13 - Broadway Express - Fourth Car - Donna

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            Just like a man, she thought. Fucking falls asleep on the subway three seconds into the trip. She shook her husband but he didn’t stir. Fucking fucktard.

            She supposed that the problem started with his mistress. Then her finding the bills for presents she had never received. She had thought that he was waiting till her birthday, but it had come and gone and she had never seen any fucking diamond tennis bracelet.

            She knew then

            When she confronted Steven about the affair, she had not gotten the reaction she thought she would. Instead of the cold denial that she was expecting, he had broken down and blubbered like a baby, saying some shit about how he had never meant to sleep with his TA, how the whole thing had started out so innocently. He had begged her to forgive him.

            She supposed that she started hating him then, but more so throughout the marriage counseling. That had been humiliating, horrible, horrendous.  She had sat there and listened to every detail of her husbands sex life, which was enlightening as they hardly ever had sex anymore. The therapist had been a man and had kept talking to her about a man’s urges, about a man’s needs. She had spat in his face, kicked her husband in the balls and stormed out of the office. To say that the counseling had gone badly was an understatement.

            Not only that, but he had started quoting self help books at her, as if this was all her fault and not his. She fucking hated self help books. You wanted help, you helped yourself. You didn’t pay some fucktard thousands of dollars to tell you what you wanted to hear, or plop down fuckloads of cash for a pile of self help books to prove that your feelings of inadequacy were right.

            These were the thoughts going through her head when the glass shattered. Their compartment had been empty except for a few people sitting in the back of it when they had entered and taken their seats. When the glass window to her right shattered, it brought her out of her funk and the noise around her finally registered.

            She could hear people on the train screaming, gun shots, animal like growls. She turned towards the shattered glass and was horror struck at what she saw there. A man, at least she thought it was a man, stood with half of his body impaled by shards of glass. Why isn’t the train moving? She thought. What the fuck is wrong with him?

            Her husband didn’t even stir. She looked around and noticed the blood on the floor, the blood seeping from the wound the man at the window had inflicted on himself. Despite the fact that this man had half of his face missing and shards of glass sticking out of him, he was climbing in through the window towards them. He was making an odd clicking sound in the back of his throat, as if she were a snack of some sort or an appetizer. Her husband chose that moment to wake up.

            “What the fuck is that?” Steven yelled. His voice had become high pitched and girly like it did when he was frightened. “What the fuck is going on?”

            She registered that the thing was almost in their car now, that there was more blood than she had thought possible (where had those other couples gone? Why was there so much blood?) and that she had only seconds to act. She had seen the horror movies. She knew what this was, recognized the signs.

            Pulling a large silver gun out of her purse, she pointed it at the zombie coming in through the window (a zombie, she thought, a mother fucking zombie). Instead of pulling the trigger right away, however, she turned to her husband, aimed at his crotch and fired.

            Blood began to bloom immediately as Steven began to scream. “FUCKING BITCH! MOTHER FUCKING BITCH!” His skin had begun to go white and pale. “What the fuck did you do that for? What the fuck Donna?”

            “Sorry,” she said. “Must have slipped. And now you can’t use what you don’t have.”

            “Fucking bitch,” he said. “I’ll fucking teach you.”

            “See, I don’t think you will.” With speed, she took his arm, pulled him from his seat and flung him at the zombie that had now gotten into their car completely. As it began to devour her husband and his screams filled the car, other zombies began to shuffle out from behind seats towards the buffet.

            The one who had climbed through the window stopped eating and looked at her with its white eyes. When it spoke, its lips did not move, but she heard him in her head. *more* he said. *bring us more*

            She tilted her head at the zombie, at the intelligence there in its milky white gaze. “What were you called before you became what you are?” She asked.

            *kevin* it said. *i was called kevin*

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