The bus jostled slightly as we went over a bump, and I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw a notification from one of the few apps I still had on there—a reminder from a food delivery service about some promotion I couldn't afford to take advantage of. I swiped it away with a sigh.
"Would be nice if they sent out coupons for free food once in a while," I muttered, shaking my head. "Y'know, for the broke, recently unemployed, and too available among us."
I shoved the phone back in my pocket, leaning my head against the window as the bus made its way toward the train station. I used to like this part of the ride—the quiet lull of the engine, the faint vibrations beneath my feet as we glided down the road. It used to make me feel like I was moving forward, going somewhere.
Tonight, though, it just felt like I was being pulled along for the ride, no destination in sight.
The bus slowed as we approached the station, the neon sign glowing faintly in the distance. I gathered my things—well, my phone—and stood up as the doors hissed open. The station was even quieter than the streets, the only sounds the occasional screech of a train arriving or departing and the distant hum of the city still alive behind me.
I made my way down the stairs, the smell of stale air and faint grease hitting my nose as I entered the station. There was something about train stations late at night—something surreal. It was like they existed outside of time, a place where everything slowed down but also never quite stopped. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting harsh shadows on the worn tiles below.
I reached the platform just as the train pulled in, its sleek silver sides gleaming under the station lights. A few people stepped off, some with bags slung over their shoulders, others hunched into their coats, rushing home after a long day. I stepped inside, taking a seat near the back where the car was mostly empty.
The doors closed with a soft whoosh, and we were off, gliding along the tracks with a steady, rhythmic clatter. I stared out the window again, watching the city blur by as we sped through the underground tunnels. Reflections of the train's interior flickered across the glass, creating a strange, ghostly double of myself sitting across from me.
"Man, if I had a dollar for every train ride I've taken like this," I muttered to no one in particular. "Shit... I'd probably still be broke, but at least I'd have something to show for it."
A chuckle escaped my lips. I'd always been good at finding the humour in things, even when it wasn't funny. Maybe that was a survival instinct. After all, if you couldn't laugh at life, what could you do?
The train car rocked gently as we passed through the dark tunnels, the lights flickering overhead. I leaned back in my seat, letting my mind wander.
Memories floated up, uninvited and unfiltered. I thought about the foster homes, about the people who'd passed in and out of my life like ghosts. Some were kind, some were indifferent, but none of them had stayed. I thought about the first time I'd learned how to ride the train on my own, navigating the sprawling city with nothing but a map and a pocketful of change.
I thought about the first time I met Lisa, when she hired me at the restaurant three years ago. I was just 15, barely old enough to work, but I'd needed the job. She'd given me a chance, and for a while, it felt like I'd found a place that could stick. A place that felt almost like… home.
But even that had crumbled, hadn't it? Just like everything else.
The train rattled as we entered a tunnel, the flickering lights casting strange shadows along the walls. For a moment, I let my eyes drift shut, the rhythmic clatter of the train lulling me into a sort of half-conscious state. I wasn't asleep, but I wasn't fully awake either. It was that strange in-between space where thoughts and dreams blended into one.
That's when I felt it.
A presence.
It wasn't like the usual feeling I had when someone was looking at me—people always stared, especially with my white hair and all. No, this was different. It was colder, more deliberate, like the air around me had shifted without me noticing.
I opened my eyes and glanced around the train car.
Empty. Just like before...
Except it wasn't.
There, a few rows ahead of me, was a figure. A man, sitting completely still. His back was turned to me, his shoulders broad, his posture rigid. I couldn't make out much more than that, not with the way the dim lighting played tricks on the shadows.
But something was off.
I frowned, straightening in my seat, my heart thudding a little harder in my chest. The man hadn't been there when I got on the train. I was sure of it. The car had been nearly empty. I would've noticed someone like him—he wasn't exactly easy to miss.
The train rattled again, and the lights flickered once more. This time, the man shifted, just slightly. His head turned, but not fully—just enough for me to see the edge of his face.
Pale skin. Too pale.
I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. Something wasn't right about this. Something wasn't right at all.
I glanced around again, hoping to catch someone else's eye—anyone who could confirm that I wasn't losing it. Maybe a friendly commuter, or even a random pigeon that accidentally wandered onto the train. But nope, the train was still empty, save for me and Mr. Mysterious over there.
'Great. Just me, this creepy dude, and my overactive imagination. Classic Tuesday night.' I thought to myself.
Then, without warning, the train shuddered violently, throwing me forward in my seat. The lights flickered again, this time more erratically, casting the car in brief flashes of darkness and light. The man remained still, unaffected by the sudden jolt, as though the entire train hadn't just been shaken to its core.
My heart raced, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I gripped the seat in front of me to steady myself.
And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the train came to a screeching halt. The lights flickered off entirely, plunging the car into total darkness.
I could hear the faint sound of my own breathing, quick and shallow, as I strained to listen for any sign of what was happening.
Then, out of the silence, came a voice.
"Qarteus."
It was calm, almost emotionless, yet it carried the weight of authority. My breath caught in my throat. Nobody called me by my full name. Hell, no one even knew my real name, much less said it like they owned it.
"Who—" I began, but the words dried up in my mouth as the figure ahead of me stood up. He didn't walk or step forward—he simply moved, a sudden, fluid transition from one spot to another, like the laws of physics didn't quite apply to him. One moment, he was several rows ahead, and the next, he was standing right in front of me.
Six feet tall. No, taller. His frame was bulky, I couldn't make out his face for whatever reason, pale white skin, but there was something about the color that seemed… different. Like it wasn't entirely of this world. The texture shimmered faintly, absorbing the low light, casting him in a surreal glow.
But what struck me most wasn't his height or his skin. It was a gold that glistened, and I knew such a color was not from my reality.
For a moment, I couldn't speak. My mouth opened and closed as I tried to form words, but nothing came out. The figure—no, the being—simply stared down at me, his eyes dark and unreadable.
"You..." he said again, his voice like a whisper carried on a cosmic wind. "...You are the one."
I blinked, the absurdity of the situation finally breaking through the haze of confusion. "The one what? The one who's been riding public transport too much? Because, yeah, I think I win that title. But I don't—"
"You," the being interrupted, his voice cutting through my sarcasm like a knife, "hold a perfect alignment, both physically and spiritually, with us."
He paused, letting that sink in for a moment.
"I… what?" I managed to say. "Look, man, I don't know what kind of weird recruitment speech this is, but I'm just trying to get home. Maybe—"
"You are already dead," he said flatly.
The words hit me like a freight train. My brain tried to catch up with what he was saying, but it was like trying to hold onto water. Dead? That didn't make any sense. I could still feel my heart beating, my lungs pulling in air—well, I thought I could.