They had stopped in the arse end of nowhere. All Chloe could see from her window was an unceasing expanse of desolate moorland. The unseasonal lack of rain and relentless heat had left it looking dehydrated and burnt. Isolated trees provided the occasional lift to the flattened landscape, twisted and gnarled by decades of assault by unhindered winds, though they were perfectly still in the motionless air. Thick tracts of thorny vegetation grew out of the scarred land.
Fucking trains!
They wouldn’t let her get away with being late again. If there was no announcement, or if the train didn’t start moving soon, she’d have to call Nate.
And he wouldn’t like that.
She’d delivered the package and she had the money, all of it. Though until he had it in his own hands she would be under suspicion, and even then, there would still be consequences. She shouldn’t be so fucking lazy. She should have caught a different train. Or even worse: She shouldn’t be such a lying bitch.
A group of football fans, who had been lubricating their livers since they’d boarded several stops back, started to grow impatient. Their unspoken anxiety at the prospect of missing the match reflected in the changing tone of their chants. An elderly woman, sitting across the aisle, smiled at her, and when Chloe didn’t return the gesture she turned back to the book she’d been reading.
Time stuttered on. No announcement. No sign of a conductor.
The sense of agitation grew, rippling through the carriage. The old woman had put her book away and was now staring into the screen of her phone, jabbing impatiently at it. She wasn’t the only one having trouble.
Most of the other passengers were staring into their phones too, with a variety of expressions that ranged from bemusement to barely contained rage. Chloe pulled out her phone: a throw away burner that Nate had given her specifically for this job. The one number stored on it was only supposed to be called in an emergency, but even if she wanted to use it, there was no signal.
She squeezed her thumbnail, pushing down until it blanched white, until the pain was strong enough to reset her thoughts, to give her space to think.
Outside, tree branches were swaying gently. A breeze started to blow. In the distance, clouds started to form. Perhaps it was going to rain, though for now the white sun continued to shimmer in its own heat. Chloe squinted, trying to look directly at it. It seemed smaller than usual.
Her head began to spin. Looking away from the sun and back into the carriage she was unable to focus. A series of cramps rolled across her abdomen. She bent forward and cried out, clutching her belly with one hand, covering her mouth with the other. Acid burnt her throat as it crept from her stomach and into her mouth. Beneath the bitter, sting she could taste the bacon flavoured crisps she’d eaten earlier. Lumps of half-digested food were collecting at the back of her tongue, making her cough and gag.
There was retching and groaning, coming not from her, but from others in the carriage. Whatever was affecting Chloe was also taking its toll on them. People were shuffling out of their seats, fumbling around for the exit. Some were doubled over. Some were crawling on their hands and knees. Others were vomiting. Panic set in.
It was then that the shockwave smashed into the side of the train. The noise was deafening. Metal crunched, glass smashed, heavy luggage launched from the overhead racking. People started to scream.
The temperature drop was instantaneous and savage. Flurries of feathered sleet swirled around the passengers, who were now surging towards the exits like frightened animals fleeing a threat that none could understand. They appeared to be acting in instinctive unison, though this was just an illusion. A woman who was wearing a top that read In a World Where You Can Be Anything, Be Kind slammed her elbow into the side of another woman’s face, shoving her terrified daughter into the luggage rack as she pushed her way past. The blood from her mother’s face was dripping into her hair.
One man, neatly trimmed beard, salmon pink chinos, clambered for the broken window, trampling over anyone who got in his way. Some tried to help those who were struggling, though they were soon jostled aside, becoming victims of the herd themselves.
Chloe was willing to bet that these people hadn’t experienced much fear in their lives, not like she had. She was still scared of Nate, and the rest of them, though rarely for herself. Whatever they could do to her had already been done. She knew she could do what was needed to survive. It was what they would do to her family if she didn’t do what they asked, that was what she really feared. That was what kept her there, what ensured her obedience, long after she’d realised that her acceptance had been a one-way ticket. Non-refundable. Terms and conditions apply. The safety of your family may be at risk. Even the knife that she carried was intended to protect Nate’s interests, not hers.
A thick fog had descended on the moor. Chloe could barely see beyond the edge of the track. Some of the passengers were running into it, many of them staggered and fell as they faded into the veil of white. Others were shuffling around the side of the train. Many continued to vomit. Sleet turned to hail, then snow. Nobody was dressed for the occasion, yet they continued to venture into the outdoors. The inside of the carriage was cold, but it was surely worse out there.
The temptation to escape was strong, but what would be the point? Taking on the wilderness would be an obvious mistake. Following the track would be a better bet, though not with the weather as it was, and not dressed like this. Best to wait.
A blast of wind rocked the carriage. Snow continued to pour in through the smashed windows, covering the seats, soaking into their tired chewing gum adorned upholstery. There was nobody left except for her and the lady with the book who had smiled at her earlier. She was still in her seat, holding her arms across her chest, shivering. Her head was bent forward, her eyes closed.
Despite the nausea, Chloe was hungry. She could go for long periods without food, but she also made a habit of taking it whenever she had the chance. Her mouth was ashtray dry. There was a catering trolley that had passed by several hours ago; she’d thought about swiping a chocolate bar, but the right opportunity hadn’t presented itself. It might have been raided already, but judging by the levels of panic there was a good chance that it had not.
She eased herself from her seat, hoping not to wake the old lady.
Standing was an unexpected challenge. She felt her eyes roll as her legs gave way. Grabbing the headrest of the seat was the only thing that stopped her collapsing into a heap.
Without warning, the woman reached across and grabbed her hand. Chloe pulled it back. ‘What the fuck.’
The woman smiled, folded her arms again, and shuffled into her seat.
Chloe turned away and started moving along the aisle, clawing the headrests as she went, like she was taking part in a horizontal climbing contest. Her legs felt hollow, her body insubstantial. What was this? Terrorism? Global warming? An act of God? Nothing made sense. The carriage shuddered again as the winds howled around it; a frightened animal, confused, cowering from the elements. She stumbled several times before reaching the next carriage, and the catering trolley, which had been abandoned, along with everything else. Jackets, newspapers, children’s toys. People had even left their laptops behind.
In more ordinary circumstances Chloe would have made the most of the opportunity, taking anything that could be transported easily and sold quickly, though all she wanted now was something to keep her warm. There were no coats that were thick enough to do the job on their own but there were plenty of items to layer up with. A couple of t-shirts, a thin jumper, and a jacket from the kind of suit that smarmy city boys working in finance wore. If you’re going to make a living on the misfortune of others, you might as well look good while you do it, right? Though Chloe never really thought they looked good at all, just banal and insincere.
Biting into a tuna and cucumber sandwich, Chloe was transported back to when she still lived with her parents. Whenever it was sunny, her mum would make tuna and cucumber sandwiches to eat in the garden on a blanket she’d laid out on the lawn. Even as their relationship started to breakdown, they continued to do this together. A refuge from the escalating chaos. Her mum never really had a clue what Chloe had been up to, or the company she kept. She had suspected the drugs, but the stealing, the violence, the things she would have to do for Nate – she was in the dark. Maybe she worked it out once Chloe had left. Maybe not.
She’d never dared to go back, for their sake as much as hers.
There was a sudden commotion from the previous carriage. Chloe thought she could hear the low murmur of a man’s voice. The woman was shouting. She sounded scared.
Instinct urged her to move quickly, away from the noise. Sandwich still in hand, Chloe started towards the next carriage. The dizziness continued but wasn’t as debilitating as before.
‘Get your hands off me!’ Hearing the woman plead awakened a part of Chloe that she’d kept buried for a long time. Why, of all the things she had seen and done, was it this simple cry that broke through? Perhaps it was the strangeness of the situation, the otherworldly isolation that had descended with the icy flurries and freezing mist, the irrational responses of the other passengers.
She turned back. The woman was still in her seat. A man stood over her, holding her down with one hand while the other tried to prize the handbag from her frail hands. It was clear she had no intention of letting go.
Chloe reached down and pulled the knife from her sock, keeping the blade retracted. ‘Hey!’ The man turned to look at her. ‘Why don’t you leave her the fuck alone?’
The woman struggled to pull the bag towards her. The man tightened his grip, glaring at Chloe.
‘That’s my jacket, you scutty little thief.’ His left eye twitched. An inexplicable hate bursting at the seams, let loose as the new object of his focus compelled him to charge.
Chloe flicked the blade and held it up. She warned the man not to come any closer, but he kept his course, swinging towards her face.
The knife sliced neatly through the sky-blue fabric of his shirt and into the flesh of his forearm, stopping as it met with bone. The man jerked his arm away, widening the wound, trailing blood across the floor. He looked at Chloe in horror, cradling the injured limb across his chest. He staggered away from her. ‘Filthy whore,’ he spat, muttering more feeble obscenities as he turned to run, conviction wilting with each uttered word. The woman flinched as he passed. He fled out into the fog.
