Chapter Three: Pardon me while I panic

There was no motion from inside the derailed subway train. Charlie blinked his eyes a few times in the dark that filled the car. He tried to clear his head, but the spinning sensation combined with the pitch black that surrounded him made it hard to focus. I feel like a cartoon character with little birdies flying around my head. The mental image almost made him laugh, but then his stomach started to churn. He hesitated before he moved, out of fear that he might not be able to do so without being sick. Pain radiated down his back and he felt as if someone had hit him in the head with a baseball bat. Their sudden deceleration had thrown him down the center of the car and he had collided quite forcefully with one of the support bars. The remaining momentum and the slide down the tracks had slung him under one of the benches. Taking silent inventory of all his limbs, Charlie pulled himself out from under the seat and sat up on the floor not quite comprehending what had just happened.

Somewhere between the cars, there was a loud pop as an electrical surge sent up a shower of sparks out on the tracks. The lights flickered on as the emergency battery kicked in.

"What the hell was that?"

"Holy shit! Was that an earthquake?"

"The tunnel didn't collapse did it?"

As the other six passengers pulled themselves up off the floor and took in their surroundings, their comments became more subdued.

The leader of the group looked over his crew.

"You guys ok?"

The boys glanced around at each other, each one nodding at their leader in turn. The youngest boy's eyes rested on Charlie before he answered. "I'm ok, but that guy's bleeding."

Charlie reached up and gingerly touched the side of his head where a low throb had developed. He could feel the wetness seeping through his hair as a trickle started to run down the side of his face. He pulled his hand back and looked at the bright red blood that was oozing from his head. His blood.

Charlie felt his head start swimming.

The youngest boy spoke again.

"He's lookin' pretty pale."

"Doesn't someone need to put pressure on it?"

The kid in the red basketball shoes was talking now.

"You know, so he don't bleed to death or something?"

One of the young men threw abandana at him.

The object landing in his lap snapped Charlie out of his daze and he picked up the bandana and pressed it against the bleeding gash on the side of head.

One of the kids pulled a cell phone from his pocket.

"There's no signal down here. What do we do now?"

The leader looked around at the walls.

"Isn't there an intercom or something?"

"I don't see one."

"Well, maybe it's in the other car?"

"They all got off at the last stop, there's nobody in there."

"Well, let's get this door open."

He started to struggle with the door that separated the two train compartments.

Trying to get a wedge between the sliding doors proved impossible and without power to operate the hydraulics, the door wouldn't budge.

Charlie leaned back against the bench and watched the procedure with building panic.

Several of the other boys took turns trying the door that connected the cars, but with no luck. They shifted their attention to the outside doors. "These won't move either."

Calling out to their leader, one of the younger men put into words what Charlie had been trying not to consider. "I think we may be stuck in here."

Charlie's thoughts turned inward and he squeezed his eyes shut, closing out the voices that surrounded him. We just had an earthquake. I'm bleeding and I'm stuck on a subway car. His already elevated heart rate increased and Charlie could feel his throat tightening. It became more difficult to breathe as the irrational fear that he had fought with his whole life reached out from the abyss and threatened to pull him down. He found himself gulping air, unable to exhale. Rationality and control deserted him and Charlie allowed himself to be immersed in a complete panic attack. I can't breathe. I'm going to die. No, you are not, you idiot, you're hyperventilating.

But you are going to pass out.

He could hear a voice as if someone were talking to him thru a long tunnel, but he couldn't make out the words. He felt the world closing in and everything faded to gray. Someone was trying to put something over his face. I'm being suffocated to death in a buried subway car. No, Charlie. It's a paper bag. You're hyperventilating remember?

Opening his eyes, Charlie realized he was sitting awkwardly on the floor. He tried to look up, but someone was holding something tight against the bleeding gash on his head and a strong hand between his shoulder blades kept him where he was.

"Dude, you gotta keep your head between your knees. My cousin used to do this all the time. You just gotta breathe slower that's all."

Charlie knew the drill. It had been a few years, but he had been through it a hundred times. He took the bag from the kid kneeling next to him. It was a wadded up fast food bag and the smell of french-fries was nauseating, but he put the bag over his face anyway. Breathing now. God Charlie, you've got to get a grip. Breathe, slower…slower. One, One, Two, Three, Five, Eight, Thirteen, Twenty one, Thirty four…..

Charlie started muttering the Fibonacci numbers. For several minutes there was no sound in the car except for Charlie breathing into the paper bag and the string of numbers he couldn't stop himself from reciting between each breath. Finally one of the young men broke through his number-induced trance.

"Man, what the hell happened to you? You totally spazed."

Charlie lifted his head slightly, swallowed and tried to speak. "Claustrophobia."

The response was as logical as anything Charlie had ever heard.

