Sarah sank into her usual seat on the morning train. She’d almost missed it today. Some kind of commotion below the platform partially blocked the way. Thankfully, she’d made it. She couldn’t afford to be late to work again. She needed her job.
Great, she thought, old guy’s here again. What’s that, like three weeks now?
The faded old man across from her just stared, like he had for just over three weeks. His well-worn suit had once been black. The paisley patterned shirt, the same one he’d had on since he started showing up, was blue, baby now, instead of the royal it had probably been at one point. Again, the only thing the man had that wasn’t old and worn-out was the midnight black briefcase at his feet.
Sarah nodded to the ancient gentleman, expecting nothing back. He never spoke, never nodded, never stopped staring at her. She opened her newspaper, settling in for the almost hour-long ride in to the city.
The raspy whisper came wafting to her ears on a dry breeze. Sarah looked up, searching for the speaker. No one was talking. No one was paying any attention to her at all, except the same old man across from her. Deciding it was her imagination, she went back to reading the article about a crime wave in the city.
“They’ll find you. Run.”
Worried now, Sarah looked around once again, wondering who was talking to her. She didn’t know if she should take the warning seriously or not.
It took Sarah almost fifteen seconds to find what was different. The old man in the opposite seat was gone. His briefcase was shoved over, next to her feet. And every last person on the train was staring at her, madness in their eyes.