Arms outstretched

The train has finally arrived. I hesitate but get on and go to the far end of the carriage.

I usually don’t think like this, but I’m scanning my surroundings. No fizz, hum, or hiss. I don’t think like this, but will it happen again, today perhaps?

Seems the perfect place. Enclosed. Smallish. No obvious weapons that passengers can grab to defend themselves. No clear barriers to hide behind, except for the chairs, but they seem easy enough to vault. Even I could jump them. There’s lots of exits but these would only prove hard-to-open mirages, unless the driver releases them.

I don’t think like this, but if someone decides right now to pull a large razor-sharp object, five to ten of us are going to go down in thick droplets of blood.

We jolt forward, the train finally rolling. I can breathe.

The train slows, though, its momentum gone, and it comes to a stop. We’ve hardly gone a hundred metres. All the other passengers continue to look at their phones, and just to make sure they don’t notice anything, they’ve covered their ears with headphones too.

At the mall, my earbuds had been jammed in tight. I used to like that, to get the best sound while listening to music. That was until Sam sped across to pull me down. That’s when they were shaken loose. That’s when I heard the fizz. I thought it was the sound of the coffee machine; the baristas leaving the steamer on.

The train starts moving again. I usually don’t think like this, but its motion reminds me of how shaken I was seeing Sam throwing whatever he could find—cups, the metal milk jugs, plastic trays, full bottles of water and Coke, chairs and tables—at the man with the shiv as he approached. Sam had screamed at me and the baristas to do the same. This middle-aged dude, you would never would have picked him to become that possessed.

My stop. I get off the train and walk the half kilometre to my apartment. The streets have gone dark. It’s silent too, except for the occasional whine of a car rolling past. I hustle along, entering my flat quickly, locking the door behind me.

I’m usually not like this, but tonight, there’ll be no dinner, no cleaning teeth, no washing, no resting on the couch watching television, or thinking about going out with friends.

That Sam chased the stab guy, fucking unbelievable. I hurry into my bedroom and lock that door too. I’d wanted to follow, be Sam’s comrade, but my senses were overcome. White noise. I couldn’t stand, move. My eyes had begun to shut down.

I’m not usually like this but I might stay in this room forever.

Something’s coming. It’s deep inside, and vague. It seems like a dream, but it’s something I’d forgotten. Sam had his arms outstretched when he’d been running, unfurled like he was trying to get airborne. Speeding after the guy with the blade, you never saw anyone run like that. Sam had been making himself big.

Perhaps, subconsciously, this is what Sam had been doing earlier today too. Could it be true? Sam? No way. I’m not usually this unconfident and muddled, but I can’t quite believe it, but I don’t want to let it go either.