the travel agency

mini series 2

I step onto the train cart. The seats have been removed in order to make additional standing space for the people, back when space was needed. Now, the New Plague has wiped out approximately one-third of the world’s population. It starts with a persistent cough and progresses to draining all of the fat from your body leaving your face hollow, your eyes bulging and nothing but skin to protect you from other ailments. Most didn’t die from the New Plague, they died from a cold after their immune systems were unable to handle the smallest invasion. One-third of the population. I reiterate to myself as if the number means anything anymore. I stick my hand in my right pocket and graze my thumb over the pocket watch that is nestled away there.

I keep my eyes pinned to my reflection in the mirror as the train speeds through the underground tunnels. It takes approximately fifteen minutes to get to 24th Road and I step back through the sliding doors of the train onto the platform. It’s empty, but that’s to be expected at 3 o’clock in the morning. I make my way up the concrete stairs and into the cold, wet air of the streets. Several minutes later, I’m standing at the small, inconspicuous building with the glass door. The building states “Travel Agency” in red, ominously glowing letters and as I enter I’m greeted by Veronica, the receptionist. “Jade, there’s a telegram for you.” Her voice is thick and sweet as if she’s just swallowed an entire jar of honey. She hands me the whispy piece of paper, folded over twice. My filthy hands fumble with it for a short moment before I’m able to flatten it and peer at the message.