"Silence!" the old woman barked.

Both Baseball Cap and the Kid's Father stopped their altercation long enough to listen to the train conductor. His disembodied voice, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once, sounded as if God himself was talking to them.

His message, however, was neither godly nor reassuring; he told them to wait.

"For how long?" asked the pregnant woman.

"Not much, hon," said the lady holding the Lays bag, trying to console her. "I'm sure."

"Yeah, right," whispered a guy wearing a Michael Jordan t-shirt.

"Daddy, my tummy hurts," the boy grabbed his father by the hand, making him step away from Baseball Cap.

"Let's sit here, son."

Adam closed his eyes and focused on the one thing he had control over—his breathing. At least these guys are not fighting anymore.

The next thirteen minutes were endless. Phrases such as "I'm never taking the subway again" or "Fuck this!" proliferated. Not long afterward, all the passengers directed their anger toward the Metro service, the president, and the eternal crisis that, according to them, the Venezuelan people didn't deserve.

A little later, Baseball Cap spoke again:

"I'm getting off this shit."

Here we go again.

"Yeah," the Kid's Father got to his feet. "I'll give you a hand."

A first wave of surprise crashed over everyone inside the car when the two of them worked together, and then a second one when the doors opened a crack.

"Is that supposed to happen?" someone asked.

"That's dangerous," a young man wearing reading glasses pointed out.

"Isaac," said the Kid's Father to his son. "Look outside."

"We are close, daddy!" The boy smiled. "I see other people getting out too."

Ah! The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, Adam shook his head.

"Let's do this," Jordan T-shirt said, standing up.

"Are you mad?" asked Lays Lady.

Everyone ignored her. While no passenger from that car dared to be the first one to walk into the dark tunnel, the possibility of leaving that hot, suffocating, oversized coffin became too enticing to overlook.

"All right." Jordan T-shirt squeezed his way through the slit and jumped out. "All good here. Who's next?"

"Take my son," said the Kid's Father. "Boy, wait for me outside."

Isaac did as his papa told him.

"Are you coming?" asked Baseball Cap to the pregnant woman.

She hesitated.

"Come on. The platform is right there," insisted Jordan T-shirt. "The whole train is doing the same thing as us."

"Leave her alone," said Lays Lady.

"Okay," the pregnant woman stood up. "I'll do it."

"No, honey."

"It's fine. I don't want to have my baby in this dump."

All eyes were on her as she traipsed. Once Baseball Cap and the Kid's Father helped her out, widening the crack a few more inches, the rest of the passengers followed her example, except for Lays Lady, who slid open the door that led to the adjacent car, mumbling something about complaining to the conductor.

Don't they know staying put is the best choice? The woman and the boy were lucky. But if the train moves... More people left as Adam stared at the lifeless lights, waiting for them to turn on at any moment. Will you stay here alone? It could be hours before the power comes back. Don't you want to meet Rafael today?

"Hey, Baldy-Mort!" Jordan T-shirt said. "You coming?"

Adam didn't reply.

"Suit yourself."

"Wait!" Adam approached the doors and took a peek through them. The narrow bend prevented him from seeing it, but the platform couldn't have been more than a hundred feet away. "Fine. I'm coming too."

"Nothing bad will happen, man."

Adam's breathing quickened as he squeezed his left shoulder through the opening. Then, he screamed in pain as the lights flickered above, and a loud swoosh echoed through the tunnel. Crushing his chest and back, the double doors moved within inches of being closed.

"Dude, jump!" Jordan T-shirt shouted, recoiling.

"I'm trapped," said Adam.

"Somebody help!"

Baseball Cap and the Kid's Father rushed back, but the train was already moving, and they had to press themselves against the wall. Shouldn't a sensor prevent this? Oh, God! How is this happening? Adam's elbow scraped against the surface of the tunnel. I'll lose my arm.

Instead of stopping at the nearby platform (where people screamed in shock when they realized what happened), the train gained speed. Adam used his right leg to support his weight in a desperate attempt to get back in. Sick and dizzy with fear, he turned to the window, opposite to the double doors, saw his ashen reflection, and above it, he noticed a red emergency button.

Adam stretched his body until something cracked in his shoulder, and his fingers reached it. Nothing happened.

"Please, help!"

He pressed it again, struggling to free himself. For a second, Adam believed he'd heard the train conductor laughing through the speakers.

As the upcoming bend drew closer, his sweatshirt got caught in something and tore.

It will be my skin next, then my flesh, then my bones—ripped to shreds, burned by the friction until there's nothing left, and I'm here, mutilated, half of my body gone, while I die bleeding in an empty subway car.

"Hello?" Adam looked back as much as his neck allowed him. He was not alone. Did the older woman return? Is it the conductor? Whoever it was, another person was all it would take to widen the gap enough for Adam to save himself. "Please!"

Adam pushed, as did the stranger behind him.

When his body hit the floor, and the doors closed, releasing him from their clasp, there were no smiles or words of gratitude from Adam. He groaned from the pain in his arm and leg, disgusted to see who stood in front of him.

"I remember you."