Passenger

Dusk fell. A suburban train, rushing through endless wheat fields, cast shadows on the swaying grain fields. Marek stood in the vestibule, between the compartments. He held part of the door open with his foot, preventing it from closing. Cool air fanned his face. The cigarette in his mouth glowed intensely. He took it between his fingers and lifted it from his mouth. He exhaled the smoke, but the wind blew it back into his face. The vestibule was filling with thick fog. Marek looked at his handiwork: gray smoke billowing inside, illuminated by the red light of the setting sun. On the opposite side of the gas-and-luminous curtain stood a girl. She wasn't tall, but she was quite well-built, at least she looked that way in her black woolen sweater. She had been there before he boarded the train at the station near the hypermarket where he worked. The entire journey, until he lit his cigarette, she had been staring out the window. She turned away as soon as she smelled smoke. He offered her a cigarette. She declined.

"Thank you. You're not allowed to smoke here," she said.

"You are," Marek replied. "Not in the compartment, but we're between compartments." He gestured to the glass door.

"There's a sticker above that door...

" "Which means you're not allowed to smoke in the compartment," he interrupted her mid-sentence. "If the smoke bothers you, please get in, the train is empty." Then he returned to contemplating the view, basking in his small victory.

For the first time today, he had the upper hand. It was also his last triumph ever. He turned around, full of satisfaction, and grinned. The girl shot him a look of hatred, adding a touch of contempt to the mix, which only made him happier. The girl moved from her corner and went into the restroom. Marek smoked his cigarette and fired the butt at the stones they were speeding past, separating the tracks from the wheat fields. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a red and white pack of cigarettes. "SMOKING CAUSES

CANCER, " read the inscription covering a third of the package. He pulled out the carcinogen. He studied it for a moment, turning it over in his fingers, which were covered with yellow nicotine stains. Then he stuck it in his mouth and lit it with a metal lighter engraved with the initials KG and the dedication, "May you not lose your passion for creation." Marek had found it in a supermarket. A small perk of being a cleaner. He stood there, thinking about dinner with his wife and playing with his daughter, feeding his pet and examining the stones, when another shadow appeared next to his...

On her twenty-sixth birthday, Anita was on her way home. She stood by the door of the "canary," watching the sun set over a vast sea of ​​wheat. She wondered what her family and friends would react to. She had been gone for four years. Although she wouldn't return for another six, someone decided to change that. Over the past four years, she had changed. At first, she couldn't connect with her companions in misery. Over time, she broke through certain barriers. She began to live as intensely as her circumstances permitted. She went to the gym to maintain her figure, but her dedication to exercise resulted in a significant increase in muscle mass. She might not have looked like a bodybuilder, standing in a baggy black sweater and cargo pants that covered her shoes, but gym friends, seeing her in her "corporate" attire, often joked that she could marry Schwarzenegger. Her hair also grew in volume, transforming from a close-cropped bob into lush, shoulder-length blonde curls. Would her old friends like her new look? Would they still want to be with her? The smell of cigarette smoke, or rather a voice in her head, tore her from her thoughts.

" Breathe deeply, I'm hungry.

" "Die," Anita thought.

She turned and looked at the young man standing by the open door. He held a lit cigarette in his hand. A wave of anger and disgust washed over her. The man offered her a cigarette. "He's one of those polite ones," she thought, "maybe it'll work out." She politely declined, pointing out that this was a non-smoking train. The young man began to argue, unwilling to tear himself away from his pacifier. The wave of anger began to intensify, flooding almost her entire consciousness. She tried to control herself, but the boy gave her a triumphant smile. She was sure he didn't often grin like that. She almost seethed as she stared at the smoker's yellowed teeth. In her mind's eye, she pictured them shattered among the stones lying beside the tracks. She moved forward, locking herself in the toilet.

