Shonoyoru 7. Trainspotting.
When you meet God for the first time, what do you say?
Is there a correct thing to say?
The thought of suicide had filled my head more times than the usual suicidal person. I haven't done the math, but I have existed through the same day at least six-hundred times. If you factor how many times people consider suicide… well, let's say it's a good amount. They say when you die, you see God, so either I'm dead, or God lives among us.
We decide where we get on the train from. Milli wants carriage ten, but I insist on carriage one, to which we both agree on the same carriage.
Milli and I get on the train that bounced back to its original platform, on the carriage that sits closest to the driver. We don't take a seat. Instead, Milli makes vague gestures that instinctually tell me to check every carriage before the train starts moving again. To our knowledge. the train "departs" once every half an hour, giving us twenty-five minutes until we experience something we have yet to experience yet.
First carriage, no passengers. Not a single trace of human life to be seen. Almost like this carriage was just constructed today. An hour ago, even. The second carriage also had no trace of passengers, but I did notice some strange discrepancies. The windows inside were clawed at and cracked. No particular order in which these things were accomplished, and no way to tell, because the windows were perfectly fine on the outside of the train.
How bizarre, he says sarcastically, as if bizarre things don't happen often.
The third carriage - and I promise we're walking through all ten carriages, including the drivers' - was slightly more chaotic. Small items of clothing, accessories, cheap jewellery, sprawled out across the floor, but no human activity. At this point, I expect "HELP ME" written in blood across the walls, and until I get to carriage ten, I'll be expecting it, and I won't be surprised when I see it.
Looks like Milli's apathy and cynicism rubbed off on me. No, I've always been like this. I think.
The further we go into the carriages, the more questions one could ask. Why is the train spotless on the outside but absolutely goofed up on the inside? Magic? Witchcraft?
Carriage four contains socks. Socks, underwear, anything delicate that you wouldn't want to step on, let alone walk around. Hats.
I just want this to be over, man. I could've wasted the day away, died, and done it all again.
The fact that Milli's been silent this whole time could only mean he takes his investigations very seriously. Me; I'm a laid back guy. I'm also pretty convinced I have a photographic memory. As if everything I've done is documented in my mind. I can just go back and read it again.
I take a look back to see where Milli is in his investigation, and then take a look at the cheap, brand-less watch on my wrist. It's 3:45; or at least as close to that time as possible. Which gives us six hours and fifteen minutes until we have to try again tomorrow. Today. The same day. We'll have to try again today.
Just doesn't sound right.
You know what else isn't right?
Milli's gone.
I turn around again, double-checking the status of our hired mercenary-slash-hitman-slash-contract-killing-friend, only to find that he is nowhere to be found. I backtrack.
From four, to three, to two, to one, Milli has effectively vanished. The P.A. system speakers don't speak, so we can cross "haunted train" off the list of phenomena I experience on a single-day-basis… but the doors.
The doors closed shut, right in front of my eyes.
Shut so tight, that even I, with uncut fingernails and universally 20-year old strength, could not pry them open.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
I stare deeply out the window, scanning the surrounding area as much as I can to discern anything out of the ordinary, to which I find a foggy, tinted window that blocks out all one could see, or wish to see. I check my pockets and find… a pager. Great. Helpful. I feel like a parent in the year 2000.
I tap the face of the pager as much as possible, but I get no response. It's as if…
The train itself is blocking me from the outside world.
My watch says 4pm, which means the train should start moving in about fifteen minutes, and there is currently no way to find out what will happen to me if I stay on it. Take a deep breath, panic later. Right now, we need to find Milli, get off the train, and try this experiment again.
Maybe it'll be a bonding experience.
Maybe this was the bonding experience.
I continue through the train carriages, starting from carriage four, making our way towards ten, expecting the worst through every one of them.
Carriage five seemed somewhat normal. Chairs where they should be, windows seem fine, no damage to note.
Ah, there we go.
Large puddle of blood on the floor. Enough to fill a whole human, I would assume. At least 12 pints of blood.
