فصل 8

CHAPTER 8

Mark leans his head back against the seat of the subtrans as it speeds along. He closes his eyes, smiles. School was a load that day, but it was over. Over for two weeks. Now he can relax and chill—just veg. Play the virtbox and eat outrageous amounts of food. Hang out with Trina, talk to Trina, bug Trina. Maybe he’d just say adios to his parents and kidnap her, run away. There you go.

He opens his eyes.

She’s sitting across from him, completely ignoring him. She has no idea that he’s daydreaming about her, or even that he’s mad for her. They’ve been friends for a long time, by circumstance more than anything. When you live next door to a kid, that kid is your buddy by the rules of the universe. Male, female, alien—doesn’t matter. But how could he have known she’d turn into this beautiful thing with the hot body and the dazzling eyes? Of course, the only problem with that is that every other dude in the school likes her, too. And Trina likes being liked. That is obvious.

“Hey,” he says. The subtrans bullets through the tunnels beneath New York City, whisper quiet, its movement almost soothing. It makes him want to close his eyes again. “What’re you thinking about over there?” Her eyes meet his; then her face brightens into a smile. “Absolutely nothing. That’s what I’m going to do for two weeks. Not think. If I start to think, I’m going to think really hard about not thinking until I quit thinking.” “Wow. That almost sounds hard.”

“No. Just fun. Only brilliant prodigies know how to do it.”

This is one of those moments where Mark has the ridiculous urge to say something about liking her, ask her out on an official date, reach out and take her hand. Instead, the usual dumb words come tumbling out. “O wisest of the wise, maybe you can teach me this method of thinking to not think.” Her face scrunches up a little. “You are such a dork.”

Oh yeah. He has her wrapped around his finger for sure. He feels like groaning, maybe punching himself in the face.

“But I like dorks,” she says to soften the blow.

And he feels good again. “So … what are your plans? You guys going anywhere, staying home, what?” “We might go to my granny’s for a few days, but we’ll be home most of the break. I’m supposed to go out with Danny sometime, but nothing solid. You?” He’s been knocked down a few notches. So much up-and-down with this girl. “Um, yeah. I mean, no. We’re just … Nothing. I’ll be sitting around eating chips. Lots of burping. Lots of watching my little sister get spoiled with presents.” Madison. Yeah, she’s spoiled, but half of that is Mark’s fault.

“Maybe we can hang out, then.”

And back up the scale he goes. “That’d be awesome. How about every day?” It’s the boldest statement he’s ever made to her.

“Okay. Maybe we can even …” She looks around with exaggerated caution, then focuses back on him. “Sneak a kiss in your basement.” For one long second, he thinks she’s serious and his heart stops completely, goose bumps rising like soldiers across his skin. A flush of feeling burns in his chest.

But then she starts laughing like a crazy person. Not really maliciously, and maybe he even notes a hint of real flirtation in there somewhere. But mostly he can tell that she sees them as lifelong buds, nothing more. That the thought of kissing in his basement is just plain silly. Mark officially decides to abandon his own notions for a while.

“You are so hilarious,” he says. “I’m laughing on the inside.”

She stops her giggling and uses her hand to fan her face. “I really would, ya know.” The last word has barely come out of her mouth when the lights go out.

The subtrans loses all power and begins to slow; Mark almost falls out of his seat and into Trina’s lap. Any other time and maybe that would be a good thing, but now he just feels scared. He’s heard stories about this sort of thing happening in the olden days, but in his lifetime the power underground never fails. They are in absolute, complete darkness. People are beginning to scream. The brain isn’t wired to be plunged into such darkness without warning. It’s just scary. Finally the glow from a few wristphones breaks it a little.

Trina grabs his hand and squeezes. “What in the world?” she asks simply.

He feels reassured because she doesn’t seem all that scared really. And it brings him back to his senses. Even though it’s never happened before, surely the subtrans is bound to break down eventually.

“Malfunction, I guess.” He pulls out his palmphone—he’s not rich enough for one of those fancy wrist things—but strangely, there’s no service. He puts it back in his pocket.

Soft yellow emergency lights come on, strips that run down the roof of the train. They’re dim but still a welcome relief after the blindness of before. People are standing up all around him, looking up and down the train, whispering furiously to each other. Whispering seems like what you’re supposed to do in such a situation.

“At least we’re not in a hurry,” Trina says. In a whisper, of course.

Mark has lost that initial sense of panic. Now all he wants to do is ask her what she meant when she said, “I really would, ya know.” But that moment has been shot down and killed for good. Of all the rotten timing.

The train shakes. Just a little. Trembling more than anything, like a heavy vibration. But it’s unsettling and people scream again, move about. Mark and Trina exchange a look full of curiosity with a spark of fear.

Two men stomp over to the exit doors, working to force them apart. They finally slide open and the men jump out onto the walkway that runs the length of the tunnel. Like a bunch of rats fleeing a fire, the rest of the passengers follow them, pushing and shoving and cursing until everyone is out. In a matter of two or three minutes, Mark and Trina are left alone on the subtrans car, the pale lights glowing above them.

“Not sure that’s really what we should do,” Trina says, for some reason still whispering. “I’m sure this thing will flip back on soon.” “Yeah,” Mark says. The train continues to quake slightly, and that’s beginning to worry him more. “I don’t know. Something seems really wrong, actually.” “You think we should go?”

He thinks about it for a second. “Yeah. If we just sit here I might go crazy.” “Okay. Maybe you’re right.”

Mark stands up, as does Trina. They walk to the open doors, then climb out onto the walkway. It’s narrow and has no railing, which makes it seem really dangerous if the trains start again. Emergency lights have come on in the tunnel as well, but they barely do anything to break the almost tangible darkness of a place so far underground.

“They went that way,” Trina says, pointing to their left. And something in her tone makes Mark think she means they should go in the opposite direction. He agrees with her.

“So … to the right, then,” he says, giving a nod.

“Yeah. I don’t want to be near any of those people. Can’t even say why.”

“Seemed like a mob.”

“Come on.”

She pulls him by his arm as she begins walking down the narrow ledge. They both run a hand along the wall, almost leaning into it to make sure they don’t topple onto the tracks. The wall is vibrating, but not as strongly as the train. Maybe whatever caused the power outage has finally begun to calm. Maybe it was just a simple earthquake and everything will be okay.

They’ve been walking for ten minutes, not saying a word to each other, when they hear the screams up ahead. No. Not just screams. Something beyond screams. Pure terror, like people being slaughtered. Trina stops, turns to look back at Mark. Any doubts—or hopes, rather—vanish.

Something horrible has happened.

Mark’s instinct is to turn and run in the opposite direction, but he’s ashamed of himself when Trina opens her mouth and shows how brave she is.

“We need to get up there, see what’s going on—see if we can help.”

How can he say no to that? They run, as carefully and as quickly as they can, until they reach the wide platform of a substation. And then they stop. The scene before them is too horrific for Mark’s mind to compute. But he knows that nothing in his life will ever, ever be the same.

Bodies litter the floor, naked and burned. Screams and cries of pain pierce his eardrums and echo off the walls. People are limping about, arms outstretched, their clothes on fire and their faces half melted like wax. Blood everywhere. And an impossible surge of heat washes through the air, like they’re inside an oven.

Trina turns, grabs his hand, a look of terror on her face that he thinks may be seared into his mind forever. She pulls him once again, running back to where they came from.

All the while, he thinks of his parents. His little sister.

In his mind he sees them burning somewhere. He sees Madison screaming.

And his heart breaks.