Judgment (3 page)

              A police car just up the street from us had collided with a bus. The old Greyhound was on fire, black smoke billowing heavily from inside. In front of the bus two police officers were firing off shots at several of the angels. I watched one angel flinch slightly when the bullet clearly penetrated her skin, but there was no blood, nor did it affect her beyond what seemed to be mere annoyance. Bullets couldn’t stop them.

              We found ourselves in the midst of apocalyptic pandemonium. Several people ran by us, one knocking Margie to the ground. As Steve helped her up, I saw an angel walking towards us. “Come on...this way!” I yelled as I shoved our group in the other direction. We ran down the sidewalk on the south side of the building, stepping over piles of ash as best we could. Another police car raced by us, nearly hitting several people as we turned the corner to the next street.

              This street was the same as the last; a war zone of panic, death, and chaos. We were now in front of our own office building, directly between ours and the building that I had watched the people on the rooftop. It was here that I saw them, the jumpers from the roof. Several yards apart were the man and woman I had seen leaping from fifty stories, along with several others. The woman’s head was cracked open like a melon, the sidewalk around her splattered red. The man’s legs were twisted around in unnatural ways, his head not facing the same way as his body. I heard Jennifer’s startled gasp behind me.

             
My god, they’re moving. They’re alive.

              Moving, they were. Alive, I wasn’t so sure. But they were moving, trying to drag themselves along the sidewalk. Further up the street, several other jumpers were also slowly crawling around in the street. One man who was mostly intact was almost back up on his feet. The woman with the shattered skull was pushing her face along the concrete, moaning and crying, leaving a smear of blood behind her.

              “Jesus Christ,” exclaimed Joe, “how the hell are they still alive?”

              “Watch out!” yelled Steve, as a speeding car came careening past us, running over several people before crashing into the building.  Two angels suddenly flew low over our heads, landing next to the car in pursuit of the occupants.

              Margie urged us forward. “Come on, we have to go!”

              We began running, faster and harder than I had ever run before. We passed by the revolving doors we had seen from the lobby, where trapped people were still slowly being spun to their fate. A huge pile of ash had grown outside the doors where a dozen angels were grabbing people as each section of the glass wheels came around.

              Several more yards up the sidewalk a jumper smacked onto the street next us, blood splattering onto Jennifer’s back. We ran without knowing where we were running to. We simply ran, panicked, an adrenaline-fueled need to flee pushing us beyond our limits. Sirens wailed, people screamed, and large shadows kept passing overhead.

              Run you son of a bitch. Just keep running.

              Just ahead of me Joe ducked into the open doorway of a corner liquor store. We all followed, falling to the floor or leaning against the walls desperately trying to catch our breath. Breathing heavily, I could feel the ash in the air sticking in my throat, choking me. My heart pounded in my chest and ears so hard I thought it would burst. 

              Glancing around I realized there were a dozen other people crammed into the small shop. Close to me were a mother and a small boy. He was hiding behind her leg, his face peering out from behind, covered with smudges of black ash. In the back corner two other people were attending to an injured woman.

              “What now?” I heard Joe ask, still struggling to catch his breath. Outside several gunshots rang out and not too far away I heard screeching tires followed by a loud collision. “We can’t stay here for long.”

              Steve, sounding like he was really struggling to breathe, spoke in broken sentences. “Where can…we go? This is every….where, and not just… in the city. You saw the… TV.”

              “Maybe we should have stayed in the office,” answered Margie.

              Joe, slowly recovering from our sprint, hoisted his wrench and peered out the window.  “It doesn’t matter where the hell we go. We’re screwed no matter what.”

              Several moments passed without anybody speaking. The sounds of the apocalypse outside slowly faded into the background as I listened to the people inside the liquor store. “We have to get off the street,” I heard one of them say.

              Off the street. Off the street. The subway!

              “Hey,” I blurted out. “The subway. Let’s get down to a subway platform. We can catch a train out of here, and do it underground.”

              Steve instantly perked up. “Yeah. That’s it. Two blocks over. We can make that. Let’s get the hell out of here. Take a train all the damn way to Long Island.”

              “Yes?” I asked, basically to the entire group, even though for some reason I looked to Joe most for his agreement. I felt an odd relief when he nodded.

              “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Chapter 3

The Subway

“Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was, and the spirit

shall return unto God who gave it.”

~ Ecclesiastes 12:7

              The subway platform was an odd mix of people that knew what was going on and those that didn’t. Most had no idea yet of what was occurring up on the streets. Those that had run down in a panic either tried to spread the word, or didn’t bother, more concerned with just saving their own necks. The recipients of the news looked around in confusion, trying to separate the truth from the delusional ramblings of crazy people or pranksters. Some joined in the panic thinking another terrorist attack was happening; others attempted to find another place on the platform to get away from the crazy people.

