*Unnamed*

He opened the flip of his shiny new silver mobile phone, checking for silent new messages or phone calls that had been too quiet for him to hear at the time of the call. The time read 15:13; there were no new messages. He shut the lid and put his phone back into the pocket of his seasonally inappropriate tight blue denim jacket. He shivered with relief as he left the bitterly cold and polluted air of the South London street, and made his way down the steps into the inviting mouth of the underground station entrance.

Warm air enveloped him as he joined the hustle and bustle of the noisy weekend commuters. He marched quickly through the aggressively loud shatter of the ticket gate barriers, and joined the short queue of people on the escalator down to the platforms. He slowed down to read the movie posters that covered the walls of the passage way leading the commuter from the escalator to platform one. Upon arrival, he was pleased to observe that the platform was peaceful and calm – particularly compared to the madness in the ticket hall upstairs. He hoped that the train would arrive before the other commuters did.

He allowed his gaze to settle on an elderly drunk gentleman at the far end of the platform, who aimlessly mooched around in ragged dark clothing with a brown sleeping bag wrapped around his shoulders, muttering under his breath. He decided to walk to the opposite end of the platform, always preferring the quieter life. He approached a thirty something aged lady with long blonde hair, who was wearing faded black jeans and a white shirt with a yellow tank top fitted over the top. The tank top had a brown and grey diamond shaped pattern at the front and she had positioned a brown rucksack by her feet. The blonde lady was around a similar age to him and occupied the platform’s only functioning seat; she was engrossed in a newspaper didn’t acknowledge the platform’s newest commuter. As his eyes continued to wander he detected the unpleasant linger of takeaway chips with vinegar and mayonnaise, before noticing the empty chip bag that had been lazily tossed to the ground.

As the train roared into the station he made brief eye contact with a pretty young girl - of about seventeen - with straight black hair and who was sporting a denim jacket similar to his. The blonde girl entered the train with him when the doors slammed open and impatiently waited for the nonexistent commuters to board. He sat down a few seats away from the young girl he had made eye contact with on the platform and pulled his magazine from his bag before settling back into the seat. He alternated between skim reading a long debate about Climate Change, glancing up at the advertising above his head and glimpsing around the carriage at the other commuters on the train. He paused his gaze upon an extremely tall guy seated next to where the young girl had chosen to sit, and then quickly remembered to change the direction of his gaze in an attempt to hide the fact that he was doing his usual people watching exercise, before relaxing into whatever he had chosen to read.

Seated a few seats down to his left were three girls aged around twenty, and who were surprisingly overdressed and heavily made up, for a Saturday afternoon. Opposite the girls but on his side of the train, sat a guy of around forty with short black hair, dressed in sportswear and carrying a sports holdall, who was staring intently, straight ahead. Next to him sat a young red-haired girl wearing a fluffy mauve jumper and blue jeans, with a black coat in her lap. Satisfied with this brief observation exercise, he went back to the New Scientist article. The train continued to roar through the tunnel and he became happily lost in his article. He was seated in the last carriage of the train, so the train remained virtually empty for almost the entire duration of the journey. He preferred to sit in the last carriage, hypothesising than he had a higher chance of survival, should the train crash or a bomb go off.

Glancing up at the tube map, he instead became interested in the fact that the older guy was attempting to whisper a message to the young girl in the mauve jumper. Without moving his head he made eye contact with the whisperer and understood that the message was meant for him as well. “Whatever you do, get off with me at the next stop.” The train was screeching its way loudly through the tunnel in a manner that fitted this utterly peculiar scene rather well.

Sure enough, the sporty guy stepped up and moved quickly towards the train doors as soon as the train pulled into the next station. The young girl also jumped up and scuttled quickly behind the older guy. He got up from his seat, suddenly fearing for the young girl’s personal safety, and followed them both out of the train doors and onto the platform edge. The doors beeped noisily, slammed shut and the train was on its way again. Without so much as a glance back at the young girl, the older guy walked quickly down the length of the platform and headed towards the station exit. The young girl quickened her pace and yelled after him, “Hey you, what the hell do you think you’re doing, why the fuck did you tell me to get off the train!?”

The guy slowed down and turned around, revealing a flushed face to the expectant young girl, who now looked livid with anger. He neared closer to the exchange so that he too, could discover what the sporty guy’s problem was. “Did you see the three girls sitting opposite us on the train?” sporty began. “Yeah, what about them...?” demanded the young girl with visible boiling rage. He stood and watched them both, listening in amazement; utterly perplexed by the whole scene. The sporty guy swallowed before making his reply, “The girl in the middle... she was... she was... she was dead. The two girls on either side of her.... they were holding her up.”