Pain wracked Jaimie's body as she woke, cramps darting from joint to muscle to tendon as if electric prods had been lanced into her body, making it nearly impossible to move. She tried to remember what had happened, and as she tiredly searched her brain for a recollection to her apparent injuries, she felt a terrible headache loom. She tried to twist her body, felt a hard floor through the pain, and realized with dismay that she was not at home: all the floors in her house were carpeted.
The subway perhaps? She remembered being there. Suddenly everything started to come back to her, a nightmarish flash of events hitting her like some weird recall in a movie, unfurling as if spilled out from an upturned bag: the bloody bald man chasing her across campus, escaping into the subway, riding to the Bronx, the terribly injured man on the platform. Then, her return to the city, trying to find her way home, the whole time struggling to keep herself conscious. Finally, making it home. Entering.
So then where was she now? Not in the subway. She made an effort to open her eyes, and it hurt to do so, tiny jolts of pain pinching the skin around her eyes. At once a cobalt illumination doused her vision like a splash of ocean water, and she tried to raise an arm to shield the radiance. But she could barely move her limb, the pain of the slight motion far worse than the neon impingement upon her eyes, and she could only twitter her eyes until her pupils managed adjustment to the strange illumination.
Finally her surroundings came into view. She felt dread; the place was unknown to her. She had never visited here before. Gazing warily about, she saw nothing of detail, just a black glossy sea racing away beneath her into an infinite horizon, as if she were floating in space. Looking up, a distant ceiling came into view perhaps a hundred feet high, its surface as smooth and as illustrious as the floor. Wispy streaks of blue neon floated above her like clouds in the sky, their source unexaminable in this place of darkness. A sudden popping noise resounded within her head and she became aware of an odd noise, a deep hum like that of a great engine operating from a distance. The hum infiltrated her senses, and she quickly realized that her pain felt much too real for this whole scenario to be some extravagant dream. Fear enveloped her like a sharp gust of wind, masking some of her pain, enabling her to reassume control of her muscles. She forced herself to sit up and a great wave of dizziness washed over her like a tidal wave, nearly pulling her back to the flooring, but she managed to brace herself with her hands, keeping still until the spins subsided.
She heard footsteps approaching. A hot flash melted over her, her wet fingers pressing against the smooth floor. Her tactile senses returned. She was soaked in sweat, her shirt matted to her body, her jeans itching her skin, sticking to her legs. Dirt was caked to her skin and clothes, she could feel the dried tightness of it. The footsteps grew louder, nearer. She stayed put, eyes rolling in all directions trying desperately to see through the wavy blue luminescence of the black room, but she could not discern from which direction they approached.
"Who's there?" she managed to call, but it came out only as a whisper, the enveloping hum that filled the room overpowering her ability to hear her own pained query.
Then, a hand, clasping down on her shoulder. She startled and turned, the motion sending intense pain through her entire body.
And she saw him, a gorge of fear rising in her throat. Bald. Sunglasses. Bathed in filth.
And smiling.