One Night Under the Western Bridge

My college friend Roddy wanted to introduce me to his cousin in the city of Dysgenita. For years, Roddy spoke of this esteemed man, but I never met him. Nor had I talked with him on the phone. Consequently, I came to believe this famous cousin did not exist. That would all change when we were invited to fly across the country to the city of Dysgenita for a weekend. Dysgenita had quite the reputation on television - glamorous malls, high rise lofts, and stars strolling the sidewalks. Once the plane landed, and we stepped out of the airport, I saw the city behind the cameras. Thick, yellow clouds blanketed the sky. Everyone was either walking at ten miles per hour with a briefcase in hand, or collecting spare change in a beer can. It was a disappointment - but I wasn’t ready to give up just yet. We still had to meet Roddy’s cousin, the famous director named ‘Redd’. Better yet, I knew that a raging party was waiting to be found in every alleyway. In my early twenties, I lived for the roaring party. We scheduled dinner with Redd at our hotel. To no surprise, he never showed up. Once again I had believed ‘Redd’ was not a real person. Roddy was just creating another excuse for why we couldn’t meet him. But then, we received a sudden text from Redd, filling me with intrigue… ‘We’ve taken over the abandoned warehouse under the western bridge. Be there at ten tonight for a DEADLY RAGER.’ Finally, right when I was so bored - I was going to experience a party in the city of Dysgenita. Roddy, however, thought otherwise. “I don’t know Sasha, I don’t think we can handle Redd’s parties - they’re not for people like us.” Roddy said, twiddling his thumbs. “Of course,” I placed my cheek on my hand. “Once again, just another excuse for why I can’t meet Redd… he’s truly not real, is he?” Roddy’s face turned red. “No, would you stop thinking that? He’s just an elusive man, that’s all. Artists are strange, enigmatic people. And the parties he throws - I’ve heard they can be dangerous. Strange people attend, and they bring secret drugs that even the government can’t find…” By principle, I abstained from drugs. A bad experience in my freshman year of college made me exclusively an alcoholic. However, I embodied the philosophy of a free, wild party. Others were free to do drugs as they pleased, as long as they didn’t involve me. Roddy’s mind was absolute - he was not going to attend the party, and he urged me to do the same. But I had other plans. At 10PM, I called a cab to our hotel, slipping from the lobby while Roddy used the bathroom. Roddy anticipated my scheme, quickly pursuing me to the curb where a cab driver waited. Wearing my tightest dress and my darkest makeup, Roddy could see my mind was set. He wasn’t going to physically coerce me; so he entered the cab with me. He really thought that he was going to protect me from something; that he was coming with me for my own safety. “To the warehouse under the western bridge.” I told the driver. Roddy slapped his face in his palm - I guess I should have given a less conspicuous location. The driver turned to look at me. There was an artificial quality to his face, like a robot wearing human skin. His eyes did not blink, and his lips were locked in a furtive smirk. He nodded, turning back to the wheel and beginning our trip. I shook off the anxiety. It seemed like the driver was trying to warn us of our destination. Our hotel was in a nicer area of Dysgenita. On our way to the warehouse, we entered dangerous territory. It had been known that every safe part of Dysgenita was within a few blocks of somewhere unsafe. Gangs tended territory, and homeless camps littered the sidewalks. As we neared the western bridge, Dysgenita lost its bright television lights. The street lights turned from bright white LEDs to flickering yellow lamps. I began to see strange people in the shadows. Old hags pushing shopping carts full of dolls. A hunchbacked man in a large brown jacket. A group of four men wearing masks, slowly following the taxi with their eyeless stares… Roddy nudged my shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Truthfully, I considered asking the driver to return us to safety. Dysgenita was giving me the creeps. But I had to know if Redd was real, and I had to experience one of his renowned parties. How dangerous could it really be? As we crossed a shady intersection, no more lamps lined the sidewalk. Every building appeared old and abandoned. The western bridge loomed lightless in the sky, like an ominous monolith. “How’s