you, fuckface.”
Panicking, Becky pulls open the end door and quickly disappears.
Steve falls to his knees. He's covered in blood.
“Outta my way,” Wiley grunts, and pushes him over, then, without bothering to check on the fates of Gary and Sheri, follows Jack and Becky through the door.
Gary's still on the end of the Amanda-Thing's grip and is violently kicking and flailing. Blood is running down his neck from where the creature's fingernails are embedded in his flesh.
“Let him go!” Sheri yells.
She steps forward, looks like she's about to engage the Amanda-Thing.
The Amanda-Thing reaches out with its free hand and clamps its nails into Sheri's face.
Sheri clutches the Amanda-Things arm and tries to pull herself free. “Get off me!”
The Amanda-Thing digs its thumbnail and end finger into Sheri's cheeks, gouging flesh and drawing blood. It's index and middle fingers find her eye sockets and sink into them. One eye is displaced and the other punctures, spurting its aqueous humor.
Sheri's tortured screams flood the car.
The Amanda-Thing sneers and increases its grip on Sheri's face. This forces the woman's nose flat, breaking it, and fractures the bone below her eye sockets.
Sheri abruptly falls silent.
The Amanda-Thing simultaneously releases both its victims.
Sheri's lifeless body crumples to the floor of the car and Gary lands hard on his back. He starts coughing and moaning. The formidable shape that is the Amanda-Thing looms over him. He raises a hand as a feeble barrier. “Please, I don't wanna-”
The Amanda-thing plunges one of its hands into Gary's stomach. The man's frenzied wailing is like music to its ears. It reaches all the way in, finds his spine and wraps its digits around it, then gives a powerful yank.
Gary's body jerks clean off the floor. There's a look of absolute horror in his eyes, and then - snap - his spine breaks and his body goes limp.
The Amanda-Thing holds Gary suspended for a few seconds, then releases him to the floor.
Beyond the train's windows, Canal Street drifts silently by.
*
01:43 am ...
Screwball is on his hands and knees and fumbling around in the dark for his hat. There's a sense of urgency to his movements due to his usually none-the-wiser internal voice telling him to hurry the hell up or he's going to be killed.
He lays a hand on something, but it's not his hat. It's a sneaker. And it's not empty.
He looks up.
Jeff is standing over him. He's intermittently highlighted by the external light from the tunnel. And he looks different.
Jeff stares at Screwball through luminous yellow eyes which feature black elliptical slits. His mouth spreads into an unnaturally wide grin. There's no teeth and gums behind the grin. Only darkness.
Now what in Jehovah's name is this thing ?
Not since childhood, sitting in front of old re-runs of The Howdy Doody Show on some skanky cable channel, has Screwball felt so completely overwhelmed by fear. That god damn puppet and clown have a lot to answer for.
The Jeff-Thing utters something - it makes no sense; sounds like an ancient language of some kind - then
Before Gary has time to react to what he's seeing, the Amanda-Thing thrusts its long, blood encrusted fingernails into the underside of his chin.
It stands erect and lifts him off his feet.
Sheri starts to scream.
Jack, apparently, still does give a crap. He brushes past Steve and makes for the end door.
“I told you!” Wiley shouts, and flips open his knife. He takes advantage of Steve's surprise and twists free of him.
Steve has no idea what to respond to. Too much is happening all at once.
“Fucker,” Wiley spits, and thrusts his knife into Steve's throat.
Steve's face contorts. He clasps one hand over his throat and reaches for Becky with the other.
Becky screams and steps away from Steve.
Wiley stabs Steve repeatedly in the belly. “You had to play the hero, didn't you, fuckface.”
Panicking, Becky pulls open the end door and quickly disappears.
Steve falls to his knees. He's covered in blood.
“Outta my way,” Wiley grunts, and pushes him over, then, without bothering to check on the fates of Gary and Sheri, follows Jack and Becky through the door.
Gary's still on the end of the Amanda-Thing's grip and is violently kicking and flailing. Blood is running down his neck from where the creature's fingernails are embedded in his flesh.
“Let him go!” Sheri yells.
She steps forward, looks like she's about to engage the Amanda-Thing.
The Amanda-Thing reaches out with its free hand and clamps its nails into Sheri's face.
Sheri clutches the Amanda-Things arm and tries to pull herself free. “Get off me!”
The Amanda-Thing digs its thumbnail and end finger into Sheri's cheeks, gouging flesh and drawing blood. It's index and middle fingers find her eye sockets and sink into them. One eye is displaced and the other punctures, spurting its aqueous humor.
Sheri's tortured screams flood the car.
The Amanda-Thing sneers and increases its grip on Sheri's face. This forces the woman's nose flat, breaking it, and fractures the bone below her eye sockets.
Sheri abruptly falls silent.
The Amanda-Thing simultaneously releases both its victims.
Sheri's lifeless body crumples to the floor of the car and Gary lands hard on his back. He starts coughing and moaning. The formidable shape that is the Amanda-Thing looms over him. He raises a hand as a feeble barrier. “Please, I don't wanna-”
The Amanda-thing plunges one of its hands into Gary's stomach. The man's frenzied wailing is like music to its ears. It reaches all the way in, finds his spine and wraps its digits around it, then gives a powerful yank.
Gary's body jerks clean off the floor. There's a look of absolute horror in his eyes, and then - snap - his spine breaks and his body goes limp.
The Amanda-Thing holds Gary suspended for a few seconds, then releases him to the floor.
Beyond the train's windows, Canal Street drifts silently by.
*
01:43 am ...
Screwball is on his hands and knees and fumbling around in the dark for his hat. There's a sense of urgency to his movements due to his usually none-the-wiser internal voice telling him to hurry the hell up or he's going to be killed.
He lays a hand on something, but it's not his hat. It's a sneaker. And it's not empty.
He looks up.
Jeff is standing over him. He's intermittently highlighted by the external light from the tunnel. And he looks different.
Jeff stares at Screwball through luminous yellow eyes which feature black elliptical slits. His mouth spreads into an unnaturally wide grin. There's no teeth and gums behind the grin. Only darkness.
Now what in Jehovah's name is this thing ?
Not since childhood, sitting in front of old re-runs of The Howdy Doody Show on some skanky cable channel, has Screwball felt so completely overwhelmed by fear. That god damn puppet and clown have a lot to answer for.
The Jeff-Thing utters something - it makes no sense; sounds like an ancient language of some kind - then
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