I hold my breath, the scent of blood stringing through my nostrils, trying as hard as possible to bring out as much vomit as possible. I endure, continue to hold my breath, and move around the puddle via climbing over the passenger chairs. As I finally reach the door to carriage six after a troubling game of 'the floor is lava', reach for the door, and find that the door is locked.
As if we didn't have enough drama on the train as-is.
I expect the train to ask me to answer its riddles three, yet the train remains silent and unmoving.
Trains do not have locks on their carriage doors, they are all automatic. Anyone could argue this, yet they would be wrong.
Unfortunately for me today, they would be correct.
A lock on a train carriage door?!
Ludicrous… yet, here it is.
New mission, find the key, get to the end of the train, find Milli, leave.
The trials we must face in order to make friends.
As my mission is laid before me, I hear a bubbling in the carriage. The blood puddle that lay stagnant in the middle of the carriage had started to rise, and increase in volume. From a human-amount of blood to a rising level of blood slowly moving upwards, the stakes suddenly grow higher.
Cease panicking! If I were a key, I would be somewhere noticeable. Yet the only thing noticeable is the…
The blood.
The carriage demands I sieve through the blood to find the key. The only issue is, well, if you've tried to see through blood, or open your eyes underneath it, it's very much translucent. Leaving me with the only option to find this key before the blood gets up to knee-height. If I could find it swimming around before ankle-height, we're in clear water.
Well, we're in blood. Definitely not clear water.
I thank the good lord that I didn't wear shorts today, and get on my knees to sieve my way through the blood for the key.
The blood oozes with an ambiguous texture thats neither wet nor dry, but a severely uncomfortable middle-ground. As my knees hit the train floor, I notice the blood doesn't feel like anything on my skin, nor on my trousers. It's just…
Nothing.
The water appears at a foot's height above my knees, which is around a quarter up my legs. I move closer to the middle of the carriage where the blood begins. However, the more I move towards the middle, the faster the blood rises.
Another hilarious predicament.
One that would be better with Milli around.
I bet that bastard's already escaped somehow.
Fortunately, as much as I do have a death wish, I do wish to see today through.
I get on my hands and knees, making key-finding a lot easier, and slowly continue towards the would-be geyser, the puddle-turned-shallow-pool. My hands wave in front of me as my knees nudge forward every so often.
Nudge… Nudge… Nudge…
At last, the centre of the carriage, and the blood only rose by an inch. I'd thank God, but I have a feeling she isn't helping me right now.
My hands continue to wave frantically as they continue to find nothing.
Fuck.
I know there has to be a key here somewhere, and I don't have the confidence nor the courage to dunk my head under blood.
But…
I don't have a choice.
My instincts pull me back immediately, but hesitation is my enemy. I need to do this. Even though the blood is just above halfway up my calf, it's just low enough to place one's head sideways under it. Remaining on my hands and knees, I take a deep breath and close my eyes.
If you've ever had the opportunity to experience a train carriage full of blood, you would wonder how one would see through a translucent liquid, and you would be completely correct. It should be impossible.
However, by some divine miracle, the blood is as see-through as water.
What the hell is this?
Some divine miracle?
I use the opportunity to scan the carriage to find the key sunken underneath the leftmost chair, third from the front.
Quickly, I get on my feet and wade towards the chair, reaching underneath it from the chair behind.
I have a strong feeling God is listening.
Grabbing the key, I make towards the door and slide the key into the lock and open it faster than I've ever opened any lock, and enter the sixth carriage.
One never knows what one will see on the other side of a door until they open it. I, unfortunately, have the privilege of being gaslit by the misleading window in said door. The window says 'safe and unassuming', yet opening the door reveals that it is actually a carriage that looks like a rhino had rampaged through it five times. Chairs have been removed from their placements and tossed around, if not permanently removed entirely. Windows are cracked just enough to get oxygen through, which is what I'm assuming the air coming through is.
I attempt to break the already-cracked window with a loose chair, only to find that the windows - although cracked - are unbreakable from the inside.
What a great and fun surprise.
Carriage six proves to be difficult. Not as in difficulty-level, I mean the attitude.