"Then what the hell are you doing on a Los Angeles Metro train?"

Charlie shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"How we doing?"

The leader of the gang was sitting across the car with his arms crossed, staring at the huddle on the floor.

The kid in front of Charlie stood and turned to face him. "Better, I think. At least he's making sense now and I think his head stopped bleeding."

"Well good. 'Cause we still can't get the doors opened and the emergency window exits don't work, so its looking like we get to wait for somebody to come get us out."

Charlie felt dazed as he glanced around the car. All six of the young men stared at him as if they were looking at an oddity in nature that they couldn't quite understand. The leader of the group sat down on the bench next to where Charlie was sprawled on the floor and gave him an uncomfortable stare. "Man…You're gonna have to not do that again. The bleeding thing is bad enough. But whatever the hell it was you just did….I don't know shit about that, I don't deal with wigging out."

Charlie looked cautiously at the young man, the oldest and the obvious leader, he was trying to wear a brave face. But the solid intimidation he had radiated earlier on the train had faded ever so slightly and in its place he could almost see an uncertain teenager who didn't know what to do next. The derailment had knocked all of them around the cabin and everybody had their share of scrapes and bruises. The other five young men took seats all around the car and were making an effort not to look as scared as they were.

Trying to shrug off the shock that was fogging up his brain after its impact with the bench wasn't proving to be such an easy task. After a few moments of silent meditation, Charlie managed to steady his voice enough to speak.

"I…I think I'm done with the whole wigging out thing. But I really can't make any promises."

He put his hand out and tried to sound confident. "I'm Charlie."

The young man looked slightly perplexed by this friendly gesture, but took his hand and gave it a shake. "Marcus."

"Well, Marcus." Charlie pulled himself up and fought to stay steady on his feet.

"Sorry about all that. I…..I've never been good with small, super enclosed spaces and then the blood thing….I guess I just picked the wrong day to try out the Metro."

Marcus gave him a slightly nervous laugh.

"You're not kidding. Jeez man. I wish we'd gotten off at the park."

The pounding in Charlie's head amplified and he found himself unable to continue standing and lowered himself to the bench.

One of the boys, the youngest of the group by at least four years, sat down on the bench next to Marcus. "Hey Marc….we gotta get out of here. What if the tunnel collapses?" The boy was trying not to whine, but the fear in his voice was hard to miss.

Charlie tried to swallow his own anxiety and scrolled thru the facts he had cataloged in his mind about the Los Angeles Metro system.

"This tunnel was built to stand up to a seven point five magnitude quake. I don't think we even came close to that level. A quake as low as a four-point-o can derail a train. But I really don't think we are in any danger of the tunnel collapsing after a single seismic event."

The boy looked skeptical.

"How do you know that?"

"My father was a city planner. That's the kind of stuff we talked about at the dinner table when I was a kid. And this tunnel has already survived one significant quake back in ninety four with no damage at all."

Marcus gave the younger teen a reassuring smile.

"See, this guy knows what he's talking about."

He turned to Charlie. "This is my little brother Frankie. He hangs with us sometimes. You gotta look out for your brother…...ya know?"

The younger boy grinned.

"That's right bro….I gotcha back."

One of the others addressed their leader. "How long do you think this is gonna take? I mean, for someone to come get us out of here?"

When Marcus spoke to this young man, his voice had picked up its previous tone. A compelling mixture of sarcasm and superiority made it very clear that he was in charge and was used to being that way. He sounded self-assured when he gave his answer. "It won't take long. We're maybe a half a mile from Union Station. It doesn't take that much time to walk a half a mile." Then he turned to Charlie. "Isn't that right Math Man? How long does it take a rescue team to walk a half a mile?"

Well, if he wants to be that way. I'm not going to sit here and be intimidated by six kids. I teach college students for God's sake. Grow a spine Eppes. Charlie leaned forward in his seat to muster up his courage and started speaking as animatedly as he could.

"Well, Marcus, optimization of speed depends on the leg dynamics of each member of the team. Parabolic foot velocity profiles can give us a fairly accurate idea of the pace that each walker can maintain. Since there are so many other variables, it would take an intricately designed algorithm to give us a second by second arrival time for each individual, but if we use Fuzzy Logic Theory we should be able to pinpoint it down to the minute anyway."

All six of the boys were staring at Charlie with their mouths hanging open. Marcus narrowed his eyes at him. "I really have no idea what the hell you just said, man."

"Yes, I know." Charlie forced himself to meet Marcus's eyes, trying not to sound the least bit intimidated. "But that was more fun than just saying eleven minutes."

Before Marcus could respond to his deliberate sarcasm, Frankie walked in front of Charlie. "So by using all that stuff you just said you can tell us that it'll only take 'em eleven minutes to get from Union Station to us?"