The wind showed no sign of abating, and though it could be no later than two in the afternoon, the daylight was rapidly vanishing. Soon they would be plunged into darkness.
‘Thank you.’ The woman placed her bag on the table in front of her and smiled again. She seemed to have shrunk. ‘I don’t know why I fought so hard to keep it. There is little in here that will be of use to me anymore, and he could have taken any number of things that the other passengers left behind. Luckily, I gave up trying to understand people a long time ago.’
This made Chloe smile. She felt as if her whole short life had been nothing more than a futile effort to understand people, to understand herself. She wiped her blade clean before putting it away. If it bothered the woman then Chloe couldn’t tell. She just pulled a hip flask from her bag, took a long swig and offered it. Chloe hesitated.
‘I wouldn’t normally offer my scotch to anyone, especially one as young as you, but given the circumstances… Obviously, if you don’t want any then I’m not going to insist. More for me.’
Chloe took the flask and drank. ‘Thanks.’ She handed it back and then reached into the jacket pocket. ‘Do you want these?’ The small packet of custard creams felt measly in her hand, she felt foolish for offering them, but they were greeted with the warmest smile to have come her way for a very long time.
‘That’s really very kind of you, but I don’t think I will be making it off this train.’ Her smile didn’t falter. ‘You should have them, and then you should search for as many useful items as you can carry. Torches, food, warmer clothes. That jacket will be no good out there.’ She shivered incessantly, voice wavering as she spoke. ‘I’m sure it was summertime when we boarded, and it should be still.’ She smiled, eyes glinting despite the cold. ‘But it looks like winter now.’
Chloe took the jacket off and laid it over her new friend. A presumptuous move, but one that met no resistance. ‘You’re a very kind young woman. But please, don’t worry about me, you should go and find help. I doubt there is any coming this way. Follow the tracks to the next station.’
Nodding, Chloe headed to the main luggage rack at the end of the carriage. She was more likely to find useful items in the larger cases. It paid off. A few holdalls in and she’d found a decent looking torch and an array of Skiing items. They were too big but would do the job. She put them on and stood by the open door, looking out into the swirling darkness into which the vast landscape had been concealed. It was full dark now. The sun had vanished completely.
One of the football fans was lying beside the track, curled into a foetal position, bare arms wrapped tightly around his chest. She shined the torch on him. His pale skin, mottled and purple, was becoming lost beneath a thickening layer of snow. His eyes were open. His lips slack and blue. She doubted his companions had managed to get much further.
Chloe glanced towards the lady. Her eyes were closed, and she was huddled into the jacket, shivering. Chloe looked outside again. What was the rush?
It didn’t take long to find a couple of decent blankets. She rolled one into a pillow shape and positioned it under the woman’s head, tucking her in with the other. She opened her eyes and pushed at the blanket. Chloe nearly took it away until the woman whispered ‘hand.’ In just this short amount of time she had grown too weak to free her arm from the loosely fitted covering.
Chloe eased her arm from the blanket, taking care not to expose too much of her shuddering body. The woman’s hand clasped her own. No more words were spoken, and the woman soon fell into what, as far as Chloe could tell, was a gentle sleep. The intensity of the shivering lessened and eventually her breathing slowed; her hand remained clasped around Chloe’s until it finally loosened and fell away.
Chloe covered the woman’s body before finally leaving the train. She hadn’t realised how much shelter the carriage had provided until she stepped into the biting wind and turbulent blizzard. She was thankful to the person who had left the skiing gear behind, though didn’t dwell too long on what their fate might have been.
Walking was difficult. Her legs and body still felt ineffective and weightless, though if she thought about it too much, the nausea would begin to return. The weather conditions didn’t help.
Chloe didn’t know what she’d find once she got to the station. She doubted the emergency services would be prepared – whatever had happened, happened fast. Perhaps there would be less panic, people working together, helping each other out. Perhaps not. Either way, Chloe knew that there was no going back. Everything had changed, and yet somehow it felt familiar.
Misery might change its face, but the smile stays the same.
The struggle would be hers, it always had, regardless of who tried to shape it. It didn’t really matter if she froze to death before the day was out, or whether she miraculously made it to old age, her life – like her fear, like her hope – would be hers and hers alone.
Editor’s Note
What’s strong in this story is the challenge that the events pose on the protagonist. She’s in a bad way, in with some bad people, and yet we see her trying to do the right thing. She’s also a bit of a bad-ass, and that’s very easy to route for.