              My little group came running down the steps carrying our pipes and wrenches and looking haggard, and yet few noticed. It was after all, New York. We blended right in with the freaks in the subway station.

              At the edge of the platform dozens of people waited, some with more urgency than others. Many stood casually staring into their cell phones, while others kept glancing nervously up the stairs as if something evil might come down the steps at any moment. For now, the subway platform had granted us a brief respite from the chaos above. The sounds of madness that filtered down to the platform didn’t really seem to affect very many. Years of living here in the city had made most numb to the police sirens and other noises above.

              Not too far from where we stood, a homeless man slept leaning up against a graffiti covered wall, hugging a half empty bottle of vodka. For a few seconds I almost envied his obliviousness to it all. Then I heard the subway train coming. So did everyone else, and a large mob moved closer to the edge of the platform. It seemed like everyone wanted to get on this particular train.

              A light glow of white-wash slowly filled the station as the train’s headlights came around a curve in the tunnel and began to illuminate the platform. People began pushing and shoving to get closer to the edge. Everybody wanted on, expecting the train to ease into the station, open its doors, and carry them away to safety.

              That’s not what they got.

              As the train neared, its clacking wheels grew louder and louder, but never slowed. Suddenly the train burst from the tunnel at full speed, roaring past the platform like a bullet. The wind blew hats and hair and papers into a mini-hurricane within the station. People screamed and stepped back from the edge. The train sped by as if the station wasn't there, disappearing into the southbound tunnel. Just as quickly as the train had come, the platform went silent, except for the gasps and mutterings of the surprised travelers left standing there. Papers floated back and forth in the lingering breeze for several moments until the air settled back down as the stunned New Yorkers looked around at each other with baffled expressions on their faces.

              Then a new sound came.

              Faint at first, then slowly growing louder; a rustling, a rhythmic stirring, like a paint brush being pushed rapidly back and forth on a wall. It was a strange sound, unrecognizable, echoing off the walls of the tunnel. There was an eerie sense of calm before the storm, like everyone knew something was coming but no one knew what.

              An instant later angels by the dozens were flying out of the tunnel, bursting forth from the darkness.

              They spread out across the platform, and stunned people that didn’t move fast enough were quickly being turned to ash. Chaos and madness ensued. For a moment I thought about heading up the stairs back into the street just to get away, but as I looked towards the stairs I saw more angels streaming down from above. Everyone was trapped. We were trapped. I heard Jennifer scream. I saw Joe raising his wrench in defiance.

              “We have to get out of here!” I heard Steve yell, although it was more like pleading, the fear overcoming him.

              “Adam!” Jennifer yelled, but then there were no more words. She just looked at me, speaking with her eyes, desperately wanting me to do something to save us. There was no heading up the stairs, and no staying on the platform; just the sudden realization that there was only the darkness of the subway tunnel to hide us.

              “Let’s go, this way. Now!” Joe yelled loudly, and I saw him jump down off the platform and head into the tunnel quickly becoming lost in the growing crowd that began to follow him. It seemed the only option; enter the tunnel or stay on the platform and die. I grabbed Jennifer’s hand, motioned for Margie to follow, and headed into the dark unknown.

              As I leapt off the platform down onto the tracks below, I had a sudden memory of the third rail. I heard the warning in my head.

             
Don’t touch the third rail.

              I had no idea if that was true or a myth. I paused for a moment to make sure everyone was with me. Jennifer I could feel on my arm. Margie was next, dragging Steve behind her. Four of us plus Joe who was already ahead, that’s it.

              Run you idiot.

              “Stay off the rails,” came out of my mouth involuntarily as I ran off into the darkness. I could hear the footsteps behind me. I could feel Jennifer’s panicked grip squeezing my forearm. We ran for what seemed like forever, but it was probably only a few minutes before my lungs gave out. I stopped, leaning against the wall, gasping for breath. Margie and Steve were just a few seconds behind. Steve seemed barely able to breathe. Joe, yelling from somewhere further up the tunnel, was urging us to keep moving.

              I turned to look back towards the platform. Following behind us was a strange vision of cell phone lights wobbling back and forth through the air; people running behind us, trying to light their way with their phones. Margie was urging me to get moving. I heard people out of breath, gasping, calling out to find each other in the darkness. Cell phone lights were coming closer, their lights bouncing off the walls of the tunnel. There was too much happening all at once to keep track of it all. Suddenly I saw a flash of sparks and heard a garbled scream as someone stepped on the third rail.

              Damn, it’s real.

              Then came the sound I dreaded; the flapping of wings in the darkness.  In the tunnel behind us people began to scream wildly. They weren’t just running anymore, they were being slaughtered. Cell phone lights moved more erratically, flashing against the walls of the subway tunnel like some surreal rave; fireflies in the darkness, harbingers of death. Random sparks erupted in the blackness as more and more people hit the third rail and the smell of burning flesh began to fill the air. Cell phone lights suddenly fell motionless on the ground. Angels were moving quickly through the tunnel; a wave of death surging through the darkness. In another moment they would catch up to us.

