Derailed

Derailed

By Harriett M. Clarke

The grisly bodies dismembered from the horrendous impact lay bare and exposed before his brown eyes. Perched on a dirt mound above the dismantled body parts he stared wide eyed into a precipice of darkness below never beheld by most boys his age. He tried not to focus on the pungent smell of feces, urine and raw blood as he felt himself tilt forward falling as he gasped for air, clawing at the swiftly moving space between him and the dead bodies giving his stomach a heave and a hoo, lurching into an abyss of nothingness.

Samuel woke with a start at the recurring dream which was his to bear. “For all eternity”, he thought. As consciousness of his surroundings began to dawn on his now adult mind better able to comprehend the gruesome picture of a time long past.

He tumbled out of bed and surveyed the tousle that remained his bed chamber since Mariann’s death. His wife, Mariann of 25 years had not appeared to him in two months. He had to admit he felt a longing to connect with her spirit as he had grown accustomed to the solace it gave him after her passing. Her apparition was an unassuming figure always lurking in her favourite spot by the window as the living woman had once sat peacefully knitting a sock or a sweater which she would insist he wore for all the work she had put into it.

“Come here Sam”, he remembered her voice. Never a decibel louder than was necessary. “Soft spoken that one”, he thought, but the ominous figure he had begun to see soon after her death usually said nothing. Having gone months without encountering “that figment of his imagination”, as Elizabeth often described it, he was beginning to wonder if that was a good sign.

Elizabeth Dunkley was his, first and foremost, shrink who he had recently started dating being unable to ignore the physical attraction which came up between them during their sessions. He had quit her council of course, but she still offered her two cents and required him to rehash each session he had with his present psychologist. “Is that what he said “she would be mused as she picked what he thought was a perfectly good suggestion to pieces. “These young ones”, she said referring to his psychologist in particular and the whole adult population of millennials in general. “They are so theoretical, no practical use in that.”

“You are just saying that because you miss being my shrink”, he had drawn her to him and as she snuggled in his quite embrace, she murmured in confirmation, “I do believe you are right”, she had said, stifling a chuckle.

                                 ____________________

The sun had begun to come up and as he sat on his wooden porch, he could hear the creaking of the wood as they adjusted to the heat in the atmosphere. The entire porch had been made from good old fashion oak, many of which had been chopped down over the years leaving only one as it stood tall and proud in his back yard. The jingling of the chains on his gate made him aware that someone had entered his premises. His head shot up from his preoccupation with cleaning his nails to behold his Elizabeth cladded in a snuggly fitted jeans making her way, hips swaying as she glided up the little garden track towards him. She had donned a pretty pink t-shirt with the words smartly printed across her bosom, “Buckle Up! You are about to be derailed!!” 

“Hello my cryptic friend”, she greeted. As Samuel stood to greet her, she leaned up for a peck on the lips. “Missed me”, she winked and grinned at him like a Cheshire Cat as she made her way towards the open door leading into his kitchen.

He loved it when she did that it was so disarmingly comfortable and sexy all in one, he thought. She had made him almost forget Mariann. It had been six years since the love of his life passed. His trend of thought was interrupted, however, as his new love emerged from the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee.

“Hmmm”, she moaned, with her eyes closed as she took a whiff of the coffee steams reaching out like flaring hands to tickle and caress her nostrils. “Now this is the stuff”, she beamed.

“Glad you like it fresh from the mountains, handpicked and dried on this very land”, he mocked, giving her a fake farmer’s drawl. 

She came and sat beside him. Leaning back, their eyes took aimless gaze upon the wide expanse of farmlands owned for more than 100 years by his family, the Watkins. For generations they had tilled the land, sharecropping until they owned it to this day. As the wind blew across the grassy expanse, his thoughts got caught up with the small tornadoes of dust twirling upwards, then down again to break the monotony of swaying long lush green fields almost touching a mysterious horizon.

“A pound for your thoughts”, said Elizabeth, seeking to break the long silence between them.

