A sacrificial escape

I awoke with a jolt, the ground vibrating beneath me. The first thing I noticed was the overwhelming smell of engine oil and the grittiness of the floor I was lying on. I tried to get up by rolling to the side but bumped straight into something solid which felt like a wall. Groaning and groggy I sat up, realising that the solid wall I had rolled into was in fact one of the two long seats of the small train carriage in which I now sat. I had no memory of getting onto a train and, utterly bewildered, I stood, slid open the carriage door and stepped out into the main corridor of the train. It was empty. I wondered slowly down the passageway checking in each compartment as I went. They were all empty. When I reached the back end of the train I turned around and started heading towards the driver’s compartment, sure that I would find someone there; the train must surely have a driver. As I made my way slowly back along the train I tried to remember where I had last been, hoping to find some explanation for why I was on a train, seemingly alone.

It was Friday night and I had been curled up in my favourite chair beside the fire, listening half-heartedly to my father telling my mother about something that had happened at work during the day. I remember feeling drowsy and warm after a dinner of hot stew and strong black tea and was enjoying watching the flames lick their way across the thick log my father had added to the fire. I must have drifted off in my chair, but that knowledge did not make the current situation any less bizarre.

I reached the driver’s compartment and tried to open the door; it was firmly locked. I banged on it a few times, shouting to whoever was in there to open it, but there was no response. There were no windows into the compartment so I couldn’t even be sure that someone was there, although it seemed unlikely that the train could be driving itself, right?

I stared out of a window, trying to work out where the train was or might be going. I couldn’t see my town or, in fact, see any houses or signs of people. I gave up after a few minutes, The landscape was totally white, with no obvious landmarks of any description. I knew there were several train lines going out of the large town I lived in, but they all went in different directions so I could only guess, out of a number of possibilities, where the train might be going.

I tried to get the driver’s compartment door open again, but with no luck. I stood for a moment trying to work out what to do and decided that I should go back to the compartment I had woken up in to try and find some clue or evidence that might help. This was easier thought than done as all the compartments were empty and looked the same. I narrowed it down to two possible compartments and decided to search them both. The searching didn’t take long as the compartments were fairly small and bare. There were the two benches down either side of the compartment and a shelf above each seat for luggage. There was nothing in the first compartment I searched, but in the second the floor seemed to have an obvious patch with less grit on it. This, I decided, must be where I had been lying.

There was nothing in the luggage rack. I tried to get my fingers under the seats to see if they lifted up, but that was unsuccessful. Eventually I knelt on the floor to look more closely to see if there were any gaps under the seats, but as I did so I felt something sharp sticking into my leg. Getting to my feet and digging my hand into the pockets of my pants and found a plain silver-coloured key. It definitely hadn’t been there last night when I fell asleep in front of the fire. I held it up to the light to see if there was any clue as to what it might open, but the key was plain and looked like any other key.

After thoroughly searching my other pockets and determining that there was nothing else useful in the compartment, I shut the door and headed back to the driver’s compartment. I tried the key in the door lock, but with no success. I really needed to get in there.

I suddenly had a crazy idea. Walking over to a window I slid it upwards and stuck my head out, immediately getting a face full or freezing air which made me gasp. Turning my head, I could see that there was, as I had hoped, a window into the driver’s compartment. The driver’s window was close enough that if I leant out of my window, I should be able to reach the window with my hand.

By leaning halfway out and stretching I managed it and pushed hard upwards, trying to get the driver’s window open. It seemed to budge a little and by twisting myself sideways and reaching both my hands through, I eventually managed to make a gap to get my fingers through and push the window up. I ducked back into my compartment shivering and panting, half hoping that the air rushing in through the open window would cause the driver to come out. But the door remained firmly shut.

Taking a few deep breaths, I thrust the top half of my body sideways once again through my window and grabbed hold of the driver's window with both hands. I then began the terrifying process of pulling myself into the driver’s window bit by bit by keeping myself flat against the side of the train and using my feet, braced on the edge of my window, to push more of myself through. The scariest bit was when I had just got my head through the driver’s window and knew that I would have to let my upper body take over as only my tiptoes were now braced on my window. Luckily there was a small shelf under the window and I gripped it for dear life as I hauled myself through, legs danglingly terrifyingly in the wind for a few seconds before I ungracefully landed in a heap on the floor of the driver’s compartment.

There was indeed someone in the driver’s seat, but he was clearly dead. His head lolled awkwardly to one side and there was a thin white line of foam down one side of his mouth. I didn’t know much about causes of death, but at a guess he looked like he had suffered some kind of fit or was possibly poisoned judging by the still present foam around his mouth.

I didn’t really want to touch the driver’s body, but I did want to try and find something that would stop or at least slow down the train, or even some sort of timetable that might indicate the trains destination. Determined not to look at the driver’s body, I leant over the panel of buttons, levers and dials. There was tiny writing next to some of the buttons, but there were all abbreviations like TMS or words like “motor amps” which meant nothing to me. Panicking, I pressed a red button hoping that might be the logical colour for slowing down or stopping, but nothing happened. I pressed another button, then another. No response. I thought that I should have seen something change even if it didn’t slow the train. I started pulling leavers from one side to the other. Nothing changed. I started at one side and, trying desperately not to touch the driver’s body, I methodically pushed, pulled or switched everything on the panel with no changes at all.

