Subways and Nuts

Subways and Nuts


         As usual it was hot, steamy, and miserable down here. The usual stench of all subways in the city was pervasive. It was not a coincidence that all stations had the same putrid stench. Did the geniuses at the MTA have it imported from Hades? It always amazed me that no matter how bad the smell, the crime, the delays, and the general sense of decay it was always crowded down here. The subway cars, when they eventually showed up, were stuffed to the gills. Some of the commuters even paid to be down here, opposed to those who jumped the turnstiles.
         For some reason Monday mornings were always the worst. It was probably my own realization that I had to do this for five more days before the weekend. "Get out of my way!" the guy in the thousand-dollar suit yelled in my ear. Of course, like any real New Yorker I didn't move. Mr. important could just wait for uptown No. 6 like the rest of us. He yelled again and I let him go by after I stuck out my left leg. The idiot tripped and took a header right there on the tracks.
                   Most times this wouldn't have been a big deal, he would look really stupid and get a lot of laughs from his fellow commuters. It didn't work out that way because the train was coming into the station and managed to turn Mr. Important into mush. He'd also managed to hit the third rail before the train struck him. Wouldn't you know it, he was electrocuted right before the train splattered him all over the tracks.
         People were yelling and screaming. Knowing New Yorkers, they were probably making all that noise because they assumed their train would be delayed, not for the human tragedy they had observed.
         I didn't think anyone noticed me sticking my leg out to cause all this drama. Just in case I got the hell out of there. Out on the street I could hear sirens approaching. I waited a minute to see the police, fire department, and a few ambulances come to a screeching halt in front of the station. I should have told them there was no rush, but I didn't. I got the hell out of there.
         I knew the MTA had cameras all over their stations. Could any of them have seen me trip Mr. Important. Probably not, if by some miracle the cameras were even working, the movement was so slight I didn't think they would see it.
         It didn't really dawn on me until I got to my apartment that I had just killed a man. I didn't know the guy and I hadn't intended to kill him. I assumed he was an asshole, anyone wearing a thousand-dollar suit and carrying a briefcase had to be. What if he wasn't? Did he have a wife and kids? I couldn't tell his age. All I saw was a suit and briefcase.
         I called my boss and told him I was sick, maybe COVID, and would be out for at least a week. "No problem kid, keep that COVID shit to yourself." I liked my boss; he just wasn't the real warm and fuzzy type.
         No-one came barging through my front door. I did spend that first day waiting for it to burst open with twenty cops charging in. I also spent a lot of time looking out my front window waiting for the block to be crammed with cop cars.
         The Daily News and The Post didn't have a story about the incident. Some guy falling on the subway tracks wasn't worthy of a mention.
         A week passed and I saw no mention of the incident in the papers. The police hadn't come knocking on my door asking questions, so I believed I was in the clear. I did feel terrible about killing the guy, but there was nothing I could do about it.
         I walked to the next station up the line, I didn't want to use my usual stop. Knowing the MTA, the tracks there wouldn't have been cleaned of the remains of my victim. I stood there like the rest of the sheep waiting anxiously for the train. I smelled him before I saw him. Even for being down here his odor was overpowering. He was wearing a very large orange baseball hat, bright green sneakers, and a trench coat and stood right next to me. "I saw you do it. I've been waiting for you."
         "What, who the fuck are you?
         "I'm the guy who saw you trip that guy onto the tracks."
         Damn, if he didn't have a have a British accent. "You better get away from me. Go take a fucking bath."
         "No, I saw you do it."
         "I heard you the first time. I still don't know what you're talking about. So go far, far away or I'll call a cop."
         The platform was getting crowded, and people were starting to look at us. The train pulled into the station, and I got on it in a panic. I looked around and didn't see that huge orange hat or the guy.
         How did he know this nut know what happened? I would have noticed that fucking hat if nothing else. How did he know I would be at that station and not my usual one? I wasn't about to let some nutjob ruin my life.
         He was waiting outside my apartment building when I came home after work. He greeted me with, "I saw you do it."
         He got a little close, so I pushed him away and entered the building. How did he know where I lived. Was he some kind of spy or something. The dude was getting to me. He didn't seem that bright, maybe I should just offer him a few bucks if I saw him again.
         He was waiting for me outside the building the next morning. "I saw you do it."
         I dragged him into the alley where the garbage cans for the building stored.
         "What the fuck do you want from of my life?"
         He looked towards the sky and after a few seconds of deep reflection said, "How about a million dollars?"
         "Yea sure, do you take credit cards? By the way what happened to your British accent?"
         "Sir Winslow is not in today. I want a million dollars."
         "Well tell Sir Winslow, when he returns, that I don't have a million dollars. How about a hundred bucks?"
         We agreed to a hundred dollars and were to meet on the train platform where all this started at noon the next day.
         He was waiting for me, "Do you have the million dollars?" The British accent was back.
         "Sir Winslow I presume. We agreed to a hundred dollars, remember?"
         "Oh yes, my partner, Mr. Smith, negotiated that deal."
         The platform was deserted, and I didn't see any security cameras. I did see a train approaching. Should I or not. This was never going to end with this nut job. He was close to the edge, I stepped behind a large advertising sign, so the engineer of the train wouldn't' see me, it only took a tap to the shoulder, and he fell on the tracks just in time for the train to smash into him. I hate to say it but I'm getting pretty good at this.