Commuting Time
How Far Were You Planning To Go?
I’m used to this platform being very crowded even late at night so it being so empty is giving me the heebie-jeebies. Quentin’s note is in my left pocket and Mom’s .38 feels reassuring tucked into the waist of my jeans. The 4:25 to Simpton is a little late. Another thing making me jumpy.
Quentin said for sure that Payton would be here. I’ve never seen the guy but Quentin’s like you can’t miss Payton.
The steam coming up from the grates mingles with the fog turning the length of the platform into something ridiculously noirish. I think I see someone coming out of the station and turning to walk in the other direction. Tall fellow and it looks like he’s dressed all in red. Even the fedora with the nodding feathers, all red. That has to be Payton. But why is he walking away from me?
There’s the 4:25. I start to run trying to catch up with Payton. All I have to do is hand him the stupid note and get on the train.
Why the .38? Hey, who knows what could happen, right? And then I see that something has happened but my gun’s not going to be of any help with this. Instead of one Payton striding along the platform away from me, emerging from the fog and steam is another one ahead of him. And another one.
