© 2012 Phylicia Joannis
“We’ll get out of here soon,” I tried to reassure the Congressman. “You’ll be okay, right?”
The Congressman nodded gravely.
The Nurse walked up beside me.
“Did you find anything?” I asked, hopeful.
She nodded and pointed to the Climber and the Complainer standing behind her. Between the four of us we were able to pull the large metal railing off of the Congressman’s leg and free him from the debris.
Placing his arm across my shoulder, I guided him back to the subway car.
“Lean him over this side,” the Nurse instructed once we were inside. We eased the Congressman onto his side, away from his puncture wound.
While the Nurse examined him, the Climber ambled nearby.
He cleared his throat.
“I uh, want to apologize for earlier,” he mumbled.
“You left him for dead!” I spat. “Why bother with an apology now?”
The Climber cleared his throat again and glanced warily at the Nurse.
“Someone made me realize that our actions-”
The Nurse shot him a steely gaze.
“My actions,” the Climber corrected himself, “were selfish, cowardly, and inexcusable. I’m sorry.”
The Congressman coughed, and after a nod of approval from the Nurse, sat up and looked at the Climber.
“I’ve made enough mistakes of my own to know that nobody’s perfect. Apology accepted.”
The Climber breathed out in relief.
“I’m sorry too,” the Complainer added reluctantly.
I raised my eyebrows at both of them.
“Um, we have a problem,” the Old Woman’s voice floated above me. We all turned and watched as several small, oily bodies made their way towards us. My flesh tingled in disgust, and I swallowed a dry lump.
“We have to get them out of here,” I groaned.
The Congressman coughed.
“I have a plan.”
***
Chuck wrung his hands nervously as he watched the rescue effort on the drone’s screen. Several workers with lights were leading the passengers of Car 17 to safety, including the large, blundering conductor. They were holding a press conference within the hour to apologize for the whole ordeal.
“Are you finished with your statement?” Chuck’s supervisor sauntered next to him in his chair.
“Oh, um, I…” Chuck stuttered as he looked down at the blank sheet of paper in his hands.
His supervisor sighed. “It’s not rocket science, Chuck. Just make it sound geeky and high tech. Your drone is the only silver lining we have in this dismal PR cloud.”
Chuck smiled despite his nerves. His drone had been monumental in gauging the dimensions and structural integrity of the tunnel, as well as making first contact with the stranded passengers. He might get a raise, or even a promotion.
If they overlooked his failure to monitor the system.
According to his calculations, the passengers had been stranded for over four hours. A flurry of lawsuits was inevitable, possibly a class action suit, and HQ would need a scapegoat.
Chuck’s smile left.
***
Six-year-old Amy held her bear tightly as she walked with her mother through the dark tunnel. They were the last to leave the nightmarish ride, as her mother called it. She looked back at the massive train, then to the transit workers in yellow hats guiding them with their flashlights. One of them smiled at her. She smiled back.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” she laughed. “The train went up and down, and there was a huge cracking sound!”
The transit worker nodded. “We’re glad you’re out and safe. I bet it was scary?”
Amy nodded. “Yeah, it was. I don’t want to go on this ride anymore. But I think your train broke.”
“Yep,” the transit worker nodded. “It stopped moving, so we’ll have to get a team to tow it.”
Amy looked back at the train. “How are you gonna find that other piece?”
Amy’s mother pushed her along. “Come on, Amy, I need to call your father.”
The transit worker continued to guide them forward, but walked alongside Amy.
“What’s that you said?” he asked.
Amy looked back at the train and pointed. “When we were in the car and it was going up, it went so high in the sky,” she demonstrated with her bear. “And when it came down, the piece behind us wasn’t there no more.”
The transit worker scratched his head. “Hold on a moment. You mean a train car?”
Amy nodded. “I don’t think nobody else noticed, they were too scared, but I did.”
The transit worker frowned and spoke into his radio. “Jerry, have you cleared all the cars?” He turned to Amy and her mother. “Just hold on a moment, please?”
Amy’s mother nodded in consent. His radio came alive with the sound of a male voice.
“Yep, just cleared the last one,” Jerry replied. “No more passengers in sight. I sent the last two just a few minutes ago, a little girl and her mother.”
The transit worker replied, “How many cars did you count?”
A few seconds passed before Jerry replied.
“Um, I didn’t count them, I just walked through until I got to the last car.”
The transit worker spoke into the radio again. “Check the door on the last car, Jerry. The little girl said the cars got disconnected.”
“That’s impossible,” Jerry muttered into the radio.
“Just check,” the transit worker replied. He waited several minutes before his radio came alive again.
Jerry swore into the radio and the transit worker winced. “The kid is here, Jerry.”
Jerry apologized. “I’m looking out the last car, nothing in sight, and the chains are all…”
The transit worker waited a moment before speaking. “What is it, Jerry?”
Jerry swore again. “We have a problem.”
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