CHAPTER SIXTEEN - APOLLO

Night of Chaos

Jeff was right.

The Momentum 3 was arguably the best headphones on the market. All instruments playing in the background were so evenly distributed you could clearly hear the crescendo and decrescendo of violins, the progressive chords of the piano, all the way to the thunderous boom of bass drums rippling in your chest—not to mention its noise-canceling capabilities being second to none. Even as the train approached Valmere station, the roar of its engine echoing through the tunnel was barely noticeable.

Apollo removed his backpack and placed it on the seat next to him before resting his head against the window. Thinking about Joy pulled a smile on his lips. He closed his eyes and fell asleep, dreaming of running into Joy’s beautiful smile again. The thought of potentially seeing her again was soothing. One day at a time, Apollo, one day at a time.

An unexplainable sensation jerked him out of his nap, causing a cold rush of emotions to sweep over him. He carefully glanced around the train to spot anything unusual, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

A couple of panhandlers sat a few seats across from him, sleeping with their heads folded backward. A fairly young-looking woman was sitting over by the window to his left with her daughter thoughtlessly staring at the ground and a business executive who was maybe half a dozen seats away from him, reading a newspaper as he twirled his cup of coffee. His briefcase rested firmly by his feet.

That was weird. A cold shiver traveled up Apollo’s spine, shaking the upper half of his body. He glanced at his watch: 11:42 p.m.

“Arriving at Lexington, Lexington station,” the train’s automated voice said.

Two men with dark sunglasses entered at the nearest doors where Apollo was seated. Sunglasses inside an underground train during the night? Apollo sat up and narrowed his eyes. Both men wore black neck gaiters that covered the bottom half of their faces and looked to have worked in construction since their vests and jeans were caked in dried mud. One of the men had dirty blond hair tied into a ponytail and a sleeve of various skull and knife tattoos. The other was freshly bald and tattooless.

The two men posted up in front of the doors once they closed and looked around like they were inspecting their surroundings. The man with the ponytail nudged his colleague and subtly bobbed his head in the direction of the panhandlers and business-looking gentleman.

With the obstruction of their sunglasses, it was next to impossible to see who exactly they were looking at. Apollo’s stomach rumbled with tension. Something was off about these guys. Their focus had been sharper than a butcher’s knife.

The bald one kept fiddling with something inside the pocket of his safety vest. Apollo watched his knuckles continuously move as if he were squeezing onto something inside. Hopefully, it wasn’t a weapon or anything like that. The temptation to exit at the next station couldn’t have been stronger.

Apollo stopped the music playing through his headphones and watched tentatively at what was potentially about to happen. Ponytail whispered something to Bald-Head as both kept nodding their heads as if coming to an agreement. It seemed strange how nobody else paid them any mind. What if they’d planned on committing a murder? No, surely that wasn’t the case. It couldn’t have been.

Apollo’s heart suddenly accelerated, the palms of his hands clammy with anticipation. Calm down, Apollo. Everything’s going to be all right. He took in a few deep breaths to steady the tremors rumbling through his body. This damn anxiety was beginning to settle in, and he couldn’t shake it off. A trickle of sweat slid down his forehead and onto his nose.

“Arriving at Lesley, Lesley station.”

Once the train came to a stop, they were on the move. Bald-Head led the way, and Ponytail followed, reaching for something inside his safety vest. Apollo’s mouth dropped open. Is that a switchblade he’s got in his hand?

They approached the executive-looking businessman just as the doors opened, giving him several quick strikes to his abdomen. The coffee in his hand spilled all over his clothes and onto the seats beside him. Both men dug through his pockets, stealing his wallet and briefcase before bolting out of the train.

Apollo pressed himself back against the seat, his breath coming in quick and snappy. Screams reverberated inside the train as one of the panhandlers raced for the emergency handle and yanked it hard, ringing the alarm.

“SOMEBODY DIAL 9-1-1,” the other panhandler yelled, tearing off a piece of his shirt to prevent the leakage of blood from the gentleman’s stomach. From how the gentleman groaned and shook, his body must’ve entered into a state of shock. “Stay calm, man, help is on the way,” the panhandler said, resting his hands over one of the wounds. The piece of shirt he tore off was quickly swallowed in red.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“I-I’m d-d-dying …” the gentleman said, his voice teetering along the edge of nonexistence.

“No, you’re not, man! Help is on the way! Just stay with me!” the panhandler said, directing his attention to the young mother on the phone with 9-1-1. Her daughter held onto her waist for dear life, eyes peeled back, mouth agape.

If Apollo’s legs were functioning, he would’ve tried to escape this gothic nightmare. Instead, he could only stare wide-eyed at the red liquid soaking the gentleman's dress shirt underneath his blazer. This man was transitioning from being a conscious human being to a corpse right before Apollo's eyes.