“If I were to get a pound for every time you wandered off in your head, I would be a rich woman today” she said testily. “Now seriously Sam are you okay?” concern reaching those deep dark eyes as she tried to penetrate his assumed nonchalant stare.

He shrugged not wanting to burden her too much with things past. “So how is the practice, usually you are rattling off about some maniac whose brain you are trying to shrink, so who is the latest victim?” He tried to sound as casual as possible but from the intense gaze Liz gave him, he knew his efforts at evading had failed to convince.

He was a bit taken aback when she asked, “Sam are you still having those dreams?”

Trying to recover from her blunt but true assertion, Sam decided to go with the truth.

“Even more now than before”, he admitted and continued in an attempt to lighten the mood, "must be residual from all the talking I have been doing on the subject and by the way it’s the anniversary coming”, he added. 

“You mean…”, she paused, “the Kendal Crash?”

“Yup”, was his weary reply, trying his best to play down the misery. For years like a soldier experiencing survivors' remorse and PTSD, the flash backs were disruptive during the day and nightmarishly real at nights. His present shrink referred to it as a derailment which seemed to be much the buzz among psychologist these days.

Being born in the late 1940’s did not help. His generation was never one to think too much about mental health and the benefits of psychiatric consultation, but this was 1990 for crying out loud, he was 42 years old and the torture he had endured since the age of 9 had begun to take its toll, especially now since Mariann was gone. “If I had not engaged Elizabeth when I did, I knew I may have ended it all”; his uneasy reflection was cut short by Elizabeth’s next statement.

“May I add that this is a good time to mark the occasion", she said pointedly, “what’d you say we make a trip to Manchester and ride the train there.”

At the utter of the word train, panic swept over his entire being filling him with unspeakable dread. Without warning beads of cold sweat awoken on his broad forehead and his head swoon with an invisible re-enactment of screeching rails and a horrific crash which only he could hear.

                                      _____________________

Samuel had stood near the train’s platform and waved frantically to his Aunt Ruby who had accompanied the youngster to see him off. He had hugged her so tightly, begging her to look after herself as he had an uneasiness which his nine-year-old self could not put into words. He had prayed for her safe return home and was feeling better. But he still felt a nervous void in the pit of his little tummy. To calm himself he pushed the lollipop Aunt Ruby gave him into his mouth and mounted the platform.

Sam was returning home before the school term began. He had always enjoyed his summers with Aunt Ruby. Playing marbles with his pals, catching banga in the ponds with his boy cousins. Aunt Ruby was a gem. She loved to bake, and he enjoyed her tasty muffins hot from the oven as he and his cousins often fought over the last tins reserved for Aunt Ruby’s guest that never came. He often wondered if this was her way of getting them to save some of the muffins for the next day. She reminded him so much of his mom, and he thought. “If mom died, I could always go stay with Aunt Ruby, but what if Aunty died.” The dread retuned “Please Lord spare Aunty", was his quite prayer.” They had just started off and he could hear the rattling and chug of the engines as the train roared to life, picking up speed and literally taking the wind with it as it steamed along the hillside.

He settled down in a seat beside an old man who was asleep and began looking through the train window onto the scenic view as it rushed by in a flight of greens, yellows and sometimes blue meadowed fields delicately laced with a variety of plant life, suddenly vanishing as the train disappeared within the hilly mountainous frame. His thoughts relaxed and went back to remembering his time spent with his aunt and cousins. As the train approached the intersection where the rails met to switch route his wondering thoughts of his latest marble winnings was abruptly shattered as his nine-year-old brain registered the ominous sound of crunching rail tracks. “What was that?”, he thought. The passenger beside him, the elderly man who was asleep snapped awake. “We reach?” he said, trying to balance his hat while addressing Sam. Almost instantly Sam could hear blood curdling screams and an uproar of shouts and commands erupted all at once throughout the coaches.” Get out of the way!!!” “…Oh Lord" was heard among the invisible confusion; then a loud crash and the coach Sam was in began to shake violently. There was suddenly an acrid smell of heated metal and gasoline which drifted up his nostrils then it dawned on him. The train was derailed.

