The Swan's Drowning Lullaby

She pressed her head against the train window, her reflection a ghostly blur in the shifting tunnels. Overhead lights flickered as the train steadied, casting pale bands across the smudged glass. Beyond the glass, New York City’s underbelly pulsed with decay, its graffiti-stained walls, rusting pipes, and glimpses of trash-strewn platforms vanishing in the train’s wake. The steady rattle of the tracks was a lullaby of steel and motion, an old, familiar rhythm. She lifted her hand to her collarbone, fingers closing around the small silver weight resting there. The pendant pressed cool and solid against her skin, constrained and unmoving.

It was August 2009, on a Friday morning. Virginia Rán Jordan was nineteen. She had refined her presence into something deliberate. A flowing black skirt draped over her crossed legs, its fabric absorbing light rather than reflecting it. A fitted leather jacket creaked softly when she shifted. Gloves smoothed her hands into stillness. Beneath the wide-brimmed hat, her hair, pinned and darkened, kept its color hidden, as if it held rather than concealed.

Danny Rowan Jordan stood at the aisle pole, one hand wrapped around the metal with casual ownership. His posture was relaxed, almost languid, though nothing about him was loose. The silver pendant at his throat, Odin, sharp-edged and watchful, swayed with the train’s movement, never quite touching his skin. Sitting next to Virginia, Krista read The Book of Judith from her Orthodox Study Bible. Her scarf framed her face like an icon rendered in warm tones- cream, deep red- her crucifix resting visibly against her chest. She wore a slung travel bag around her front. The three of them formed a contained geometry: shadow, steel, and flame.

“I don’t understand why we couldn’t take an earlier train,” Krista muttered.

Virginia’s mouth curved slightly. “Because you believe suffering builds character.”

Krista exhaled, tapping Virginia’s arm. “Suffering is the condition of the soul.”

Danny glanced down at them, amused. “What builds character is bad timing. If something goes wrong tonight, it’ll be at the next stop.”

Krista crossed herself. “You’re morbid.”

Virginia, used to their back-and-forth, remained silent. Krista’s devotion clashed against Danny’s cynicism in an endless loop. The train jolted, and the overhead fluorescent light flickered.

“The flickering lights remind me of a horror movie from the ’90s,” said Krista.

Virginia traced a finger along the frayed fabric of her bag. Outside the window, the darkness of the tunnels seemed to stretch on, broken only by the occasional flash of graffiti-covered walls. Krista looked around the almost empty car. “I don’t understand how you two can be this relaxed. The city has gotten worse. Crime increasing. People are going missing.”

“You turned down Boston University, Cousin,” said Virginia.

“You don’t have to keep reminding me.”

Virginia placed a hand on her cousin’s shoulder to comfort her. Danny grinned, knelt, and rested his head on Virginia’s lap.

“She’s correct. Besides, we have the goth, the boxer, and the Orthodox saint. If anyone messes with us, they’ll face divine intervention.”

Krista sighed and leaned into Virginia’s fingers rubbing the knots in her shoulder blades. With her other hand, Virginia ran her fingers through her husband’s oily hair.

Krista looked at Danny directly. “We should be more careful.”

“For as long as I’ve known you, Darlin’, you’ve never worn gel,” said Virginia, tracing his scalp methodically with her fingers. Her other fingers traced the skin on his biceps.

“That’s because I have the power of god-thunder, Thor, and the wisdom of Odin,” said Danny, right before tickling his wife.

“Darling! Aaaaahhh! That tickles!”

Virginia’s legs locked around her husband and pulled him closer. Krista smiled and looked away slightly. She felt a moment of jealousy and quickly crossed herself, muttering, “Lord, have mercy.”

Danny stopped, sat back on the floor, and resumed his previous position, his head in his wife’s lap. He looked up at Krista, who looked at him momentarily before looking away. Carefully, Virginia fixed her hat and smoothed her skirt. The crackling over the speakers broke the spell as the conductor spoke softly and with authority.

“Next stop, Canal Street.”

“Everyone ready to enter the dirty, grindy streets of New York City?” Danny inquired.

He stood slowly as the train jolted to a creeping stop. After a brief pause, the doors creaked open, spilling dim station light into the car. The platform was packed with New Yorkers and visitors.

“Did you hear about the subway stabbing last week?” Krista asked.

“Are you referring to the gang stabbing?” Virginia asked.

“That’s the one,” Krista said. “The police still haven’t found the culprits. Hopefully, we don’t run into them today on the subway.”

“You left out the best part: they threw his body onto the tracks. If you time it right, the train will finish the job for you,” said Danny, chuckling.

Virginia giggled. Krista rolled her eyes, disgusted. Virginia grabbed her backpack and stepped onto the platform. The air was thick and humid. She couldn’t quite identify a scent lingering beneath the usual city grime, something rancid, like wet fur and decay.

“Augh, gross. This platform hasn’t been cleaned in two decades,” said Krista, wrinkling her nose and holding back vomit. Her cell phone vibrated in her purse. She retrieved her phone and answered. “Hi, Kimberly, do you see us?”

Virginia watched her cousin turn and soon wave. She looked in the general direction Krista was looking. She saw an 18-year-old Muslim woman in a hijab, jeans, and a short-sleeve shirt waving at them. Krista began walking toward the Muslim woman.

“C’mon, I found my roommate,” she said, walking towards Kimberly.

Virginia and Danny followed.

“We can add Muslim to the list,” said Danny, whispering to his wife. Virginia giggled, recalling their conversation on the train.

Krista’s roommate was a beautiful 18-year-old New Yorker who stood on the platform wearing a hijab, a summer skirt, and a blouse.

“Hi, I’m Kimberly. You must be Krista’s cousin.”

“Yes, I’m Virginia. Nice to meet you, Kimberly.”

“I’m her husband, Danny.”

Kimberly glanced around and pointed. “We need to get out of here.” She pointed at a New Yorker with a camera walking toward a large tarp. Screams filled the station.

Hundreds of rats scattered across the platform. The New Yorker with the camera fell onto the grimy platform, and Virginia watched the rats attack him. The rats sank their large, sharp teeth into other victims. Mothers picked up their children; some ran for the train, while others ran up the stairs.

“Help me!” The cry for help vibrated across the station.

Danny kicked a rat that ran towards Virginia’s ankle. She screamed in horror. She took hold of Danny’s hand, who led her up the stairs, where Kimberly and Krista stood, shouting for them to hurry. Rats ran up the stairs, but were set ablaze by flames as New Yorkers in suits appeared, torching them with flamethrowers. Krista crossed herself, and Virginia ran into her arms.

“Usually, they don’t attack people. Let’s hail a taxi and get the hell out of here,” said Kimberly.

She turned around and hailed a taxi. Virginia held onto her cousin with vigor.“Did they bite you?” asked Krista.

“Nein. Und du?”

“Nein.”

Krista patted Virginia’s back. “Taxi’s here.”