Today was a day like any other – just another part of mundania. I woke up, showered, ate, and walked towards the train. I felt distant all morning, just barely human. I have found that that tends to happen when I skip my morning coffee, but there will always be another pot tomorrow. I gripped tightly onto my briefcase, feeling it gently bump and rub against my leg with every other step. Today was going to be a long one, I thought, knowing that I had a big presentation. In hindsight, I’m not entirely sure how I ended up as a lawyer for a big company – When I went to law school, I wanted to fight for the environment. Debt is a bitch, and an expensive one at that, I continued to think. I neared the train station and gazed at the sky. Dark slate-colored clouds covered the sky, drifting slowly. When was the last time that I saw the sun? At this point, it must have been at least a week. It seems that with every passing week, the sky is less and less visible. I knew that this was just a bias, though. Growing up in San Diego, I spent many days in the sun and on the beach letting the sun kiss my skin. “Maybe, that’s why I’m depressed.” The words slipped from my internal monologue, into reality, and I prayed that no one heard. I could hear the cynical, almost mocking tone in my voice, and I felt relieved that the people around me were all wrapped up in their own business. That’s just this city, I’ve learned.
The train is uneventful. I sit across from a homeless man whose hair was matted into tight spirals, and his eyes were glazed over. He seemed even less present than I was. I laughed to myself, for I had envied him for the smallest moment. He doesn’t have to work, or fight for a cause that he didn’t agree with. He doesn’t have to fight with his wife every night. He doesn’t have to be sober, because of his own fears. He had the one thing that money could not buy, and yet it has the highest price – Freedom. I spent most of the train ride into the city daydreaming floaty thoughts about being homeless – Building a fire in a trashcan and falling asleep with a bottle of gin in my hand. I flashed back to last night, after Amanda went to bed. The taste of metal in my mouth, and weight in my hand felt like reality, again. I entertained a thought – Better a bottle, than a gun. I was jostled from my cynicism, as I heard the train bell ding. It felt like an hour, but the train ride lasted no longer than the 15 minutes it always did.
I meandered towards the outside, on my typical route to work. The moment that I stepped outside, I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a small rectangular cardboard pack and removed myself a cigarette. The same thought that I have had every day, for the last 20 years rang through my head. It’s about time that I quit. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the flip style lighter that I had gotten from Amanda on our first anniversary. Do It For The Fish, That Cannot Fight For Themselves. Every time that I have looked at it, in the last 6 months has hurt. I lit my cigarette and took a deep inhale. Exhale. The menthol on my lips raised the craving for coffee, again. I checked my watch, wondering if I had time to grab a cold brew before work. 6:55. Shit. My gait increased, trying to ensure that I was in the elevator for the building before 6:59. When I reached the building, I stopped, momentarily, and gazed at the dark monolith of a corporate office. The windows, frequent – yet dark. The scale of the building had an imposing presence and gazing up at it gave the impression that it would crumble down on top of me at any moment. I stomped the cigarette out the bottom of my sole and strode into the building. Ready yet, for another day of soul crushing work.
15 Hours Later, 9pm.
My feet fall out of the elevator, struggling to carry my exhausted frame. My hand no longer clenched the briefcase, and instead, the leather handle barely hung from my fingertips. As I slowly made my way to the train station, I cursed under my breath at every inconvenience of the day, every project manager, every executive. The only respite in the entire day, was the brief conversation I had with Erica, the new intern. I found myself thinking about her auburn hair, shimmering under the florescent lights. I wondered how things would be if I were to approach her, in a different light – one far less professional and a hell-of-a lot more carnal. Once I realized the adulterous thoughts that I was considering, I turned my scornful thoughts inward. You pig. You’ve been married for 15 years. You and Amanda have been through… So much. You love Her. You love Her. You. Love. Her… Right? Before the thoughts started to spiral too terribly out of control, my hand reached into my breast pocket and pulled out a small pill bottle. One for the anxiety. I excused, knowing that the emotional numbing from the pills is exactly what will make me feel better. I reached the bus station, and the air felt… strange.
