October 22, 2009

• They don’t have lights (Pt. 1)

   

      “You look familiar.”  I said, through the muffled voice of my mask.  “Do you come in here every now and again?”
      “Yeah, but who doesn’t?”  The stranger replied.
      “True” and that was where the conversation ended, because by this time I was already staring out the windows at the dark rolling clouds.  A sign – a symbol – of the changes that I knew were coming.  The sweeping flow of change didn’t really affect me anymore though, I was already pretty used to it.  Who doesn’t come in here every now and again?  I guess this is the only place where people really see each other.  Now that I think back on it, I probably sounded pretty stupid asking that question.  It wouldn’t be a bad thing if they installed some lights in here, though.  You know, those kind that actually work.  I ‘ve heard of other places that have them.  Of course, all that really is is just talk.  Everybody knows that they don’t have lights anywhere.  Nowhere safe anyway.  I must be full of foolish thoughts today.
      The stranger must have been able to tell that I was lost in thought.  “You’re only doing this to yourself” he said.  “That’s not what people are supposed to do here.”
      “Sure” I thought out loud.  “Here, people sleep.”
      He laughed, “Not the ones that live.”
      This kind of frightened me.  I didn’t want to tell him that I was new to this.  He must have been able to tell though, because he stopped laughing and fell silent.  And that is how both of us stayed, silent.
      Silent until he cocked back his shotgun.  The noise was the loudest sound I had heard in almost an hour.  Even the slow churning sensation of the train we were on didn’t cut through the tension like it did.  As it defiled the air, it spoke of violence that was surely to come.  It changed the mood from restless anticipation, to fear, to aggression.  Blood was about to be shed. 
      “We’re here!”  The guy in the front shouted.
      Just as he said it, the doors swung open.  All the noise was making my head spin.  The loud screeching of the breaks.  The improperly maintained door hinges.  The rustling of three men who didn’t even know each other preparing for something that they did not fully understand.  But more deafening than all the commotion, was the silence that followed.  And then the squeal.
      All those zombie movies have it so wrong.  I don’t just mean about zombies squealing instead of moaning.  I mean about how the “disease” is spread.  If a zombie bites you, you are a lucky one.  You aren’t going to be turned into a zombie, you are going to be eaten, completely.  There won’t be time to turn into a zombie.  This disease is airborne.  Anybody, anywhere, can just mutate right before your eyes.  There is absolutely nothing that you can do about it.  Man, it would be so easy if you only turned if they bit you, so easy.

      …to be continued.

   

   

  • 7:20 pm
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