I looked around to see if there was anything that could explain the consol to me and noticed that there was a panel open in front of the drivers’ feet and showing through was a huge bunch of wires that looked cut or pulled out, some of them were still sparking slightly at the ends. I could not fathom why the driver or someone else had pulled out or cut the wires that controlled the train, other than the obvious conclusion that it was deliberate. If someone particularly wanted me dead why kill the driver and not me? I shook my head; nothing was making sense but there were clearly more pressing questions to deal with right now, such as how to slow or stop the train before it got to wherever it was going.

I left the driver’s compartment, through the door this time, which unlocked easily from the inside. And looked briefly out of the window, wondering if it might be possible to jump off the train rather than find out what happened when the train got to the next town or station. On one hand the snow looked thick and so might be a softer landing than jumping onto any of the rocky areas. But the train was going very fast and if I did survive the jump, I would then have to walk through the snow for an unknown distance to find food or shelter. I didn’t like my chances of surviving in the snow even if jumping was maybe a better option than waiting to crash into something somewhere along the track.

Remembering the key in my pocket, I pulled it out and started going through each compartment again trying it in all the key holes I could see. I was nearly at the end of the train near the more expensive compartments which were mostly just a bit roomier and had small lockers for storing valuables. It was in one of these that, to my huge surprise, my key fitted perfectly and turned with a click. I pulled the little door open and, reaching inside, pulled out something cold and thin. As soon as I saw it, I dropped it in shock. I had recognised it immediately as my mother’s pearl necklace. It was the most precious heirloom my family owned, and also the most valuable thing in our house. Despite many very desperately poor winters my mother had steadfastly refused to sell it. She would always say that she was saving it for a life and death emergency. But how did they get here, into the compartment on the train? I sat on a seat, lost in thoughts about my mother and the insanity of being stuck on an out-of-control train that I had no memory of getting onto.

Could there be another way of stopping the train or slowing it down? I remembered an adventure book I had read as a kid where the hero had stopped a train by trying something heavy to a rope and throwing it out of the back of the train and catching on the track, using it to slow down the train. I doubted the train would conveniently have rope handy but maybe some kind of cable? I started hunting up and down the train searching everywhere for something heavy that I could tie to a cable if I could find one. There was nothing, I even tried pulling up the seat covers and unfastening one of the small tables in the larger compartments. I had put the pearl necklace around my neck because the pockets of my pants were too small to safely hold it. I fiddled with it now, feeling anxiety start to build. Surely the train couldn’t go on forever it must be reaching its destination soon, Logically the train would eventually reach some sort of town, but when? Minutes? Hours? Just as I had this thought, I saw a light flash past the window. I hurriedly looked out, It had got darker while I had been searching for an “anchor” and now there were lengthening shadows from the trees outside. Another light flashed past the window and I could see that beneath the snow the land looked more ordered, more cultivated. This must be the outskirts of some upcoming town, but with the controls destroyed, the train would surely just smash into whatever was at the end.

I could feel my heart picking up speed as I ran to the end of the end of the train again, a half-formed idea in my mind. Pulling open the door to the final compartment, I had the crazy thought that if I could separate the end compartment from the rest of the train it would lose momentum and slow down enough for me to jump off.

Between the last two compartments I dropped to me knees and starting searching for a way to separate the two; a large chain I could cut or maybe something I could pull out that would cause the two to separate. But obviously that was something that only happened in stories because the compartments were firmly held together by 4 heavy looking coupling pins. I would need some sort of tool to get those pins undone. I sprinted down the length of the train to the driver's compartment, there had to be some kind of tool bag somewhere in the train. After a few minutes of frantic searching, I found a small drawer near the floor labelled maintenance. Yanking it open I found a heavy canvas bag of tool which I shouldered before sprinting back to the last carriage. Dumping the bag on the floor, I pulled it open and found an assortment of tool and pulled out the largest spanner I could find. I dropped to my knees and starting working at the first pin. The spanner wasn’t big enough to grip the pin secularly and kept slipping. The pin was stuck fast, but I couldn’t think of anything else to try so I kept at it. After a few minutes I was panting with the exertion and sweat was beginning to bead on my forehead despite the freezing air.

At last I felt the pin start to loosen and I renewed my efforts until it squeaked reluctantly free of the hole. I stood up elated as the pin dropped free with a thunk onto the track below. My elation was short lived however as I noticed the house lights were passing more frequently and closer together. I dropped quickly back to my knees and started straining at the second pin. My hands were numb with the cold, making it harder to grip, but I wrenched at the second pin, my fear giving me strength. I twisted frantically at the pin and felt it start to give. It was agonisingly slow work and my breath was beginning to come in gasps. The second pin came free and I quickly dropped it onto the track.