Other passengers were around, but none of them looked up from their personal distractions. None glanced away from their books, or phones. It’s remarkably quiet, I thought as I descended the stairs into the station. After a few minutes of idle waiting, my train arrived precisely at 9:20. I stood up to get on the train, and none of the other passengers got up. It’s not the last train of the night, but I would’ve expected that at least one other would be departing. Bizarre. Once I got on the train, I looked out the window and slowly, one by one, the passengers in the station raised their head to make eye contact. They all made a smile, a disingenuous, hollow, rotten smile. I felt uneasy, and straightened the collar on my suit jacket, and looked away. The train doors closed, and I immediately smelled something bizarre. As the train departed, I tried to place the smell – familiar, yet distant. Not one strong enough to decode memory, but one distinct. I gazed out the window and watched as the orange lights of the tunnel raced by. TV Static. The static of one of those old CRT TV’s, that’s the smell.
The air doesn’t feel ionized, I thought. My memories brought me to a time when I was helping my grandfather weld bars for windows, using an arc welder. If I think hard enough, I can still feel the distinct crackle along my skin and the taste of ionized air. This wasn’t like that. I started to feel like I was being watched, but looking around the train car, there was nobody else present. I stood up and walked to the nearest car-door. Glancing through the window, I don’t see any other people on the car behind me. I started to get a little nervous. My pill hasn’t kicked in yet. I walked to the front of the car, and glanced into that car, as well. Empty. “Where is everyone?” I asked myself, out loud. I realized that the train was still underground. Still. Underground. I know that by now, we are usually speeding across the countryside, between the big city and the smaller town that I commute from. I watched as the orange tunnel lights continued to speed by. I looked at my watch. 9:30. What the fuck? Something wasn’t right. Maybe I got onto the wrong train? I made the decision to move further up the train, to ask someone else what train I was on.
The first car door was heavy, and it took most of my effort to open. After sliding it, I picked up my briefcase again, and started to trot down to the next car. It’s also empty. I can’t be too far from the conducting car, as this train usually only has 10 cars in total. I pushed forward to the next one. Empty. I continued this process, until I saw the conducting car in the window in front of me. Even from the back of the passenger car, I can see the lights and dials of an operating train, and a wave of relief came over me. I’ll just ask the conductor what train I’m on, and what the next stop is. I took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the anxiety medication in my bones. Finally, I can relax. I walked calmly, to the conducting car and knocked on the window. Out of the front of the train, I can only see more tunnel. Speeding towards endless dots of orange light. There was no response from the conductor, and I knocked again. After another moment of no response, I pressed my face against the window. There… Is no conductor?
I lurched back from my discovery. This didn’t make sense, and in that moment a slew of questions came over me. Who’s driving this train? Where am I going? How will I stop? How will I get home? My thoughts raced in a panic. I dropped the briefcase and turned around towards the back of the train. I immediately noticed that the car doors behind me were closed. It didn’t take much more than a second for me to realize, but when I did, I flinched. I… Didn’t close the doors. I approached much more slowly and peeked through the glass into the second train car. Empty, with a closed door on the other end. Opening the doors still took a remarkable amount of force, and I briefly mentally chastised the maintenance workers. Before entering the next car, I shouted “Hello? Is anyone there?” My question was met with silence, except for the gentle grinding of wheels on metal, and the ambiance of the train. This is a dangerous position, I realized, I can’t let my thoughts get ahead of me. The moment that I lose my control, my resolve, I am basically dead. Calm. Collected. I will find a solution. I will have plenty of time to reflect on this later, and later, I can smoke a cigarette and freak out as much as I need to – but for now, I need to remain calm. I paused for a moment and realized that I had no game-plan. I thought for a moment and decided that I needed to go to the other end of the train. Perhaps the conductor is on the rear of the train, for some reason.
I pushed through the first few cars slowly, announcing my presence before walking into each one. Once I got into the 7th car, the lights flickered. Just once, but enough to make me pause and look around. The uncomfortable, cloth chairs covered in a hideous pattern seemed normal. The storage racks above the chairs, the lights. It all seemed fine. Once my composure was regained, I pressed forward. Just a few more cars. Pushing through these doors was starting to become strenuous after the exhaustion of the long day that I’ve had. I get to the last car and see the conduction car at the rear of the train, watching the orange lights whizz by at incredible speed. Are we still accelerating? I stared out the window until it became frightening, the lights are moving faster than they were. And that’s when I noticed. A moment of terror. I saw something on the ground. My briefcase. “But, that’s… that’s impossible! I left that at the front of the train…” The words frantically falling out of my mouth. With every revelation, I can feel my sanity fraying – bringing me closer to the edge of hysteria. I reached into my breast pocket and popped another pill. I collapsed next to my briefcase, and held my hands to my face, in a fetal position leaned against the wall. Hesitantly, I checked my watch. 10:32pm.
