We Dream About Surviving

Chapter 2 - Train

October, 2341

I wake up a few hours later, not nearly enough to be thoroughly rested, but close enough that I can drag myself out of bed and make coffee. I have to shuffle around some though, as Shadow is draped over me, cuddling as close as one can possibly get, his head resting firmly on my shoulder. I feel a rush of happiness, something I rarely do, as he makes a soft, disgruntled sound at my movement. Brushing a few silvery strands of hair away from his face, he cracks open an eye, giving me a slightly confused look.

“Are you leaving?” he mumbles, his face now halfway pressed against the pillow.

“That would be rather odd, considering I live here,” I smile at him, getting entirely out of bed.

My body hurts in strange places that aren’t used to be tender, and I stretch awkwardly before grabbing my clothes off the floor. It’s unusual for me to sleep naked, hell, it’s unusual for me to be naked anywhere that isn’t in the shower. I put them on quickly, and make my way towards the kitchen, where the heavenly coffee roams.

While putting on the coffee, my brain goes into overdrive. It’s almost fascinating how worked up I get over this, the whole sex thing. Maybe it’s normal for someone who’s never done it before, but my limited contact with people taken into consideration, I have no idea what normal is. Not just concerning sex actually, everything having to do with other people, freaks me out immensely. I’m good at being on my own, taking care of myself and minding my own fucking business. Now this Shadow character show up, and breaks down everything, in fucked up ways I can’t even begin to understand.

In the end, it’s probably just me who’s fucked up.

Not even remotely noticing his entrance, all of a sudden Shadow is standing right behind me. I jump, usually I’m the one sneaking up on people, not the other way around, and he scares the shit out of me. Cursing under my breath I turn towards him, scowling a little.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, sounding flustered.

“It’s okay. Might have to tie a bell around your neck though.”

I shrug it off, trying to calm my pounding heart down. I can’t pinpoint whether it’s him sneaking up on me, or his presence in general that’s freaking me out. It’s still strange to have someone in the apartment at all, having him standing this close to me, doesn’t make it any better.

“Is the coffee ready?” he points towards the pot, holding delicious dark liquid. It’s an old-fashioned machine, not one of those that can talk and make you 50 different kinds of coffee with more flavors than you’ll ever need. It makes black coffee, simple as that, no need for anything else. He notices, and for the first time he points out the strangeness of my apartment, “Your stuff is… Different from what I’m used to.”

“I think at this point, it’s different from what anyone is used to.”

“Well that too. But seriously, what’s the deal with that?”

“The deal? I think the ‘deal’ is that I don’t like shit that talks to me and monitors my every move.” I make little air quotes at the word ‘deal’, and Shadow laughs at me.

“So you’re paranoid?” he smirks at me, thinking he’s figured me all out.

I nod in agreement. “Just the right amount.”

Handing over a cup of coffee, I usher him back into the living room, slumping down on the couch. Fiddling out my cellphone, I see that it’s a quarter to nine. Fucking not nearly enough sleep for someone who not only killed someone last night, but also beat the shit out of another, and managed to fit in first time sex too. No wonder my entire body is aching and exhausted, I’m sure I’ll be going back to bed first chance I get. Sitting there with phone in hand, a message ticks in though, not one that I’m very fond of.

“MM, 1pm, HB” is all it says, and I know exactly what that means. It’s another job, and I have to be at Harvey’s bar at 1 o’clock to get some actual information. It’s from an unknown number, which means it’s Harvey texting me. He’s the only person I’ve ever met, who’s got more burner phones than you can fit inside a closet.

Sighing I take another sip of too hot coffee, dropping the phone back down on the table. I am in no mood for work, nor have I any particular reason to go do it, but then again… It’s always been fun to kill people, and I might just come up with a new way of doing so. Also, Harvey depends on me, not that I care all that much, but it’s still good manners to show up when you’re invited. He’s one of those few people that I don’t openly hate, if anything, he’s like an old pair of shoes. They’re there, they might have enough life left in them to keep around, but you don’t spend all that much time using them.

