Two things happened at once. First, there was the scream. Then the late-night commuters were jolted forward, then backward, hard, as the air brakes screeched the train to a sudden halt. There were the requisite female screams like you hear in old movies. The big guy who’d been snoring in the row of seats he’d taken up was on the aisle floor swearing. He must have hit the floor face-first if his bleeding nose was any indication. A well-dressed woman, older, not a screamer, tried to help him, held his arm, asked if he was okay. He pulled back his arm and brought her to the floor. “Fine. Don’t I look just fine?”
The fat conductor jogged down the aisle, bobbing his head to look into the next car. He paid zero attention to the passengers, who were asking what had happened. He held a walkie-talkie to his elephantine ear: “Yeah…No…Can’t tell,” he said, before telling everyone to sit and remain calm. No one did. Everyone was talking, speculating about why they stopped. A woman toward the front of the car yelled for a first aid kit. That caught everyone’s attention. Then the other screams started.
They came from the next car down. With the door between the cars wide open, the screams came through clearly. The off-peak passengers were streaming in from that car, pushing the people in front, looking back from where they’d been. “Call the cops!” said a tall man clutching a briefcase to his chest. “She’s insane.”
The conductor squeezed his way through, parting the crowd aside, still trying to see ahead. He yelled into his walkie-talkie. “Need cops pronto.” He then turned to the passengers and said, “Folks, just move ahead. Please. Just move ahead.” The last people rushed in, forcing their way past the people in front of the door. They were in a panic and splattered with blood.
The woman who tried to help the guy with the bloody nose was right there offering to assist the people running in. “Are you hurt? Do you need help?” Those from the other car stared at her. A couple shook their heads. A thin man, pale green, looked like he was about to pass out. She took him by the arm and sat him down. “I was a nurse,” was all she needed to say.
One of the refugees from the other car turned to look back and started pushing forward again. “She’s coming!” he said. Then everyone started to move up. The big guy from the floor elbowed aside a smaller guy into a seat. The conductor continued urging, “Calm down. For God’s sake, calm down,” while hearing only static on his walkie-talkie.
Everything got quiet when she came into the car.
She wasn’t quite a bombshell, but close enough if you could ignore the black eye and broken nose. If everyone else was in a panic, she was the opposite. She placed a bloodied chef’s knife on an empty seat and straightened it so the tip pointed to the back of the seat. “Be careful,” she warned. “That’s sharp.” Her voice was calm. She was looking at the knife, moving it just so with her fingertips when she spoke again. “Well, I suppose that’s that, after all. He’ll never violate a restraining order again.”
There was a distinct smile of satisfaction on her face.