Modern Rituals Read Free

way to the platform’s edge, planted a hand on the ground and hopped down, avoiding the rails. The man startled, tripping on a wooden board. He slammed to the ground, followed by a blinding flash of light, smoke and the smell of cooked meat.  
    The crowd gasped and screamed.  
    James forced himself to ignore the macabre mass of charred flesh. He bolted to the woman, yelling at her to stop moving.  
    Forty-five seconds until arrival.  
    James managed to kneel beside her without electrocuting himself.
    “You are going to be okay—just put your arms around me.”
    She did. He hoisted her onto his shoulders and tip-toed over the rails toward the platform. When he arrived, three women helped the old woman onto the concrete bearing and carried her to safety. Someone offered James a hand and as he took it, a terrifying, discomforting noise pierced the echoey tunnel.  
    James twisted his head around in horror.
    The large man writhed in agony, mangled arms outstretched—a gurgled scream expelled from his massive, barrel chest.  
    James released the rescuer’s hand.
    “Kid, he’s gone! You can’t save him!”  
    Twenty-five seconds until arrival.
    James ignored the plea and rushed onto the tracks. He hoped he possessed enough strength to lift the man—rolling him wasn’t an option.  
    James pulled the man’s flakey, charcoal arms around his neck. Screams ricocheted in the subway: from the crowd, from the burned victim, from within James’ head. A piece of flesh dangling from the man’s arm tore free, sticking to James’ blazer—and whether from the adrenaline surging through his veins, or a hidden strength, James hoisted the man onto his shoulders.  
    The squelch of a train’s brakes squealed, grinding James’ ears.
    Fifteen seconds until arrival.
    James lurched and swayed under the heavy burden. He barely avoided the rails.  
    Ten seconds.
    He lifted the man onto the platform with the help of several others. A few more joined in, grabbing James’ blazer.  
    “You’re going to make it kid—pull yourself up!”  
    He ascended. A glimmer of hope shone through his despair—then his pant leg caught on something. The sound of the train bore down upon the station.
    Five.  
    Panic knotted his mind. He convulsed his leg upward—lodged. Alarmed faces altered from hope to horror.  
    It wasn’t meant to end like this.  
    James found the face of the old woman. Tears welled in her eyes.  
    All went black.

    3

    Time obliterated space.
    James opened his eyes mid-flight. His legs involuntarily catapulted him skyward. Gravity, a merciless tether, snagged him from the air. He plummeted. His hands slapped a sealed, wooden floor—his knees followed with a nauseating thud and he swam in that terrible moment between impact and pain. A numbing fire then scorched his kneecaps.  
    He curled into a ball, winced and sucked a breath through his teeth. The surroundings snuck into his vision.  
    Impossible.
    The people. The station. New York.  
    Gone.  
    He rolled onto his back. He lay on the floor of a cavernous room. Huge, canned fluorescent lights hung dark from the scaffolding above. Daylight crept its way in through several skylights set into the high ceiling. He raised his head and scanned the space around him.
    Retracted bleacher seats outlined the walls. A stage occupied the opposite side of the hall, roughly a hundred feet from him. Basketball hoops, pulled parallel with the ceiling, hung awkwardly.
    Is this a gymnasium? He thought. Then: What the fuck?
    James’ hands went clammy, his stomach knotted, he felt faint and his breathing grew heavy. An urge to vomit rose in his throat. What he felt, saw, tasted, smelled and heard confirmed this place was real—or a convincing facsimile. Every logic circuit in his brain conflicted. He knew this experience was impossible, yet here he lay.  
    Get ahold of yourself. Worry about how you got here later. Get up. Now!
    An atavistic force welled within him. He steadied his