anyone supposed to use that bridge without light?” I asked. The bridge was pitch black, as if looking at a silhouette. “No one uses the western bridge anymore.” The driver replied with a plastic voice. “It’s been decommissioned for a decade.” I dared not to think of the people who met on that vestigial bridge. Rainbow lights flashed in the distance. Every second a different color punched my vision - orange, then red, then purple, then green. We approached a massive warehouse emitting strobing lights through the windows. Heavy industrial techno blared outward, quaking the derelict warehouse. The walls were dirty and grey, with cracks running along the foundation. Large windows lined the sides of the warehouse, many of them shattered to pieces. All of this I saw through flashes of color, perfectly in tune with the beat. I began to reconsider exiting the taxi. I forced myself to open the door and place my feet on the ground. Roddy gave the driver a handful of cash. One more time, he warned us with that portentous smile. Then, the cab screeched off, leaving us under the western bridge. I could feel Roddy's anxiety as I walked next to him. We almost ran right into the bouncer - a tall man in a black suit, standing in front of large double doors. I could only see brief glimpses of him through each flash. One second he was visible, the next he was not. I thought his face changed with the different colors. “Who do you know here?” He asked in a deep voice. “Uhm,” Roddy stepped forward meekly. “I’m Redd Undertown’s cousin. I’m Roddy Undertown.” The bouncer brimmed with laughter, until something paged him through his earpiece. After taking note of the mysterious transmission, the bouncer stepped aside and opened the doors for us. As we entered the warehouse, intense strobing hurt my eyes. Within the first minutes, I thought I may have a seizure. A crowd of over one hundred guests danced in wild rhythm with the darkwave music. They appeared as shadows, jumping up and down, swinging their arms and legs like malfunctioning robots. Their movements were both chaotic and perfectly aligned. Likely, they were all on drugs. I quickly sought to reduce my anxiety with a strong drink. Roddy refused to leave my side as I searched for a bartender. We shouldered our way through lifeforms of sweat and meat, uncaring of our presence. From what I could glimpse, everyone’s face reminded me of that cab driver. Expressions of mindlessness, like zombies jumping up and down. There was no bartender to be found. Roddy kept trying to talk to me, but it was impossible to hear him through the blaring techno. Frustrated, I pulled him into an isolated corner. “Maybe Redd can help us get a drink.” He yelled within an inch of my ear. The name ‘Redd’ aroused hope. I had forgotten that part of my purpose was to meet the host of this rave. “Where is he?” I screamed at Roddy, doubtful that he could hear me. Roddy looked in each direction. At the far end of the floor was a stage hosting a dj booth. On the left side, a metal staircase led up to an office on the second floor. Roddy pointed firmly in this direction. Squirming through dozens of sweaty people, we came to another bouncer at the bottom of the staircase. This one stood firmly planted, determined to knock us down if we dared to tread a single step. As if Redd had been watching us, another mysterious transmission reached the bouncer’s ear, and he stepped aside. Roddy and I entered the office, which had been transformed into a private lounge. Dreamlike trance music gave the lounge an otherworldly feel. Lavender and pink lava lamps comprised our light source. Against the wall, a cloaked man in a fedora sat on an old couch. His face was shrouded by his coat collar, and four alien-esque women surrounded him. They were barely clothed, covered in paint, and whispered strange languages into Redd’s ear. “My dear cousin…” Our cloaked host said. Despite a low voice, the music carved a path for his words, like he spoke in rhythm with the beat. “Please, have a seat.” Redd waved his hand at two foldable chairs across from the couch. Uneasily, me and Roddy assumed the seats. “Ah, and I see you’ve brought a lady…” Redd whispered before approaching me, revealing the details of his face. Eyes that glowed in the dark peered at me from his glossy complexion. He took my hand, kneeling down and kissing it. I tried not to blush, but my knees were already shaking from fear. “Redd, this is my friend Sasha. She’s… just a friend.” Redd released my hand gently, piercing my soul with his glowstick eyes. “Ah, I