Lee Kerr - Welcome to the Apocalypse

‘Oh, God, please help me!’ the young woman shouts, as the train starts to move. It accelerates slowly at first, struggling to pick up pace with so many extra souls on board.

She pulls at me, somehow managing to drag me further towards the door rather than getting herself any closer to safety. ‘I’m only half-way in,’ she yells. ‘Oh, please, it’s moving now! You have to let me in!’

I pull. I pull with everything I have, but the space is too compact and no one has enough room to manoeuvre. I realise that he is pulling too, still shouting that he won’t let go of me. But it’s not enough; I realise that not everyone agrees with our plan: some are refusing to move and some seem incapable of understanding the consequences of our group inaction.

‘Let go, it’s too full!’ the angry woman shouts and spits towards her new target.

‘We have to get her on,’ I shout, still pulling, still begging. I realise that we’re getting closer to each other, but it’s not because she is fully in, but rather because my hands are making their way up her arm. My levels of effort are not in question, but my ability to save her is limited. My eyes meet hers. I know how desperate she is, but I don’t see a choice or a way out of this. ‘You have to let go.’

She shakes her head. ‘Please,’ she says, her begging face telling me that she clearly sees this train as her final chance to escape this hell we are in.

‘We’re nearly out of the platform,’ I shout, starting to push her towards the door. I want her to realise that it’s for her own good. ‘You have to let go!’

She doesn’t listen to me, doesn’t see the danger and so a long scream signals her departure from our train. I close my eyes as she is dragged away into the dark tunnel. I shut off all my other senses and focus only on the screams of the unlucky; those who never quite made it. And with every door that passes the concrete entrance to the tunnel, a new scream travels into my head, horrible sounds caused by our obvious failure.

Once the unanswered cries stop, all we are able to hear is the calm of the tunnel, and I finally open my eyes. Everyone is silent, as I look at the people around me, each of us covered in the blood of the unlucky. The bitch pushes me, just a little, into the small space that the woman just occupied, so that she can clean herself and remove the bits of guts from her white blouse. I see a bit of flesh fall into her cleavage. Her hands dig down deep, following the trail of blood, trying to remove every memory of the one we just lost.

Someone else vomits and I start to cry. Peoples’ faces show wrenching emotions, horrified by what has happened to those we just lost. I can’t see straight anymore, or get control of myself. My vision fades. My legs start to quiver as I realise that I am going to faint while standing up. It’s most likely that I will awake in the same position, in this same nightmare of strangers.

I feel those around me shuffle; for a moment I think someone is trying to help me, but then I realise that they are tutting at something behind them. I keep hearing ‘excuse me,’ as the owner of that familiar, heavenly voice makes its way towards me.

I keep myself awake somehow, determined to stay with him as I realise that I’m slowly being turned around. My stomach touches his, the space between us nothing but intimate, as I feel a hand on each of my arms. ‘Thank you,’ he says, as I sense him looking around but he gets nothing back.

I take my time to study him, to feel him holding me. I slowly let my eyes follow his tight shirt upwards; he has no tie on and I look at his neckline – one button undone, an untrimmed rug of experience on show. Just the right amount, I think.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks, sounding friendly and genuine. It’s almost as if he is smiling as he speaks.

I realise that I haven’t yet dared to look at his face and so I nod and take a deep breath, then look at his chin, which is perfectly shaved. I wonder if he intended to go to work today, or if he just planned to look this immaculate when meeting his doom. I stop for a moment, entirely forgetting where I am, but sure that the eyes will make this moment. I keep looking and then smile at finding these bright blue rings set against thick, dark hair. I look at him, feeling nothing but safety. Then I suddenly feel angry; I’m angry that I have only found him here and now, on what could be one of my last days on earth.

I don’t hear what he is saying to me now, even when the man next to us, who can’t help being a part of our moment, offers a smile as he waits for our next move. I realise that I need to start being a glass-half-full kind of girl and thank the stars that I have finally found someone who could tick all the boxes that matter. These thoughts only lead me back to my endless misery and so I quickly thank him, squeezing up closer and feeling his firm stomach tense with my touch. I feel somehow liberated, distanced from the crowd and the horror of the moment. I am no longer afraid of making my move. I’d normally be paralysed with fear before going up to a guy, let alone openly touching him.

‘I’m Scott,’ he says, leaning closer to me, trying to create some privacy for us.

I laugh again, still shaking; I’m nervous, but aroused and curious. ‘I’m Emma and I owe you so much for what you just did.’

He looks at me and then turns to the bitch who has managed to stay just behind me. He has a big smile stretched across his face and his gaze quickly returns to me. ‘Well, some of us still remember our manners.’

I feel the woman try to move, most likely getting ready to defend herself and her actions. I’m thankful to see him put up a hand; none of us seem willing to hear her excuses. They’re all pointless now and I know it will be a long time before we all process what has happened here, let alone get to judge, to properly remember or truly understand.

He quickly turns his attention back to me, offering a small smile and tilting his head as he seems to take me all in. ‘I’ve seen you before,’ he says, taking hold of both of my hands.

‘You have?’ I ask, knowing that I have never seen him before, sure that he is someone I would remember. Even if I saw him sitting with his girlfriend, or after a drunken night out, or in the supermarket – back when shopping used to be normal – I would remember him for all eternity.

He calmly nods, still smiling down at me. ‘You always get on the second carriage from the front and I always get on the third carriage, one stop before you.’

I lean backwards, as far back as I can, until I hit the person behind me. ‘You’ve seen me that often?’ I shake my head, not believing it, not able to imagine someone has ever noticed me in the haystack of daily travellers.

He nods again. ‘You’re quite the creature of habit. You always get on the tube at just after seven and you always get into the same seat, writing in the same journal and generally looking down at that same floor.’ He looks below me, to the carriage floor. ‘I was starting to wonder what you’d found down there.’

I look up at him, finding one of my hands tracing up his shirt, my fingers soon teasing their way along his cheek. ‘I never found you.’

He laughs, loud enough for all to hear but he doesn’t seem to care. ‘That’s so cheesy. You’re clearly practiced at this.’

I look around, soon finding my way back to him; back to the person I already never want to leave. ‘I’m never good at this and today isn’t the day I thought I would start.’

He nods, his eyes making their own journey around our small space before coming back to me. ‘Well, if it makes you feel any better, I had been planning to move into your carriage. That was until all of this started and everyone’s lives got a bit screwed up and I didn’t see you as much. But I’m kind of glad I got on this tube today.’