Slowly he climbed the steps of the ladder. His enormous body mass gave the sign of being a man already grown in flesh, out of shape; who found physical activities difficult and strenuous. But the action of climbing the stairs was something he had to do for a simple fact, he could not smoke inside the subway.
A premature death awaited Abelardo Mendieta, with his more than 220 pounds of weight and his fondness for smoking. But everything indicated that it did not matter to him in the least. Because every morning when he was going to start his shift inside the subway, he always smoked a cigarette outside the station. It was the dose of nicotine that her body requested. Of course, the metro had a pretty strong policy with that and it always had to leave the facilities to be able to administer it.
His footsteps as he climbed the stairway to the station entrance, settled slowly, heavily, and awkwardly on each of the steps; her breathing was slow and her heart was beating fast.
It was four in the morning, the station would open in an hour but they already had to prepare and fix everything in advance. Luckily all the work team was competent and they always had everything ready, they prepared their booths, the change, they cleaned the place, they prepared the security cameras, they set up everything to be ready when the service began. In the morning everything was invaded by a human tidal wave of people going to work, but first, he needed his dose of nicotine.
Finally, all the physical effort did its job. He made it to the bottom of the stairs, took a deep breath, and looked at the roller shutter that closed the entrance to the subway. This had an added door, which could be opened separately without having to climb the roller shutter. As an employee, he had that key so he could go through that door as many times as he wanted. The time was approaching when he was going to enjoy his dose of nicotine, his face reflected a small smile. He took another deep breath giving a chance to his weak and haunted heart by cigarettes and obesity. Reaching into his pocket, pulling out the key, he walked to the door and unlocked it.
A soft icy breeze swept through her body. It was that cool breeze at dawn in Caracas, which refreshed the atmosphere before sunrise. That was when the heat began to rise until it became suffocating. The solar disk had not yet made an appearance in the landscape, so everything was dark. The lights of the city were still on showing an illuminated landscape, everything was silent; you could not hear the noise of the bustle of the city; if perhaps some other car passed by the place; the occasional homeless man was hanging around collecting garbage and on alert to safeguard his integrity, the city still slept.
He went out through the door of the roller shutter contemplating the deserted street, looked up, and could see a couple of stars in the sky. He reached into his pocket, took out a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes, put one in his mouth, and lit it. The fire ignited the tobacco that began to burn, producing smoke laden with the deadly chemicals. Abelardo inhaled and the smoke went down his windpipe into his lungs, invading them with tar. He outlined a smile with the cigar in his mouth, looking with his eyes for a place where he could rest calmly, to continue with his ritual.
As a result of the massive human storm surge that routinely rushed through the stations, the subway entrance was dirty. He leaned against a column that was to one side and that supported the structure of the place. Now if he smoked calmly, he drew puffs from time to time and a relaxing effect invaded his body. Around him the sleeping city, there was a calm silence, some cars passed, but he did not pay attention to them, no person could be seen.
He took out his cell phone and saw the time, four fifteen in the morning, he was on a good time, he could calmly finish smoking.
Suddenly, he heard a sound coming from the street a few meters from where he was and turned to look. It was a car that had come to a halt on the verge of colliding with another. Due to the time, the few vehicles that moved through the streets hoped to be the only ones on the road. The horn of one of the vehicles was heard. One of the drivers leaned out of the window and swore. The other did not wait, answering the same, after a moment each continued on their way.
That scene was funny to him, a typical scene in many of the world's cities. At that moment he was interrupted, hearing a call behind him.
--- Excuse me. --- A soft and light voice was heard behind him.
Surprised he turned. It was a woman who was barely six feet behind him. I had a good time standing there, I had not seen anyone, had not heard footsteps, it was as if that person had appeared out of nowhere...
Wow!!... where did the old woman come from?... He thought, looking at the woman in surprise. The lady did not show anything abnormal, she was short, her clothes were clean and neat. She was wearing a white blouse with a gray shawl, which covered her shoulders, her gray hair was tied in a ponytail, she was made up, carried a dark brown leather bag in good condition, and generally looked good.
The skin on his face had a well-marked sallow hue, so much so that it became pale. The expression on her face was more than serene, it gave the impression that she was tired or ill. In his eyes, you could see slight marks of dark circles, as if he had spent a couple of sleepless nights. The lady transmitted a strange, sinister air, which gave as who says, a bad thorn.
At first glance, it could be said that it was someone who was going to do an errand. Nothing out of the ordinary, except that it was four in the morning and he had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of a dark street.
--- Excuse me ... --- The lady repeated, using a calm and conciliatory tone... --- Can you tell me the time?
--- Sure. --- He replied, recovering from his brief astonishment.
He reached into his pocket to find the cell phone, as he did so he leaned forward, so he could see directly the lady's feet. He got a major surprise, because his feet, which were wearing low-heeled shoes, were not resting on the floor, but suspended in the air, that is... the lady in front of him was literally "floating in the air."
WHAT!!!... That vision invaded Abelardo's mind. His eyes widened at that surprise. Immediately he started, recoiling spectacularly while closing his eyes...
She was floating... no, no ... wait, you got confused... He thought giving a plausible explanation for what he had seen. After just seconds he opened his eyes again and his strange interlocutor was no longer in the place, he had disappeared...
Where the lady had to be there was no one. It had just simply disappeared. He was frantic and his heart was beating fast. His mouth was ajar, the thing was such that he even dropped his cigarette on the floor...
But… but… where did she go?... The street was deserted, there was no trace of the lady, she had disappeared as suddenly as she had appeared. He even walked a few feet and looked down the street to see if he could make out. Of course, that was impossible, for the simple fact that there was no human way that a lady of her age could run there in absolute silence and a matter of seconds. He couldn't find it and just stood there, without an answer and perplexed.
The old lady floating in the air... He thought very scaredly, or maybe she was never there and he imagined it all...
Damn, If this is so, then I'm mad as hell... he concluded.
For a few minutes, he breathed rapidly. After a few seconds, he decided to return to his work. He was stunned, lost, he had witnessed something that just didn't make sense, he had seen a ghost. All that made him forget his cigarette, the dose of nicotine. He went through the door of the roller shutter, verified that it was properly closed, and descended the stairs, with the same slowness with which he had climbed them. But this time not because of physical fatigue, but because of the strong impression that had been made. In his mind he shuffled the possibilities of what had happened, it was probably a hallucination, maybe it was an apparition of someone who had died in that place and his spirit was hovering, although he had not heard stories about it. Perhaps it was a case of dimensional teleportation when people accidentally stumble upon the entrance to another universe, space, or time. He had heard of these cases in the past, but the bottom line is that he did not have the answer to that.
He thought for a few seconds to tell his coworkers about the strange experience, but he changed his mind...
If I tell someone about this, they will think I'm crazy, I think I'd better keep quiet... Yes, that would be the best, no one would believe me.
When one of his subordinates arrived, he indicated:
--- We are ready, we are only making the last adjustments...
He had his head elsewhere:
--- Eeeehhh... yes, ok... --- Replied in a scattered way, the subordinate noticed it and asked him:
--- Everything is fine? --- Upon noticing her expression.
--- Uh... yeah, yeah... everything is fine... well let's go then.
Both men prepared to carry out their journey, although, in Abelard's mind, confusion and unease reigned over that strange encounter he had had at the entrance to the station.