see…” Redd said, returning to his couch and the women. “How glad I am that you could join us tonight… It has been almost ten years now, hasn’t it, my cousin?” Redd asked indulgently. Roddy nodded in affirmation, though he seemed unable to comprehend the enigma before us. I still held my suspicion that this strange man was unreal, and that this meeting was a hoax. Unable to withstand the awkwardness, I broke the question: “Me and Roddy were looking for a drink. We couldn’t find any down there.” Redd took offense at my dilemma. “No no, there are no drinks here, I never host a party with alcohol. Such a dilutant is anathema to the mind, it does not give way to the revelations of the uncanny… However, I do have something special for you.” One of the painted women obtained a plastic bag from her outfit. Taking the bag, Redd approached us with two extravagant paper tabs. Tattooed on the tabs were searing purple eyes, like those of Redd himself. Disgusted by the offer, I reeled back in my seat. “Uhm, Redd,” Roddy broke in. “We’re not looking to get into anything like that…” “Ah, but I insist my cousin - You will find a party such as this much more enjoyable, once you enter the other side… you will become one with the trance.” Redd held his hand outward, unwilling to rescind his offer. The thought of doing drugs made me nauseous, inducing flashbacks of my nightmare in college. My stomach turned sour, and spit flooded my mouth. I quickly bolted upwards, nearly knocking my chair over. “Bathroom.” I said urgently. “Bathroom!” Roddy looked up with concern. Finally, Redd leaned back on the couch, pulling back his fiendish bargain. “Next to the entrance, there is a hall. A deep, dark hall…” I jetted out of the office and down the stairs. Running through the crowd, I shoved through people, feeling like I may vomit on someone. In my panic, I could not find the exit to the warehouse. Every direction was unfamiliar - just another cracked wall with shattered windows. My head spun, and I held my hand over my mouth, containing the sickness. Then, a comforting hand touched my shoulder. “Hey!” A playful voice yelled. I turned around to see a cute girl with paint smeared across her face. “Are you alright?” She seemed to be the only real person amidst this gathering of mannequins. Surprised by her, I almost forgot about the nausea. My stomach began to settle. “Yea, I was just looking for the bathroom,” I said embarrassingly. My savior took my hand in hers, and led me through the crowd. We came to a dark hallway, and she led me into the women’s bathroom. “I’ll wait out here for you. You seem like you’re scared.” She said comfortingly. My face blushed, and I felt that I wanted to get to know her. “Thanks,” I said, releasing her hand. “I seriously thought I was going to be sick. I think I’ll be alright now, but I’m going to use the bathroom real quick anyways.” She smiled at me as I entered the bathroom. Finally, I was graced by a dim light. The bathroom was filthy, with grime layering the floors and sinks. I retched at the smell, pondering the years it had been since the room had been sanitized. There were only two stalls - the one on the right seemed empty. I pushed the door open, and screamed when I saw someone sitting on the toilet, looking right into my eyes. Those eyes were familiar; I’d seen them in the taxi driver, and in Redd Undertown. But the person's face did not move as I invaded its privacy. Examining the figure, I realized it was not a human at all. It was a dummy, a mannequin. My escort rushed into the bathroom. “Are you alright?!” She asked, looking into the stall. She broke into laughter as I was regaining my composure. “I wonder what that’s doing in there!” She joked, putting her arm around my shoulder. “They used to make mannequins, dolls, and crash test dummies at this warehouse, decades ago before it went… out of business.” The girl walked over to the next stall, and kicked the door open. There was nothing inside but a grimy toilet. “This one’s clear.” She urged me forward with a pat on the back. I smiled and entered the stall as she waited for me outside. Embarrassment burned my cheeks. After relieving myself, we walked from the bathroom with our hands locked in each other's. “Hey,” I said intimately to her. “Thank you for showing me the bathroom, I was seriously in trouble. What’s your name?” “Anastasia.” She said flirtatiously, her cheek bordering my own. “I’m Sasha.” I replied. “Sasha, you need to lighten up, you just need to have a good time!” Anastasia dragged me to the middle of the raving crowd, imploring