Glancing towards Shadow I realize he looks a strange mixture of happy and nervous. Not quite sure what it means, I hesitatingly reach out a hand towards him. He takes it, a smile spreading across his lips, and I mimic it. There’s definitely something here, something that’s hopefully more than a fumbling teenage one-night-stand. At least I want it to be, but I’m on shaky ground, not the faintest idea as to what he wants.

“Do you...” he trails off, twisting a little in his seat, the words having a hard time getting through his lips, “Do you maybe...”

“Want to see you again?” I raise my eyebrows and smile at him, hoping that’s the right thing to say.

“Yeah,” he looks flustered, and for a brief second the little starry freckles on his cheek light up. Must be what blushing looks like on an Evolved.

“Yes,” I don’t even have to think about it, “Yes I’d very much like to see you again.”

Of course I want to see him again, he’s the first person I’ve ever met that I didn’t have an instinctive aversion towards. The smile on his face tells me very clearly, that he wants to see me again too, the fire within his eyes crackling and sparking like a newly kindled bonfire.

There’s a buzzing sound coming from his pocket, accompanied by a ringtone that can only be dubbed annoying as fuck. He pulls out his Sense, that damned little device that everyone insist on having, and I go back to the kitchen to give him some privacy. It’s his mom calling, which isn’t that big of a surprise. He must have been gone for hours by now, even if we didn’t sleep that much, I’m betting she would want him back home soon. I think that’s a parental thing, checking that your kid is okay now and again, even if I’ve never been exposed to it. Standing out in the kitchen I can’t help but listen in on their conversation a little.

“Hey mom,” he says cheerfully.

“Someone’s in a chipper mood. Is he cute?”

I snicker a little at this, but I’m also slightly curious as to what he’s going to answer. I’ve never thought much of my own looks, not that I’m dissatisfied or anything, I just don’t spend a whole lot of time worrying about it.

“Very much so, and I promise I’ll be home soon.”

“Good boy, be home within the hour and I won’t scold you too much for staying out all night.”

“Seriously? An hour? But I’m at least 20 minutes away!” he whines, which reminds me that he’s a regular high school kid, with regular high school kid problems. ‘Mom’s mad at me’, ‘I didn’t do my homework on time’, ‘the teacher is being all unfair’, that type of shit. I never really cared about any of that, partially because I have no parents to be mad at me, partially because I just don’t give a fuck. There’s no way for me to know, how I would have turned out if I had parents, but I have a feeling it wouldn’t be all that different.

“Sounds good honey, gives you another 40 minutes to make out with the guy,” his mom sounds awfully pleased with herself. “That is if you quit whining about it, and make the most of it instead.”

He huffs at her, then says, “Oh alright fine, I’ll be home in an hour.”

“Good boy.”

There’s a small click as the Sense shuts off again, and I reenter the living room as soon as it does. Sitting myself down next to him on the couch, he grabs my hand and pull me closer. I flinch a little at the movement, normally when people grab onto me, it’s a bad thing. This time it’s not though, this time it’s affectionate and sweet, and a clear sign that he wants me closer.

“So 40 minutes huh?” I grin, kissing him softly on the lips, then turning my attention towards his jaw and neck. He shudders a little at the touch and leans backwards, pulling me down with him.

Lying on top of him on the couch, he fumbles with the hem of my T-shirt, before finally getting his hands underneath it. He runs his fingers up and down my ribs, then stops all of the sudden, and for a second I don’t get why. Then I remember what he told me last night, about the Evolved and their senses, and I know exactly why he stopped. He gives me a questioning look, and I waver back and forth on what to say. If anything I’m surprised he didn’t notice last night, then again, both our focuses was probably on much more exciting stuff.

