CHAPTER 1: The Train


Tuesday, January 10 2017 - 5:32 PM

I sat, drowning myself in the music that spilled through my headphones. I leaned my head against the window, trying to relax. From the moment I reached the train station, I've felt anxious. I'm not sure why, but it's been steadily building the longer I've been on the commute. I tore my gaze from the windows view, glancing around me. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so why did I have this feeling... An infants cry drew me from my thoughts. Maybe I wasn't the only one sensing this.. this offness about this situation. But I say situation loosely - because really it wasn't a situation. It was an average train.

I studied the man in front of me. He was engrossed in a book. George Orwell's 1984. I thought about the copy in my book bag, I'd been reading it on my earlier transit ride, on my way to my Physics final. Maybe I should give some more reading a go? I pondered thought, before quickly deciding against it, there's no way I'd be able to focus. I'm too tense.

Rustling drew my attention in. A tall man was making his way toward the exit. I turned back to the window, we must be nearing the next stop. The man slid through a mass of standing passengers, mumbling a series of "Excuse me's". A mother drew her young son in close, gently guiding the boy out of the way for the man. He quietly thanked her and waited near the doors for the train to come to a stop. I listened to the sound, notifying us of the new reached station. I expected to hear the beep of opening doors that usually followed, but I didn't hear it. I turned back to the man and watched as he pressed the button to open the doors. He grew frantic tapping multiple times when the door wouldn't budge. Curious, I looked to the other exits. Nobody was having much luck.

"It won't open." Someone said backhandedly. I didn't catch who.

A series of bangs went off. I pulled my headphones down to rest on my neck, to get a better listen. I could hear through my music but the sounds weren't distinct enough to recognize. Curious and worried looks dawned the faces of just about everyone present. Something was definitely up.

Screams erupted from somewhere nearby. I made eye contact with the man in front of me, a mutual fear present in both of our gazes. I saw white smoke form just outside the trains window. Was that tear gas? Why would there be-

The intercoms came on. Choked gasps radiated through the speakers. Followed by a panic "Run!". All the doors opened instantaneously, along with a siren-like alarm.

More loud noises went off, which were now distinguishable as gunshots. Increased panic flooded my body, leaving me fighting to stay calm.

I stood, feeling a nausea - most likely brought on by the gravity of the situation. I made my way to the exits, filing in behind other flee-ers. Thick fogs of tear gas flooded my system as soon as I made it outside the cart. I coughed and pulled my shirt over my mouth and nose. My eyes burned, much like my throat, and filled with tears. But I fought to seek safety through my reduced senses of sight, hearing and smell. I spotted it. I saw The man I had previously sat across, holding the door of a nearby building open. Yelling for people to come to safety. I had found my destination.

I ran towards him, tripping over dead, or dying bodies. I was almost there, we had locked eyes. I was almost there but I stopped. I had made out the image of the boy through the thick smoke. The same boy from the train. Crying over his mother, begging for her to wake up. I had also seen a man through my burring tears, shooting people in the masses. He was running out of targets, killing almost everybody within range. He was so close to the boy.

In a split decision, I changed my course. Sprinting towards the boy, I grabbed him roughly. Spinning him towards the man I had sat across. I ushered him forward, pushing him ahead of me.

I once again made eye contact with the man who sat across from me. His eyes widened and he looked past me. Understanding washed over me, dejectedly but determined. I reiterated the original warning to the boy, this time in only a choked and sputtering whisper. "Run."

In that second I turned around to face the shooter, to face my death. I stood still, chin raised, eyes accusing. I was hoping to draw his attention away from the boy.

I felt two bullets rip through my chest. I fell back from the impact, landing harshly on the ground. Gasping from pain, I cautioned a glance toward the building I had sent the boy. It had worked, the boy had made it to safety.

I sluggishly watched as the police officers ran to the scene. Guns were drawn and aimed.

I felt the blood seeping out of my body along with my strength. I was dying. I didn't want to but I don't think I'd ever regret my decision. 16 years was plenty when compared to the boys mere 5 or 6.

I closed eyes, not wanting to look at the chaos and destruction any longer. Darkness washed over me, I melted into forgetting my pain, tension leaving my body. I was calm.

Then I heard a voice. Soft, faint, warm, feminine. "Do you wanna live?" It asked. I hummed back a gentle reply.

"Yeah." I briefly wondered if my answer would've made a difference before completely sinking into the darkness.

Authors Note: Thanks for reading! Constructive Criticism is always welcome.