Melancholia

by Elle Casey

  “That thing you said … about me having parents …”

  “Yeah, sorry,” I said. “Just ignore me when I’m stupid.” I wanted to kick myself. Looking back on my words and tone, I knew now that I’d sounded scolding, and the last thing I wanted to do was come off like some asshole parent.

  “No, it wasn’t stupid. It’s true. I have parents, or at least people who’ve pretended to be my parents for most of my life, and they’ve taken care of me the best they could. I’m not ungrateful for that.” She took big steps when necessary, avoiding stepping on cracks in the sidewalk.

  “Do you really think they could be total strangers? ‘Cause that’s totally messed up if it’s true.” I purposely stepped on every crack I got to, ignoring the alleged threat to my mother’s back I’d always been warned about. She was already dead. No matter how many cracks I stepped on, I couldn’t hurt her anymore.

  “I don’t think my mom’s a stranger. We look too much alike. But my father? It’s very possible. I look nothing like him. And I’ve been thinking about it all night and this morning … there was always something holding me back with him. Something I sensed, I guess, I don’t know.”

  “Why? Because you could tell he wasn’t your father?”

  “No, not really. I mean, I never said that to myself, never questioned that he was. But I always wondered why I felt distant from him, more so than I did my mom. I had to keep them both away from me, but with her, I felt bad about it. With him, it just seemed fine. Like it was a good thing, and I didn’t need to feel bad about it.”

  “Maybe you remembered something from when you were little. Like maybe he showed up later, a long time after you were born.”

  She thought about it for a little while before responding. “Nah. I have no memory of him not being there.”

  “I don’t think we have memories of anything before like four years old, anyway. Unless your mom tells you, there’s no way you’ll ever know, probably.” I looked at her as we continued walking. “Does that bother you? To not know?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. It feels like my entire life right now is all about not knowing anything. Sometimes I think I should just get comfortable with everything being unknown and just move on from there.”

  I squeezed her hand a couple times. “I know exactly what you mean. My dad’s out there somewhere maybe, but I have no idea for sure if he’s alive, dead, right down the street or living in China. He could be that guy right over there.” I pointed to a man walking on the opposite side of the street. He looked in a hurry to get somewhere, a big backpack on his back, and then he disappeared into a hole in the ground. A very large woman in a bright purple dress and a beehive hairdo went down just after him.

  “Whoa, check out that lady. Talk about bold. And … what the heck … is that a subway entrance?” said Rae, as the beehive hair disappeared below the street. “Oh em gee, I have to go on that!” She squealed with excitement, taking a step off the curb.

  I yanked her back just in time to keep her from being hit by a cab.

  “Hey!” I yelled at the same time as the car’s horn blared out at us, Rae’s body slamming into mine. “Not until we’re at the crosswalk, you maniac.”

  She had her hand on her chest, her eyes wide with fright. “Holy crap. I almost just killed myself.” Her breath was coming in gasps.

  “Yeah. Please don’t do that,” I said, feeling sick at the idea of Rae being hurt or worse. “Come on,” I said, leading her over to the crosswalk as she collected herself mentally. “Let’s check out the subway or whatever it is.” I didn’t really care about the subway, but I wanted to make her happy and take her mind off her near-miss.

  “I thought Chicago only had above ground subways,” she said, still a little breathless.

  “I think they’re called elevated trains, not subways, but yeah … that’s what I thought, too.”

  We reached the entrance to the underground, and the nearby sign confirmed it was indeed part of the elevated train transport system; it was just one of the small parts of it that did go underground.

  “Come on,” Rae said, all excited again. “Let’s go check it out.”

  I followed a little reluctantly. I was cool with breaking rules, but what if we got lost? What if we were late getting back? I looked at my watch. Two o’clock. We have plenty of time. I shoved my misgivings to the back of my head. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity I was not going to pass on. Rae’s enthusiasm was contagious.

  “We only have one day here, might as well live it up,” I said.

  “That’s the spirit,” she said, linking her arm in mine as we walked up to the ticket machine.

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Rae

  I WANTED TO SQUEAL WITH delight. We were actually going on a subway! Or an elevated train or whatever. Who cares what it is. I’ve wanted to ride a train my whole life! Trains were always too public for my parents’ comfort, allowing for too much close contact with others for them to permit me to go on one before.

  Malcolm paid for two tickets with the spare change left over from the day before. We’d each been given a hundred dollars spending money, but some of it had already gone to groceries. It wasn’t enough money to survive in the city for more than a week or so, but since we were leaving with an escort soon, I didn’t let it worry me. No matter what, I knew Malcolm and I would find a way to survive. I wasn’t alone anymore, and he was smart. No way would we starve.

  “Hey, look,” I said as we pushed through the turnstiles and approached the platform where the train was waiting. “There’s that guy we saw across the street. Your dad.” I smiled, thinking how funny that would be if one of us actually bumped into our real parents out in the middle of a huge city like this. Not funny exactly but definitely interesting.

  “I hope that’s not my dad. He looks a little weird.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Nervous or something.” The guy’s gaze darted left and right, like he was afraid someone was going to come after him.