“It’s nothing,” I settle on, but I don’t sound all that convincing. He doesn’t buy into it either, just gives me a skeptical look. “Okay, it’s something. It’s an old scar, I got it when I was 15, and it’s not a big deal.”

He bites down on his lower lip; I’m pretty sure he wants to press the subject, but in the end he doesn’t. I’m thankful for that, it’s not like it’s some big secret or anything, I just don’t want him prying too much in how I got it. It was the first time I killed someone, that one time where I hadn’t intentionally set out to do so. I just wanted a fight, but the guy came a little more prepared than anticipated, making it escalate. A knife-cut running all the way from hipbone to armpit, it’s quite noticeable. You’d think that would scare me off, but instead it just made me pissed as fuck, and I beat in his skull with a steel pipe, making him my first kill. It wasn’t exactly my finest moment, nor my most graceful murder, but I got away with it all the same. It left me with a feeling of accomplishment, and a big old scar to prove it.

Obviously though, I don’t want him to know that, and right then and there, my situation already gets complicated. I can’t exactly blurt out, ‘Oh by the way I kill people’, but keeping it from him entirely… Well, I guess that depends on how long he’s going to stick around. It’s a problem for future Michael, present Michael just wants to make out with the guy he met last night.

“Can I ask you another question?” he says tentatively, jolting me out of my train of thought.

“Hmm,” I think it over for a second, trying to find the right way to say no. “Tell you what. Instead of playing 20 questions now, you get one question per week, that I’ll do my best to answer truthfully.”

Yeah, that’s probably one of the dumber things to ever leave my mouth.

“But what if I’ve got a hundred questions?”

“I guess you’ll just have to stick around for a couple of years.”

He smiles brightly, before asking, “So when do I get these questions then?”

“Well it’s Sunday and you’ve asked me maybe a 100 questions already, so how about we say that that’s the official question day?”

“Great, then I want to use my question!” he points a finger in the air, like a school kid waiting for permission to speak.

“Haven’t you asked me enough already?” I raise a single eyebrow.

“Those don’t count, I want my official question!”

I consider it for a moment, and I have a slight feeling I’m going to regret it, but still surrender. “Okay fine, what’s your question?”

“What’s with the scar?”

I groan loudly; I walked right into that one. My mind is grasping for straws, trying to find a way of telling him about it, without really telling him anything.

“It’s from a fight. I was 15, I got into a fight with some guy, he pulled a knife, I got a scar, the end.”

“Why would he pull a knife on you? I mean if you were fifteen, how much damage could you really do to him?”

“Oh no no, that’s another question, you’ll have to wait a week if you want more answers on that topic.”

“What?! I don’t even get a follow up?!” he sounds miffed, and I laugh a little at his over dramatic expression.

“Hmm. Okay, one follow up, but that’s it.”

He clap his hands together, excited and pleased that I’m giving in to him. “Great, so why would he pull a knife on you if you were just fifteen?”

“Ask him,” I grumble, knowing fully well that he can’t. “Maybe he just always walked around with a knife or something, fuck if I know. Point is I got this scar, and that’s it.”

He nods slowly, thoughtfully, and I can see that he’s just about to ask me something more. He doesn’t though, he has agreed to these rules himself, and even though I’m leaving out big parts of the story, he’ll just have to live with a little mystery.

Instead, he grabs onto my hand and pulls me down for more kisses. Hands rummaging around, exploring, almost getting to the point of just ripping off each other’s clothes; there’s that annoying sound again. Not my phone, his fucking Sense is ringing again, and with a disgruntled groan he pulls it forth. As soon as he opens it, a video call opens up, and he doesn’t give me enough time to move entirely away before answering. His mother probably doesn’t see much though, I’m quick to get out of frame, even if it does mean letting go of Shadow.

“Yes mom?” he sighs, rolling his eyes at her.

“Oh I’m just calling because I assumed you got lost somewhere, considering you should have been home 10 minutes ago,” her voice is stern, accepting no more bad excuses from her son.