Carriage six sloppily throws me into a tornado situation where I assume to find another key, but upon wading through the mess, I find the keyhole is not in the shape of a key. It's not even a keyhole at all. The keyhole I am looking for doesn't actually exist, and is instead accompanied by an electric pad next to the door that demands a "press to open". A mechanic that remains quite unusually scarce in our year 2000.
Rats. Rats and also shit.
An expression, I assure you. There are not rats or shit in this carriage - as much as I assume. It's actually so much worse.
Furthermore, ask and you shall receive, because hilariously, the smell of shit fills the carriage.
Animals shouldn't be here.
Animals couldn't live here. Yet, I spot corpses among the debris. A fox, rabbits, squirrels, and an unfamiliar smell.
A really unfamiliar smell.
Human.
Ordinarily, I stay away from corpses. It doesn't matter what the dead body is, I stay away. Maybe out of respect, maybe because I don't like corpses. Today is a day full of spontaneity.
I inspect the human corpse. The only thing on the carriage that is fully clothed. It was a man, not too far from his thirties from what I could deduce. His body position implied that he was crushed by debris, escaped from underneath it, and died shortly after, whilst trying to crawl away. Not that it changes things. The poor lad here is dead and that's the only irrefutable fact that lies before me. Button shirt, formal trousers, heeled shoes, and a leather bag not too far from his outstretched arm.
I check the pockets. Five pockets in total, two in the front of the trousers, two in the back, and the one on the breast of his shirt. If the key isn't in either pocket, the bag is the only other option. I personally refuse to check inside any of the insides of any animal.
Let me elaborate.
I refuse to put my hand in anything's mouth, and I refuse to cut open anything, and proceed to dig inside of it, as if searching for treasure.
I feel like my refusal is perfectly justified.
So for anyone expecting myself to have to dig through an animal corpse, I have to let you know.
The key was in neither pocket, not bag.
What the hell?
God? Can we please give me less trials? Your strongest soldier has been through enough today.
I did not come with a scalpel, nor chainsaw, knife, anything of the sort.
This is the moment of glory. My time to shine. Time to demonstrate how proactive I can be.
I immediately try to force the door open with anything flat and hard. Inside the man's bag was a steel A4 folder that - in normal ordinary circumstances - should be considered a weapon, and lodged it right in the crack of the door, and jimmied as hard as a man can jimmy.
I'll give you three hints as to whether this worked, and I know you'll get it on the first try.
It did not work.
However… There may be solace.
The folder.
I make towards the smallest corpse closest to myself. The squirrels or the rabbits. Either way, no matter which one I pick, I'm not exactly going to heaven, and it won't make me a stronger soldier.
Unfortunately, being the word of the day, I have to pick one, or I'm stuck here until I'm dead. Checking my watch, that appears to be at least six and a half hours away.
I make towards the rabbit, as peaceful as it is, and slide the corner down the exposed body that I assume would be between the ribs, revealing the fleshy inside of a rodent. Ribs, guts, blood. Not that much blood, mind you. From the lack of it, I have to believe this guy's been dead for a while, which doesn't make what I'm doing any more humane.
From this point, you can already make out what we have to do. Every single animal becomes a victim to the steel folder of an unnamed man. The squirrels, ripped apart like a ball of play dough. The rabbits, unrecognisable as rabbits. The foxes, all two that found a place to die right here, looking like the underside of a carpet.
The key should be in the most inconspicuous place. If it isn't inside a corpse, the most disgusting thing inside the carriage, then it must be somewhere either genius or stupid. The corpses would be genius. Now I have to think stupidly.
I take a seat on one of the only undamaged and untethered seats, and start to brainstorm.
If I were a key amongst corpses, where would I be?
The stupidest question concocted today… Which may be the smartest so far.
Under chairs, inside the crevices, sellotaped to the walls or ceiling. I remain seated until the thoughts become more cohesive.
Chairs. Walls. Ceilings. We're crossing off corpses, thank God. The only stupidest option I haven't tried is simply trying to push the handle down as you would any carriage door, which upon realising this, became my next failed attempt.
Attempt number three involved detective work.
From a severely amateur detective. Some may even say that I have no experience whatsoever.
Upon scanning the car, I realise that the corpses I'd seen initially have gone back to their original status. That is to say, the corpses are no longer mutilated.
