Morning Commute

Heads turned as the subway arrived, hissing before slowing to a stop. Jared stood among the people, not at the front but not at the back. It was an **** habit he had picked up while living as John Anderson. The doors opened and few people got off, while the rest filled the cars further.

This was the morning commute after.

As the train left the station, Jared had no idea he was leaving normalcy behind. Later, he would wonder if knowing the exact moment of the crack would have made a difference. Maybe he could have warned everyone, or at least savored those final moments of ordinary and spy life. But in the end, all that mattered was that the crack changed everything.

On January 6th, at 7:55 AM, Jared made his way through the crowded train car. The moving rhythm of wheels on tracks pulsed beneath his feet as commuters huddled over their phones. The morning sun streaming through windows, painting golden rectangles on the floor. Finding all seats occupied, he resigned himself to standing. The car was about to get more crowded as soon as the train slowed to its next stop.

That’s when it happened.

The crack appeared without warning as the train stopped, and Jared jolted backward. Several passengers glanced up - a woman in a business suit paused mid-sip of her coffee, a young couple displaying their affection, and an elderly man lowered his newspaper with a frown. Most quickly returned to their distractions, but a college girl caught his eye, her face pale as she gripped her backpack straps. She had seen something too.

Gripping the metal pole until his knuckles whitened, Jared tried to hold onto what he'd just experienced, but the memory was already dissolving like morning mist. The vision itself was the easiest part to grasp, though it defied explanation.

It was like a crack, or maybe a flash of lightning. But the cloudless sky outside the window made that impossible. Also, whatever it was had appeared inside the car itself, branded across Jared’s vision for a heartbeat before vanishing.

The sound was harder to define. It had been a crack, yes, but what kind? It was the splintering of ice, the shattering of glass, the snap of a tree limb in a storm. It was all those things at once, yet none of them.

The college girl was already retreating into her phone, most likely trying to ignore the couple getting a little too affectionate. The girl shoved her hand into her boyfriend's pants as they continued to kiss as if they hadn't seen each other in years. Kids these days.

Strange how nobody else seemed to mind. Jared considered asking if she'd seen it too, but the words died in his throat. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe his mind was playing tricks. He **** his grip to relax as the train resumed its journey.

Just as the memory began to fade like a forgotten dream, something made him look up. The elderly man was still there, but now he held a magazine instead of his newspaper. Maybe he had put away the newspaper, though it wasn’t the newspaper that caught Jared’s attention. He squinted, then felt his blood run cold as recognition hit him. It couldn’t be, but it was.

Dr. Glasseye was here.