“But mom-” he begins, but she cuts him off immediately.

“No ‘but mom’, get your ass in gear, get dressed and get home.”

He glares at the screen, then sighs, “Okay, alright, I’ll be home in 20 minutes.”

“Good.”

The video chat snaps shut, purple lines disappearing back into the Sense.

Soon enough he’s dressed and ready to go, and Tofu is all over the place, most likely thinking I’ll be leaving with him. Makes me wonder if I should offer to walk him home, but I’d much prefer if I could get just an hour of extra sleep before my appointment later. In the end I just kiss him goodbye at the door, closing the door behind him with a little sigh. Not even making it back to the living room, there’s a ring from the doorbell. It startles me, I’ve never heard that sound before, and Tofu starts barking at it.

“I forgot to give you my number!” he sputters as I open the door. He looks flustered, the white freckles glowing brightly. I laugh a little, fiddle out my cellphone and get the digits. It’s the first number ever to get coded into my phone, and it sends a little flutter through my stomach that it’s happening at all. Must mean he really does want to see me again, that it wasn’t just something he said to spare my feelings.

“I’ll text you a little later,” I say, realizing just how tired I am. “Promise.”

He nods enthusiastically, gives me another kiss goodbye, before disappearing down the stairs. For a little while I just stand there, looking after him, until Tofu nudges at my leg to get me to close the door. Walking straight from the hallway to the bed, I barely set an alarm on my phone before drifting off again.

***

The walk from my apartment to Harvey’s bar isn’t a long one, but I’m dragging my feet, tired and groggy from too little sleep. I snoozed the alarm a dozen times, barely having time for a single cup of coffee before I had to get out of the door. Tofu was whining at me when I left, it’s been a strange day for her too, but I gave her a few extra snacks to calm her down.

The streets are crowded this time of day, and reminds me just how annoying people in general are. There’s the flashing commercials lining every tall building, projected onto them with Scenery Hologram Creators; the trains rushing by inside glass tubes; the damned kids on hover boards going off without a care in the world. Some day I’d like to just throw a rock at one of them, swirling it out of control, and watch it smash against a wall or lamppost or something equally hard and damaging. It’d be funny, just watch some kid crash and burn, little bits of brain scattering across the sidewalk and street. Better put that down on my list, the list of creative ways to commit murder. It probably couldn’t be used for a payed job, too unreliable that I hit the right person, but for fun? Yeah, definitely a possibility.

Harvey’s is a small bar, the air thick with cigarette smoke, all the old nicotine tainting the walls a dirty shade of yellow. I light up one myself, as I slide onto a bar stool, leaning forward and sending Harvey a weary look. He glances at me, commenting on my appearance, “You look like shit.”

“Thank you. What’s the job?” I grumble, not bothering with any of the polite phrases other people most likely would. Never in my entire life have I cared how another person’s doing, I don’t even bother trying.

Harvey’s used to that, and just shrug at me, pointing towards a dimly lit corner of the bar. The transaction spot he calls it; that’s where the magic happens. There’s a guy sitting there, someone I haven’t seen before, and he looks nervous. Probably first time he’s done this, which is annoying really. I prefer the regulars, they know how I like to do things, and they know how I function. Never the less I go over there, looking the guy over. He’s small and skinny, covered up in a too big coat, blue eyes darting around the room.

Sighing I sit myself down in front of him, gesturing with a hand that I want him to start talking. He begins the most annoying way I know of, saying, “I have this ex-girlfriend and-”

“I’m just gonna stop you right there,” I cut him off, “I don’t give a fuck why you want me to off someone, just give me a picture and some whereabouts, and I’ll get the job done.”

