Midnight Train

Author's note: Short stories are my favorite thing to write. I wrote this one a few years back and had intended to enter it into a contest. Ultimately, I didn't do that and it sat on my hard drive for a while. If you enjoy it do me a favor and hit that vote button for me. Thank you.

The cigarette I was lighting almost fell from my lips when I caught a glimpse of the man standing a hundred feet away from me on the train platform. Turning my head to get a better look, the man was suddenly gone. After a minute or so, he reappeared, only this time he was to my right and a few feet closer. I shook my head to clear my thoughts because there was no way this was the same man from 5 years ago. I had been working a lot lately, and fatigue was as good of an excuse as any other.

My profession demanded mental acuity and attention to detail. The cigarettes were my only real vice. I ate healthily, had regular checkups, and hit the gym no less than four days a week. I was a finely tuned machine, and my clients paid a premium for that. Therefore, the disappearing and reappearing man was so disconcerting. I had a job to complete tonight, and it had to be completed without fail. Wait, there he was again.

My day, as it were, began earlier at around 4 that afternoon. I met my client for an early dinner and final instructions. I was to catch the midnight train into the city and get off at the 54th street station. After disembarking, I was to make the three-block walk to the address in question and complete the assignment. The first portion of my pay had been wired to an offshore account. The remainder would be wired upon proof that the job had been completed. I had no worries, I had done virtually hundreds of these jobs. It was easy money, almost dull.

There he was again, only closer. That's it I was going to end this foolishness right now. I couldn't have some idiot throwing off my game. I turned quickly and stepped the fifty feet toward the man. My hand was already under my coat and caressing the cold steel of the 9mm Glock 19 neatly tucked into a quick draw shoulder holster. A holster that had been specifically designed for maximum concealment. If you were casually observing, you would never know I had it strapped on. It had set me back a pretty penny, and I was proud of it.

As I closed in on the man, I almost froze in my tracks because if this wasn't the man, he was a dead ringer for him. My fingers squeezed tighter on the grip as I slightly pulled the pistol from the holster while keeping it concealed under my coat. The man adjusted his tie, straightened his suit coat, and turned toward me, flashing a toothy grin.

"Hey there, Ronnie. How've you been?" said the man.

"There ain't no way."

"Surprised to see me, I suppose?" said the man, folding and tucking a newspaper under his arm.

"Jessie Van Dewald?"

"Ah, so you do remember me. Splendid."

"It can't be you. I mean 5 years ago..."

"You killed me. Yes, that is quite true, and I assure you I am still quite dead," chuckled Van Dewald.

I looked around and caught my reflection in the mirror, but no Van Dewald. People began to stare strangely at me. I guess I knew why. If I saw some nut job talking to something that wasn't there, I would stare too.

"I guess I don't understand," I said, lowering my voice to a whisper.

"You, uh, going on a job tonight?"

"No, just headed into the city to meet a friend," I said, pushing the pistol back into the holster, withdrawing my hand, and smoothing my coat.

"Some friend. It's damn near midnight...and freezing."

"Are you a, uh, you know."

"Ghost, spirit, ghoul? Yes, all of those," he said, laughing uproariously.