There was nothing I could do to stop it, the tears came, and I relentlessly cried. I felt alone and trapped and claustrophobic. I miss Amanda. After this whole… FUCKING day, I just want to sit down and watch a shitty movie and bitch to her about all of it. I wanted a cigarette. “Who’s gonna stop me” I choked out the words with a sad laugh. Pulling out the pack, I realized that I only had 4 cigarettes left, and I pulled one of them out. I wanted to relieve my stress, so I smoked slow and calmly. Leaving my ash on the dirty carpet of the train car brought a disgustingly satisfying feeling, like any cigarette smoked indoors. After I rubbed the butt into the metal and discarded it, the lights flickered three times. During each flicker, the train car had an ominous look, illuminated solely by the haunting orange lamps.
Then, I heard it. Tick, Tick, Tick. The sound was reminiscent of metal, on metal. I jolted my head up and listened closely again. Tick, Tick, Tick. The sound seemed to originate from under the train, and I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.
“LAST STOP. PLEASE EXIT THE TRAIN, ONCE THE TRAIN COMES TO A COMPLETE STOP.” A robotic female voice announced over the intercom. Tick, Tick, Tick… Schunk. The brakes on the train engaged, and it quickly reduced in speed, and rapidly slowed down. I watched the orange lamps as they slowed down, and for a very brief moment, the light seemed to distort to the image of a human skull – screaming in anguish. I stood, and held on to the seat next to me, and prepared for the train to stop. The train stopped, and I glared out the windows as the doors opened.
On the far side of the train, the side with no open doors, is the close edge of the tunnel. Separated every 10 or so feet, are the large orange lamps that cast an ominous glow across the whole space. On the near side of the train, is a platform. The platform stretches out a couple hundred feet, and there is a bright white light hanging over a single, black door. I pulled myself to my feet and checked my watch (10:35pm) and I cautiously made my way down the steps onto the platform.
Much to my surprise, I was not the only person who stepped off the train. From the car to my left, and to my right, stepped out a man and a woman. They look equally surprised to see me, and before I could retreat onto the train, the door slid closed. Moments later, the train started to roll off, in the same direction it was headed. All three of us were frozen, not wanting to be the first one to say something. After an uncomfortable minute, the man spoke up.
“So, uh… I didn’t see either of y’all on the train – and trust me, I looked.” He says while scratching his head. He’s slowly stepping away from us, casually moving towards the black door. He’s wearing a black tee-shirt with a white skull on it, with his hair pull into a tight knot on top of his head. “I’m Eric.”
The young girl speaks up, “Amber.” She says with a stern scowl on her face. Her pink hair, catching the light and sparkling gently.
“What about you, old man?” Says Eric.
“Steven… Steven Gray.”
“Where are we, Steven?” He says interrogatively
“How am I supposed to know?!” I paused “I just got on the train to get home – Or so I thought. I just want to go home to my wife.”
Steven pauses, as if he is processing.
“Hm. Okay. What about you, Amber.” He uses a mocking tone.
She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Fuck you, why don’t you tell us where we are?”
They start bickering, calling each other nasty names. Just as I was about to step in, Eric says “Alright, I like ya. So…” He pauses and looks at me “What’s the plan?”
No one responds. He points at the door, “So, are we just gonna go into the creepy fucking black door? I don’t think there’s anything else within miles of here.”
I shout “Hello?” and the echo responds again, and again, and again. While we are standing there, the orange lamps seemed to be getting brighter. In the distance, far down the tunnel, I hear a noise. Skitter. “No matter what our options, we best make a decision soon. I have a really bad feeling about this place.” And, with those words, Eric pressed forward towards the door.
Amber is in the middle, so that in an emergency she can be protected by either myself or Eric. He opens the door. Just on the other side, as a contrast to the dark, ominous orange glow, is a room filled with florescent light. As we step through the threshold, I realize that this room is an operating theater. There are plexiglass panels separating the operation area from the seats, and there is a semicircle of empty chairs ascending above us at an angle. In the middle of the room, is a metal table, with leather restraints built in. There is no blood, or instruments, just a cold metal table, with a set of double doors on the far side of the theater. As we walked in, no one said anything – We just looked at each other bewildered.
