At 11:50PM, the last train out of London arrived at it’s first destination to meet six strangers who’s lives would soon bind together through a rather peculiar mishap. If you can call it that. As each passenger boarded the train, they picked a seat that they preferred, be it near the window or at the end or middle of the carriage. As five of them sat down, the sixth stranger had already found his seat, for he was the driver of this particular train. The train then began to move, at first with slow chugs, and then began picking up speed as the five passengers relaxed in their seats, each of them falling asleep with the late hours.
They were on board over an hour and had only reached the countryside, where the driver continued along the tracks, that was until he spotted something ahead that is. Quickly slamming on the breaks, he almost covered his eyes with the fright of what was about to happen. Panic rushed through his veins as the train began to slow. His mind went blank as he took a deep and heavy breath and with the last bit of hope he had, bonked the air horn - hoping whatever it was would move, but to no avail. The train finally came to a stop having hit the heavy lump on the tracks. The driver sat there speechless, breathing heavily and running hand through what was now a sweaty head of hair. Reaching his hand over to the intercom button, he prepared himself to make an announcement to the surely frightened passengers.
The five strangers were indeed frightened. They had all woken up as the train suddenly jolted and the sound of screeching came from the tracks below as it attempted to slow down. When it came to a stop they each looked out of the window beside them, only to be met with complete darkness. A loud noise suddenly surrounded them, ‘the train has stopped due to a…technical difficulty. Please stay seated’. Loud sighs were exchanged between them as they all sat there a little awkwardly.
‘Surely they can’t stop in the middle of no where?’, a woman asked quite timidly, gaining the attention of the other four. ‘It’s a technical difficulty, they don’t have a choice’, a young woman snapped in return, earning an elbow from her friend.
Suddenly the carriage door opened and the driver stepped in. He was pale, trembling from head to toe and wringing his hat in his hands. A middle aged man stood after the driver stepped in, demanding respect with a lift of his chin. ‘What’s going on?’, he questioned the sixth stranger, obviously irritated and feeling the need to assert his dominance as soon as another male had arrived.
'Is anyone here a doctor? Or a…’, the driver croaked out, unable to finish his sentence never mind stand up straight. 'I’m a retired detective’, the middle aged man spoke up again - of course he was, and approached the driver slowly. Suddenly another woman stood, looking quite concerned, 'something is definitely wrong here… your aura is very dim’, she commented. A laugh was heard from the young woman who had spoke earlier and the rest looked around, admittedly confused by the entire situation.
'Stop it! There is a person on the tracks and I can’t contact anyone through the radio’, the driver shouted angrily, his grip tightening on both his hat and a flashlight. The five strangers went quiet after that, looking between each other with panic in their eyes.
'This is a joke, right?’, the timid woman questioned. 'Come see for yourself’, the driver replied quietly, and motioned for the five of them to follow.
Leading them to the front of the train with his flash light, he took a deep breath before pointing it towards the body. The timid woman stepped back, and put her hand over her mouth as a small gasp escaped from her lips. Taking a tissue from his pocket, the retired detective then climbed down to the tracks to inspect the body. All though the dead man’s arm had been crushed by the train, the multiples gun shot wounds to his torso suggested it wasn’t the train that killed him after all.
'Yes, as I suspected’, the detective stated. 'It appears this was murder…not by train’, he continued. 'Judging by those gun shot wounds, it wasn’t an accident OR a suicide’, he finished, crinkling his nose before looking up at the five strangers on the platform.
They all stayed quiet for a moment, checking their phones for service and sighing as there was none to be found. As the detective climbed back onto the platform, the driver shone his flash light around until he spotted an old sign.
'Wood Green Station’, the driver spoke up, nodding towards the sign. 'We haven’t stopped here for years, it was shut down in 2005’, he added.
Using their phones as flashlights, they slowly walked towards the old station. It was boarded up, destroyed over the years. The outside was covered with graffiti that no one could decipher and the only way out was through a rusty gate at the side of the building.
'As far as I know there’s a small village a mile away’, the driver informed them as spitty rain began to fall again, only to be seen by the glow of the flashlights and the feeling of it hitting their faces.
