First Sighting

A newspaper rustled slightly. The man behind it, wearing a black suit, blinked several times, and then continued reading once more. A woman and her baby were a few seats back, the baby gurgling quietly. A couple were seated at the front holding each other. Two teenage boys and a girl were occupying two seats in the middle of the carriage. And a single man, not occupied with anything, was sitting right at the back, staring out the window at the world rushing past, wearing a large black trench coat. The carriage they were in rocked a little more than it had been for the past two hours. And would do so for another four until it reached its destination. There was a tunnel not far up ahead, and the man with the newspaper must have noticed it. He closed the paper and folded it, tucking it under his arm. He rested his head against the back of his seat, his head, like everyone else, bobbing around slightly. The woman reassured her baby and the couple held each other tighter. The man at the back didn't move at all. The baby started crying, no matter how tight its mother held it. The man with the newspaper smiled slightly. He had a child of his own, and knew what it was like to have a child crying for no reason. The teenagers, who had been talking the entire time, didn't stop, or even take notice of the approaching tunnel. The man at the front reassured his woman that they wouldn't be in the tunnel for long.

The man in the back did nothing but move his left arm slightly, putting his hand underneath his coat. As the tunnel came closer, three lights inside the carriage flickered to life, illuminating what was already illuminated. The train entered the tunnel, blocking out the sun. The sound of the engine up ahead roared in through the windows, air rushing past, like it was trying to escape something. One of the lights at the front, above the couple, flickered, darkening the front for a moment. They didn't pay much attention to it. Then it happened. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked forward. There was a loud screeching noise as the trains brakes were applied, screaming to a sudden halt. There was silence for a moment, the carriage still in the tunnel. The newspaper man got up and looked out the window. He frowned, not being able to see light either way. The rest of the train must have been blocking both ways. But shouldn't the train have kept going for longer before stopping? We should be out of the tunnel, he thought to himself.

"The Christ is going on?" One of the boys asked, getting to his feet. The girl didn't show any emotion aside from confusion, but the second boy looked pretty scared. The man at the back rolled his head back, a look of aggravation etched into his face. A door at the front of the carriage opened and a train official came waltzing in like there was nothing wrong. He was wearing a red jacket with a symbol on the left shoulder. The man at the back moved his head forward, smiling slightly.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. We are currently experiencing a problem with the engine. The problem will be resolved as soon as possible." He explained. "Please remain in your seats."

"Thank you, sir." The man holding his woman said. Everyone sat down. The man at the back slowly got to his feet.

"Sir, please remain seated." The official ordered, taking a step forward. The man also walked forward, and didn't stop.

"A problem with the engine you say?"

"Sir, sit down." The official said forcefully, reaching for something behind him.

"This engine is run by coal and fire and steel. There shouldn't be a problem with the engine unless it was purposefully done." The man said, still walking forward, slowly; almost like he was counting his steps.

"Sit! Down!" The official yelled, pulling out a revolver.

"Train officers do not carry guns behind them, they are on their waist. They do not use revolvers. They do wear brown jackets. And that is not the train company's symbol on that red jacket." The man rattled off. He pulled his hand out from underneath his coat, a massive pistol in his grip. The official fired the revolver. The slug travelled through the air towards the man, who took the bullet in his shoulder. The man didn't even flinch as blood splashed onto the newspaper man. Everyone started screaming. The man fired his own pistol, a massive boom resonated throughout the carriage. The official slowly angled backwards, a massive hole in his forehead. Before the body could hit the ground, its flesh started to tear; the lights flickering.

"Get to the back!" The man yelled, aiming the pistol again. The body of the official was torn open, like the Hulk tearing out of Bruce Banners clothes. And from inside the body came a massive creature, taking up the entire end of the carriage.

"Fuck!" He fired the pistol another three times, bullets impacting into its chest. Black blood exploded out its back, but that didn't stop the monster. It reached out with a large clawed hand and grabbed the man sitting at the front. With a simple twist, it snapped him in two, and began to suck out the his insides. The woman screamed, as did everyone else. Everyone got up and ran towards the back. The monster finished sucking out the insides and tossed the skin and bones forward. The man ducked and began firing again. The carriage was suddenly filled with echoing booms, muzzle flashes and roaring from the beast.

"YOU THINK A GUN CAN KILL ME?" The beast suddenly roared. The man reloaded, and then put the pistol on a seat as he stepped past it. He moved his shoulders back and let the coat fall off of him. Strapped to his back was a four foot sword, made of pure obsidian. He grabbed the hilt and ripped the sword free.

"COME ON THEN!" The monster roared again, leaping forward. The man did the same, swinging the sword in front of him. The blade tore through the entire side of the carriage, tearing seats in two. The monster swung its clawed arm, trying to cut the man in two. But he dropped down to his knees, sliding along the wooden surface and raised his sword, removing the beasts arm. It reared back, howling in pain and anger. The man turned around, sheathing his sword in a single movement, and ran. He picked up his pistol and coat on the way and headed towards the others.

"Fucking move!" He yelled. One of the teenagers opened the door to the next carriage, everyone rushing through, the man right behind them. He heard the monster roaring as he closed the door and continued running. Through the next four carriages they ran until they reached the last one, where they got off the back and ran the final fifty or so meters to day light.

"Who are you?" The newspaper man asked.

"Reaper...keep running." He simply replied, looking back. There was a series of loud crashing noises before the entire back carriage exploded in a shower of splintered wood, steel and sparks, the demon moving rapidly through the debris and onto the track, blood from the man it had killed still running down from its jaws, red eyes gleaming in the darkness of the tunnel. Reaper entered the light and stopped while everyone else kept running. He slowly turned and got his pistol out again.


"Your master wants me? Well here I fucking stand!" He yelled back down into the tunnel. The demon ignored the wound on its entire side and charged forward towards him. Reaper raised the pistol and fired more rounds, even as the demon started laughing. But with a precise two shots, just before the demon was about to leap at him, two bullets slammed into its knees, bringing it to a shuddering crash on the ground. Reaper holstered the pistol and got out his sword, aiming at the beast's neck.

"I WILL NOT GIVE ANY MESSAGE..." It threatened. Reaper just smiled.

"I don't want to send a message. I want you to die." And with a single thrust, he slashed at the creature's neck, removing its head completely. He looked at the people who were standing on the side of the tracks, a few yards away. He grinned slightly then sheathed the sword once more, turning and walking off to the side of the tunnel, pulling out a cell phone.

"Found him. He was on a train, trying to harvest humans. No, I wasn't able to get that information from...the thing has no head, how can I ask him? Okay. Goodbye." He hung up and put the phone in his pocket, walking away from the stunned audience.

This took all of about an hour to write. It's for my Creative Writing course, and I thought why not have it take place in what I'm doing? And once that was done, I thought why not add it here? Enjoy.