Last Train To Eternity

David Ashworth was breathless when he slumped into his seat on the 7.17 train to Waterloo. He’d had to run, and his body, he decided, was not made for such activities.

His wife Janice had surprised him with a full English breakfast this morning, and it would have been rude not to do it justice. “Just to celebrate your last day at work”, she’d said. Much as he’d enjoyed it, he’d sooner have had it tomorrow on his first day of retirement. Then there’d have been no need to rush. He breathed deeply as he rubbed his chest, feeling the onset of indigestion. 

He supposed he could have caught the later train, been late. What could they do? Sack him? But no. He had a 100% attendance record, only ever late if the train itself had been delayed. He wasn’t going to blot his copybook now. At least he had one hour twenty minutes before his train got to Waterloo. He could try and relax on the way. 

He’d been doing this commute for all his working life, first as an apprentice bookkeeper at the age of sixteen, latterly as head of finance at a software house. He’d spent his life with spreadsheets and databases, and each day his brain had coped with the challenges with ease. Running for the train though, that had been something beyond his capabilities. Now that retirement was upon him, he promised himself if not to get fit, then to lead a less sedentary life.

He looked around him as the train began its journey. The carriage no longer had any character, unlike those he’d first travelled in. It was bland, vanilla, dirty. He looked at his fellow passengers. What a mishmash of society they were. Back when he was a young, most passengers were white, male, well dressed. And polite. If they read anything, it was the newspaper, and there was always conversation. He thought about some of the people he had got to know over those early years. There was Bill Martin, worked in a bank. Always had advice for a young lad just starting out in the world of finance. Then there was Arthur Cartwright, a lawyer and avid cricket fan. Listening to him wax lyrical about the latest test match was enough to inspire anyone’s burgeoning interest in the sport, and David had been a life-long fan. Both would be long dead by now, of course. That had been so many years ago.

He looked at his current fellow passengers. There was a coloured youth sat opposite him, ear plugs in, head nodding in time to whatever it was he was listening to. Next to the lad was a young woman busy texting, though how she managed it with those nails, David couldn’t imagine. Sat next to David was a man in a suit talking loudly into his phone. He even had it on speaker phone, just so his fellow passengers wouldn’t miss any part of the conversation. Up and down the train, most passengers seemed to be connected. If they weren’t on their phones or tablets, they had laptops open and were working. David felt like a dinosaur among this lot. Oh, he had a mobile, of course he did, and he was very computer literate. But he lacked the need to be connected at all times. Yes, he thought, definitely time to retire and take life at a slower pace. He rubbed at the indigestion in his chest again, sighed, and closed his eyes.

When he opened them, the surroundings had changed. He was still on a train, but not the one he had been on originally. It was light, airy, clean. He looked around; he was alone he realised. But wait, the door at the other end of the carriage was opening.

His eyes shot open and he was back in the original carriage. Just a dream, he thought. What a pity; the clean coach had been such a pleasant change. He caught the young man opposite looking at him curiously. He pulled his coat closer round himself, looked out the window before closing his eyes again.

He was back in the carriage again, the other carriage, the clean one. Like before he was alone, until the door at the other end of the carriage opened. This time he watched as a man walked through. He was tall, slender, dressed all in white. His eyes protruded slightly and he stared at David, unblinking, as he started to make his way slowly, so very slowly, along the train, a slight smile on his lips. Although there was nothing threatening about his appearance, for some reason David did not like the man. His smile seemed insincere.

He woke with a gasp and a start, back on the 7.17 to Waterloo. “You okay mate?” The young man opposite had taken out his earphones and was leaning forward, looking at him.

“What? Oh yes, just fell asleep and had a bad dream. Nothing to worry about.”

“Well if you’re sure. You don’t look too great. Perhaps you should go home?”

“Just a bit of indigestion. My wife cooked me a full English this morning. Think I ate too much, that’s all.”

“Well if you’re sure.”

David looked towards the window as the young man continued to stare at him, and tried to calm his breathing until the vision of the mans cold smile had subsided. 

He was back in the carriage. He looked around him, looked at the cleanliness, the perfection of the carriage. He looked down at himself, fully expecting to see himself naked – isn’t that how these things work out? But no, he was dressed in his normal, tired suit. He looked round the carriage. As before, it was light, clean, airy, yet somehow it didn’t feel pleasant anymore. It didn’t feel right. The light was too white, the air too thin, the spotlessness somehow disturbing. He noticed too that there was nothing outside the carriage windows, no light, no darkness, just nothingness. And there was no sound; the train was completely silent, though it swayed slightly as it sped along its tracks.

As before the long thin man entered the carriage and began to walk towards him. David watched the unblinking eyes watching him, the insidious smile starting to form on those lips.

“You’d better get back to where you came from young man”, came a voice from his right. David turned his head and there was Bill Martin sat next to him, dressed in a smart white suit.

“You don’t want to give him an inch, that one”, said a voice on his left. He turned again, and there was Arthur Cartwright, in his cricket whites, complete with cap and bat. 

David was not liking the way things were turning out, the way that there were two seats, and yet there was someone seated on either side of him. He looked at the long man again. He was nearer now, and he had something in his hand. He was stretching out his hand towards David as if to offer him whatever was there.

“Go on boy, go back,” whispered Martin in his ear. “You know it’s the logical thing to do.”

“Yes,” said Arthur, “don’t want to be stuck on this ruddy train forever, do you? Knock him for six. Here, do you want my bat?”

Then just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, the young man who’d been sat opposite had taken Martins place. “Are you okay mate? Mate?” And David looked on in horror as the face came closer, as the man leaned in for a kiss. Then everything went blank.

When he next came round, he opened his eyes slightly. Light, clean, airy. He sat up in a panic.

“David?” He turned and saw Janice sitting beside him. 

“Where am I?”

“In hospital.”

“But work.”

“Gave us quite a scare. If it hadn’t been for that young man.”

“Yes, but work.”

“Never mind about work. You concentrate on getting well.”

“What happened?” Just then he spied a familiar face over Janice’s shoulder coming towards them slowly dressed in white.

“David? David. Are you all right? Doctor.” The doctor hurried over. It was the young coloured man who had been sat opposite him in the carriage.

“Mr Ashworth?” He took hold of David’s wrist and looked at his watch while he counted. When he was satisfied, he stood over David and looked him in the eye. “Now I need you to calm down for me Mr Ashworth. Do you think you could do that for me? You’ve had a small heart attack. Nothing we’ve not been able to fix though. You’ve had an operation and we’ve inserted a stent.” There was a beep and the doctor reached into his pocket for his pager. David noticed that the top corner of the pocket was slightly frayed. He found that somewhat comforting. “Sorry, I’ve got to go now. We’ll have another talk later. Sandra, ten-minute obs please.”

“Small heart attack, he says.” Janice was also watching the young man’s retreating back. “If it hadn’t been for him, you’d probably be dead.” David remembered the young mans’ face coming towards him as if for a kiss and suddenly saw it for what it was, an effort to resuscitate him.

Outside in the corridor, the long thin man watched the scene through the small window in the door and sighed. Not today, it would seem. He tossed the coin he’d been holding, the one he was going to give David to pay the ferryman, and put it in his pocket. Still, now he was here, surely there’d be someone else ready for the next train ride.