I was riding the train into work when we slowed down unexpectedly. Out the window to the left was what looked to be the abandoned remains of an old train. I had never noticed any trains abandoned on this route before, so I was surprised to see it. I peered out the window and realized that it hadn't been there long. Quite recently, the top had been blown off entirely and there were people sitting in every seat. Their faces were frozen and waxy, like dolls' faces with their eyes wide open. There wasn't any blood, just black singed hair, skin, and clothing. A couple hundred yards further, on the right-hand side lay another burnt and smoking train, and then somebody in our car received word that the subways had also been bombed.
I looked for my sister Esmerelda, who'd boarded the train with me, but she had moved further up in the car to find an available seet and was now lost in the shuffle. As we approached a familiar at-grade crossing, the air became thick with grey soot; papers and debris floated everywhere, and people were just roaming the streets. The conductor blared the horn, because we wouldn't have been able to stop anyways, and fortunately all of the people managed to get out of the way.
Finally pulling into the station, the city was unrecognizeable. There were hardly any people, and most of them were wandering aimlessly, standing around on street corners smoking or leering at the few people who were hurrying to their destinations. Every time I saw someone who looked like my sister and called out her name, the person would turn out to be a hooker on a bicycle or something. I finally decided the best bet would be to go to my office and call my house to see if anyone had received word from her.
I reached the office and there was only one other person from my company. We went through the phone list, recalling that this person was on vacation, this person had been in a meeting in DC... we had to call our homes and then the other employees to make sure they didn't try to come in to work today.