Upward Blast

I walked past the station plaza where a heavy iron ventilation grate cuts into the concrete sidewalk. Deep below, the subterranean train roared into motion, driving a violent updraft of hot air, grit, and mechanical wind straight through the lattice. Pedestrians skirted the edges, shielding their faces from the turbulence. A pointless display of retreat. I marched directly onto the center of the iron ribs and locked my stance wide. The pressurized draft slammed upward into my chest, roaring against my clothes and trying to destabilize my footing. I sank my hips an inch lower, crossed my arms, and held the ground motionless until the rush died back into the dark.