me to dance with her. I attempted to mimic her movements, but they were fluid. She had become one with the music, and I could not replicate her harmony. “I just wish I had something to drink…” I yelled at her. She pushed her chest against mine, bringing her face close. Putting her hand to her lips, she licked her fingers seductively. “You don’t need a drink to have a good time…” Anastasia pressed her lips against mine, slipping her tongue into my mouth. Powerless to resist, I embraced her, looking for any distraction from my queasiness. But then I felt the paper tab slide from her tongue to my own. I tried to pull away, but she pressed her face harder, shoving the tab down my throat with her tongue. Forcefully, I shoved Anastasia off of me, knocking her into another dancer. Anastasia laughed with fiendish delight, giggling as she vanished into the crowd. Pulling my hair, terror overcame me. I had just been drugged with an unknown substance. I only knew that it was harder than the soft drugs from college. “Roddy!” I yelled. Remembering he was still upstairs, I made my way back towards the metal staircase. This time, the bouncer refused to let me pass. Pleading with him and reminding him of my company had no effect. The bouncer shook his head, firm with rejection. My heart pounded in my chest, and the warehouse began to rotate. Fog seeped into my vision, mystifying the neon flashes. Someone shoved my back, merging me with the crowd of dancing dummies. Limbs jabbed my head and back as they swung with the beat. The rave was a maze, and I was drowning in a sea of dancers. An elbow dug into my spine, sending a jolt of pain through my back. I was ready to turn around and throw my fist in retort, until I saw who it was. Roddy’s neck jerked like a bobblehead, his arms swinging up and down like a zoo animal. His pupils were black holes, devoid of their former color. His mouth hung agape, with drool seeping from the corner of his lips. “Roddy?!” I said, unsure of who I was looking at. Wrapping my arms around his body, I shook him violently. Nothing could free him from the trance, and I was insignificant to him. Suddenly his face began to morph, turning from a solid to a fluid. Looking down at my hands, the skin seemed to drip from the bones. A strange taste dominated my mouth, like drinking from a pool of chemicals. I began to whimper, though nobody took interest in my plight. I sank to my knees amongst the hundreds of dancers, as the music played faster, and louder. A scream tore at my teeth, seeking to break free. I was ready to succumb to insanity as the stomping of two hundred feet threatened to cave the floor beneath us… “Cops!” A random voice yelled. All at once, the music ceased. The flashing lights stopped, and an aggressive white light took their place from above. It blinded me, burning my dilated pupils. The crowd took off in a stampede, knocking me to the ground. Filthy sneakers trampled my stomach and my face. Desperately, I shielded myself with my own forearms, curling into a ball and screaming for help. Once the stampede had passed, I saw three dark figures approaching me with offensive flashlights. They were police. Through the blinding luminance, their faces lingered in shadows. Screams from the crowd replaced the music. Attendees flooded out each door, climbing through the broken windows and cutting themselves on the glass. As the shadow police approached, my survival instinct overpowered the drugs. Jumping to my feet, I melded into the fleeing crowd. Delving through a tsunami of people, I emerged outside the warehouse. Above us, the western bridge swayed, as if hurricane winds assaulted it. My mind was not in control of itself. My individuality had been absorbed by the herd, and I retreated with the largest crowd I could find. The streets were dark, and flickering streetlights provided our only sense of solid ground. One by one, the crowd dissipated as individuals turned corners, entered buildings, and drove away in cars. The stampede diminished from one hundred people, to fifty, to twenty, to five - until the last person ran away, leaving me alone on an unfamiliar sidewalk. The screams died into the distance. The humming of street lights and strange machinery comprised my environment. The mysterious drug took hold of me. My surroundings had become dystopian. Large industrial pipes lined the sidewalks. Abandoned buildings and factories leaned unnaturally. The street signs were gray, with indecipherable text that led to nowhere. I thought I could feel eyes from every window and every