Rabid Transit: A Tim Reaper Story

Nothing good ever lived underground ...

It was invisible to the naked eye in the early morning blackness of the beach and it hit like a sledgehammer. I held onto Sparks for dear life as the rogue wave swept us through a fissure between Here and There. Charlotte was on the case because my lungs should have filled with water but somehow, I was still breathing. Sparks wasn't turning green, so it looked like she was still breathing too. All we had to do was hang on tight and hope the wave would deposit us gently on the other side.

We tumbled together for a few very long seconds. My stomach was doing back flips and if the spinning wouldn't stop I couldn't be held responsible for what would happen next.

We splashed through a turnstile and tumbled down a steep flight of stairs. Together we slid across a filthy subway platform complete with thousands of dried up gum scabs, cigarette butts and crushed coffee cups. All around us were the souls of the recently departed who could no longer smoke, drink coffee or chew gum. They just stood in silence, the same hopeless look in their dead eyes. Everybody was waiting for The Train. No real idea what was coming when it got there.

A sign indicated an arrival time of less than a minute.

"You ready for this, Sparks?" I said, cracking my knuckles. In my shoulder holsters were a pair of nine-millimeter Berettas as back up for when my fists got tired of punching evil things. "All about the faith now. We're supposed to know what to do, right?"

"Pretty much," she said, swinging her mace/flashlight. "We get on The Train and look for something foaming at the mouth. Then we kill it along with anything that tries to get in our way."

I arched my eyebrows as I slipped my knuckle dusters onto my right hand. "You know what, Sparks?" I said with a hint of faux shock in my voice. "You're actually a little bit terrifying at times."

"Stow it, Reaper," she shot back as a dust-filled yellow light flooded the tunnel. A warm gush of air that smelled of stale cigarettes and petroleum products rolled across the platform as The Train came to a stop not more than twenty feet away from us.

The first thing I noticed was how it looked like your standard run of the mill underground train that you'd find in any major metropolitan city on Planet Earth. New York. Toronto. Chicago. Hell, even The Tube in London for that matter. And I have to say, I felt a bit disappointed. I was expecting rail cars comprised of living fire, or maybe a hellish steam engine that belched out clouds of despair and self-loathing. The Conductor and Engineer comprised of the seven original sins.

Instead, I got a plain old subway train that was fully automated. Didn't need anyone up in the front with their hand on the accelerator. About as exciting as a plaid vacuum bottle.

You tend to expect the worst when you're dealing with shit from the dark place.

"No clue what's going to happen when we get on-board, Sparks," I said quickly.

"Charlotte's got our back," she said calmly. "Plus, you can beckon an angel who can manifest a flaming spear or sword."

Okay, she was right, but I was worried.

Even if I were to call in the cavalry, in this case, Ambriel, it might only make things worse. (Ambriel = My girlfriend who used to be a call girl and then got killed because of me. Then came back as a golden-armored battle angel.) Her presence on this side of the light would create a shit storm because Holy beings from up on high are supposed to stay on their own turf. Same for the guys from downstairs. Demons don't get to walk the streets of heaven. It's the human world that's at play. Planet Earth is the game board and every single person alive, a chess piece. Temptation and sin. Forgiveness and redemption. The eternal dance.

Eight sets of doors opened simultaneously. Two for each of the four cars.

The condemned stepped right on the train, one by one. Not a peep. An orderly gaggle on its way to an eternity of torment. Sparks and I were about to step on when the doors closed with a metallic hiss.