Any Elsewhere

“Do you have the time?” The words drifted over me like clouds before a hurricane. My mind was elsewhere. It wouldn’t be long now. As the sweat pooled in the channels etched into my aging mug, and began to overflow, the gentleman tried again. “Excuse me sir, do you have the time?” One drop hit the floor as the train lurched to a halt. A half dozen passengers poured into the car as I stared blankly ahead. How many stops were left? My eyes darted to the map on the adjacent wall as the gentleman, exasperated, tried his luck with a new target. A businessman who had just sat down. “Excuse me sir, I am sorry to bother you, could you tell me what time it is?”

“What?” The businessman could hardly hear him over the giggling group of teenagers that, despite plenty of open seats, chose to sit directly behind him.

“WHAT TIME IS IT?” The gentleman let his frustrations get the better of him and shouted at this stranger for what was, really, entirely my fault. For a moment, he must have felt totally invisible. I don’t know why I was so invested in a conversation, and a person, I kept refusing to acknowledge. I suppose it was the nature of my situation. I would happily have been involved in this normal conversation, usually, but tonight I hardly have the capacity. The fear of that fact is what drove me to focus so intensely on the unanswered question. What time is it? I now wanted to know myself. Because, truthfully, I did not have the time but I knew time was running out.

“A quarter to six.” He looked at the gentleman with understandable confusion muddled with slight fear. It appeared he hadn’t been yelled at in quite some time. He dressed well. A tan suit which, while occasionally controversial, had really found its stride in the previous few years among the wealthy urban elite of which he so clearly belonged. The watch confirmed my suspicions, but maybe it was fake.

“Is it fake?” I muttered before I could stop myself. Luckily, he hadn’t heard me. Those damn teenagers covered my tracks. I had about had it with this end of the train, and I was getting increasingly worried I would reveal myself, so I walked up to the map to plot my course. I made sure that my coat adequately concealed the gun I was carrying. I had gotten on at Waverly and there have been four stops. There were about four more before the tunnel.

“Are you alright?” Her voice broke through my shell and then I noticed the smell. It lifted my nostrils and reminded me of times before all of this started. When I wasn’t the type of person strangers had to ask that question. I suppose it’s a good thing a woman still feels comfortable talking to me at all. I managed to connect the dots quick enough to respond before the silence became damning.

“Yes. I am. I’m just feeling a little warm.” I assume the sweat is what prompted the question. I have always been worryingly sweaty to some people. Especially when I am nervous.

“Well, I have some water. If you need it… I’m sorry. I don’t mean to impose. It’s just I’m a doctor. The whole oath really goes to my head sometimes. Maybe you should take off your jacket?”

“No! I can’t take it off I… I’m a germaphobe. And this train is very dirty… The extra degree of separation keeps me comfortable. I promise.”

“Well… then I guess you won’t want to share my water either. But, I promise, I am very clean.” The way she looked at me towards the end of that last remark was unsettling. There is zero chance this fragrant doctor is actually interested in me, so what was the catch? Shit. What stop was it? Had we stopped while I had been distracted.

“Thank you for the offer, but I think I just need to sit down.” As I finished my verbal escape, I began to push through the passengers standing minorly in the way to make my way to the back of the car. I had to steel my nerves. The moment was almost upon me.

Maybe if I got off this train, and transferred at the next stop, I could just ride far out of town and forget all about this. The debt I owe, the people I hurt, the deal I made that brought me here. I hate this place. I hate this train. If I was given the choice to go anywhere else, be born anywhere else, I would choose any elsewhere. Yet, here I am. My hands shook and another drop hits the floor. I wonder how many stops have passed as I mutter about feeling sorry for myself. In reality, I knew I was the last person on the train that deserved sympathy.

Then I felt the train begin forward. It must have stopped when I was walking over. I tried to recalibrate where I was, how much time was left, and then the mouth of the tunnel swallowed us and the darkness shrouded the entire car. As we progressed, sparsely placed lights began to peak through the windows and show glimpses of the unfortunate people who chose to this car on this night. It is hard to imagine being so unlucky. I yanked my mask out of the left interior coat pocket and then pulled it over my head. I readied the gun, silently, as I crouched close to the floor. Then, I waited. As the lights blinked, I saw the gentleman, and the businessman, and the fragrant doctor. I felt badly for all of them. But mostly, I felt bad for me. Then the tunnel spat us out.

I stood and aimed the gun at the nearest passenger. “Put the money in the fucking bag or I’ll kill all of you! Wallets, watches, jewelry, everything!”

I didn’t react to the movement in the periphery and, before I refocused, I felt the metal tear through my abdomen and shoot out the other side. Then I felt it a few more times. I glanced down the car and saw that all three of my friends had guns trained on me. As the blood pooled into the cervices knocked into the well-worn floor of the train car, I could do nothing but laugh. I knew that she didn’t actually want to talk to me.