              Over the chaos I heard Jennifer’s voice. “Oh my God Adam.”

              God can’t help us now. He’s the one we’re running from.

              The next few moments became a whirlwind of chaos. People were running into us trying to get away. Someone ran into Jennifer and knocked her to the ground. As I knelt down to pick her up I felt the breeze from the large wing that passed just over my head. A man fell down onto the third rail and was electrocuted right next to us. Angels were all around us, next to us, above us. I saw Steve and Margie wedging themselves up against the wall of the tunnel. I pushed Jennifer up against the wall and put myself in front of her. All around us people were screaming, wings were flapping, and hot ash was filling the air. I knew that any moment it would be our turn. I pressed harder into Jennifer, trying to shield her, and we waited for the end.

              A second later a huge gust of air pushed into the tunnel. I heard a mechanical sound rapidly growing louder, the clacking of wheels, and a blinding light suddenly illuminated the madness around us. A subway train roared by at maximum speed, smashing humans and angels without prejudice as it went by like a missile. Jennifer screamed and I felt her fingernails dig into me as she buried her face into my chest. I felt parts of the train scrape against my back as it went by. I was sure the train would snag me and drag me off down the tunnel to a brutal death. Seconds later it was gone, a strong rip current of air pulling along behind it.

              In its wake, large white feathers spun around in the air, slowly floating down to the ground. Some were pure white, others painted red with blood. I eased up off of Jennifer and we all moved off of the wall. Cell phones lay scattered on the ground, their dimly lit screens illuminating the carnage all around us. Body parts were everywhere; arms, legs, hands and heads, all scattered around on the ground. I couldn’t tell angel from human. The walls of the tunnel were splattered with blood. I could hear it dripping off the ceiling.

              A few other people had managed to escape the train’s path and they quickly ran off down the tunnel and disappeared into the darkness like panicked rabbits running from the hounds. Somewhere back towards the platform, moans and yells began to drift through the tunnel again from the injured and the suffering. There was no sign of any more angels, but I knew that wouldn’t last.

              Up ahead of us someone was walking back in our direction. From his silhouette and the large wrench in his hand, I knew it was Joe. He didn’t speak until he was right on us. “Everyone make it?” He looked at Jennifer and I, then leaned to look behind us. Margie and Steve were making their way up to us, stepping around the body parts. Joe looked back to me.  “That was fucked up.” I didn’t really have much of a response. ‘Fucked up’ seemed understated and obvious. I was more interested in what was next.

              “What do we do now?” I asked.

              Jennifer was nervously looking around at the bodies on the ground. “I don’t want to stay here. I want to get out of the tunnel.”

              Joe pointed further up the tracks, towards where he had come from. “I saw a side door up there about thirty yards, in a little alcove. Looks like a maintenance room or something. I didn’t get to try the door yet but if we can get in, it might be a good place to hide out for a while.”

              Jennifer repeated her disagreement. “I really don’t want to stay down here.”

              Steve answered her. “It’s not going to be safe up there on the street, at least not tonight. The best thing we can do is hide out until somebody gets things under control. The military, the police, I don’t know. But the only thing happening up there tonight is us dying. I’m going for the room.” He looked at Margie, hoping for her agreement.

              “He’s right,” she said. “I don’t think anyone is going to do anything, to be honest, but I think I’d rather take my chances down here for now than commit suicide up there.”

              I agreed as I took Jennifer’s hand. “Yeah,” I told her, “C’mon, let’s check out the room before more of those things come through the tunnel.”

              She gave a reluctant nod but followed along beside me as Joe led us to the alcove. A couple minutes of stepping over body parts and we came to a small elevated platform on the left side of the tunnel. A few steps led up to an alcove that went several feet into the tunnel wall before ending at an old metal door. The paint had been peeling off of it for years, revealing the rust underneath. Joe got to the door ahead of everyone else, and it pushed right open.

              It was a dusty old maintenance room, stocked with a bunch of crap only some of which I could recognize. It was all train and track parts, tools, and some odd shaped light bulbs. In the corner was what looked like a box of miscellaneous lost and found junk; random things they had picked up off of the tracks over the years. There was a desk with some log books on it, an ashtray full of cigarette butts, and a penthouse magazine. It wasn’t a big room, just big enough for the five of us to not be climbing on each other. I tried to lock the door, but the knob was busted up and there was no lock. It was a maintenance room, in need of maintenance.

              Steve and Margie were rummaging through the tools. I saw Margie grab an old pocket knife. The rest of the stuff didn’t seem like it would be very useful. Eventually we all settled down to sitting on the floor, except for Joe who took a spot on the desk. None of us realized how exhausted we were from the last couple of hours, until we stopped running. Then your body signals catch up to you.