  We stood in the crowd of people waiting for the doors to the train car to open and the people to come off so we could get on. I was grinning like a fool for no reason, maybe just happy to be in Chicago riding a train.

  My smile disappeared the moment I turned my head back to the doors of the car, when the man with the backpack turned around and looked right at me.

  Embarrassed he’d caught me looking at him, I turned away. He probably thought I was smiling at him. The guy was obviously already nervous enough; he didn’t need me making him feel more paranoid.

  “That guy is staring at you,” Malcolm said close to my ear. “The one you said was my father.”

  “I know,” I said, trying not to look at him again. But I did anyway; it was impossible not to. The doors to the train opened, and the man cast one last look back in our direction before he got on.

  “Let’s wait for the next one,” I said, feeling a little sick to my stomach. This shouldn’t mean anything right now, this guy focusing on me so hard. Malcolm and I were together which should have been canceling out any Rainbow effects. Maybe he was just surprised by my spastic smiling all the time. Maybe I made him nervous.

  Most of the people in front of us pushed forward and got on the train. But their advance was interrupted by the man with the backpack reappearing, coming off the train now. And he was looking right at us as he moved forward through the other would-be passengers.

  “What the hell …?” said Malcolm, pulling my hand so he could drag me behind him.

  I stood my ground, refusing to hide back there. “Don’t try and protect me, Malcolm. We do this together,” I said in a loud whisper.

  As the guy got closer, he zeroed in on us, pushing people out of the way, making them shout out obscenities at him.

  When he got close he spoke directly to us. “Get out,” he said. “Don’t get on that train.”

  His words made my heart feel like it was plummeting down to my knees. My legs turned to jelly as I stood there fully expecting
a knife to come out and slash across my neck. He was a raving lunatic, his eyes bugging out of his head and his expression murderously intense.

  “Where’s your backpack?” asked Malcolm, sounding angry.

  For the first time, I noticed the guy was no longer carrying the big, black bag.

  “Never mind about the backpack. Just run.”

  And then he was gone. He took off at a jog, not caring who he shoved out of the way in his hurry to leave.

  “He put a bomb on there,” said Malcolm, really loud.

  Several people turned around to look at us.

  My face turned white when I heard the word bomb come out of Malcolm’s mouth, I know it did; I could feel the blood draining out of my head, and I got dizzy from it. Dizzy and sick. The man was disappearing into the tunnels and people were filling up the train car. It would be leaving in seconds, and it had a huge unattended backpack on it now, left there by a lunatic.

  “Get off the train!” yelled Malcolm, leaving me alone on the platform as he advanced towards the door. “There’s a bomb on the train, get off the train!”

  I was torn. I wanted to help Malcolm convince these people they needed to abandon ship, but I also didn’t want the man to get away. I made the only decision I could have in my mind. “I’m going to follow him!” I shouted at Malcolm’s back, taking off after the stranger.

  I didn’t give a single thought to the danger of tracking down a potential bomber; all I could think about was how many more bombs he could leave in other places if he got away with it. We had to get out. We had to get safe. But we had to make sure this murderer wouldn’t get away. Assuming that’s what he was. As I ran down the hallway, I questioned whether I was overreacting to something that might be totally innocent.

  I could just barely make out his shiny head about fifteen feet away from me, as he was carried along in the middle of a wave of people.

  I tried to run, but there were too many obstacles in my way. People, luggage, big shopping bags, and strollers slowed me down. He got farther and farther ahead, until we got to a big main artery that had several tunnels going in different directions. He got there well ahead of me, and I wasn’t able to see where he went; but I did see cameras all over the place.

  My eyes darted left and right until they landed on a bright yellow phone box. I ran over and pressed the red button on the front of it. A garbled voice came over the line a few seconds later, and I just started yelling, hoping they’d be watching the camera feed monitors and be able to track the man leaving before he got too far away.

  “Hello! I just saw a man leave a backpack on a train! He told me not to get on! I think it was a bomb! He’s bald and about five foot eight … or nine. I don’t know! But he’s getting away!” I desperately searched for a sign telling me where the guy had gone, but I couldn’t see any with all the people in the way.

  Several people standing or walking nearby looked at me aghast. One lady grabbed her child and dragged him away, disappearing up a staircase in a big hurry.

  The voice came back over the speaker. “Say again?”

  I wanted to scream with frustration. “I said that a man just left a bomb on a train …”

  I never got the chance to finish my explanation. A huge BOOM blasted out of the tunnel where I’d come from, and the whole underground system shook. Pieces of stuff from the ceiling came down and landed on my head and shoulders, and the main lights went out.

  “Malcolm!” I screamed, abandoning the phone box to go back to the train. “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, why did I leave him there?! … Malcolm!”

  It was pandemonium. Lights flickered on and off again, emergency lighting taking their place. People were running towards me in a huge crowd, many of them falling and getting trampled by others coming up from behind. Women and men were crying, some of them screaming like maniacs on fire, even though I could tell they weren’t hurt.