If a man mutilates a corpse, does he loose his humanity? If he does it over and over again, does he lose his sanity?
The corpses must be the key to the puzzle, and yet the puzzle gives no hints to the naked eye… Or so we assume.
Accompanying the corpses are tiny items, things that would be misleading to anyone who could see the obvious corpses scattered around.
My detective sense is tingling.
Does God want me to mutilate each animal and human in order of how many personal effects surround them?
That complicates things. A lot.
God is creating a sinner by Herself.
I start with the fox. A single spinning top lies by its front-right paw, whilst the remaining paws are free and available. I search inside the ribcage after a clean slice from the folder to find a piece of paper. The paper reads; "Use your instincts"… Yeah right.
Absolute nonsense.
Anyway, I continue to use my instincts and go after the rabbit that lies underneath one chair, its back-left leg is trapped inside a hollow point in the chair, and the poor thing must have died from trying too hard.
The folder glides like scissors through wrapping paper, leaving no frayed points or snags in the flesh. My fingers pry the ribs open to find another piece of paper crumpled up inside the right lung of the rodent. I expect a cryptic message inside, and I really brace myself for mystery. The second paper reads; "You are only human" which does sound about right. Human is all I've ever been, and as far as I'm aware, is all I'll ever be.
Next up is the two squirrels, one after the other. The notes were significantly smaller inside these little guys, notably because they're significantly smaller animals than the fox of the rabbits. The notes were inside one ribcage, and one lower abdomen, which surprised me the most since I never had knowledge of the insides of squirrels until today. Both notes read, in order; "You are not alone" and "Keep your heart" as if they mean something when they're stained with blood.
Finally, we have the human man, cold and frozen in a desperate plea for his life on the carriage floor. I don't want to conduct another surgery, because I'm queasy enough. I look through his bag again, where I found not a single thing earlier, to find another folder. Plastic, not very expensive. Opening it up reveals plastic wallets filled with A4 pages of numbers and random words between them, around 20-25 pages, back-to-front, filled to the brim on both sides. I flick through some more. The first 5 pages were typed out as if printed from a computer, and every page after was written in a fountain pen. Moments where the ink couldn't reach the page stay etched into the paper, allowing it to still be cohesive even if half the letters are technically not there. After page 6, the words become more coherent. They start to create sentences, and even paragraphs after a while. The paragraphs document the history of the train, and the victims of the phenomena. I start to become immersed in the narrative.
*
"6. 15. 24. 33. 42. 51. 71. 82. 93. 104. 115. 126.
I was making my way to work, boarding the train, when I started to notice numerical issues with the passengers. Five men, four women, one pregnant, two children, and one dog. After we left Heart station, the passengers became more erratic. Usually, people don't complain about the trains. Everyone knows where they go. The schedules are so perfect that we all have them memorised. It's hard to be late when your body moves by itself… But today? Today all I could hear was complaining. Three children crying, two babies fighting, and eventually, a single incident happens to throw it all off.
Please understand that I have no reason to exaggerate the events of my own death, but as I lay here bleeding, I see the numbers that encapsulate my existence. 24. 33. 6. 71. 82. 42. 6. 71. My life was meaningless. Death came for us all in the blink of an eye, and she was magnificent. No-one could have predicted the 6. 6. 6. 6. 6. 6. 6.
12. 9. 6. 3. 105. 114. 123. 6. 6. 6.
The train never made it to Hair station. When the demon came, we were all caught off guard. One by one, the passengers are picked off.
Windows. 18. Humans. 51. Children. 18. Animals. 10.
When God unleashed her mighty judgement upon us, we were all sinners."
*
I evaluate the many questions I have about this. How did the man put these papers into plastic wallets? If he didn't, who did? Did someone place their thoughts onto paper and set up this whole scenario?
Whatever.
The key was at the back of the folder, attached to a photo of a woman and what we could only assume is her daughter.
A truly beautiful memento of people I will never meet.
Until I take a closer look…
The daughter… Looks extremely familiar.
I unleash the key and unlock the carriage door immediately, entering the seventh carriage without thinking what was on the other side.