"Fallen Flag"

by Lennox Ó'Súilleabháin

It was the rattle that first awoke them. A low trundle rocking the fog of sleep from their eyes that brought them into the unnatural light. Their neck was sore, an agony to move side to side to observe their surroundings. They . . . Who were they? Taking in the passing view of trees and meadows through the window they sat next to their mind, muddled and confused, half took in the scenic view. The other half of their mind processed the situation- they were on some sort of train, that much was clear. They were sitting alone in a window seat in an empty aisle. Clutching their biceps, cross armed, they shivered. Each one of their breaths coming out in a cold visible cloud. Their hair, auburn, fell down to their shoulders in organized curls that they pulled at with nervous fingers, unfamiliar with the sensation of their own anatomy. A slender frame wrapped in the fitting form of a tea dress with aqua pattern of gingham. At feet, laced up in flat shoes, was a small leather purse. She figured she was a she, not for the attire, but at the very least it felt right. However, her name eluded focus, its contours fuzzy.

Shuffling about in her seat she picked up the purse and rifled through it. A random assortment of daily objects fell out- a tube of burgundy lipstick, a handful of bobby-pins, crumbled receipts too faded to read, eyeliner, a rubber band, an odd assortment of coinage, and a pocket mirror. The last item proving useful to finally see who she was. Her face was striking, but ultimately told nothing more than rosy cheeks, lidded blue eyes, and full lips. No identification revealed itself. Turning out the window she saw a farmhouse in rustic decay fly by, the natural looking forests and meadows being replaced by cultivated fields divided by power-lines, fences, hedges, and roads. She stood up, feeling the rocking of the car on the tracks move through her feet. The car was devoid of people. A feint noise could be heard coming through the forward door.

The isolation was unsettling, though knowing she did not have a ticket she tried to take comfort in the fact there were not at least any fare inspectors. Taking the initiative she walked forward through the train car. It was immaculately clean, as though no rider had touched the place since a recent thorough cleaning.

The next car was not empty. It also was not as freezing.

Through the sliding hydraulic doors and the covered connectors between carriages she found herself in a car modestly filled with passengers. Their heads bobbed intermittently in the rolling and rocking, obscured by seat-backs. Beyond the windows of the train the scene had shifted to tracts of single lot houses, their backyards obscured and divided by high wooden and polymer fences. Trees and shrubs became more scarce. Needing information on where she was, or where she was going, the Woman approached the first seat occupied. A businessman, dressed in a gray suit, sat in the aisle seat with a wide smile on his face, eyes forward.

“Um, hello . . . I was wondering if you knew where this train was going?” The Woman asked, her cheeks flushing from embarrassment. It seemed such a silly question, especially had the train been traveling long.

“Good morning.” The businessman intoned in a rehearsed sing-song. Looking up at her with blank eyes. He then turned back down to stare forward. No more words came out of his mouth.

“Uhh- Good morning . . .” The Woman scratched the back of her head, and shifted her footing. “I was wondering if you could tell me where we are going?”

Her questioning proved pointless as the man continued to stare forward, unwilling to acknowledge her further past his “pleasant” greeting. Annoyed, the Woman moved forward in the train car. Hoping to ask someone closer to the front who had not overheard the awkward exchange. Near the front she noticed an elderly woman in a lime green pant suit and sunhat, a small dog on her lap with long, immaculately groomed hair was barking and growling at the Woman incessantly. The elderly woman paid no attention to the dog, only staring forward.

“Excuse me, miss. Do you know where this train is going?” The Woman asked. The dog continued to bark and growl, clearly upset.

The elderly woman turned to her, and without any other emotion intoned, “Good morning.” Her voice the same lilting and sickeningly faux sweet as the previous man she asked. The woman turned back, the dog struggled in her grasp.

Outside, past the elderly woman the Woman saw rising towers of urban development. Perhaps the city this train was bound for. Stepping away from the elderly woman the Woman turned and pulled open the car doors leading to the next car. A sinking feeling in her stomach made the rocking and rattling of the liminal passage between trains all the more upsetting. The sound she’d heard earlier was coming clearer, a distant whistle.

The next car was packed full. Every seat occupied. In the aisles loitered people of all ages and backgrounds. On all their faces the same dead expression the Woman had seen on the first car.

“Good morning.” Several of them bunched near the rear of the car intoned at her, all at the same time.