This gentleman was reading his newspaper not even five minutes ago, probably eager to get home to his wife and kids. Now he was on the ground, flirting with death. Streams of suppressed memories flooded Apollo’s mind, taking him back to when his mother died. Her eyes had that same look of panic just before she left Earth.

Apollo pushed his arms to the side, hoping his hands would prevent the walls from swallowing him whole. I need to get out of here! I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE! Apollo threw his audio device and new headphones inside his backpack as he sprinted out of the train and up the stairs, exiting the station.

Police and ambulance sirens whistled throughout the night air as he pumped his right arm to gain more speed, using his left to control the backpack flopping over his shoulder. The hum of car engines zipped along the busy intersection as Apollo darted his eyes left and right for a clear path before crossing.

A few blocks down, he spotted what looked like a food plaza, deciding to pause and catch his breath along a bench that rested against the sidewall of a twenty-four-hour grocery store. Adrenaline surged through his body as he took deep breaths, his heart racing as if running a one-hundred-meter sprint.

What in the world is going on? The horrendous sight of the gentleman’s blood pooling around him erected the hairs on his arms. A nervous rumble constantly flickered in the pits of his stomach, his hands and knees trembling. Surely they murdered him. There was no way he was going to survive an assault like that. Without prejudice, without remorse, without a thought for his family. I should’ve saved him. Apollo clenched both of his fists. Why didn’t I save him? He pressed his teeth together. How could I have let this happen? He hammer-fisted the bench, cursing himself at his failure.

We are beings bestowed with cosmic energy and vastly superior to humans, which is why one of our missions is to protect them whenever we can, not destroy them because we can. Saigon’s words traveled across his mind. “With all this so-called power at my disposal, I can’t even protect the ones who need it the most!” Apollo squeezed his head, the muscles tightening around his body as he tensed. I just sat there and watched as they repeatedly stabbed him! What kind of person am I?

A group of laughter emerged in the background. Apollo turned and poked his head through the wall’s outside corner. Several men loitered in front of a convenience store, dressed in what looked to be a color-coordinated uniform: green bandanas wrapped around their heads, green t-shirts, black jeans, and black shoes with green stripes. Apollo narrowed his eyes. These guys must’ve been affiliated with a street gang.

Apollo counted seven of them, although more could’ve been lurking around the area. Some of them had brown paper bags in their hands with liquor or some variation of alcohol probably stored inside. Apollo took another glance at his watch: 12:17 a.m.

Their laughter simmered when a young couple came walking out of the grocery store, their attention most likely focused on the girl wearing a fitted floral skirt outlining the curves and bumps on her body. One of them pointed in their direction like he was trying to figure out who the guy was holding her hand.

“Hey sweet lady,” one of them said as the others whistled in her direction.

The young woman instinctively pulled herself closer to her boyfriend as he shot a cut-eyed glance in their direction. He played it smart by not engaging and continuing back to their vehicle.

“Go get her Red Dot,” another one said, encouraging him to approach the young female. Red Dot? What kind of name is that?

Red Dot approached her, placing his hand on her waist.

Her boyfriend quickly intervened, pushing his hand away. “Aye, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snapped. “Keep your fucking claws off my girl!”

A verbal argument ensued. The gentleman’s girlfriend tried pulling him away to avoid danger, but her efforts were futile. Apollo watched as the two men hurled curse words at one another while the rest of Red Dot’s goons began encircling the young couple. Two members standing from behind rushed the young man to the ground with punches and kicks, the others following suit immediately after.

“Oh my god! Somebody help!” she cried out, looking around, hoping someone had heard her. “Stop it, you’re hurting him!”

Apollo knitted his brows together. Enough was enough. “HEY!” Apollo’s voice reverberated across the plaza as he shot to his feet. All of them stopped their assault and switched their attention toward him. “Leave them alone,” Apollo said, clenching his teeth.

Shifting his eyes toward the battered gentleman and his distressed girlfriend caressing his bloodied face, there was no telling how long he would last had he not received immediate medical attention.

What you have done over the past couple of days goes against everything we cosmotans stand for. Just because we have the power to do things many would consider impossible doesn’t mean we should. Saigon had a solid point; however, there were times in life when you had to take matters into your own hands. This was one of those times. These wild animals needed to be put down for their crimes. I have to lure them away from here before I kill them.

“Who the fuck is you, nigga?” one member asked with a bandana wrapped around his face. Even though he was short in stature, he was built like a professional running back.

“You ready to die motherfucker?” another member asked, breaking Apollo’s attention. Their movements were slow and deliberate as they inched closer like hyenas waiting to feast on their prey. Even when Apollo looked into their eyes, he found something rewarding in them: the enjoyment of preying on the weak. It was a twisted addiction they fed off when they noticed fear bleeding from their victims.

Apollo turned and made a break for it, listening to their heavy footsteps chase after him. It was only a pity they didn’t know they had just run into a lion and the violent storm that awaited them.

If you liked this chapter, please rate it and leave a comment below! It'd mean a lot!