corner. “Roddy?!” I yelled, bursting into tears. My face was red hot, with sweat stinging my eyes. My tongue was as dry as a desert. Each cry was like swallowing a jug of sand. “Anastasia? Redd?! Mom? Dad?!” I called every name I could think of, but no one would come to my rescue. A window shut abruptly above me. Looking up, I thought of calling for help - but behind the smeared glass was a mannequin. It looked directly at me, not moving a muscle. Crossing my feet one over the other, I escaped its field of view. Yet, I felt those eyes following me, the plastic head slowly turning as I walked away. I stumbled around the corner into a labyrinth of machinery. Vents exhausted thick clouds of steam, fogging the pavement ahead. Each metallic structure was iridescent with rainbows, like oil on the surface of water. As the city undulated like the ocean, I felt an orb of energy crawling its way through my throat. Footsteps clicked against the pavement. Turning around, I saw two men in black overcoats. Their faces were obscured by the brims of their hats. They stopped walking as soon as I noticed them, stalking me with dark intent. The men split off in separate directions - one walking towards me, and the other flanking me across the street. Through my dilapidation, I knew that I was in grave danger. With my hand running along rusted pipes, I found the nearest alleyway and turned down it. I can’t fathom my fate if I were to have run into a dead end. Luckily, I came out onto another dark street, sobbing like a child. The footsteps entered the alleyway behind me, approaching me at an increased speed. “Oh God, Oh God…” I muttered. Running was futile - I could barely walk in my drug induced state. At the corner of this street, I saw a police officer with his back turned to me. His uniform held the quality of yarn, as if it were crafted for a doll. At the moment, I determined a night in jail to be preferable to human trafficking. Stumbling towards the officer, I called out to him. He did not respond, and did not even turn his back. I yelled louder this time, absolutely sure that he would hear me - but there was still no response. When I had come within reach, I placed my hand on his shoulder. The officer fell forward, falling onto the ground with a hollow thud. I turned him over and looked into the face of a mannequin. Gasping, I placed my hand over my mouth, trapping my fear within. Whispers became audible across the street. Another man looked at me, before disappearing into a dark alley. Cursed footsteps pounded the pavement, as the two men drew near. “Help!” I screamed into the night. “Help! Help me! Roddy help me!” Headlights appeared, and a yellow cab approached me on the sidewalk. I nearly threw myself at it, lunging for the door and entering the back seat without permission. Panting, I looked at the hidden driver. “Please,” I said through panicked breaths. “Please, take me to the Good Side Hotel, take me as far away from here as possible.” The driver slowly turned his head. Familiar eyes greeted me, accompanied by a plastic grin. It was the same man who had driven me and Roddy to the warehouse. Without proper acknowledgement, he nodded his head and drove slowly down the street. Trapped between four seats and four windows, I did not feel any safer within the car. Not with this driver, and his unknown affiliations. Shaking, I leaned back, leaving my hand on the door handle. After a couple of blocks, the cab slowed down to an idle roll. “Why…” I swallowed. “Why are we going so slow…?” “I’m waiting for some friends.” The cab driver replied emotionlessly. Those words pierced my chest like daggers. “No sir, please, I just need to get home, can you please take me home first…” The driver looked at me sternly. “I’m waiting for some friends.” The cab stopped. Someone opened the back doors, and two men entered the cab. The black overcoats, the criminal hats. I knew at once that they were the same two men who had been following me. “Don’t worry little girl.” One said with a stalker’s glee. “We’re not going to hurt you.” The other chimed in. Just before the cab driver could lock the door, I bolted from the back seat. I ran as fast as I could, limping like a drugged fool. Behind me, taunting laughter erupted from the cab. I began turning corners and traversing alleyways with no regard for direction. My goal was to get as far away from those two men as possible. Eventually, I came out onto a wooden board walk. A long beach lined the unnaturally still ocean. No waves lapped against the shore. After meandering onto the