Eric, continued with the lead, moved towards the doors as he realized that there was nothing helpful in this room for us. He pressed his hands to the swinging doors, and as he applied pressure, a small hypo-needle fly’s out from some place unidentified and stabs him in the arm. I catch a glimpse of a black fluid being deposited into his body as he shouts, “What the fuck?” He continues to push the door open and reveals a dark hallway.
“Eric… Are you okay?” I asked, sheepishly.
“This shit burns.” He scowls, as he removes the needle from his arm, throwing it to the ground. The tubule shatters as it lands.
“Let me look” I say as I approach him, pulling the sleeve of his shirt up his arm. I was not prepared for what I saw.
The black liquid had spilled out on his skin, and there were black droplets that were dripping down his arm. In their wake, are fleshy lesions, starting to bubble with pus. His entire arm is discolored, at this point, carrying a sickly gray hue. The black droplets run down his elbow and drop onto the floor – and disappear entirely. “Put your shirt over your mouth, now!” I say as I untuck my shirt and pull it up “That shit is airborne”.
90 seconds after this injection, we realize how dire the circumstance is. Amber and I just stand back and watch as tender patches of skin flake off, revealing the infected muscle below. The muscles are twitching, and writhing, and small, peculiar growths are appearing between the muscular edges. Eric falls to the ground and is grasping at his arm. There is no blood. Several of the small growths on his arm have grown to resemble small black spheres. Sacs of black pus, maybe? From under the muscle, there is a spray of a coagulated dark goo, as animated tendrils writhe in the air. Eric is screaming and pulling at the infected muscle. The tendrils latch onto his hand as he grasps the muscle, leaving acidic burns on his hand.
Eric’s eyes roll back, and he begins convulsing. The convulsions have caused his shirt to ride up, and you can see black veins spread across his stomach. Blood is pouring out of his mouth, and several of the tendrils have emerged from the infected muscle. Pop! The muscle has severed itself and fallen to the ground. The tendrils continue to move. The muscle rises, held up by them, and it flips over to reveal a black mouth full of… Teeth? I stagger away, pulling Amber behind me. The creature runs on its tendrils, charging quickly at me. I use all my force and kick it as hard as I can. It hits the wall, across the theater. The damage seems that it was sufficient, as the creature stopped charging and is sitting on the floor twitching. I fall to my knees, keeping a careful eye on the creature, and try to help Eric.
As soon as I lay my hands on him, he stops convulsing. His body is incredibly hot, and he is entirely unresponsive. His skin feels like melted rubber, and it’s sloughing off his body. I pull up his shirt and jump away when I realize what I see. His stomach has been ripped open, and his entrails are floating in a soup of black fluid and gore. His ribs have been shifted lower and rotated 90 degrees, and now his eviscerated stomach looks like a grotesque mouth. I stare agape at the horror in front of me. I hear Amber shout and turn to see the creature wrapped around her forearm. Her face is distorted into pain and shock, and she screams for help.
Reacting on adrenaline fueled instinct, I wrap my hands around the muscular creature and pull it off her – throwing it at the wall. It hits with a splat, and I run over and stomp on it, again and again and again. After a solid minute of stomping, it stops writhing. I can feel the black fluid on my hands, and it burns. Immediately, I start rubbing my hands on my pants and shirt, trying to get the fluid off. I look at Amber, and her forearm is raw, with some muscles being visible from the surface. She’s bleeding profusely. She’s bleeding, that’s a good sign, at least. I wrap my overshirt around her wounds – my hands are in much better condition than her arm is, but she looks like she will be okay.
We both take a moment to breathe, and I ask her “Do you smoke?” She nods, and I pull two out from the pack. I light them both, and we both get a deep breath in. “Thank god we are both okay.” I say, just trying to fill the silence. She nods and lets a couple of tears fall on her cheeks. We both sit in silence, for a few minutes. From Eric’s corpse, I hear a quiet noise. I put my fingers to my lips, and point at Eric, and we both listen. He’s making an atrocious gurgling noise. My god! What happened to his eyes? His eyes are just visceral remnants of the life that they once held, leaving gaping black sockets in their wake. “Let me see your wound, so I can make sure you’re not infected.” I whisper, and when I look back at her, her eyes are filled with fear.
