It had fallen into night when the accident occurred. Fortunately, it was already past the timing of the usual rush hour crowd. He wasn't too sure what had happened, but he believed that that the train had derailed violently, careening off the tracks until it crashed into a building and ground to an eventual halt. The interior of the cabin was devastated, folded in on itself, like a metallic butterfly's wings. The plastic seats and the metal panelling of the train had closed in on him, burying his legs beneath them. He couldn't feel anything in them anymore.
The dust was everywhere.
He wondered if the building had any remaining survivors, when the train had crashed as it did. When he came to, he wet his parched lips with his tongue, tasted dried blood and the scattered film of dust and dirt, and made to call out. His arms were inflicted with numerous bloodied cuts and scrapes from the glass windows that had shattered upon contact with the ground. The train had landed sideways and the ceiling had been completely crushed against the building, the sharp angles of metal slicing into the already claustrophobic space of the cabin. There was so little space, and the thing he could scarcely believe, was the dumb silence that yawned loud and wide through the wreckage. It was enough to tell him what he needed to know. From his position, he caught sight of motionless bodies and limbs, and he turned his face away. An insane urge to laugh hysterically rose in him, but it was quelled quickly when he noticed his satchel lying a short distance from him. Picking out his cellphone carefully, he realised that there was no reception. He dialled and redialled, but he didn't seem to be able to contact either Yuuto or Yuri.
It could have been his imagination but the air seemed thinner already.
He curled up on himself, his breathing coming in harsh gasps. He would die in this place. There was no one else alive, and he screamed for all he was worth, but there was no sound that echoed back in return. It was so dark and he couldn't see beyond the small area of light that his cellphone generated, but he didn't dare to use it, just in case, perhaps, that reception would somehow be restored soon.
It was then that his phone rang.
"Fuji. Fuji? Where are you?"
He couldn't help it; he babbled nonsensically to whomever that was speaking to him. The relief that washed over him at hearing another's voice, after the hour of solitude that he had spent, was overwhelming. He wasn't ashamed to admit it, this was one of the rare times when he couldn't stop crying and begging. The fear was driving him out of his mind. He wasn't too sure what he said, only that he pleaded endlessly for help but the other's voice was already breaking into static filled pauses.
And when the phone went dead abruptly, he shocked himself with the violence of his screams.
END CHAPTER