sand, I kneeled down. There was no crunch, and I realized that the sand was solid plastic. I walked towards the unnaturally still ocean. The water contained the same acidic texture as the industrial buildings. My mouth was unbearably dry in its presence. Cupping a puddle in my hands, I took a sip of the opaque liquid. The taste of forbidden chemicals and sewage stung my mouth. I spit it out, retching and wiping my tongue. Fearful that those stalkers would hear me, I scanned my environment. The presence of a stranger loomed over my shoulder. I turned around to see the shadowed figure of a slovenly man. Flinching, I observed that this was not one of my pursuers. He appeared to be homeless, wearing a dirty yellow raincoat and a fishing cap. “What are you doing here?” He asked, his tone like machinery. His eyes and expressionless face were reminiscent of the cab driver and the mindless dancers at Redd’s party. Between this man and the poisonous ocean, I had nowhere left to run. “Please, I’m just trying to get back to the Good Side Hotel,” I said with innocence. The man stood silent, his face hiding in the shadow of his dirty hat. “Do you know where you are?” He asked. He kneeled down, bringing his plastic face close to mine. I reeled backwards, preparing to be assaulted. Like I was prey, his painted eyes studied me. “You’re on drugs.” The man observed. “It’s not my fault… Please, I’m lost…” I replied, clasping my hands together. Shakily, I rummaged through my small wallet, obtaining all the money I could find. I produced a wad amounting to around thirty dollars. I held it in front of the stranger, whimpering, pleading. Accepting the money with intrigue, he examined the cash like he had never seen the color green before. Sifting his fingers through it, he lifted the money to his nose and inhaled the bacterial odor. After pocketing the money in his dirty rain coat, he looked at me indifferently. Now I realized how badly I had screwed up. He had been handed all my money, the very thing he had probably sought to obtain. I was a device left in his control now - he could do whatever he wanted to me. “The Good Side Hotel?” he asked apathetically. “I cannot take you that far, but I will take you to the subway station, just outside of Undertown.” Undertown - that name provoked my memory. But in my hazy fright, I couldn’t pinpoint the relevance. The man walked towards the boardwalk, his arms held limply at his sides. He made no motion for me to accompany him. Knowing he was my only hope for safety, I followed him anyway. Acknowledging my presence with a concrete stare, he said “You don’t realize how badly this could have ended for you. This place has always belonged to them. They don’t tolerate visitors from the other side.” As the effects of the drugs reached their peak, I debated whether my guide was real. I debated whether this entire night had actually occurred. In an alternate universe, I was still at the warehouse, seizing on the floor in Redd’s office. My eyes dilated, my mouth dry, the drugs ransacking my mind. Panic gripped me as an imposing mannequin turned the corner ahead. I thought I had been led into a trap - that I was as good as dead. But the raincoat mannequin made a symbol to this shaded figure - a gang sign with his hand. In acceptance, the man ahead responded with a subtle nod, before disappearing back behind the corner. Looking back to make sure I was still following, my guide urged me along. This instance repeated itself on each street block. A mannequin stalked each corner, greedily perpetrating me with puppet eyes. My guide would make the same hand signal, and the threat would nod, granting us passage. He signaled to people in alleyways, people looking out of windows, and people driving slowly past. There was no telling whether he was guaranteeing my safety, or setting me up for the entrapment. “How old are you?” He asked me along the way. “I think I’m twenty-one,” I replied confusedly. My guide flinched. He couldn’t fathom such a young woman finding her way here, all alone. “You’re very lucky that I found you.” He replied acidly. I nodded my head, following closely behind, ignoring his trail of deteriorating odor. I sensed the eyes that observed our every step. Hollow statues stood still, their heads tracing us like radars. The night was thick, and though I had no conception of the current time, I figured it must have been almost 4 AM. Pipes unraveled along the buildings, revealing the walls beneath. My surroundings slowly began to resemble a normal city as we walked, turning unknown