Station 13

Chapter 1 - The Motionless Man

Below them, the floor jerked back and forth, swelling like they were on a raft in the middle of the sea. The metal was cold and coarse under their fingertips, icy as it bit into the skin of their cheeks, and as the first girl raised her head off of the ground, she felt a pained groan escape her lips. The sound bounced against the cool walls, echoing through the small space.

A dull clatter sounded from below her, and she looked down, eyes widening as they scraped over a dusty black floor. It was rolling slightly, buckling as it moved back and forth over the ground. Her hands, trembling softly, came up subconsciously to brush over the smooth skin of her face. She let out a ragged breath of air.

Mind racing, she heard her voice, much smaller than she remembered. "Mel... Melanie. My name is Melanie... Jones?"

A jolt of shock raced through her mind, and Mel straightened her back, bunching her fingers in the mane of curly brown hair that sat on top of her head. It felt oily and matted in her grip, and her temples throbbed as thoughts ripped through her brain. Why was it so hard to remember her name? Her age? Where was she?

        The last thing she remembered was... graduating, the sun beating down on a callous crowd, the sound of cheering and the feeling of her black gown swishing around her ankles. It had been an overcast day, heat radiating through every movement, and when she tossed her cap up at the end of the ceremony, a slight forgiving breeze had curled through the air. A dog had barked, her sisters had congratulated her and showered her in a mess of white flowers. That was the last thing she remembered.

The space around her was dark and empty. Breath coming in short, labored gasps, Mel let her eyes travel slowly around the room, and instantly, she recognized where she was. Windows lined the walls, some blacked over with a mix of graffiti and cracks, and a long bench with separated seats took up both sides of the car. Above her, worn ceiling straps and unpolished poles adorned the inside of the space.

        It was a subway car, she realized, watching darkness rush past her outside of the nearest window, casting eerie shadows over her face. She pushed up her glasses with one hand, the pounding in her ears and head nearly subsiding... when she heard a weak gasp cut through the silence from next to her.

Nearly jumping, she whirled around in shock, coming face to face with an equally stunned man. His arms were stretched out in front of him, blue scrubs hanging over his lanky frame, and his dark brown hair fell in waves over his shoulders, reaching his waist and pooling out around him like a fine lake. His eyes were sharp and cutting, and he instantly scrambled backwards, shoulderblades hitting the seats that lined the wall behind him. A dull thud echoed through the space.

Panting, he narrowed his eyes and spat, "Well, who the fuck are you?!"

A moment of silence stretched between them. The tunneled lights of the subway brightened and faded. Mel's eyebrows furrowed and she offered the man a now-steady hand. "I'm... I'm Mel. And you?"

"Miskah." He offered curtly, eyeing her hand for a moment before his gaze darted shiftily away. "Miskah Santello."

There was another short pause, a quiet that curled into the air like the wind, before Miskah Santello snatched it up with demanding, snappy words. "Hey you, forgot your name already, but uh, question? Where the hell am I? How'd I get here? Why am I dressed like a hospital patient? Wh---"

Mel held up a hand exasperatedly. Outside, the tunnel shifted around them and the train took a sharp turn, the floor rattling underneath their legs. "Listen, I don't know either. The last thing I remember was being at my nursing school graduation, and then I... woke up here. I don't remember ever even getting on this train, so..."