  “Malcolm!” I screamed as loud as I could, trying to see through the crowd and dim lighting to find his familiar face. Tears were streaming down my cheeks and my lungs were burning both from exertion and dust particles in the air. I have to get to him. I have to get there. Please, God, let him be okay!

  It was like being in quicksand. I tried to push forward, but the crowd carried me back, erasing any progress I was able to make. I screamed and pushed against people with everything I had, but they were too strong for me. I wept with frustration.

  I was ready to give up and just fall to the ground when firm arms wrapped around my body and pulled me against the wall, shielding me from the mass of crazy people trying to escape. I struggled at first until I realized who it was.

  “Rae!” he yelled, right in my face. “Oh my god, you’re okay!”

  “Malcolm!” I yelled, my voice sounding like I’d lost my mind, a wildwoman’s shriek. I threw my arms around him and held onto him for all I was worth. “You’re alive!” I was crying into his shirt, my words coming out muffled. I couldn’t believe how close I’d come to losing him forever. Uncontrolled trembling took over my body, making my cries quiver right along with my limbs.

  “Thank God, so are you,” he said. “Holy shit, I thought that guy … I thought you … fuck I don’t know what I thought. But it wasn’t good.” He took my face in both hands and kissed me hard.

  I don’t know how long we stayed there like that, but it was long enough to ease the ache in my heart and the shaking in my legs. As the crowd died down, we separated, Malcolm pulling us out into the flow and leading us towards the nearest exit at a slower pace than before. My legs were on fire, but I pushed on, using every ounce of willpower I had to make them carry me to safety. My heart was going so fast I was certain I was going to have a heart attack at any second. Maybe there are more bombs down here. We need to get out and run away!

  The closer we got to our destination, the big staircase leading to the street, the more shouting we heard, not just from people in the tunnel but from people outside of it. The sound of sirens came too.

  “Come on,” said Malcolm, holding me tight against his side.

  I gripped him hard around the waist, taking a fistful of his shirt in my hand and promising myself that no matter what, I wouldn’t let it go.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “To the apartment. We never should have left.”

  We walked up the stairs in tandem, taking each step together at the same time.

  I nodded, saving my breath for oxygen delivery. I was feeling lightheaded and sick. A headache pounded at my temples.

  We made it past the group of people at the stairs, but that was as far as we got. The police and transit authority had cordoned off the area just beyond the exit and we were trapped inside it.

  “What the hell?” asked Malcolm, clearly angry.

  A nearby officer said, “Stay right there. We need to organize this evacuation so no one gets hurt. You’ll be out in just a few minutes.”

  “If you want to make sure no one gets hurt, maybe you should go down in the tunnels instead of standing outside it,” said Malcolm. “There are people who got trampled down there.”

  “We’re aware. We have emergency personnel on the way. Now please step over to the side there with the others and wait for further instructions.” He turned his back on us and signaled for the next people coming up to do the same. He ignored their complaints too.

  “I’m freaking out right now, Malcolm.”

  “Yeah, me too,” he said in a low voice near my ear. “I don’t want any cameras picking us up out here so any of our friends can see us on the news or whatever. The Butts group will know we left the apartment and then maybe they’ll tell us to go to hell and not help anymore. Just try to keep your face down and don’t make eye contact with anyone.”

  I still had my sunglasses by some miracle, so I pulled them down over my eyes and looked at the ground. I sure wished I’d bothered to wear that stupid wig. I felt naked and vulnerable out here in the open like this.

  Malcolm and I did
our best to blend into the group of people waiting for the police to let them go.

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Malcolm

  I THOUGHT WE WERE IN the clear when they opened up the barricaded area and started letting people out, but I should have known it wasn’t going to be that easy.

  “Wait. You, there. Stop.” A man in a suit was pointing at Rae.

  She pretended not to notice, pushing forward to get out behind a guy in a t-shirt ahead of us.

  “Stop that girl. The one in the glasses!” he yelled at the officer standing near the barricades, while pushing through a crowd of officers and other people in suits to reach us.

  “Oh, crap, Malcolm. What should I do?” she asked, panicking.

  I grabbed her hand and held it tight. “Just chill. We didn’t do anything wrong. They don’t know us. We stick together. We have nothing to hide.”

  She barked out a laugh or a cry, I’m not sure which. “Ha! Yeah right. Nothing to hide. Relax. That’ll happen.”

  The officer at the barricade held out a hand in a stop gesture. “Wait right here. The detective wants to talk to you.”

  “We need to get going,” I said. “Our parents will be really worried.”

  The cop frowned. “You can contact your parents when he’s done with you.”

  Rae opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off by the detective’s arrival. “That’s the girl we want to talk to. Bring her over to the car.”

  The officer looked at her and then me. “Please don’t give me any trouble about this. You just have to talk to him for a couple minutes and it’ll be all over. You can go home to mom and dad when he’s done asking you what you saw or heard down there, okay? Now move along. You have people behind you who want to get home too.” He waved us away dismissively and turned his attention to the next people in line.

  “Hi. I’m Detective Brinkley,” said the suit. “I’d like to talk to you for just a couple minutes. Follow me, please.”

  “Are we under arrest?” I asked, using the stuff I’d learned from watching TV to guide me.