Prologue: The Last Train Out of the City

A Strange Encounter on a late night train home.

Andrew sat with his eyes closed, listening to the quick but rhythmic crashing of metal on metal as the train followed the tracks out of New York City, bound towards his hometown of Peakdale. The constant vibration and slight jostling of the train was beginning to lull Andrew to sleep, and was partially aided as a result of his being a fair bit high on some weed he and his friends had managed to obtain earlier in the day. Add that to the generally tiring activity of attending an all day music festival, and Andrew’s heavy eyes and drifting thoughts were entirely justified.

But just as Andrew felt his body begin to drift off into the wonderful land of sleep, he felt the horrible natural urge to relieve himself of all the beer and liquor he had consumed throughout the day well up inside of him. Sighing, Andrew carefully lifted himself up out of his seat and, as best as he could, stumbled towards the trains bathroom, quietly thanking whoever was watching over him for making sure the only people on the late night train car were him and his friends so no one saw his embarrassing stumble-walk.

Andrew made it into the bathroom stall and quickly plopped himself down on the toilet, locking the door as he did so. He leaned back and closed his eyes. He felt like his head was spinning all over the place, a sign that he was most definitely going to be waking up with a hangover tomorrow if he didn’t do something about it now, and maybe even later. In all reality, the day had been one huge, awesome, mistake. He shouldn’t have drank or smoked as much as he did, and he really should not have been getting home as late as he was going to be. He had work the next day, specifically, nine hours of working in the hot sun with six young children yelling and running all over the place, a job that Andrew needed his rest and health to be able to do properly. But he didn’t care, he had had such an amazing day with the guys, one he had needed for a long time. He really didn’t want to have to think about camp right now, only wanting to think about what a great time the festival had been.

Andrew finished using the bathroom, flushed, and kneeled over the toilet to try and purge as many substances from his body as he could. But as he knelt there, acidic vomit flowing from his mouth, he heard a tiny, but somewhat haunting noise. It wasn’t his own gagging, or the vomit hitting the water. No. This was a voice. A deep yet raspy one, coming from just outside the doorway.

“When the Earth is but dust, and the dead walk this place.” The voice hauntingly chimed from within the train car. Andrew stood up, regaining his composure, and wiped his mouth and eyes of the excess vomit and tears. He moved over to the sink and washed his hands, continuing to listen intently. “The Regulator will rise, and lead us to grace.” Andrew shut the water off and moved cautiously up too the door. He pressed his ear right up against it, and heard the voice boom right into his ear, muffled only slightly by the thin door. “Children will cry, as their lives fall to pieces, but The Regulator shall come, and make sure there is a smile, on each of their faces.”

Now thoroughly uncomfortable, Andrew threw the stall door open, revealing a sickly looking man standing outside the bathroom, staring right at him. The man smelled like he hadn’t washed himself in months, and his stringy, greasy, black hair stretched all the way down below his shoulders. He wore a tattered old suit, the suit jacket all ripped up as well as the pants, with the white shirt now a sickly brown color. The man smiled at Andrew through disgusting yellow teeth and said. “Mad men will rule, and good men will lie, in ditches of the dead, as the strong learn to fly.”

Andrew had simply had enough at this point, saying “Whatever man.” He walked off back towards his friends and his seat on the train. He kept looking back, watching too make sure the man actually walked into the bathroom and closed the door. The second he did, Andrew breathed a sigh of relief, returned to his seat with his friends, sat down and closed his eyes.

Mere moments later, however, Andrew heard that same raspy voice, now in a hushed whisper. All it said was “Patriots will fight, and Angels will cry, but it shall be hell on earth, should The Regulator die.” He jolted up, but when he looked around, all throughout the train car, even under his seat, he saw no one else but him and his friends.