Free Endorphin Conspiracy, The by Fredric Stern

shards of glass flying. The wind rushed through the car, blowing papers all around. The sounds of screeching wheels on the old tracks and the train rushing through the tunnel at high speed reverberated loudly off the narrow tunnel walls and into the car.
    Geoff had to do something. He needed a plan. His knife was no match for an Uzi, and he had no intention of dying in a New York subway. He looked at the Hasid. Throughout it all, his wide-brimmed black hat had remained in place. He stood in the center of the car, his foot on the shoulder of his conquered adversary, the machine gun resting on his knee. His face was still reddened, his shirt saturated with sweat. His breathing was labored, and saliva sprayed from the corners of his mouth as he exhaled. He appeared for all the world like a rabid dog, only instead of just teeth, this madman had a machine gun.
    “All of you are gentiles, heathens, believers in a false God. The day of judgment is upon us! The Lord spoke and proclaimed to the Children of Israel that on the Day of Judgment the Messiah would deliver you to the Promised Land. Your time is now! Who will be the first to join the fallen Goliath and meet your maker on Judgment Day?”
    He slowly panned the room with his machine gun, his right index finger twitching as it curled around the trigger.
    The subway jolted to the left as it turned. The deranged man stumbled, but quickly regained his balance. Geoff lost his footing and fell to the floor. He stood and grabbed a commuter strap. Something red caught his eye, and he knew what he had to do.
    “Well?” said the man, his maddened eyes now staring in Geoff’s direction.
    Geoff stabilized himself against the corner wall, reached upward, grabbed the emergency brake, and pulled with all his strength, ripping the handle off its cord.
    The train screeched to a halt. The occupants of the hijacked car flew violently forward. There were more screams, passengers hid under seats and behind whatever they could find. The Hasid fell to the ground, his back against the wall, but he still clutched the Uzi.
    Geoff released the commuter strap and lunged at the deranged man. The gun was aimed in Geoff’s direction. Geoff deflected the barrel upward, and it fired as they collided, bullets piercing the ceiling. More shots went off, fired wildly around the car as they struggled for control of the weapon. Geoff was amazed at the madman’s strength.
    A loud crash exploded through the door to Geoff’s right, and the Hasidic man pulled free from Geoff.
    “Everyone hit the deck!” A man burst into the car, his service revolver drawn and aimed at the Hasid. “Drop it, pal!” The officer approached the man slowly, arms extended, his revolver aimed directly at him all the while.
    Geoff stared in disbelief. Fucking Dumbrowski. The Texas Ranger.
    The Hasid let go of the Uzi, and Geoff grabbed it. The man lunged at Dumbrowski. “Send me to my maker!”
    “Hold it right there, Goddamnit! I said freeze!”   Dumbrowski had no choice but to fire his service revolver.
    The man’s body jerked backward spasmodically with each shot. Blood frothed from the corner of his mouth as he slumped to the floor of the subway car.

Chapter 8
    “A Hasidic Jew, can you believe it?” Geoff stepped out of the shower at Stefan’s apartment in SoHo, exhausted and still astounded by the evening’s events.
    “Not just any Hasidic Jew, Geoff.” Stefan raised his voice enough for Geoff to hear him on the other side of the bathroom door. “The crazy man who blew away that poor black kid and almost killed you was a rabbi . Samuel Levinow was a prominent leader in the Hasidic community.”
    Geoff put on a pair of surgical scrubs, entered the living room. Stefan handed him a tall glass of ice water. “How did you find that out so quickly?” he asked. He drank half a glass of water, set the glass down on the coffee table.
    “I heard about it on the news just before you came. I was worried sick about you.”