She was now standing in a cramped room filled with the sour stench of urine. She opened the window. The fresh air diluted the odor that had already settled in the toilet. Anita breathed deeply, the air flowing in through the window. She sensed His presence again. He was making himself known to her. He was provoking her. He wanted to take control of her. She remembered the first time he'd given her a sign. They'd been visiting her uncle in the hospital. It was their last visit with him. They were crowded around his bed when the sweet, carrion-like smell reached her. She felt sick. She glanced at the others, but saw no reaction. They simply stood over the emaciated man, hooked up to a life-sustaining machine. They said nothing; her uncle, doped up on painkillers, didn't even recognize them. That same night, her relatives vanished, but millions in zlotys added. The entire estate was left to the artist's favorite niece, who spent many hours with an eccentric relative. Anita enjoyed her uncle's company, even though he drank heavily and smoked heavily. She always reproached him for this, though she never caught him with a cigarette or a shot of vodka. Only his reek of alcohol and his clothes smelling of smoke stood against him. He told her stories from his eventful life. Then came the cancer. It attacked his lungs. Doctors tried to fight it, but after a third operation, they were successful. A malignant tumor, that was the diagnosis. They couldn't remove any more, the doctors said. Lord rest his soul, the priest prayed. Why? Anita asked... Now she knew. Thanks to her uncle's death, she had enough money to hire a good lawyer.

That lawyer turned out to be Samanta Brol. She was a woman in her forties. Her black hair, streaked with gray, was styled in a bun. She dressed masculine in black trousers and a jacket. She wasn't married, nor was she in any lasting relationship. She didn't have time for that, which she devoted entirely to work. A typical spinster.

She entered the room and walked confidently to the table where Anita was sitting. She extended her hand in greeting. Anita rose slightly, squeezing the cold, dry, nicotine-stained right hand of her attorney. She could still smell the sweetish scent of rotting flesh, but she had grown accustomed to the scent that surrounded her almost daily since that fateful visit to the hospital.

"My name is Samanta Brol, and I will be your attorney in the murder case...

" " My name is Kanser. I will take care of you for the rest of my life, which will be when I no longer need you... " a voice appeared in her head, confusing her.

"...Will you allow me to smoke?" Samanta asked, and without waiting for an answer, she took out a cigarette.

"What?" Anita snapped out of her reverie. "Smoking is not allowed here." She said automatically, seeing the cigarette in the lawyer's hand.

She was still wondering what voice had spoken to her. "I'm going crazy," she thought. "I killed a man and I'm going mad." As if to contradict her thoughts, Kanser took over her mind again.

" You've heard me before. My presence is familiar to you. You've always sensed me. You irritated me. You fought me. You tried to limit my expansion. I couldn't control you. I had to work hard to bring you here, my dear. Even though I have a whole army of slaves working for me. An army of the possessed. Now I can take care of you. I sacrificed my soldier, but don't be happy, child, that faggot wasn't very useful. You will take his place. You will join the army of the infected. I will take control of you; you will be my best puppet."

"Your version seems reasonable," Samanta's face twisted into a demonic grimace, a contender for the title of "Most Hideous Smile of the Year." "But then you'll get life in prison for premeditated murder, illegal possession of a weapon... and we'll throw in the persecution of sexual minorities." She looked at Anita with a triumphant expression on her face. "That's not what you're talking about, is it? "

"No," Anita whispered, wondering how Samanta knew all this.

"You haven't told anyone yet?

" "No.

" "Okay, we can implement my version of events. First, remember: you used the weapon in self-defense, it was his weapon, the man threatened you, tried to rape you, you managed to distract him and take the weapon, he lunged at you, so you fired blindly. The bullet hit him in the head. He died instantly."

Anita looked at Samanta for a moment, processing her words. Kanser must have told her. There was no other explanation.

"How do you know my version?"

"How come you just explained everything to me. You were talking like you were in a trance.

" "It probably was," Anita whispered to herself.

"What?

" "Wasn't he gay?

" "Who?

" "Kanser," Anita thought, but then she said, "That boy, you said he was gay.

" "Don't worry about that, he was an average boy who discovered a desire for different kinds of sex, but his first date didn't go so well. It made him more mysterious and... strange. The perfect psychopath, pervert, rapist, pedophile, or whatever you want to portray him as. He doesn't care, he's dead. You can accuse him of anything you want. His parents don't know anything. They'll be devastated, but it's still better for them than having a gay son.

" "Didn't he have a lover or something, you know?

" "He dated online. Always under a fake name and always with people from big cities. He was always the one who went to see them." When you found him," Samantha looked pointedly at her client, "he was on just such a journey. The only person who could have caused trouble is his sister, Karolina, but her silence was bought.

