A bit of short fiction

The Closed Train

“Let’s tell ghost stories!” Cody giggled, seeing in his mind the shadow of a dark pine tree waving on the folds of a tent, a wolf hungrily peering his nose into the smells.

“Quiet, boy.” Snapped the old man, swiveling his head from side to side, clutching his bag to his chest.

“Calm down, Seymour.” Said his wife Helen. “We’ll be out soon enough. There’s no need to be so tense, and besides, you’ll wake his poor mother. Woman looks like she hasn’t slept in months.”

To this Seymour grunted, and pulled his belongings tighter to his chest. He sat with six people in an otherwise empty subway car. How this group found itself accumulated on the motionless Brown line headed towards Quincy/Wellspring in Chicago could only be attributed to what reporters were labeling “Bizarre Weather Patterns” across the country. Following the recent trend in hurricanes and super storms along the East Coast, the Midwest was playing host to a variety of unprecedented natural disasters. At 10:06p.m. on this particular Monday night a mild but nevertheless undeniable earthquake had rumbled through the metropolis, scaring the city’s government into a crisis situation and halting all forms of above ground public transportation. Any passengers on lines riding above ground, such as the seven strangers on this Brown line, were being told to wait until inspection of the tracks was clear before they could commence moving again.

The assortment was comprised of seven people; Seymour and Helen, husband and wife of thirty-three years, were travelling home after dinner with their daughter and recent son-in-law. Cody, age ten, had boarded the train with his mother after waiting in the hotel lobby where she worked as the interim manager. This was a ritual in which he participated three days a week, after getting out of school and his tutoring program, until his mother finished her shift. They were now headed home to their 1 bedroom apartment. Sitting across from Cody and his mother sat two young men, in either their last years of teenage life or onto their early twenties, one reading and one wearing headphones. They both had the words “Loyola University” displayed somewhere on their clothing. Completing the company was a middle aged woman wearing dark, tight fitting clothing who divided her time between eating her greasy dinner (fried chicken and French fries) and muttering audibly about her fellow passengers.

The continuous silence lay heavy in the subway car’s stillness. Every few minutes the CTA official’s voice croaked through the distorted speaker, informing the passengers of any non-progress. Just as his voice was once again pleading with folks to “Stay seated, we’ll be out of this mess shortly,” the sliding door on the right hand side issued a piercing screech, and began to roll open, coming to a halt with a deafening clang. The travelers glanced at one another, shivering in the February wind that rushed into the subway car. One of the college students, Dwayne, took a look at his partner, and then got up to shut the door. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he decided sit with his back to the door, keeping it closed. His companion, Terence, smiled at Dwayne’s selflessness. Still, through all of this, nobody spoke.

Then the CTA’s voice filled the void, “Ok fellas, we have word that it will be about another 40 minutes until the track is clear. It’s looked promising so far. I suggest you all sit tight and help each other out where possible. If you have any food you want to share, that would be greatly appreciated I’m sure.”

There was an uproar. Cody playfully screamed, “We’re all going to die!” and then ran to the farthest seat from his mother, giggling in his fantasy and turning his head to see if anyone else enjoyed his joke. His mother sighed deeply, pulled out a sleeve of crackers and offered them to the group. Immediately on her right sat Seymour, who sneered at the meager contribution and spat, “I don’t need your charity, woman. No need to be giving up the boy’s entire dinner, anyway.”

Helen, who had taken out her knitting, whacked her husband with one of her needles. “Thank you dear” she said to the boy’s mother, taking the crackers and passing them forward. “Your child is a delight, just a delight.”

The crackers were offered to the woman whose face was buried in her cardboard box of fast food. Instead of accepting them, however, she merely raised her eyes and muttered to her processed chicken, “God damn train ride. I can’t handle it no more, God help me I can’t handle this no more.”

Helen responded by placing the crackers on the vacant seat beside her. There ensued more silence.

Dwayne lifted his head off his folded arms and grinned at his cohort. “Hey Billie, will you spell me?” he asked.

Terence blinked, and then caught on. He smiled widely, and replied, “A little more north, eh?” At this, the two men switched places.

“Cody! Come down from there!” Cried his mother, as soon as she noticed the boy heave himself onto the luggage rack above the seats.

“Absolutely no parenting skills.” Grumbled Seymour. “Father’s probably dead. Or a drunk. These city families have no manners.”

“But moooom,” pleaded Cody. “Look how far I can see out of the window! It looks like the ground is shaking, woah this is cool.”