Slowly I turn around and recoil at what I see. Eric – or whatever was left of eric – was standing. His back, and torso was contorted behind him, like he had been broken in half, dripping black fluid out of his eye sockets. The gaping maw now has two thick tendrils with his eyeballs attached to the end, which are slowly scanning the room in an unending gaze. There are a multitude of other fluid covered tendrils and tentacles emerging from in between his innards, flailing wildly above the corpse. Neither Amber or I make a move, or sound. Watching this beast, shuffle around the Operating theater. Eric’s arms drag on the ground, smearing the black fluid behind it. The smaller creature, the muscle, starts to skitter again. As soon as the larger creature senses the movement, it lunges with its tentacles forward and grabs the muscle. It holds it in its grim mouth, and tears it to shreds, swallowing the remanent pieces.
Amber and I are unsure what to do, aside from keeping perfectly still. The beast is slowly walking circles around us, its tentacles getting ever closer and closer. My eyes go wide, as I notice that amber’s cigarette is getting dangerously small – closer and closer to burning her. Is… Is that the only way to get out of this? I am weighing my options. I just… I just want to get back home to my wife. I look Amber in the eyes. I am so, so, sorry. And I push her off the operating table.
The beast reacts with fury, and incredible speed, it’s tentacles almost catch her before she hits the ground. I’ve never seen such a look of pure shock and betrayal. Her arms splay out in front of her, as she falls to the ground behind. I watch, for a moment, to see the oozing tentacles wrap around her and the beast starts chewing. As soon as it is distracted, I make a break for it and start running as fast as I can into the darkness in front of us. I take once glance behind me as I run, and see her pleading for help and for God, as one of the beasts’ eyes spins on its axis to follow me as I break into the darkness.
Oh my god, I can’t believe that I did that. I’m… I’m a murderer! I should’ve been the one to take the fall. I was in tears, as I ran further down the hallway. I’m not even sure how far I made it before I fell, but it seems that this tunnel just goes in a straight line. Eventually, the tears and exhaustion broke me, and I hit the ground hard. I was too exhausted even to try and catch myself, and I lost my breath the moment I landed. Looking behind me, I don’t see the fluorescent light where I left Amber. My God, Amber… I am so sorry. It was either me or you, and… I can’t let anything stop me from apologizing to my wife. I love her, and I need to quit my job. I need to make everything right again.
It took me several minutes before I could stand again. I feel like a broken man. What did I do to deserve this? Eventually, I pulled myself to my knees. From my knees, I was able to pull myself up. Where am I? Where does this tunnel go? I must push on. I reach into my pocket and pull out my lighter. I flick it, and the light is scattered across the walls. The little fire throws it reach over the wall, catching shadows on chips of paint. I take my first step, and that leads into the next. After several, I was walking in a cadence regardless of the pain in my limbs. Nothing is broken, and that’s important. As I take slow steps, pushing forward into the darkness. It is near silent, with my own shallow breaths and limping footsteps creating a deafening symphony echoing down the hall. I stop – something caught my eye. A brown splatter, on the floor in front of me. Dried Blood? What the hell is this place? And that’s when I saw it.
Amanda and I met, in an environmental protection group, many years ago. When we first met, I had a splattering of mustard, from a hot dog incident, all over my shirt. I never forgot the way she laughed at me. We shared our first kiss, under a full moon on one of the beaches in San Diego – The air smelled like sea salt and roses, on our first date. Our wedding was a beautiful naturalist display. Flowers, ferns, and even feeders for natural wildlife deep in the wilderness. Our wedding night, we spent searching each other for ticks. We never had children, we were always waiting until we had successfully saved the environment and staved off global warming. We’ve lost pets, friends, and family. Anymore, Amanda and I only have each other and the love that we share is pure and true. I will never forget the hardest and the easiest times with her. Her love keeps me going, and even in this… hellscape, her love pushes me forward, so that I can come home to her.
The flickering rays cast by the lighter, danced and hesitated to show me what was in front of me. It took all my strength, all my willpower, not to scream and drop to the ground. The first thing that I noticed, were a half dozen skeletons, pressed against the walls. This tunnel had become their tomb, and even in various states of decomposition, you could read torment on their faces. They each have a hole, the size of a fist in their foreheads. I wonder what that is? The smell was overwhelming, and I instinctively pulled my jacket over my nose. Following the image upwards, I noticed fleshy strings wrapped around the corpses. Tying ribs together, stretching across some of the more decomposed areas of the remains. Thicker strands of this beige flesh stretch from the corpses, and further down the hallway beyond my sight, meaty ribbons tautly stretched into obscuration. I take a small step forward, and I recoil with the sight.
I see a fleshy node, like the shape and structure of a neuron, suspended in the middle of the hallway. Meaty appendages reach from the node to the walls and floors, suspending it perfectly in the middle of the hallway – cast in a net of viscera. This nucleus had the same flesh-colored tones, but under its transparent skin, you can see bubbles of black fluid between layers. This distorted visage wrought the smallest scream, smothered hastily by my own hand. The entire structure shivered. Additional length of tunnel continues behind this node but continuing without touching one of the lengths of flesh would be a challenge for the most accomplished contortionist. On closer examination, even in the areas without the larger growths, there are thin hair-like strands that stretch from the thicker appendages to the wall.
Shit. Shuffling noises, the sound of feet being dragged across the ground are behind me in the distance. It’s now, or never. I knew I had to go. I pick the area with the smallest number of threads, in between two of the larger appendages, one reaching above my body, and one reaching below. I back up and prepare to throw myself through. The faster I get through the web, the less harm it can do. My logic felt sound, as I ran and dove. The threads felt like razor blades, made of fire. They cut my hands, but fortunately, they broke before my face. I felt cuts across the sides of my hands, and I could feel a few of them that had reached the bone. It feels like slow motion, and I realize my most foolish mistake. I didn’t dive far enough. Just above the ankle, my leg brushed against one of the larger tendrils. On the contact, it swells with black fluid and detaches from the wall, wrapping itself around my leg. The pain is immeasurable, and I instinctively scream in agony. Carefully, I use my bloody hand to try and unravel the constricting tendril. It brings more pain than I believed possible, but I managed to detach it from my limb. The tendril immediately buries itself into the tile floor. I hold the lighter above my wound to assess the damage. I see no black fluid in the wound, and through the arterial bleeding, I can see an acidic ridge cut into my tissue. Fuck. The pain is agonizing. I have no choice but to press forward. My bloody hands, leaving streaks of my sprawled body across the floor, with a spreading puddle following my leg. I reach into my breast pocket, and remove my last cigarette, and with bloody and nervous hands, I light it.
I am so disoriented, that I almost don’t hear it. A rhythmic tick, tick, tick, slowly approaching me from further down the tunnel. Survival instinct takes over, and I press myself against the wall, and get ready to defend myself. Slowly revealing itself in my candlelight, is a human brain, suspended on black legs resembling a spider. Like the beast, earlier, the optic nerves have been stretched, and two unblinking eyes examine me from head to toe. Small reservoirs of black fluid are visible inside the white of the eyes. It approaches, and trying to scare it off, I swing a delirious fist at it. It takes one small step back, and while my hand is recovering from the swing, it leaps. Two of its legs, land on my arm, burying themselves like needles into my muscle, while two fangs dig into my hand – just above the knuckle. The pain almost immediately goes away, but with the loss of feeling comes the loss of control. I can no-longer move my hand.
The paralysis spreads deeper into my body. First, my hand. Then, my forearm and elbow. Bicep. As soon as the feeling reaches my torso, I can no longer move any part of my body. The pain washes away, and I am given the blessing of painlessness. I am almost absorbed by the tranquility, the beautiful oceanic cloud that I have been given to rest upon. I barely notice, as the “spider” slowly positions itself over my face. I watch, barely present, as a long and hollow stinger emerges from the brainstem of this “spider”. Every move calculated; it slowly slides the stinger into my eye. I smile, just a little bit. I go blind in my right eye, almost immediately. I feel a lump being deposited, just behind my eye. The stinger retracts, and the spider disappears into the darkness from whence it came.
Some time later, it could be minutes, or hours, my lighter extinguished. I am left, cold and alone in this bloody broken hallway. I am now a living host. I have a parasite, in my brain, a spider egg. My purpose is to become the home for a new spider. I love spiders. I love all living things. I love my wife. I love the train. I love cigarettes. And now, I must wait for my baby to come out. I hope that you are big and strong, baby. I love you.