Light at the End of the Tunnel

The first thing she noticed as the train exited the tunnel was the diminishing of the humming it made travelling over the tracks. As it coasted to a standstill, she became very aware that all was not right with the world. Examining the holes in the fabric of the seat in front and tapping her foot, she wondered how long it would be before things started moving again.

The scene outside her window depressed her, inner city concrete, stringy shrubs clinging to grey dirt and litter interspersed amongst it all like colourful, parasitic highlights in an otherwise dull trackside. Glancing around the side of the tatty chair, she noted that her carriage was empty. Had it been before? Absentmindedly she tried to recall whether she had had any co-passengers this morning.

She took the earlier train to avoid the mass of commuters and the claustrophobia that came with so many harassed professionals crowding the train. A loner by preference, she travelled into the city as rarely as she could possibly manage to whilst still holding down her job. This morning she had been habitually late and hadn’t paid much attention boarding the train. Usually she would try to find a quiet seat a little removed from any others. Her mother had always complained that she was too anti-social, but the way she saw it was that some people were happy in the midst of it all, some liked to stand back and enjoy the silence.

Minutes crept. Then flew. She started to feel a little anxious at the lack of cheery announcements informing her that the temporary delay was caused by too many leaves or the wrong kind of snow on the line. More than once she started to get up to find the cause of the delay, but sat down again trying to reassure herself that all was well. No point panicking over stopped trains. She grinned wryly to herself.

The power was still on, the annoying flicker of the overhead lights making this blatantly, and irritatingly, obvious. No reason for there not to be some sort of explanation via loudspeaker. Unless there had been some sort of accident incapacitating the gratingly cheery attendant. She shifted uneasily in her seat, mind racing as it worked out several worst case scenarios. Perhaps she should check in to make sure that nothing untoward had happened.

Wandering nonchalantly down the aisle, she ignored the creeping sensation raising hairs on the back of her neck. The effect was spoiled when she tripped clumsily over a briefcase and nearly brained herself on the plastic protuberance on top of the chair, an orange and cream ticket claiming the seat as reserved. Haughtily she closed her eyes and prepared herself to fend off a frenzied apology from some suit. It was not forthcoming. Probably because the owner of the briefcase was nowhere to be seen.

Her heart jumped in her chest and the anxiety she had been ignoring started to creep back in. It took several careful swallows and a stern mental dialogue with herself to get back on a level. Blood still pounding she moved forward again, going over all the possible explanations for the curious developments in her normally quiet morning. Perhaps the owner of the briefcase had stepped outside to find out what was happening. Though why it would be left behind escaped her.

The connecting door hissed open and she stepped into the vestibule, a chill noticeable in the air, along with the flapping of what sounded like a plastic bag coming in on the light breeze though the opened window in the exit door. The toilet cubicle was engaged. Relieved at the mundane reason for Briefcase’s absence, she relaxed a little further and continued on into the next carriage.

Empty again! She checked each pair of seats as she moved past becoming a little more frustrated as each proved to be as empty as the last. Not a soul to be seen anywhere, though the train had not been cleaned properly since its last journey. A coffee cup sat discarded on the table at a set of four seats together, along with a newspaper and what looked to her like a half-eaten sandwich. Obviously the staff were making themselves very scarce today. A complaint might well be in order when she solved the infernal mystery of why she wasn’t getting anywhere very quickly.

She came to the end of the carriage without finding a single clue, so passed quickly into a second vestibule hoping to find a friendly face. The miserable, harried face of a worker trying to fend off questions from a suit as to why he was going to be late for work would do. This toilet cubicle was vacant, but she grabbed at the door to check anyway. The cramped space was empty, save for the usual grubby toilet, metal sink blocked with a wad of toilet paper and half filled with water, mirror smudged with goodness knows what - she didn’t care to take a guess - and teen graffiti explaining that Ella loved someone called Mike.

She stared for a few seconds at the distorted reflection of herself in the mirror. Her blonde hair was pulled back off her face, and for a moment she thought she was looking at a ghost her skin was so pale, and her mouth was drawn tight with curbed panic. Mentally shaking herself for the second time, she decided that allowing the situation to spook her was not helpful and closed the door a little more gently than she had opened it.