                                    ___________________

Sam and Liz arrived at the train station half an hour before its scheduled departure. Hadn’t it been a lovely day Sam knew he would have changed his mind and probably turned back. But he saw how Liz was determined and she was also light-hearted. Maybe an outing was not such a bad idea after all, only, he had not ridden a train since the Kendal Crash incident.

“Let’s see, tickets, check, Liz, check, is Sam here?” she teased. “Check!”, he supplied, trying to mirror her mood.

She took hold of his hand, and they walked side by side towards the platform.

Mounting the train was going to take some doing thou, he thought, as their wait had begun to build a familiar uneasiness within him. He began to perspire again. And as he launched into the abyss of his tumultuous chaos, he could hear Liz’s frantic voice, “Sam!” “Sam!”, “are you okay?”. His head swirled and he was back in Manchester as his nine-year-old self, in his room facing the mirror. He felt an uneasiness swept over him. The hairs on his arms and neck began to stand on edge, but as soon as it came it was gone. Even then he knew that this feeling was odd and what always followed was hearing about the passing of someone close to the family or something tragic that happened in the community. But most of all it sometimes meant he was about to see some apparition in the yard. As a boy he had become used to seeing ghostly figures from time to time. For his family, the Watkins this had never been unusual. They were gifted that way. And although not all were, there was an understanding and respect for those who did. Sam was one of them. But today he saw no ghost. “Okay” said Sam. If anything, Aunt Ruby will write to tell them if anyone in the district had passed. He was preparing to go back home that day. But what if it was Aunt Ruby. Dread filled him, but he shook it off and began to pray. Dear Lord let Aunt Ruby be ok I ask in your name Lord Jesus. Amen” He felt better. His family was deeply religious, and Christians devotes going to church faithfully every Sunday.

“Sam!”, called Aunt Ruby “you had better hurry, or you will be staying with me for the school year.” “Coming Aunty”, he bellowed back and picked up his suitcase looking back as if committing to memory the good times he had in this bedroom. He then turned and made his way towards the door.

                                        __________________

Sam had come off the cab miles from home. A walk would clear his head, he thought. As he reached the gate it dawned on him how angry Liz had been. He had to leave. He just could not get on that train. As mindless as that seemed. There had been an unbearable compulsion which he could not deny. He would make up with her later but right now he was home where he felt safe. He pushed the back door and entered his living room. The walk back had taken at least half an hour, so he was still in time to catch the 7-o clock news. He sat in his lazy boy and grabbed the remote. As soon as he clicked the local channel, he knew something was terribly wrong. There on the television screen engulfed in flames, the train. Apparently there had been a derailment.

“Good Lord!”, he could hear himself as he picked up the phone in astonishment to call Liz. Suddenly from the corner of his eye he saw it. A ghost that resembled his love. His Liz. “No!” he, gasped as he fell to his knees with the phone still in his hands. “She hadn’t”, he sobbed “why did she then?”

The apparition eyed him and walked towards the kitchen never once taking its eyes away from the broken man sobbing on the floor. As its ghostly frame disappeared, he knew what he had always known. He could not go on. He lifted himself from the wooden floor and made his way towards the oak tree in the back yard.

                                ________________________

“This is such a tragedy!”, lamented Officer Drax as they eyed the body swing aimless in the wind. They had been called and found Sam's lifeless body hanging in the back yard. The wailing in the background was relentless. “Who did you say she was again?”, asked Drax referring to the wailing sounds. “Who?”, asked officer Jaggs, absent-mindedly as he tore his gaze away from Sam’s body to focus on where Drax had gestured.

 “The lady who called us, poor soul” said Drax. “Elizabeth Dunkley”, replied Jaggs. “I presume his lady friend from the sounds of it.”

“Oh, I thought I heard she was also his shrink”, said Drax and continued, “Mad that one I tell you those shrinks never help, personally I think they make matters worse.” “Well, it sure looks that way”, replied Jaggs eyeing the body. “That’s why I stay the hell away from them!”

                                                           The End