The houses were beginning to flash past now, I was definitely getting closer to population. I started on the third pin, my arms trembling now and my hands slippery with sweat. As I worked on it, I glanced quickly upwards and could see that I was in the town proper now, houses were flashing past at an amazing rate. My breath sobbed out of me as the third pin shifted another centimetre. It wasn’t going to be enough. I heard a noise that sounded like a horn blast and looked up quickly to see what looked like a man on a platform overlooking the track. I had enough time to see him speak into a radio and realised that I must be fast approaching a train station.

Suddenly there was a huge jerk and the train veered off sharply to the left almost throwing me onto the tracks. The man had clearly pulled the lever that switched the train to another track and I seemed to be veering away from the station and heading towards what looked more like an industrial area. The third pin came free and I heard it ping to the track as I reached immediately for the fourth pin. I passed more buildings and worked furiously at the last pin. The carriage seemed to be rocking a lot more without three of the pins. The spanner was slipping in my hands and I could feel blisters already forming across my palms.

My back cramped suddenly and I arched in pain, reflexively standing to straighten it out. As I did, I noticed a large wide building coming up and I realised I was heading into a train yard. The train was still speeding along towards what I now discerned as the definite end of the line. I vaguely heard myself screaming has I yanked at the fourth pin, it twisted free at last and I felt a jolt as the carriage finally separated from the main body of the train. But too late, the train sped into the building. The front of the train smashed through the buffer at the end of the track and on through the back wall of the building. My carriage smashed into the back of the train seconds later. I hit the wall of the carriage and felt my head crack against the side. The impact vibrated through my whole body and I tasted blood.

It was fully dark when I awoke, I felt groggy and seemed to be seeing and hearing things from a great distance. I slowly sat up and after my head had stopped spinning, climbed out of the carriage and stumbled towards a nearby source of light. I walked down a dark street. The chilly air helped clear my head a little and I headed slowly towards the nearest house lights I could see. They were quite a distance from the train yard and it felt like hours before I stumbled up to the house. I opened the gate and walked down the path to the front door. I knocked and waited nervously, realising how incredibly unbelievable my story would sound. A middle-aged man opened the door. I decided to keep the initial explanation simple and told him that I had been in a train crash and needed help. The man, whose name was Thomas, let me in and his friendly-faced wife, Gina, sat me down at a table and gave me a glass of water to drink while she gently cleaned the blood off my face and put a cold cloth over the egg-shaped lump on my head.

I began to tell them the story from the beginning and at the same time found out that I was in a large town called Winters Bridge. I had heard of it before and vaguely remembered it as being north-west of my home town.

“Where did you say you were from dear?” Gina asked me. “Lockwood” I replied. Gina and Thomas exchanged a look and Thomas came to sit down at the table.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but Lockwood was hit by a missile yesterday. As far as we have heard, the whole town was destroyed. The missile was launched by fighters from a city to the east called Wallux, apparently it was a revenge strike on behalf of the Wallux Senator’s nephew who was killed in Lockwood last spring.”

I sat stunned and speechless as Gina held my hand and murmured comforting words that I couldn’t make out. Everyone I had ever known was gone; my family was gone. I had nothing and no one. I noticed I was crying only when the tears dripped onto the hand Gina was holding.

“What I am going to do?” I whispered.

“Don’t worry dear, you can stay with us for a while, there is a room upstairs we use for storage. It will smell a bit like onions but it’s clean and dry.”

“Thank you,” I said, looking down and feeling the tears start to drip off my nose.

I was absently fingering the pearl necklace I still had on, the last remnant of my old life.

Suddenly Gina gasped. I saw her looking wide eyed at my necklace.

“It was my mother’s,” I said, my voice breaking as I remembered how much she had treasured the last heirloom of our family.

“My dear, that necklace would sell for a lot of money, enough to give you a fresh start here in Winters Bridge. We could help you. My husband knows a fair-minded pearl merchant.”

“No!” I said, before she could continue. “I can’t sell it; it’s all I have left.”

Gina gave me a kind smile, her eyes filled with sympathy “I understand, dear. But I think this is why your mother left you her necklace and put you on the train. To give you a fresh start and a hope of survival. If there was ever a life and death situation this would be it.”

I nodded, suddenly exhausted from the horrific events of the day and the grief I could now feel overwhelming me. I knew Gina was right and that her offer was incredibly generous but I couldn’t process anything without sleep.

As I lay on the makeshift mattress in the spare room tears leaked relentlessly into the pillow, both from grief and the overpowering smell of onions. Thoughts whirled around in my head, how had the driver died? Had my parents or the driver pulled out the wires? And why, to make sure the train couldn’t stop until I was as far away from my town as possible? I tried instead to comfort myself with the things I could be certain of. Somehow, my family had known of the pending attack. Somehow, they had got me and the pearls onto the train. The rest of the answers would have to wait. I would sell the pearls. I would start again and I would one day take a train back home to pay respects to my family and thank them for their sacrifice.