He looks terrified, as most first-timers do. I’m being honest though, I don’t care if she was the meanest woman alive, she could have eaten their baby for all I care, it’s just not important. Useless knowledge I see no point in getting, why would I ever want to know anything about someone I’m about to kill? It’s always like this though, they want to give me some heartfelt spiel, try and coax me into feeling they are in the right to want this person murdered. Complete waste of time, I don’t feel anything at all. No remorse, no doubt, no need to know whether or not someone was a bad person. I’ll take on any kind of job, because I just don’t care.

Slowly he pulls a few pictures out of the inside pocket of his coat, fairly large and a decent quality. She has a square face, a nose that might seem a little too small, lips painted pale pink and too much eye makeup. One of the pictures is in full figure; she’s wearing a suit, holding a briefcase in one hand, a travel mug in the other.

“Does she usually wear suits?” I ask, still looking closely at the pictures.

“Uhm, yeah, she does when she’s at work.”

“How and when does she travel to and from work?”

“She goes by train, I brought her schedule for you,” he hands me another piece of paper, and I’m slightly satisfied with him. At least he thought things through, thought about what’s important knowledge for me.

“Alright, a 1000 dollars up front, the rest when I’m done.” I’m not a cheap acquaintance, but I’m the most reliable guy around. I have yet to fail, regardless of whether it’s work or for fun.

He hands me an envelope; I don’t bother to check if the money’s there. They are, they always are, because whoever might be hiring me for a hit, sure as hell doesn’t want to get on my bad side.

I nod at him before returning to the bar, to work out something with Harvey. Glancing at her schedule I find an appropriate time, later this evening. I point it out to Harvey, and he notes the time in a small notebook. This is the regular routine, officially I work at the bar as a busboy, which means he’ll write me down as working there, whenever I’m off actually working. Gives me a standing alibi, and Harvey gets a pretty decent cut for doing me the favor. He does my taxes too, making sure I look like the nice and average citizen.

I exit the bar without further words exchanged. I might just be able to catch a few extra hours of sleep, between now and the job, and I’m sure as hell going to try.

There is one thing I need to take care of first though, a tiny detail that’s been rummaging around in my mind ever since I woke up from my nap.

As soon as I’m home, I find my cellphone, open up a new message and try to figure out what the fuck to write. It shouldn’t be that hard, but it is. I type in all sorts of dumb things, then erase them again, start over, rinse and repeat. In the end I settle on a simple, “Hey, it’s Michael. Wanna hang out again soon?”

I cringe the moment I hit send, instantly knowing a thousand better ways of making contact, then throw my phone on the couch in defeat. I sit there, burrowing my face in my hands, feeling as stupid as ever.

There’s a little chirping sound from the phone, and I glance at it, not entirely sure I want to see what it says. After a full minute of just glaring at it, I pick it up and read the text.

“Hey Michael, yes very much so!!! My mom’s pretty pissed at me though, but I think I can convince her by tomorrow?”

“Sure, tomorrow sounds good. Just text me if you can’t make it.”

I put the phone down, thinking that’s it, but it chirps again.

“I will, but I’m pretty sure she’ll let me when it’s someone I like. < 3”

This I do not get. What the fuck is < 3? Less than three? I think it over for a second, then, “What does < 3 mean?”

“It’s a heart! Have you never texted before?”

“Not really no, like I said, not a whole lot of contact with other people.”

“Huh, you really are out of the loop then. Your phone must be really old too, if it can’t show emojis.”

I’m just about to ask him what an emoji is, but side against it. Instead I text a simple, “All of my stuff is old, and I like it that way. Gonna go take a nap though, see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll try my best!”

***

The night sky has made an entrance as I walk down the streets of Destiny City, yet it is still littered with people. I caught almost three hours of sleep, but it doesn’t make me like them any better. I am slightly less on edge though, I’m off to do the most calming thing I know of, and that helps a little.

