Campsite Six – Transit

Chapter 1

The city stood erect and imposing. Crowds walled within its maze moved in streams of color and shadow, with an urban pulse coursing through each running, rattling member.

Evie was one of them.

Rushing through her morning routine she ascended from her garden apartment, ready for the energy of the day to push her forward. The city told her where to go, what to do, and who to do it with. Evie wasn’t quite the mover and shaker of a bustling city, but she had her own network of connections, people she relied on and who relied on her for day-to-day decisions and operations.

She ran across East Street, jacket open, scarf and hair braided by the wind, blown forward by a rush of rusty bus exhaustion; she calculated how much time she had to grab a latte and catch the train to get across town. She joined jittery lines feigning movement with urgent calls, news updates, and text messages, hurriedly cupping coffees and jumping back into the push.

Pressed against other commuters in the already full cabin, Evie watched as the doors opened with a pneumatic cry to embrace and expel riders en route; she offered a faint smile toward each new passenger, which was met by drawn faces not as ready to meet the day.

Evie’s smile hid her anxiety. She wasn’t looking forward to presenting her report at the early morning meeting, now just minutes away, as she trailed under the city to her job at Sorenson and Thompson, mind lost in last-minute details with reminders not to forget this and to remember that.

Suddenly, the train braked hard, throwing Evie awake to now.

It groaned against its hurling momentum, the pain of strained metal howling to a screeching halt, biting smoke fuming oily aromas with an exhausted, diminishing hiss.

Evie’s heart raced, while her stalled mind watched bodies fling in slow motion toward the front and then back of the car like pendulums anchored to seats or poles to which they desperately clung. Frozen under a flickering light, Evie scoped the damage, while those around her did the same, staring through eyes glazed with the surreal. She watched them scurry to grab belongings shifted out of place and press their clothes back into shape with stressed hands.

One alarmed voice asked questions to no one in particular.

“Oh my God! What is happening? Will someone please help me?” the nervous woman said on the verge of tears. Comfort came from a nearby passenger who pulled a jacket and purse from the floor and placed them in the woman’s open arms.

“I can’t believe this,” a businessman said. “I can’t be late for work again!”

Evie reached for her cell, then heard someone offer the frustrated report, “There’s no blasted signal.”

With one final blink, the flickering light went dark.

Staring up toward the blackened bulb Evie felt familiar panic rise. Everything around her evaporated as her fear surged, gurgling up, ignoring her attempt to stifle its flow that spewed through her, shaking her convulsively when the images flashed behind closed eyes that couldn’t block them. The stunned crowd didn’t notice her braced shoulders pushing against the memory. They didn’t see her grab the steel pole to stand still in a train that had already rocked itself asleep under its cement and steel cover.

She was alone with the memory.

His bristled jaw across her cheek, the heavy breath in her nostrils, the eager grasp holding her to the sticky ground.

She knew he was somewhere in the city, an undressed rat in one maze or another.

Where didn’t matter—he was always as close as the darkness.

She wanted to run, get far away. She was about to scream, so she swallowed hard to hold back the verbal bile pressing to escape through white clamped lips.

As she watched the unwelcome scene run through her mind, one brave soul said a prayer for God to protect them, which was echoed by one lonely “Amen.”

Evie searched for the face of the man who prayed, urging her eyes to find him in the shadows of the cabin. She wanted to nod a thank-you, and it bothered her that she couldn’t. She mumbled a similar plea, eyes glancing past the cabin ceiling, but it rang hollow in her ears and that frightened her.

Her mind flooded with alarm.

Would she be trapped so long she would have to pee in the corner? Go hungry and vie for scraps or try to escape with MacGyver-like strategies to save not only herself but also those around her?

Two questions terrified her the most: Would I die today? Would this place mark my entrance into eternity?

She moved one rung of posts forward, toward the voice of the man who prayed, looking for some distant comfort, which would be better than no comfort at all.

Quiet conversations took place as people wondered what went wrong.

Was it a bomb? Were they in danger?

No one dared utter these words for fear they might be true. They preferred to believe it was just another day in the city.

When a light illuminated up the track, all faces turned in its direction, bobbing eagerly between heads to sneak a peek at the approaching beam. Evie could see the light bounce between the train and subway wall, blinding eyes and pitching darkness as it swung in the pointing hand of the engineer. He stopped to give reports to each car, then moved down the tracks, leaving applause in his wake.

“Let’s all remain calm. Is anyone hurt?” the man asked in a reassuring, all-in-a-day’s-work tone. When no one spoke up he continued, “A mishap up the tracks stopped the train. Once it’s cleared, we’ll move you to the next station where you can go up top and catch the bus.”

He offered a flashlight to no one in particular, which was grabbed by the nervous woman, who flashed it around the cabin to reveal flinching eyes then threw the blinding beam up the tracks to highlight any forward movement.

The engineer moved on to the next car before anyone could claim injury or inquire about how long it would be before they reached the surface. Stalled conversations returned with more vigor and animation; illuminated cell phone screens, still unable to connect, played across relieved faces as minds shifted from life and death to this’ll be a story to tell.

The car finally bumped forward and slowly edged toward the next station to cheers and relief. Evie grabbed the open door facing the platform and toed her foot across its threshold, quickly becoming lost in the sea of faces eager to return to the surface of the city for fresh air and renewed life.

Evie made her way to the office, the few blocks between the station and work replacing her worried frown with the safe smile of familiarity.

“What happened to you this morning? It’s not like you to oversleep,” her assistant said, mistaking her disheveled hair and weary eyes as a simple turn of the alarm.

Evie pushed into the conference room to impatient applause, which, considering her ordeal, made more sense to her than they could know. Her associates followed with platitudes, dismissing her morning as trite and boring.

“That’s the subway for you,” her boss summarized.

Taking the hint, Evie prepared to give her report on “The Projected Swing of Fall Market Trends,” amazed she still cupped the morning’s coffee in her trembling hand.

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