The Chemistry of Death

Chapter 25

Joe huddled against the side of the tunnel. A train raced by, hot and bright. Edison pressed himself against the wall, and Joe held his hands over the dog’s ears. This could be the train that would kill the woman on the video, and there was nothing he could do.

A knife stabbed his side with each breath. His mother would have called it a stitch. “Slow down,” she would have said. “Collect your breath and collect yourself.” He waited for the train to pass so he could run again.

After the last car passed, he jumped onto the tracks behind it and ran. Edison’s solid form loped next to him, unfaltering. The train’s red taillight receded.

He settled into his rhythm. Each stride covered three train ties, his foot landing on the solid wood surface and pushing off to the next one. His pace felt slow, but long practice had taught him this was the fastest way to run along the tracks. He couldn’t sprint pell mell. It would be too easy to trip and fall onto the third rail. He couldn’t help anyone if he electrocuted himself.

Another train rumbled behind him, and he pushed himself to move even faster. If the last train hadn’t already killed her, this one might.

Then he saw her. A tall blonde standing in the middle of the tracks. Hair fell to her waist, and it glowed golden in the weak light. Like the others, she had come here to die.

He screamed a warning, but his voice must have been drowned out by the approaching train, because she didn’t even look at him. She stood still as a statue. Her unblinking eyes were black holes in a pale face.

A dark figure stood a few feet away from her, half obscured by a pillar. The man. Joe had known he would be there, but the sight still shocked him. These women had not come down here by accident and alone. This man had brought them here.

Rage coursed through Joe. The man had brought her here to watch her die.

Joe’s shadow loomed in front of him. The train was close.

An alcove beckoned a yard away. He and Edison could hole up there safely until the train passed, but if they did, the train would kill the woman.

He didn’t slow as he approached the pocket of safety. He had to get to the woman. She would die if he didn’t.

He pointed toward the alcove and shouted, “Go!”

Hopefully, Edison would heed his command and leap to safety.

The train’s brakes screeched in his ears. It would never stop in time for him, or for her.