Travelling with a Friend

Travelling with a Friends.

Simon the rat, and yes, it is really Simon. Like you and come to that, Simon knew all Rat names begin with the letter “R”, But Simons mother wanted to be different. That was different, Simon thought. Anyway, I digress.

Simon, like all rats, was hunting for food one day when he smelt an enticing aroma coming from the station warehouse. Apples, carrots, fish, and his favourite meat. So, of course, he had to investigate.

Skirting the building, he found an orange clay pipe through the wall; they were expecting me, he thought. His feet would get wet, but a rat was used to that. It was dark inside, just how he liked it, no humans. For some reason, he had never found one that liked him. Hell, if he had not been so well adjusted, he might take offence. The apple smell was strong, and he felt like something sweet to start the day with.

He had just taken a bite out of the first one when the whole place was suddenly bathed in light. Then the voices. Humans, he needed to find a safe place to hide until they left. He scurried under a pallet of boxes, then gnawed a hole in one. He knew they would not see the hole; the pallet was too low to the ground for a human to crawl under.

Once inside the box, that just happened to be full of shredded paper, his favourite bedding, he decided to sleep the day away. They had to leave at some point; he thought.

He had just got comfortable when some inconsiderate human decided to move the pallet. Having been disturbed, he waited for the human to get bored with the game and put him down so he could get some sleep. It took a while, but eventually the human had enough of the game and put him on a raise platform.

He knew this, as when the movement stopped, Simon was expecting to have the sensation of being lowered, but instead he went even higher before being placed on a firm surface. Moments later, he heard a sliding door shut. Looking out through the hole, it was dark. Sleep was still a good idea, he thought, making a nest in the shredded paper. He was soon asleep.

When he woke, he wondered how long he had slept, not that us rats had any concept of time. Time for a rat consisted of just two-time frames: time to sleep or time to eat. Dropping out of the box and onto the wooden floor, Simon peeked out from under the pallet. It was dark still, none of those pesky humans, but there was some light coming from the crack where the two doors met. He could hear humans, but they seemed far away, nevertheless he went to the door and looked through the crack, spotting instantly he was outside. That didn’t matter. He knew how to get back in.

He had just started to look for a way out of this room when there was a sudden jolt, making him stagger. “What the hell,” he thought. “A room that moves by itself. What game are they playing now?” he wondered.

He needed to know what was happening. Had they got that big yellow thing out again? Were they moving me back inside? He thought about it. Should he get back in the box and wait for this human to stop messing around? Hell, he didn’t know. He was a rat, after all.

It was no good; he had to see; the suspense was starting to get to him. Peering through the crack again he heard the man say, “There goes the London to Glasgow train. We better….” The voices faded. They had moved away from the room. What did he mean, London to Glasgow train? But then the penny dropped. Am I on that train?” he pondered. I’ve never been on a train. Are rats even meant to travel on them? Was it safe? Was he safe? That he didn’t know. He had heard of a rat that had been on a boat once, yes, but a train, not something he had ever heard of. Did they even have food on the train? There was none in here, he would smell it if there were. He would starve. If he could sweat, scream or cry at this moment, he would do all three. But he was a rat.

Hell, he was a rat. Rats overcome adversity every day, they were good at it. He remembered when his mother disappeared. He was hungry, so as just six months old, he found food. That was the good old days. A year of living in a burrow, he had dug under a chicken coop. The human fed the chickens every day, all the food he could ever want. They even supplied the water for him to drink just outside his entrance. When they moved away, though, that was a different story. He liked grain, but the only place he could get it now was a bird feeding table, and almost to his detriment, he found out how true that was. He was eating one night after a hard climb, and he almost became food for an owl. That was the last time he ever climbed up to a bird table. The thought of being the food on the table, well, that was a lesson well learnt.

He wasn’t enjoying the noise, the clickety clack was hampering with his thought processes, and he had to find a way out of this room if he stood any chance of eating. But how? There were the doors with the crack in the middle, but the ground went past so fast, he was sure he would hurt himself if he went that way. The only other option was the little door, but that was closed.

He had barely had the thought when a human opened the door. He didn’t think, he ran, startling the human that did a small dance. It wasn’t the first time he had that effect on a human. It must be something humans liked to do, he thought. He ran up the corridor, looking for somewhere to go, but all the doors were closed. So, he kept going.

At the end, it turned slightly to the right and there was another door, but a kind woman opened it for him. She did the same dance, but this one screamed. It hurt his sensitive ears; he was glad when the door closed.

When the big man opened the second door, he slipped in unseen; The man seemed to be more interested in the screaming woman human to see him. His eyes went wide. The long room was full of humans, seating on both sides of the room. Luckily though, they were all facing the other way, so he quickly took cover under the first seat. Suddenly it went dark outside. There were lights in the room, but they were not bright, he took his chance and darted under the seats, as he passed under the eighth one however, a man almost stepped on him, distracted, and still running, he ploughed into the wall at the end. Stunned, he turned and scurried under the nearest seat. But he had been seen. A young female human climbed down from her seat and peered under at him. She didn’t scream or dance. She smiled. Broke off a piece of her sandwich and placed it on the floor next to him.

Okay, that was strange, he thought. Should he eat it? It was a rhetorical question, really. Of course he was going to eat it. He was a rat, and he was hungry. The girl watched in fascination as he devoured the bread, and as soon as he finished, she gave him another piece. This piece even had meat with it.