Home to the buffet counter, the third carriage was the last before First Class and the drivers cab. It appeared to be open for business, the shutters were raised and it was illuminated. The colourful displays of bright foil crisp packets, chocolate bars and drinks cans were garish in comparison to the beige and grey interior of the train. Almost resigned now, she approached it past the empty seats and stood on tiptoe to check over the counter.

Nothing!

An urge to cry overwhelmed her. Followed quickly by an almost uncontrollable giggle at the absurdity of her reaction to something as silly as a missing attendant. Everyone would be in the next carriage doing exactly the same as she was doing, trying to find out why the train had stopped and when it was going to start again. She knew she was overreacting, but she thrived on predictability and so many unexplained anomalies in her usual routine were making her extremely nervous. That, and an almost tangible feeling in the air that something was not right, that the world had taken a shift the moment the train had faltered to a stop outside the tunnel.

First Class was a world apart. The aisle was wider, single chairs set along one wall making this possible. There were fewer chairs crammed in, to enable passengers more foot space, and everyone got a table. The space seemed airier, brighter, the decor was warmer with colour accents saving it from beige drabness. Even the overhead lighting seemed to have a more welcoming hue. If it hadn’t also been as empty as the rest of the train, this would have been where she would have expected everything to have been resolved.

She also couldn’t ignore the signs that there had been inhabitants here not so long ago, who had seemingly disappeared without stopping to take their personal effects with them. A laptop sat open at one table, a Word document opened and half covered with whatever its owner had been writing about, a digital clock display in the clock corner claiming it was seven twenty three. A handbag, probably made by some designer, though she had no idea which as she considered clothing and accessories as practicalities, not decorations, sat next to a opened paperback by some chick lit author and a bottle of upmarket water just a little further up the carriage.

Her attention was already drawn to the final set of doors ahead. There was no one here in First Class, though she continued to check methodically, seat by seat, resisting the urge to hunker down and irrationally check even the too-small underneath for any signs of life. She could see no movement through the long panel of glass, only the door to the driver’s cab, closed and impassable.

She pushed the release button, the hiss of the door opening setting her nerves on edge. Panic now boiled beneath the surface, like a raging storm building. Release was imminent. She knew that she was reaching the edge of her ability to stay calm. Entering the vestibule she could see that she remained alone. Rapping smartly on the driver’s door, she waited for a response. None came. Resuming her attack on the door, she curled her hands into fists and pounded desperately.

“Please, please can’t somebody tell me what’s going on here? “ She pleaded.

Her voice cracked, emotion overwhelming her as the panic finally took control. Turning back she re-entered First Class and located the abandoned handbag. Fumbling at the clasp, she cursed, and tipped the contents onto the table. Lipstick, matching purse, a compact, a mobile phone. Grabbing at the phone she unlocked the keypad. The time and a cute picture of a young baby flashed up on the screen as she got in. She dialled three nines and lifted the phone to her ear. The line hissed with white noise.

Anger and frustration erupted in a sharp exhalation of air and noise from her stricken throat. Almost dropping the phone, she scrabbled to catch it, banging her elbow as she lurched. Her fingers scrambled over the keypad again, dialling her home number. Then her work number. Then her mother’s. Nothing, again and again. Checking for reception, which was full at full bars, she glanced at the time again. Seven twenty three.

The four digital numbers on the small display stopped her racing mind abruptly. There was some significance to them, something she was missing in her panic. Slowly, almost carefully, she moved up the aisle to the lone laptop left sitting on the tabletop, also seven twenty three though this time the display was analog. The second hand was unmoving. She stared at the two devices waiting to see if she was perhaps mistaken. On neither did time advance. Time stood frozen at seven twenty three. Remembering suddenly, she turned her wrist looking at her watch. It was stopped at the same time.

Why would that happen? The train stopping, clocks everywhere stopping, people all disappearing without any apparent reason. Her mind skittered around more surreal explanations as she tried still to hold on to rational thought.

