The Silent Car

Sarah slid through the closing subway doors just in time, glancing through the windows at the platform, happy to be heading home. The soft chime alerted the passengers that the train was leaving her stop. She sunk into the closest seat, feeling the cold plastic chill her legs through her jeans, sighing as she rubbed at her tired eyes with her palms. It felt good to finally sit down after such a long day. Her body lurched gently as she was transported through the underground tunnel. She had a long ride, even with the trains running express after midnight, and all she wanted to do was sleep. Her usual routine involved reading books to stay awake on her commute home, but even holding her book felt like too much work tonight.

The car was silent, but there were more people than she would have expected. There must have been some kind of event because usually, the only other people taking her subway this late at night were the kind that you had to worry about. But they looked like regular people, just a few stragglers making their way back home. Glancing around, she noticed the other passengers were seated quietly, probably just as tired as her. Their eyes were fixed blankly ahead on the seat in front of them or watching the dark, steady blur of the tunnel pass by outside of the train windows. Sarah settled in for the long ride, slumping deeper into her seat.

She opened her book, staring intently at the first paragraph. She willed the comprehension of the words to come to her, but the words just looked like symbols, refusing to form meaning in her brain. Sarah sighed, closing her book again. She glanced up, making eye contact with a middle-aged woman across the row.

Automatically, she turned her gaze away, but something felt off. The woman was still looking at her, gripping a handbag on her lap. Sarah snuck another peek, wondering what this lady’s problem was. Her eyes were open, but she was staring past Sarah, at the space where she sat, motionless. Feeling uneasy, Sarah leaned forward slightly.

“Are you… are you okay?” Sarah called out gently. The woman looked like a statue, not blinking or moving once. Urgency cut through Sarah’s tiredness.

No response. Sarah felt her cheeks get hot, as she tended to flush red when she was nervous. This was weird, in a bad way.

She turned to the next person she could see, finding a college-aged young man beside her. He wore baggy jeans, and had a big pair of earphones around his neck. His eyes were fixed forward with the same vacant stare. Her voice shook now. “Hello?”

A cold sweat flashed across the top of her lip. She swiped at it as she stood abruptly. The book that had been in her lap tumbled to the floor. Panicked, she made her way to the next person. She checked passenger after passenger, professionally dressed men and women, younger looking students or interns, even a woman with a little dog on her lap. Horrified, she found that the dog was frozen too. She started with polite taps and a low voice, and built up to violently shaking shoulders, pleading for someone to just say or do anything. She dreaded the same look on every face, present yet utterly absent. The lights were all on, but no one was home.

The subway hit a turn, and Sarah was propelled sideways. She grabbed a rail, gripping the cool metal and using it to help her keep her balance as she rushed to the end of the car. She shot a hand out for the door handle that connected her car to the next one. Her stomach dropped as the handle refused to budge. Locked. She pounded on the glass, but the next car appeared equally motionless.

   The train lights flickered, and for a brief moment, she could not see as the car was plunged into darkness. She held her breath as her heart hammered against her ribs, threatening to jump out of her chest and escape. When the lights returned, her skin crawled with dread. Every passenger was now standing, perfectly still, staring directly at her. She backed against the door, her mind spiraling.

   “Please,” she whispered. She wanted to close her eyes. She couldn’t, though. She was too afraid of what might happen if she looked away.

   Instead of words, she heard whispers. Soft at first, like the jostling and whooshing noises from the train in motion, but quickly growing louder. They filled the car, echoing unintelligible murmurs. The voices were angry, thick with accusation in her ears. What had she done to upset them?

"Stop!" Sarah cried. She jammed her fingers into her ears, plugging them. It didn’t help. The whispers grew louder and louder, judging her and taunting her and blaming her. For what?

Suddenly, the subway jolted sharply to the right, knocking her off balance. Sarah fell. She felt herself falling for too long, waiting for the impact of the dirty car floor.

She gasped sharply, jerking awake. Her head had slipped against the rail between her seat and the subway door. The train rocked as it slowed down, approaching her station.

She heard the familiar subway voice announce, “This is Franklin Avenue. Transfer is available to the 2 & 3 trains…”

Sarah glanced around, frantic. Passengers chatted softly, scrolling through phones or listening to music. Normalcy surrounded her.

Her heart still raced. She didn’t trust it yet, but had it just been a dream? She took deep breaths, trying to will her panic to go down. Be calm. You are safe, she thought. Just exhausted and stressed out from work. She gathered her belongings, relieved to see her book on her lap, not scattered across the floor.

As she stepped off of the train, her nose and lungs were assaulted by the belly, muggy platform air. The grimy realness of the familiar gross platform felt like it was bringing her back to reality. Her legs were a little shaky, but she was grateful to be moving, to be able to leave and put the strange nightmare behind her.

Sarah made her way out of the station towards the stairs. She climbed up and out, feeling her phone vibrate. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, squinting at the notifications. Someone texted her from an unknown number.

She opened the message and read: "Wake up."

Sarah froze, her pulse quickening again. Anxiety surged back, sharp and biting. Her fingers trembled slightly as she glanced back toward the departing subway. She saw them again. Watching her. Through the windows, all of the passengers stood motionless, facing her. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise and waited until the train vanished into the tunnel and the people were out of view.

Sarah ran up the remaining stairs, emerging onto the street, desperate for the cool, open air and clarity. She continued to run, pumping her legs as the sense of unease lingered. She glanced repeatedly at the people passing by her on the sidewalk, wondering if they were going to have that haunting, identical expression on their faces.

She made it to her walk-up apartment, sprinting up four flights of narrow stairs, quickly unlocking the door, and shoving herself inside. Sarah double-locked the door and pressed her forehead into the wood as she looked out of the peephole. What if they followed her home? She waited, forcing herself to breathe as quietly as possible to see if they would appear at the top of the stairs on her floor.

“Come on,” she said out loud to herself. “Get it together."

She opened her phone again, rereading the unsettling message: "Wake up."

She typed back cautiously: "Who is this?"

The reply was instant: "You know who. You saw us."

Her breath caught in her throat, fingers gripping the phone so tightly her knuckles whitened. Sarah tried to will the nightmare away, but the vacant faces, whispered accusations, and the locked subway doors all followed her.

She stumbled to her window, looking down at the street below. Cars rushed past, their honking sounds reaching her window. New Yorkers moved briskly at their quick walking pace, looking like dozens of little ants with places to be. As she stared, her reflection in the window twisted subtly. For a split second, her own eyes stared back, wide and vacant, mirroring the subway passengers.

Sarah gasped, jerking away from the glass. She collapsed heavily on her couch, pressing her shaking hands into the cushions to try and ground herself. There’s no way that was real, she told herself. Her vision was tunneling, blurred by exhaustion and fear. Her breathing came manually. In and out, she willed herself. In and out. In… and… out… In… And…