Joan hated trains. She didn't mind the smell or the over packed evenings when everyone stood like sardines. She didn't even mind so much the times when she sat down only to find her seat was wet and sticky, though she did hope dearly that it was only soda. What bothered her was the fact that she couldn't open the windows. Cars and buses had windows that opened, but the trains in the city didn't.
Neither did the building she'd been held in for that year after high school. It didn't help either that the doors made the same, heavy sliding sound as the ones to her cell had done.
Still, she was making progress. She wouldn't have to tell Melanie that she'd missed the train again. Joan suspected that Melanie saw through her lie, but she couldn't bring herself to tell the truth; that she'd stood frozen, almost bursting with flame, as she watched the train pull up. Each time she stood, rooted to the spot as people pushed around her on their way to the train, mumbling about her and shooting her unfriendly glances. At least they didn't recognize her.
She'd forced herself forward this time, not giving herself time to freeze. The moment she was aboard she had pulled out the little card Judge Dervin had sent her, instructing her on what to say whenever she boarded public transit. She didn't remember actually saying any words, but she must have done because most of the people in her section of the train moved to a different one.
Joan swayed with the train, focusing on the window and ignoring the glass between her and the outside. She thought of the architecture, whizzing by, of the people inside those blurred buildings. She wondered if Tom was inside any of them.
Joan smiled. Thinking of Tom had the effect of driving back her fears, if only for a moment. She knew it was juvenile, the way she was letting him capture her imagination, but somehow she couldn't get herself to feel properly ashamed enough to stop.
Where the chill tenseness of fear had been, a pleasant warmth filled her. She shut her eyes and remembered the way he smiled, the way he cocked his one eyebrow at her. The way he didn't make fun of her or make her feel uneasy.
She was so comfortable, standing on the swaying train, holding onto the railing.
So comfortable.
So warm.
Heat spreading out from her chest.
Joan's eyes shot open. The railing in her hand glowed red hot as flame ran up her arm. A quick check revealed that the flame had not yet spread beyond her arm and the majority of her clothing was still intact.
“STOP!” Joan yelled and punched the emergency stop button.
She contained her fire for the moment but she couldn't hold it back for long now that it was coming.
The train lurched and Joan had to cling on to the bar to keep from falling over. The moment she touched the hot metal her skin burst with fire once more. The doors opened and Joan rushed out onto the track. The train had stopped in a tunnel, one that was shared by both trains and buses. Some of the other passengers stepped out of the train.
“No!” Joan shouted, “Get back!” And she threw her backpack, the one she carried with her everywhere she went, as far away from her as she could.
Joan was an inferno. The fire flashed out and as it did, Joan tried with all her might to push it a little bit farther away from her skin, just as Matt had suggested she might be able to do. Even though she had a change of clothes in her backpack, she'd really rather not have to turn the tunnel into her own personal changing room, especially with all the bystanders and their cell phones. She could already see a fair number of them taking pictures or video of her.
Joan checked to see how her clothes were holding up. They weren't. They were obviously burning much slower than usual, but if her fire didn't go out soon...she didn't want to think about that. She had to calm down.
Joan took in a deep breath, closed her eyes and focused on her heartbeat. Melanie had been trying to get her to try meditating for some time now and, at last, Joan thought she would give it a shot. She cleared her mind, keeping her breathing steady and, miraculously, her heartbeat began to slow. Joan felt the fire begin to calm and she could still feel the weight of her clothes, which only helped bolster her calm. She opened her eyes.
Black smoke from burned engine oil swirled up from the road and steam filled the gutters. She took in another slow, controlled breath and relaxed even further. No one had been hurt. A tongue of flame still licked up the middle of her back, right between her shoulder blades, but other than that she was back to normal. Her clothes were badly burned but not so much so that Joan was worried about them at the moment.
A woman cried from somewhere inside the stopped train.
“Is everyone okay?” Joan asked, remembering Judge Dervin's instructions, and warning, if she didn't at least make an effort to see if she'd hurt anyone.
No one answered. She didn't really expect them too. If anything, Joan thought it more likely that someone would attack her, maybe even try to kill her out of fear. She tried not to think about that.
A bus rumbled through on the other side of the tunnel and flushed out the smoke and vapor. As the air finished clearing, Joan saw that the next platform wasn't very far away and, after picking up her backpack, she bolted for the exit. The fire on her back was still burning and so Joan had to carry her backpack awkwardly in her arms.
Once up on the platform, Joan turned and got a clear view of where she'd burned. A black scar stood out beneath the emergency lights. At the center was a patch of white where the concrete had been reduced to ash. Only where her feet had been was unmarred by her flame.
The minute Joan got out of the tunnel and onto the ground level her cell phone, tucked safely away in her backpack, began to ring. She pulled it out, fearing the worst. She didn't recognize the number. She'd saved Judge Dervin's number so she could pretend not to notice whenever she didn't feel like talking to him. He had the tendency to call and check in on her whenever something bad happened.
“Hello?” Joan said in a calm voice.
“Good, you answered,” Judge Dervin said, “A squad car is on its way to pick you up,” He went on through Joan's stunned silence. “I want to see you in my office immediately.”
“Okay,” Joan managed to mutter.
“And Joan,” Judge Dervin said, “If I have to change my number each time I need to get a hold of you I will become far less lenient with you,” He hung up.
The squad car was already pulling up to the curb as Joan put her cell phone back in its place. How they intended to transport her in the car with her back still on fire she wasn't sure, but she knew she wasn't in any position to argue.
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