She had just put a third piece down when the man in a black uniform came in. He was checking under the seats with a mirror on a stick. The girl, seeing what he was doing, reached up to the luggage rack and got her backpack down. She opened the top, pulled out her coat, then placed the backpack on the floor. Simon did not need a road map; he was inside the bag within seconds.

The conductor stopped at her seat. “Young lady, is that your bag down there?” he asked.

“It is,” she replied.

“There is a rodent on the train. Can I check your bag please, in case it has taken refuge inside?”

The girl picked up the bag. “No,” she said firmly. “I will look.”

She peered into the bag, making motions to check it thoroughly, then announced, “Just my spare underwear, toilet bag, and my pens.” Then placed it on the floor gently, the top still unzipped enough that Simon could breathe or escape if he needed to. The conductor moved on, checking both sides of the other half of the carriage, then exited at the far end.

Simon was starting to like this girl. She was quick, and smart, and most importantly, he thought she liked him. First travelling on a train, second, he had found a human friend. What was the third thing going to be? Everyone knew good luck came in three’s.

The girl picked up her bag, unzipped it fully and laid it back on the floor, saying, “It's okay. He has gone, and placed a broken piece of a biscuit on the floor next to the open top of the backpack.

Simon thought he was dreaming. He had never heard of any human go to these lengths to help a rat before. Maybe he was the first it had happened to, but he had no way of knowing. Simon picked up the biscuit and took it inside the bag to eat out of the limelight. I’m not dreaming, he thought. Ginger biscuits never tasted that good in his dreams before.

Moments later, the big human woman sitting next to the girl woke up. “Did I hear you talking to someone?” she asked.

“Yes, I was asking the conductor if the dining car was still open. I am feeling a little hungry.” She lied.

“Do you want to get a meal or something?” She enquired, still half asleep.

“No, a sandwich and an apple will do,” the girl stated. “Oh, and a drink, please.”

“Don’t think I’m getting you one of those energy drinks, though. I don’t want you bouncing all over the carriage for the next hour. It will be water or a fruit juice drink, my lady. Take it or leave it.”

“Water is fine, but can I have something sweet as well, please? A KitKat or something?”

“I will think about it,” the woman said as she stood. “Are you going to be all right here by yourself? I don’t know what the cues will be like. It may take a while.”

“I’m not six, mother, I am twelve if you need reminding. I will be fine,” she said, as her mother reached for her purse.

“Less of the cheek, Girly. I will be back as soon as I can.” And her mother walked away.

As soon as her mother was out of sight, the girl knelt on the floor to check on Simon. “She’s gone to get us some more food.” She informed Simon.

Simon stuck his head out of the bag and looked around, then dived back in as a pair of overly sized shoes appeared in the aisle, next to the girl.

“What have you there?” He asked.

“My bag,” she replied dryly. “

“Yes, I can see that, but what is in your bag?” He asked.

“Nothing to interest you, just my teddy, Roland.”

“Hum! A teddy… Uh. Really, and you were talking to your teddy?” he asked.

“Yes, I was telling him that mother has gone to get us some sweeties and an apple.”

“Is that right? And your teddy, does he move all by himself? Because I am sure I saw that bag move.” He stated.

“Yes, but the batteries are low. He just twitches.”

“Exactly what I thought I saw, something twitching. Sure that is not a rat in your bag?” he pushed.

“I don’t think Roland would like to be called a rat. He is sensitive like that.” She said.

“Can you show me Roland?” he asked softly.

Just then, the girl's mother returned. “Why are you talking to my child? Are you one of them?”

“No… no. I…, I…, I am the conductor. I believe your daughter has a rat in her bag,” he said nervously.

“Is that the best you can come up with? My daughter is smuggling a rat to Scotland… Huh? Go away or I will have you reported.”

The conductor panicked and was about to protest, when he saw out of the corner of his eye people were watching him. He thought twice about it and stormed down the carriage. He avoided them from that point.

As the girl expected, as soon as her mother finished eating, she fell asleep. Travelling anywhere, her mother always slept through the whole journey given the chance.

Simon couldn’t believe this girl. She was like him. She didn’t take stick from anyone. She was her own girl.

The girl knelt back on the floor, bringing out a piece of sandwich, and passed it to Simon. “I should have stopped that with the conductor, but I couldn’t let him see you in my bag. He might have thrown you off the train, and I doubt he would have stopped it first.

For the next hour, the girl talked to Simon. Telling him about her house and her room. How good it was going to be back home and seeing her dad. She told him about her father and then all about her friends. The time flew by. She fed him bread, ham, apple, and even a piece of her KitKat chocolate biscuit.

Then the train speaker system crackled to life.

“We will be pulling into Glasgow central station in ten minutes. Please make sure you take all your belongings with you. Check the luggage rack to make sure you leave nothing behind. I hope you enjoyed your journey with the N.I.M.H. Railways.

“Stay in my bag. I will get you off the train safely,” she told Simon.

As they were waiting for the train to pull into the station, the girl asked her mother, “What does N.I.M.H. stand for?” As she could not work out the railway acronym and what it stood for.

“That takes me back to my school days,” she started. “It was about a group of rats that were highly intelligent. I read that book when I was not much older than you are now. Why, was that something the conductor was talking to you about?”

“Something like that,” she said.

Not what she was asking, but all the same, who would credit it? A train service, she was travelling on, with the same acronym as a book about rats? It was fate. She decided there and then, she was keeping her new furry friend. She was home, and dad would be on her side when she told him the story.

As they were about to climb off the train, she whispered to Simon in her bag. I am taking you home with me, Roland. And we will read N.I.M.H. together.

Roland liked his new name.