So, I am quite late with this. Long story really short, I ended up rather sick and needed to deal with that first. The first draft of this post was written on time, but I didn’t get a chance to post it until now. Here’s my offering for the next piece of the #TuesFlashFicTrain. Be sure to stop by Trials and Tribulations of Writing Fiction to see the rest of the story.
Mark took a deep breath. He headed down the steps; his heart threatening to choke him. Mark fished out his pocket flashlight, keys jingling from the ring. At the bottom, Mark froze. On the bench lay an old man. He had newspapers for blankets, but his cleanliness struck Mark as odd. At the man’s feet a scarf coiled into a neat pile. Sienna’s scarf.
Rushing thoughts crowded his mind. Mark strode over and snatched the scarf.
“Where did you get this?” his low voice bounced around the abandoned station, “What did you do to my sister?”
“Settle down, son. You’re barking up the wrong tree. I ain’t involved in your sister’s mess.”
“But you know about it. And you have her scarf.”
“She lost it down here. I found it. Knew someone would be coming for answers.”
“Found the reason the subways were abandoned, I reckon. She still alive?”
Mark blinked several times, feeling as if the man slapped him.
“She’s the first, then, in a long while who survived.”
“Who are you? What are you talking about?”
The old man grinned. Perfect white teeth peeked through the bristling grey beard. He stuck out his hand, “Patterson.”
Mark took the proffered hand and, shaking it, noticed the neatly trimmed nails and lack of dirt that belied the dingy coat sleeve.
“What are you doing down here? I don’t believe you’re a bum looking for a place to sleep.”
Patterson nodded, “Observant. Good. I keep an eye on any broken gates until they can be repaired. I try to keep people out on account of the thing down here. Don’t always work, though. I think it calls people down sometimes.”
Mark ground his teeth and balled his fists, “But what is it? And if you’re watching it, how did my sister get passed you?”
“Like I said,” the old man sat up, an air of authority settling over him, “We don’t really know what it is. No one has ever gotten a good look. Seen enough to know it’s no known creature. The bodies left say so, too. Ain’t right, the way they died.”
“And my sister?”
“Got passed me because there are two open gates. Was trying to watch both at once until Jackson got here.”
“To be frank, I wonder why your sister survived. She’s the first in over twenty years. Maybe ever.”