Charlie glanced around at the others. With the exception of Marcus, they were all waiting for his answer. "No. I just know that the average human foot speed is four feet per second. Since a half a mile consists of two thousand, six hundred, forty feet that gives us a foot-rate travel time of six hundred sixty seconds. Or eleven minutes."

"Damn. You are good." Marcus leaned forward in his seat his voice dripping with contempt.

"That part's just basic math. Anybody can do it."

Marcus opened his mouth to intercede, but Charlie continued, his attention focused on the others.

"Even though the trek to our location will only take a sixth of an hour, organization and preparation will take considerably longer. Even with emergency response plans in place, we may be waiting for several hours before anyone makes it down to us and………..."

Charlie stopped cold, shocked by the facts of his own statement. Several hours. Oh God, I can't stay here several hours. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control his breathing. Someone reached out and slapped the wadded up paper bag back into his hand. "No, I'm ok."

The car stayed silent until Charlie opened his eyes again. Four of the boys were standing at the end of the row of seats while Frankie sat on the bench next to him. Marcus was leaning over the seat on their left. His voice still held its superior air, but his eyes looked almost frightened. "Don't pull that shit man. You gotta get a grip. What am I supposed to do if you stop breathing or something?"

Charlie shook his head and took several deep breathes exhaling fully with each one.

"I won't. Hyperventilation causes the carbon dioxide level in the blood to decrease. That reduces blood flow to the brain. But I won't stop breathing. I'll just pass out. Once that happens, I'll start breathing normally again."

"Do you do this often?"

Frankie laughed out loud at his brother's comment and Charlie tried not to look embarrassed. "Not usually, no. I try to avoid anything that might trigger that kind of reaction."

"Like riding the subway?"

"Yeah…usually. But today I made an exception."

"Big mistake huh?"

"I suppose so."

The inside of the train grew silent. Marcus picked the cigarette pack up off the floor where it had been dropped during the quake and searched his pockets for a lighter.

Charlie swallowed nervously. Stay calm. Still breathing… A thought had occurred to him and the idea sent chills down his spine. He turned to Marcus.

"Those things could kill you, you know."

The young man gave Charlie a disbelieving glare.

"Well, Math Man….We've learned our chances of finding a cigarette when we need to, now what are my chances of dropping dead if I light up another one."

He hesitated under the kid's hostile stare.

"Well, I….It's just…..I know that Los Angeles has numerous underground pockets of methane gas. If that quake compromised the tunnel and allowed any gas to seep in….well………..I think the chances are pretty good that it might kill us all."

Marcus paled, but commendably managed to maintain his tough guy facade. He spat out another retort. "For someone who doesn't usually ride this thing, you sure know a hell of a lot about it."

Charlie shook his head, and continued to stagger his breathing. "I told you……..my father was a city planner. There isn't much about this metro system that I don't know. I just don't ……like to use it."

Marcus was trying to look skeptical, but Charlie could see something flash behind his eyes. He tossed the pack of smokes across the car and conferred with his crew.

"Well then….I guess we get to wait till we get out of here huh? We wouldn't want to blow up the rescue team by accident. Is there anything else we need to know smart guy?"

Charlie eyed the group of young men with caution. They are just kids….…Yeah, Charlie and these kids probably carry more guns than Don does.

The thought of his older brother helped to quell the dread that was trying to take over his mind. Don's waiting at Union Station. He knows where you are. Do you really think he is just going to sit there for hours on end while search and rescue teams are being assembled? If he can make it to you, he will. If Charlie. If. You don't know what it's like on the surface. You don't even know if Don is ok….or Dad….or anybody.

Once again panic tried to seep thru his defenses. Charlie leaned over and put his head between his knees for another round. Breathing…..ok. Think logically. You are fine. It wasn't a massive quake and you are safe in here.

"Hey."

Marcus leaned over and tapped Charlie on the shoulder. Or maybe not.

"Hey! You can't keep doing that shit man. You're freaking my brother out."

Charlie lifted his head and looked into the scared eyes of the young boy sitting next to him. It's an instinctual reaction to an irrational fear. It's the way my mind works.

But you can control it, Charlie. You know you can.

He nodded his head rapidly at the irritated gang leader and sat back up on the bench.

"I'm really ok, just try to ignore me." Please ignore me.

Another unexpected lurch sent a series of shouts around the subway car. A distant rumble could be picked up as the southern edge of the San Andreas Fault started a minimized repeat of its earlier performance. Charlie lowered himself to the floor, and his actions were quickly imitated by the six younger passengers. Suddenly without warning, the dim lights provided by the emergency battery went out; and absolute darkness filled the car as the earth continued to shift.

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Authors Notes: Thanks again for your comments! Please continue to review!

Chapter Four: Of Empirical Laws and Automatic Weapons