Lee Kerr - Welcome to the Apocalypse

It makes it halfway into the station when the first person falls onto the tracks. I look over and hear the screams of those who must have seen them fall, and of those who are about to witness a brutal death. No one leans down to help; everyone just pushes back against those behind them, desperate not to suffer the same fate. Some women scream, as do some men, while others look down silently. Perhaps they pushed them, perhaps they know them, but all I see is a hand reaching up from the track, then swiftly disappearing as whoever it was is swallowed up by the machine that cannot possibly stop now.

I see at least three more people fall to the same fate. I imagine the driver shutting his ears to the terror of others and closing his eyes to the blood that has stained his window. Those who are lost are quickly forgotten as the two-thirds-full tube comes to a halt. The doors don’t open immediately. The announcements demand that we get on in an orderly fashion, and that this tube will be heading back down to Brixton. The automated announcement of ‘let passengers off the train first, please,’ echoes throughout the station but we all know that no one will be crazy enough to get off and there are more people squeezed down here than could ever fit on, even if the train was empty.

I look up at the board to see that it is still blank, and I curse myself for not having lined up next to one of the doors. I start to count the huge numbers of people in front of me, and then I push my way left, towards the door at the end of one of the carriages. I can only hope that most people around me will have put their bets on the double doors.

I look through the windows into the tube train, and see that the many people inside don’t look like they feel safe. They are all looking out, staring into the mass of frantic people who are about to bring their savagery into this travelling haven. I wonder if they know more than we do, if they know what has happened.

‘This station is closed, you must board this train,’ an announcement says. It comes from the tube staff who spoke earlier. I see that he has only managed to make it a few feet since I last saw him. While he states the obvious, he moves forward, slowly squeezing himself past everyone else, making it clear that he plans to board this train along with the rest of us.

It forces me to move forward and as the doors open my shuffling turns into blatant pushing, as those behind me make their intentions quite clear. My eyes dart between the small entrance ahead of me and the windows, as I see how quickly this precious space is filling up. People are spilling into the tube train like water set free from a dam into a quiet river, quickly pushing further into the centre of the carriage. They must be happy to be one of the few to have made it on because once they have passed the threshold and found a place for themselves, they look out, suddenly thinking of the rest of us. A man looks at me, and seeing that I am still stuck on the other side, while his position now secured, his expression turns to something that looks like sorrow, but not sorry enough to help.

As I reach my turn I realise how close I am and how far I still have to go. The carriage is full – my eyes tell me this and the voices of those lucky enough to be on board confirm it to me. In the fight for air, their manners get pushed away to some distant place, far from the reality of this long tunnel. I frantically look for a space, realising that I’m shouting out loud, telling everyone just how small I am, as those behind me are still pushing. They’re not trying to push me further in, but rather trying to get me out of the way so they can get a chance to shout, beg and sell desperate stories of their own.

‘Board this train now,’ the announcement says, which I think is a little pointless. ‘This is the last tube. Leave now… get on board now!’

The doors bleep as they start to close and I make my attempt. I push against those who are blocking my way, determined that I will fit, whether I have to climb above them or crawl under them. I make it at least halfway onto the tube before the doors close. The one single door hits the right side of my body before pulling back, doing its duty to protect a human from harm. I realise that I am back onto the platform and hands are grabbing at every part of my body. I look over to see that beside every door are people who have pushed their luck and ultimately failed.

I hear the bleep again and make the same move, this time with even more determination and just a little hope that my last push has cleared some space among the bodies of these ample strangers. I move through the door, my head passing the threshold first. I think I might just make it, as I push against the tide of disjointed limbs, until I’m met with the forceful hands of another. This woman looks down at me, her makeup smudged and her blouse half-ripped. ‘There is no more fucking room!’ she shouts, as she pushes me back.

The door closes again, forcing me to stare at my attacker through the dirty, sweat-stained window. She stares back at me; she doesn’t even mouth that she is sorry or offer me a tear of pity. I shake my head, feeling unknown levels of anger at what she has done to me; this entire month-long saga now seeming to be all of her making, my fate now entirely her fault.

Just as I start to imagine what I would do to her if the doors opened, they do as I had hoped and slide apart. I thank the makers for this automated safety, not able to leave someone trapped in between the doors. I look up at her; my anger has been replaced with hope, but I have also realised that I will not make it through the wall of bodies without help.

She shakes her head. ‘You can see there is no room so what the fuck should we do?’

I’m unable to answer her. I see the closing door sign start flashing again. I’m about to give up, to fall back into the crowd and let someone else take over this fight, but just as the bleeping starts again a hand stretches out from within the carriage. As it takes hold of me I hear someone declare that there is room. I can’t see who said it but he sounds young. Instead of trying to pick him out from the tightly packed crowd I instead look at the hand that has taken hold of me. As I’m pulled into the mass of bodies I look only at his outstretched forearm. He seems very different in appearance from my last saviour: I follow a scattering of dark hairs up a pale forearm. I gently take hold of it, feeling the warmth and hoping that our connection will be strong enough to get me on. But if it isn’t, if I’m cut off by the brutal woman and the power of the door, I will forever remember holding what I have wanted for so long. I imagine myself being held in these exact arms, as I explore each and every fine hair while he slowly makes love to me all night.

When I’m snapped back to reality I find that my head is buried in the cleavage of the woman who hates me, and I immediately realise that I’ve made it on board. The door tries to close again and I see that someone else has made it on with me. It’s another young woman who has managed to piggy-back on my success, but she is only half in, as I was before, and has fallen victim to the same tuts and pushes that I received from my fellow humans. I try to pull her further in but there really is no room.

‘Please help me!’ she screams frantically. Her eyes are on me but her plea is directed to all of those around us. She is begging for an answer from anyone; for someone to move back, just a little.

I feel a shuffling behind me as I realise that my saviour still has hold of me, but this time he is gripping my arm. ‘I won’t let go,’ he shouts through the wall of bodies. His face is still unknown to me but his voice is so entirely welcome.

‘This tube is leaving, whether the doors are shut or not,’ the driver shouts with such determination in his voice. ‘I repeat, all the safeties are off and we are leaving now.’