"Gad, how that man could paint! There was a study called "Subway Accident", in which a flock of the vile things were clambering up from some unknown catacomb through a crack in the floor of the Boylston street subway and attacking a crowd of people on the platform"

These are the words I read as the train pulls into Boylston street station. Looking around, I can picture those daemoniac things attacking and devouring my fellow commuters. I glance down at the overstuffed portfolio slung around my shoulder, every muscle screaming under its weight as I imagine how difficult it would be to run away.

Did I want to though?

I read on...