She stood hastily, and walked the short distance to the connecting door. The sound of it opening broke the deafening silence and she jumped a little. She kept her pace controlled, knowing that if she didn’t keep herself in check she would swiftly be back in the frantic panic she’d just escaped.

The buffet carriage remained unchanged, she moved swiftly along the walkway. Another set of doors hissed opened and closed as she passed through. Another carriage, the discarded coffee taking on a new meaning as stalked passed, not litter now, but evidence that there had been life here before. Reaching the final vestibule, she heaved a sigh of resignation and tapped lightly on the engaged toilet door.

“Hello, are you okay in there sir?”

Though she expected it now, the lack of response sent her heart plummeting. Standing back, she braced her back against the wall. Lashing out with her foot she connected with the lock, once, twice. On the third kick the lock crunched and the door swung open. It had been locked from the inside. Someone should have been in there. But it was empty.

She slid down the wall, chest heaving and burst into loud sobbing tears. It took her a while to come back to her senses, and when she did she felt strangely hollow. Moving woodenly she pushed herself up from her hands and knees and turned to the outer door. There were no answers here on the train.

The door release button was not activated, and the window that opened in the door too small to escape through. She scanned for the hammer, only to be used in emergencies and found it easily enough on the wall alongside.

“What are you doing lady?”

The hammer slipped from her grasp as the noise of someone else’s voice took her by surprise. Though it couldn’t have been much more than an hour since the train had stopped, it felt like it had been an age since she had seen, or heard, another living being.

“Hey, you in there, whatcha up to?”

The voice came from outside the train. She couldn’t get a proper glimpse of the owner, the train was so high and the young boy so small. The top of his head was all she could see.

“I need help, I’m stuck on the train. There’s nobody here anymore.”

She pushed her face to the small rectangular opening so her voice would carry down.

“You’re not stuck,” the voice came again, “and everyone’s waiting for you in the tunnel. What took you so long, huh? We’ve been waiting for ages for you.”

The boy tilted his head and looked up at her with a grin on his face. Recognition slammed into her. Followed by stunned disbelief.

“Go on, press the button. The door’ll open. Promise”

She followed his instruction. The door slid open and revealed the sharp drop to the gravelled floor. Crouching, she turned her back to the sweet freedom of the outside world and, lying on her stomach, draped her legs down the side of the train. Wriggling backwards, and using the length of her arms, she got as close to the ground as she could before releasing and falling. The impact shocked her and her knees gave way. She ended in an awkward pile on the trackside, with the young boy offering his childish hand to her. Unrestrained joy on his face, he laughed at her embarrassing position on the floor at his feet.

Wordlessly, she let him help her up and took his hand as they took the short walk back to the tunnel, only a couple of hundred feet down the track.

He chattered as they walked.

“Sheesh, I don’t know what took you so long. Some of the others, they realised really quickly, but you’ve taken the longest so far. Once you understand what to do though, it isn’t so hard. I knew you’d get it if I was allowed to come get you. Sometimes they don’t like that, think it’s important to realise by yourself, but I think it’s easier when they send someone to help...”

He smiled up at her and she felt the tears coming again.

“Once we get into the tunnel, we just have to walk a little way, then you’ll see the light. If we head towards it, that’s where everyone is waiting for us.”

She stopped at the edge of the tunnel. Looking back at the train for a second she wondered just what in the hell had happened to her. Still only just beginning to comprehend her situation now, she turned numbly back to the dark depths.

Her brother had taken the first few steps into the tunnel, waiting expectantly for her to follow him. She drank in every detail of his brown, freckled face and felt a sharp grief return to her. The last time she had seen his face had been twenty three long years ago, pale and drawn in hospital. She had only been ten years old, but she had understood enough to know that he wasn’t going to come home. The cancer had spread, she heard the grownups whisper, not long to go now, nothing they could do but make him comfortable. She could remember the rage that had built up within her, crying in her parent’s arms that he was only seven, the doctors had to make him better. He was too little to be alone.

“I wasn’t alone sis. They sent granny to come get me. They do that with kids. Make sure we’re okay.”

He held his hand out to her again, and she accepted it.

“Show me what to do.”

Brother and sister walked into the tunnel together, him leading her onwards in the darkness.