corners, and embarking upon disparate streets. As the effects of the drugs waned, the western bridge reappeared in the distance. It wobbled softly, as if it were breathing. Working street lights flickered along the sidewalk once again. A set of stairs below a canopy led beneath the street. My guide descended these stairs, urging me to follow him. Clutching the germ infested siderail, each step threatened to send me tumbling down. A subway station operated at the bottom. Between the staircase and the station, a boundary of shadow collided with light. I stepped across the line, entering the illuminated waiting area. The guide stood behind the shadowed line, unwilling to step into the light. “This is the furthest I will take you.” He said with unmoving lips, and unblinking eyes. Terror rose in my chest at the idea of abandonment. But as I examined my surroundings, I noticed that real people existed here. Homeless men with human expressions slept on the seats. Disheveled drug addicts wandered aimlessly, talking to themselves. The important distinction is that they were human, and had real, human skin. I no longer felt as if I was looking at a legion of dolls and mannequins. I exhaled with relief, sending my doubt and anxiety into the polluted air. “Thank you.” I said, turning back to my guide in the shadows. But there was no one there to receive my grace. The guide was gone, leaving only the ostensible boundary in his wake. Sitting on the waiting bench, I thought of Roddy. There was no answer when I tried to call his cellphone. The call went straight to voicemail, implying his phone had been long dead. I laid my head on the bench, like the sleeping low-lives around me. I would never come to know of Roddy’s fate. My last glimpse of him was at the rave, when he had been absorbed by the music. Absorbed by those people. Leaving me like a rush of intense caffeine, the effects of the drugs dissipated. My mind turned to mush, and any semblance of energy ditched my body. I laid on the bench with a great sense of danger, knowing that Undertown was not far. Every day those strangers were watching Dysgenita from the sewer grates. With this in mind, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. *************************************************************************************** The screeching of train wheels jolted me awake. Encumbered by a heavy brain fog, I spectated my environment. There were businessmen in suits, carrying briefcases across the station. Groups of teenagers laughed over videos on their cellphones. A police officer argued with a homeless man, trespassing him from the subway station. There was no doubt that this was the real city of Dysgenita. The subway train which had awakened me was now coming to a full stop. A digital sign flashed the names of multiple destinations across Dysgenita. One of them read ‘The Good Side’. Patting my sides and ensuring my belongings were intact, I boarded the train. I was just in time to obtain an open seat as the train reached capacity. When I realized I had never purchased a ticket, the drug returned to torment me for the final time. For a single moment, the world wobbled around me, and my chest felt as if it may explode. I pinched my wrist, and rubbed the bridge of my nose. I would have to buy a ticket from the conductor when he did his rounds - hopefully he would accept credit, as all my cash had gone to that … man. The subway roared into motion, sending us into a dark tunnel. The memory of being stranded in Dysgenita still plagued my heart. Likely, I would never recover from that night under the western bridge. But for the moment, I was safe. Or so I thought. The lights vanished, leaving only the passing lights of the tunnel to illuminate the train car. Just like Redd’s party, I experienced the world through flashes, once every few seconds. Every seat was filled with an unmoving passenger, staring forward, not turning their head. A familiar sensation overtook me. I clutched my knees in my seat, as each side of me was beset by a haunting stare. Each head rotated on its neck, turning to look at me. The painted eyes, devoid of light. The acid smiles, incapable of real sympathy. Their thin lips turned downwards. The eyebrows they possessed furled, turning each and every gaze into one of disgust and contempt. One by one, the mannequins rose from their seats with a glare of hatred. Fake limbs clattered like bones. I obtained one final look before we passed the final light in the tunnel, and I was surrounded by pitch darkness. I screamed at the top of my lungs.