"How do you know all this?" The question, which had already been brewing in Anita's mind, burst from her lips.

The woman's face transformed again, from the face of an average middle-aged woman to the most malicious and cunning of middle-aged women.

"I have my methods, that's why I'm a good lawyer.

" " I know every carrier in my army .

" Another wave of stench stung Anita's nostrils. She remembered exactly what she'd discovered back then, in that little room. Talking to Samantha, she'd found the solution to the stinking riddle. She discovered that the smell of carrion usually wafted around when someone was smoking. However, she didn't know why she was the only one who could detect the stench.

" You're not alone," said the voice she would have many more conversations with. "There are many people like you, but none of them wants to be seen. Besides, few of them know what the real deal is with that smell. I help them get rid of the stinking problem. All they have to do is light up."

"Why do I smell it?" Anita, unsure of why, resumed the conversation in her mind.

" Because you hate me. You're fighting me. You're trying to make people aware of the risks they face when they reach for the cane of peace."

The courtroom was packed. They all had cancer. Few knew it. Some didn't even imagine something like this could happen to them. "That only happens to heavy smokers, and I only smoke when I'm at a bar with my friends." Or "Why would I have cancer? I don't smoke and I forbade my husband from smoking in my apartment. He has to go out on the balcony." Kanser was extremely pleased with the army he had managed to assemble in the courtroom. No one would ask unnecessary questions. Everyone would mill around, waiting for a break so they could smoke. Their companions would complain that they couldn't go without a cigarette. No one would remember the sentence or what she was convicted of. Even Anita's family wouldn't make any trouble. Six years for involuntary manslaughter, with the possibility of early release. Anita is a good girl, after all. She's studying medicine, wants to become a doctor. They'll definitely release her early. They'll definitely...

" Your family believes in you, I believe in you too," Kanser began to implement the final steps of his carefully laid plan. "You're the only one without a pet, but that will change. " "He was sure of it, and when it happens, then she'll belong to him. The final step in the plan will be accomplished. She'll return home with a pack of cigarettes in her pocket, and then he might let her finish her studies. A smoking doctor would have a soothing effect on his soldiers; he wouldn't preach about the dangers of smoking. However, for her to join his army as a devoted servant, he had to break her.

Anita stood while the judge announced the sentence. Six years. Surprised, she looked around the courtroom. Everyone had pleasant smiles on their faces.

" Why didn't you ask him not to smoke?

" "What?" she asked in shock, unable to fathom what he meant.

" You didn't ask him not to smoke. Remember."

Her mind drifted back to that moment. It was shortly after her uncle's death. As her bank balance grew significantly, so did her circle of friends. One of the "new" ones was Diablo. A man who could acquire anything and guaranteed complete discretion. It was to him that Anita turned, asking him to get her a gun. The smallest gun in the world. A miniature revolver, but one that looked like a lighter. She had decided on this purchase after receiving a slap in the face from the guy she was lighting a cigarette for...

...She was returning from her dorm on the afternoon train. She was leaning against the sliding door when a man joined her. He was about thirty-five. He stood opposite her, in the only empty corner, and after a quick search of her pockets, pulled out a pack of cheap cigarettes.

"Smoking's not allowed here," she uttered her standard line quietly, not expecting much. The smell of carrion was exceptionally intense.

"Who's going to stop me?" the man said loudly, glancing at the students standing by the other door.

As if on cue, they both looked away, admiring the magnificent slope of the excavation. The cigarette found its place in the smoker's mouth, and he resumed his ritual groping.

"Hey, mister, can I light you?" Anita asked, flirting with the man.

"Sure, babe." He leaned over the lighter in his small hand.

The girl hesitated slightly. She'd bought a water-powered lighter to spite her friends. Now she held it pointed at some redneck's face. "One goat kills," she thought, and pulled the trigger.

The man straightened abruptly, wiping his face with his hand. A soggy cigarette hung comically from his lips.

"You slob!" he yelled, slapping her across the face.

The students pressed themselves even closer to the door, and the face of the passenger opposite hid behind his newspaper. The smoker threw away the wet nail and replaced it with a new one. Gray smoke curled into the air. Anita stood in a corner, frightened, rubbing her stinging cheek. She wondered where the malicious chuckle was coming from...