Turning another corner the train station is straight ahead, the one she uses every night to get home from work. I’ve already settled on a way to do it, I haven’t tried it out before, but it seemed so obvious I couldn’t see myself doing it any other way. It’s a little tricky though, but most ways of killing people are. I could have done the exact same thing I did last night, just followed her home and strangled her in an alley. That however, would put me on the map. Two murders two nights in a row, both of them being women, both of them strangled to death? Nope, way too risky. That’s one of the things I take most care of, not being categorized as a serial killer. I’m not even sure whether I am or not, sure, I’ve killed a series of people, but it’s always either been work or fun. I don’t think most serial killers do it just because they find it funny, I don’t think they just see people in general as something that’s just flat out annoying. They seem to have a certain type they go for, and certain methods to go along with them, maybe even a certain motif. Me? I really just want to kill people, simple as that.

I spot her from a distance, and I’m instantly certain it’s her. She’s standing the exact same way as on the picture, one hand carrying a briefcase, the other holding a travel mug, a little more weight leaning on left hip than right. The lipstick is slightly more pearly than on the picture, but the same amount of smokey eye makeup, the chiseled chin and jaw, the nose that looks even smaller seen in profile. She’s checking her watch, and I carelessly move in closer, seemingly another random passenger waiting for his train. I take place near her, and she doesn’t even glance in my direction, she doesn’t have the faintest idea that I’m going to murder her in about two minutes.

The trains run incredibly fast here, and they are kept within glass tubes, except for at the stations. These are open, making room for passengers to get in and out without getting in each other’s way. This works perfectly to my advantage, short of the crowd of people on the station, it couldn’t be much easier.

The thing about crowds are they can work both ways. Either everybody sees what you’re doing, or no one does, because the action gets lost within them. Mostly it works to my advantage, and I’m a great escape artist if it doesn’t. I’ve already planned out the route I have to take to get away from there, should I get noticed, and that I know for certain I can pull off. Unless there’s a parkour hero with exceptional perception hiding among all the other people, I’ll get out easily.

There’s a blinking high above my head, signaling that the train will arrive shortly. I take a step closer to her, bumping my shoulder against hers, which makes her turn towards me.

She looks somewhere between confused and annoyed, as I apologize. “Sorry, didn’t see you there,” I say with an innocent smile, holding my hands up in front of me, to show I meant no harm.

“That’s quite alright,” she says, a weary smile on her face. Don’t worry one bit, you won’t be tired much longer.

She turns back around, and takes a step towards the edge of the platform. The rumbling of the train arriving is coming in clearer, I only have a few seconds to make my move, and it has to be just right.

Taking a step backwards, I should gain enough momentum, and I look like any other guy there, pacing restlessly for the train to arrive. I’m counting down in my mind, three-two-one, and then I stumble straight into her, as hard as I can. To the average bystander, it looks like an accident, when she tumbles forward and loses her balance. Intentionally she doesn’t quite make it over the edge, and I hurry over to help her off the ground.

As my hand slips around her wrist, I pull her back up, apologizing frantically for pushing her down in the first place. The train is as close as I need it to be, when she’s halfway standing between me and the rails, holding on to my arms. That’s when I push her, I just pull her in a little closer, then fling her out in front of the train. Just before I release her, I whisper a quiet, “Have a nice trip.”

The train has no way of stopping in time, it just smashes right into her, leaving a spray of blood everywhere. Yup, she’s definitely dead.

I don’t bother with any more theatricals, I just duck back into the crowd, a crowd that haven’t even realized what just happened.

I’m halfway down the stairs connecting the platform to the underground tunnel, when I spot another train coming from the opposite direction at another platform, in just a few minutes. Hurriedly I make my way over there, and manage to make it just before the train arrives.

A small smile is playing on my lips as I pick a man at random and push him out in front of the moving train. It’s very satisfactory the way every other person stands by in utter shock, once they finally realize what just happened.

Of course I don’t stick around to watch all that much of it, instead I leave the station all together, lighting up a cigarette as soon as I’m outside. That was a lot funnier than I had thought it to be.