They were trapped for seven days, four storeys down, in a subway car.
Just the two of them.
Midfight, mid-breakup, mid-life-altering-altercation, the lights had flickered. Then gone out.
In the darkness Jake had offered a tentative "Hello?" and chuckled quietly.
Cooper had shouted back. At the moment they realized the darkness would not abate, that help would not come, that they were trapped, they'd retreated to opposite ends of the car.
Cooper flipped the emergency switch and forced open a door. A rotting stench flooded the car.
Doors shut again they studied the opposite end of the car.
On the third day Jake broached a cease fire. "You've noticed the other people..."
Cooper rejoindered, "What other people?"
"When the lights went out..."
"Really? The lights went out and WHAT?"
"Where the FUCK did they go?"
"They're probably still here."
"Why can't we hear them. Smell them. Anything them?"
And then Jake again, "Come back to my side. I'm cold. And frankly, scared."
Cooper said nothing.
Then a shuffling sound, and then Cooper sat beside Jake.
Jake: "Why can't I feel you? I can't smell you either. Nothing."
Cooper smiled, "Nor the others. Jake. It's raining up here."