Strobe

Club lights beat to the entrancing thump of the towering speakers. Hundreds of people dancing, faces flashing in and out of sight as they twisted and pulsed. In the middle of them all, unaffected by her surroundings, a short woman with silky bleached white hair was standing perfectly still. She was staring at me. Both her hands were under her dark jacket. I blinked, and she was gone.

I turned and fled, pushing out of the crowd. People shouted at me as I jammed past them. The song was so loud that I could see their mouths move but couldn’t hear even the slightest hint of a voice. I watched their eyes turn from me to someone behind me, and I knew she was catching up. The DJ pushed the beat up, holding it on the edge of rhythm and steady sound, then launched into the breakdown. The club went dark, then erupted in a new wave of color as the beat dropped.

I made it to an exit door. The light changed from raucous, flashing purple to a steady white as I crossed underneath the lintel. I was out on the street in no time, the bass thudding behind me as I tried to find a cab. It was too late at night, too early in the morning. Nobody was out.

I was panting by the time I reached the subway. There was a train just about to leave. I dashed across the station just in time to board. As I did, the girl brushed past me, white hair glinting. She was getting off, somehow already on the train I could barely catch. She smiled a goodbye as she slipped away.

I watched her hand dive back into her pocket as she strode off. I sat in the plastic bucket seat, heart pounding. Then my side started to go numb. I tried to stand, but my leg wouldn’t budge. By the time I had decided to call for help, my tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth.