Saving a Superhero

21: Tunnels+Plans

It took me a few seconds to find my wits and put the marbles in my head back in order before I could lose them. Then I began my search of the car, because there was no way my metro car just happened to stop and mysteriously empty without some outside assistance. Especially not after the Scholar sent that note.

I just hadn't expected such a quick reaction.

As I studied the car, I listed facts. Just the logical, cemented facts. It was a pathetic attempt to keep myself grounded.

Maybe I wasn't usually found with both feet on the ground, but, today, I couldn't afford to let my head float in the clouds. If I did, a plane might emerge from the sky and run into my head like a bug against a windshield.

Fact: People don't disappear from Metro cars.

I looked at the empty seats around me.

Fact: They did.

I poked at the hard, plastic seats. Nothing moved or jiggled anymore than it should have. Chances are there were no hidden compartments under the seats.

Fact: Hudson always had a plan.

If there was nothing for me to find in the car, then he must have wanted me to go outside.

With a quick glance outside the heavily tinted windows I confirmed that there were no obvious traps. No pits of acid. No pits filled with flesh eating spiders. No pits filled with acid and flesh eating spiders. No pits at all, in fact.

And thank goodness, because I hated pits.

Fact: Nothing good would come from doing what Hudson wanted, even if there weren't any visible pits.

I checked the two end doors on the cars, the ones you'd you'd use to travel from car to car, if there had been other cars attached to mine, which there weren't.

Fact: I had no other choice.

I found the north door locked or jammed. No matter the reason, it wasn't about to budge. No matter how much begging, pleading, threatening, hissing, spitting, or punching I did.

The south facing door swung open with the ease of freshly oiled hinges.

I was on the right track so far.

With a careful leap--ballerina style-- I got down from the metro car and balanced between the rails of the track.

I'd heard somewhere that tracks were electrified. From what I'd heard, if you touched one it would feel like grabbing onto an electric fence or playing Operation in an electrical outlet.

I eyed the metal track as it glowed a dull red from the flashing alarm lights. I didn't need Kennedy to tell me that the probability of me surviving this trip was very low.

But there was no reason to dwell on my inevitable death/maiming. I was best to keep moving between the tracks until I found whatever Hudson had left for me to find.

The darkness between the blinking  alarm was deafening in the way complete darkness was. Instead of heightening the rest of my senses like it was supposed to, my lack of sight felt like a wet blanket being wrapped around me.

And there was nothing comforting about a wet blanket.

I could barely hear the hum of electricity. I could hardly feel the muggy chill in the underground air. I could hardly taste the musty air. I could hardly smell the undertones of decay and death that laced the tunnels.

In the darkness I couldn't see any incoming lights, either, though.

I hoped more and more with each carefully defiant step I took that I wouldn't leave this life by becoming a delicious, Juliet flavored pancake. If I was going to die and become a food, it better be something classier than a pancake.