'Great!’, the young woman announced sarcastically, 'I’m stranded in the middle of no where with Norman Bates’ second close in crazy and Sherlock Holmes over here’, she spat, referring to the woman who had spoke earlier as well as the retired detective.
'Laura, stop it!’, her friend finally spoke up. 'It’s not funny anymore, okay?’, she continued, wrapping her arms around herself as a cold wind swept across the station platform, swaying the near by trees and moving the rusty gate back and forth, the squeaks filling the eerie silence between them.
'We need to go to the village’, the driver stated, making his way towards the gate, expecting them to follow him out. 'Look’, the timid woman spoke, pointing towards the right where the was a huge sign. Shining a flashlight at it, they read, 'Welcome to Wood Green’, in flakey white paint. 'I’m not feeling very welcome’, Laura muttered, linking arms with her friend.
They made their way along the country road, guided by the driver’s flash light. The darkness seemed to envelope them as they contained through the eerily quiet road, the only sound being their feet against the wet pavement and the shivering of the two young women.
As they approached a corner, they shone the flashlight and found the railway bridge. There was a single street light that illuminated the small puddles and the cold railings.
'I’m getting some bad vibes’, the woman who spoke on the train suddenly said. 'What are you talking ab - ’, Laura started, but stopped as her feet kicked what sounded like a few metal objects on the ground. The driver shone a light at the ground and felt as though his stomach was doing back flips. 'Shell casings’, the detective commented, 'don’t pick them up, we’ll have to leave them for the police’, he added.
Another horrible silence met the group as they started walking again, that was until a noise was heard from the other end of the bridge. The six of them stopped in their tracks and stayed dead quiet as if they were telling each other that they had not made the noise. Then it happened again, this time a little clearer, like a slight chuckle and the rustling of something near a bush. The driver looked at the five strangers before slowly moving the flashlight towards the source of the noise, only to find a rugged looking man. He was soaking from the rain, his hair disheveled and his clothes muddy, but there was one thing about the man that made them gasp and clutch to one another like their lives depended on it - the gun. It sat in his hand as casually as a cup of tea, only his hands were covered in his blood - matching his boots.
Stepping towards the man, the detective took charge by holding up his hands to show he was weaponless. 'Sir, you should put the gun down’, he warned, earning a laugh from the gun man. 'Why should I bother?’, he questioned, tilting his head at them and moving closer to the group.
'I’ve been watching you all from here and not one of you even wondered why there was no blood on the platform. I mean he was obviously pushed off the bridge!’, he exclaimed, swinging the gun around and speaking to them with a tone of superiority.
'Yeah…we’re all idiots’, the detective replied, knowing it was best to make him think they were on his side. The rest of the group look at him rather confused and attempted to step away.
'Don’t move. Stop!’, the gun man roared, his tone suddenly icy compared to his previous tone of voice. 'Okay, alright, nobody is moving. What is your name?’, the detective replied cautiously. 'Oh shut up, that’s such a boring question’, the gun man replied, unamused. 'You see everything would have been fine if your train didn’t stop in time. God, it would have been marvellous watching his body DISAPPEAR underneath’, he continued, stepping closer to them. ’…But not everything goes to plan, does it?’, he asked, a huge smile slowly forming on his face.
Then, the whole world seemed to stop for a second. Everything went incredibly quiet, only the wind and the rustling leaves could be heard until a loud bang sliced through the quiet countryside. They all seemed to miss it when he brought the gun to his head. It had been quick and all they could register was the splatter of warm blood on their damp skin and clothes. Opening their eyes, their ears still ringing from the gunshot, they looked at the man’s body lying lifeless and cold on the wet bridge.
Again, the detective stepped forward, having already been used to this kind of situation. 'We’re going to the police station’, he announced, 'we can’t stay with the body’, he stated, more as a command than a suggestion.
Slowly but surely, they helped each other along the cold and rainy roads as the sun began to rise. As they approached the village, no one spoke, the atmosphere was tense, but they felt safe with one another. All though they had not reached their destinations, they had now gone through something that would surely bind them together for life.
Walking through the police station, every one of them looked traumatised yet relieved that they had actually made it. Looking between each other, they all approached the desk slowly, and under the shocked gazes of the police officers, the detective raised his head and with a sullen voice he said, ’ we’d like to report a crime.’
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