Pressed against the back of the car, eyes wide in terror, the Woman stared at the crowd of people. All the same expressions as before. She took a breath and resolved herself forward. Pushing and colliding with each person as she made her way to the front, no body relented to her imposition making it difficult and intimate.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

Again and again the people packed in the cars smiled and said those words to the Woman as she passed. A cascade of “good mornings”.

Between the mass of humanity she could see outside the windows. The city beyond was not right, skyscrapers marred in decay dominated the sky, streets teeming with shanties, the sky a sickening auburn glow on a thick layer of dark cloud cover. Reaching the front of the car she was panting and slick with sweat, the car was warmer in the press of humanity. She pressed through the next section of hydraulic doors, a “good morning” following her as she slammed the door behind her.

The temperature did not drop between cars. If anything it became hotter in another empty car. Her dress was soaked through with her sweat, she rubbed her forehead, wiping off her wet hands on the cloth wrapped seat tops. Outside was even more dire. The cramped city now marred by holes of massive width and invisible depths. Countless of these holes worked by stretched mechanisms pouring plumes of smoke into the already dark sky while. Metal arms of improbable scale digging deeper into already deep holes, more shanties gathered and clustered in the thinning space between the plundering of the ground.

Halfway down the car aisle the door on the other end open, a casual whistle echoing from the entrance. A man, fit and white, atop a racing bicycle and dressed in garish spandex, a swooped helmet on his head. Slowly he peddled towards the Woman. She tucked herself into the alcove of seats as the bizarre cyclist passed by.

“Good morning.” The cyclist said with a smile and a nod the cyclist.

The sight sent quakes of terror through the Woman. Once he’d passed and was going through the doors at the rear, opening for the cyclist without much any touch, the Woman ran. She ran through to the next carriage, once again empty. Now beyond its windows the dark clouds of smoke filled the air so thickly that nothing could be seen beyond their swirling mass.

Into another car, it was not empty, but there were no people there. Only shadows. The shadows all repeating over and over, “Good morning.” Hands over her ears the Woman could not make it out of the car fast enough. The whole way her eyes focused only on the carpeted floor at her feet, splotched irregularly with dark red stains in splatters. Inside the temperature now unbearable.

Once at the far side she glanced up through the windows. Outside the dark clouds outside now so black the train appeared to be traveling through an empty void.

The door at the front of this shadow car would not budge as she desperately pulled on the latch that served the hydraulics. She pulled and screamed.

“Please! Let me out!” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Stop! Stop this train!” Her fists slammed on the door.

“Good morning.” The voices of the shadows grew louder, they closed in.

Just before she suffocated in the shadowy mass the door opened to the Woman’s pulling. She rushed to slam it behind her, pausing to catch her breath. Unwilling to stop she pulled open the door before her and cautiously stepped through.

It was not a passenger car inside. Instead the Woman found herself within the driver’s compartment at the front of the train. Consoles of controls facing a pair of seats, windows on each side of the compartment showing nothing but void. One seat was empty, the other an engineer in uniform of blue jacket, rimmed with gold colored stitching, over a white button-up sat in one of the chairs. On his head a red kepi cap on his balding head. His face soaked in sweat. The Engineer turned on his chair to nod at the Woman.

“Good morning.” The Engineer said, the Woman’s heart sank. However, his voice was void of the cheerful facade so many others have said it with on the train. His eyes were not blank, they were tired. She could still try.

“You need to stop the train.” The Woman begged.

“I can’t.” The Engineer shrugged his arms.

“What do you mean you can’t? You are driving the train!” She screamed at him. All she could do was scream.

“I don’t have the authority to make that decision.” The Engineer shook his head emphatically. “Not even my supervisor can change the train schedule, only a company exec.”

“The schedule?” Incredulous the Woman stared at the Engineer, mouth agape. “We are driving into a void, the world is apocalyptic outside. You need to take action.”

“Could lose my job if I did.” He hung his head down, resigned to the oblivion. “Miss I am gonna have to ask you to return to your seat.” He stood up and held his hands out to corral the Woman.

Stepping back from the approaching Engineer the Woman’s eyes dashed about the controls behind him. Seeing something that looked like a handbrake she lunged at it, shoving the Engineer to the side. He cursed at her as he tried to grapple her away, but she was too quick and slick in sweat.

The lever was pulled.

The train came to a rapid halt.

Flying forward the Woman’s head struck the control console.

The world went black.

---

It was the rattle that first awoke them.