"We'll see what we can do," Diablo said, and two weeks later, in her pants pocket, Anita felt a metal weight bump against her thigh with every step.

She was boarding the train now. It was the last train of this route. 11:45 PM. "In fifteen minutes it's witching hour, and in half an hour I'll be home," flashed through her mind. But that didn't happen, and the reason was a certain young man. He boarded the train with Anita, but as usual, she stood by the door, while he went to sit in an empty compartment. She wasn't interested in him. In fact, she was glad he wasn't bothering her. Around midnight, however, he entered the vestibule, exuding a terribly sweet smell of rotting meat, carrying a pack of Super Light cigarettes—as the sign below proclaimed, the brand of poisoners. He offered her a cigarette. She took it. He took one himself and reached for a lighter. Anita forestalled him by pulling out her toy, with a Zippo engraved on the barrel.

"I'll give you a light," she said indifferently.

"Thanks."

He leaned trustingly toward the black hole at the end of the barrel. "Nice girl," he thought, "too bad she's not a man." It was his last thought. Anita closed her eyes and pulled the trigger. A terrifying roar was intertwined with the monotonous clatter of the train wheels. The bullet struck the eye and lodged inside the skull. The body fell limply onto Anita, who pushed it as far away as possible, then crouched in a corner, falling into a stupor. This was the position the railwayman inspecting the train found her in when it reached its final destination.

"I'd had enough of it all. I didn't want to choke on that sweetish smell anymore. It made my stomach churn." "

Do n't worry, soon you won't be able to smell anything. Only one thing will matter to you: smoking. I'll release you from the cage as soon as I manage to influence you so much that you can't start your day without feeding me."

"I will never smoke, never."

" Now you're saying that, and if you stay here for a while, you'll change your mind. If you were a man, I'd send you to the army, but unfortunately, women don't have compulsory military service. That's why prison will be the best place for you.

" "I WILL NOT SMOKE."

" Yes, yes. Of course.

" Leaving the prison, she felt a strange pull. She walked uncertainly down the street toward the train station, carefully observing the people. She had the impression that everyone was looking at her. She turned her gaze to the shop windows.

"CIGARETTES"

"CHEAP CIGARETTES"

Almost every window had this or similar notice. Only then did she realize that she hadn't smelled carrion in at least two and a half years, even though everyone around her was smoking. She felt the pull again, this time with redoubled force. Beside her, someone lit a cigarette. The smoke filled her nostrils.

" Take a drag, and then quickly run and buy some cigarettes." I want to eat.She stood for a moment, frightened and disoriented, when her gaze fell on a small window display a dozen or so meters away. She smiled to herself.

"No way. There will be no dinner," she replied to her parasite.

She sat in the outhouse for a long moment, pondering the right course of action. She begged him not to smoke. He disobeyed. He was completely submissive to Kanser. He spread the plague among the healthy. He fed his master while he performed for the unsubordinated. That was precisely what he was trying to do. How did she know? Well, she carried a part of the great Kanser within her. She was infected, but she had managed to deceive her master. She had outsmarted him. He hadn't anticipated such a solution. Now it was too late. Anita made her decision. She spat out a Nicorette gum out the window and quietly exited the toilet. She began to creep toward the man. She spotted her shadow just in time. She lunged forward, striking the man with all her strength. He didn't have time to react. He fell out of the compartment and onto the stones. He was left behind. Anita was alone again. The unblocked doors closed.

The train stopped at the next station. Anita calmed down. She looked at the open door. A young boy stood there. He wasn't a smoker. She could quickly tell thanks to Kanser. But something was wrong. He was looking at her strangely. Especially at her breasts. "It's probably just some horny teenager staring at my breasts." She wasn't used to these kinds of looks. Locked away for four years with women, she had forgotten her curves. Now she would have to get used to these kinds of looks again, but not today. She thought and turned to the window.

Piotrek entered the train. He stood by the door. The interior reeked of carrion. He glanced at the carrier of the odor. It turned out to be a well-built blonde. He studied her for a moment, just to be sure. There was a faint whiff of cigarette smoke in the air. It's definitely her. The girl turned around. "Very well, little one." Piotrek pulled a knife from his pocket. He slowly approached his enemy. Cancer had taken his father, his mother was in the hospital. "Stand still, it'll all be over soon..."