At this, Dwayne stood up and went to the window. He peered down at the steel pillars supporting the tracks. “Ter, the train’s stopped right above the river. He’s sort of right, it does look like the pillars are shaking.” He pointed out.

“It’s alright, this earthquake isn’t enough to knock us off.” Terence assured him. “Spell me, Billie?”

“Hmmm, a little more north indeed.”

As Dwayne crossed the car to switch places with his partner the group heard a deep rumble, growing substantially noisier by the second. It reached a paramount level as the sides of the car began to rattle ominously, growing into strong vibrations and shaking the seats under the innocent passengers. It grew stronger; Cody was hanging onto the rack with a look of profound fear, until a terribly violent shake ended the barrage, tilted the subway car off its side and toppled the small boy onto the floor. The ringing sound of steel rattling steel was instantly replaced by the tumultuous screams of the riders as the train righted itself. Cody’s mother shrieked and rushed to her son’s side. Cody was howling in pain, cradling his left wrist. The others contributed to the noise.

“God help me, I don’t deserve this. Someone need to let me out here. Boy’s gonna kill us all if those damn earthquake don’t. God damn earthquake in Chicago!” The woman in dark clothing screamed loudest.

“Look at these ghetto kids! No discipline. Boy could have died! No common sense whatsoever.”

“Here how can I help? Tell me what to do dear. Oh my, what a tragedy. Oh poor child, poor child. What do you need from me?”

“Cody, shh hunny. It’s ok, let me see your wrist. This is why you listen to me when I tell you to do something.”

“Mooooooom! Owww it hurts it hurts!”

“Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! All of you!”

Dwayne’s voice triumphed over the disarray. It seemed as though the structure’s seizure had severely dislodged the subway’s door, forcing Dwayne to exert double the energy into keeping it shut. He first addressed Seymour, “Sir. You need to stop with these comments. We can all hear them and they are blatantly disrespectful. I’m sorry you’re stuck on a train with black people, really, but you need to shut your mouth. The same goes for you, ma’am.” He said, gesturing at the woman eating her dinner. “I know this is frustrating, but we’re all trapped and want to get out just as much as you do. Now, how bad did you fall, buddy? Is anything broken?”

Cody stopped his wailing and peered up at Dwayne. He shook his head and sat against his mother.

Dwayne sighed and said exhaustedly, “Billie, will you spell me?” The two switched positions.

The woman put down her box of food and smoothed out her pants before she spoke. “I apologize. I should not have been screaming like that, it’s just I’ve had a horribly long day and I’m unbelievably tired. I take this line from one end to the other and spend enough time on subways as is. My name is Carole. Thank you for holding that door. Look,” she added, after her speech disintegrated into the hush. “See across the window, there, at that other subway! People are holding signs against the glass!” She scrambled onto the seat across from her and cupped her hands around her eyes. Cody jumped up beside her and copied her hand position.

Carole turned excitedly to the company, “Come look! They say, ‘Help is coming. Within 20 min. Stay Strong.’”

Ten minutes passed, and the mood comfortably changed. Cody continued to wave and give thumbs up to the passengers in the neighboring subway.

“Billie?”

Ten more minutes passed. A new note appeared. “Just a bit longer. Help is coming”

“Excuse me, sirs” Helen asked Dwayne and Terence politely. “Why do you keep calling each other Billie?”

Terence laughed. “It’s from a story called The Open Boat. We’re reading it in one of our classes. It’s about a group of men lost at sea.”

Helen nodded. “I thought as much.” Then she paused, and added, “Let’s hope we don’t meet the same end as those–”

She was interrupted by a gigantic crash. Everybody on the train screamed as they looked across the window. The subway next to them had collapsed as the pillars supporting the tracks folded like dominoes. The enormous metal centipede splashed onto the roads and into the river, crashing into buildings and spraying debris and pandemonium everywhere. Their own subway began to shake, louder and more forceful than before, as Cody’s mother clutched her son to her chest, crying at the top of her lungs. Carole had slipped off her seat onto her knees, sobbing in a desperate prayer. Helen looked about frantically, searching for someone to help, and after finding nobody, snatched up her knitting in trembling hands. Terence and Dwayne stood up and embraced in a tight caress. “I love you.” They whispered. Seymour watched, and seconds before the end of his life, hollered to nobody in particular, “I’m Sorry!” The subway fell to the earth in a cacophony of splintered metal, grinding noise and forgotten souls. Help never came.