Penny on the track
Ruby boarded the Dart at Bray train station and sat facing the front, choosing beautiful coastal views over sights of suburbia. She settled quietly, slipped a stockinged foot from her shoe and rested it on the seat opposite, then removed her book from a battered shoulder-bag. She dived into its imaginary world as the carriage doors chimed loudly to signal their closure, and braced herself against the silent electronic backward lurch as the train began its journey.
Several passengers embarked to join Ruby in her lonesome carriage at the next station, but she was too engrossed in her novel to notice. The train heaved and threatened to topple her bag… she saved it and in doing so lost her place in her book, causing her to sigh and roll her eyes. She then noticed the girl.
A black haired doppelgänger sat on the opposite side of the carriage, with her hair tied up in the same fashion as Ruby’s own. She wore a blue tee shirt that matched the colour of Ruby’s jumper almost exactly. They both wore blue jeans and navy tennis shoes, their shabby bags nearly identical. The girl was reading a book intently, holding it in front of her face so that Ruby could read its title. She gasped when she saw that she was reading exactly the same book. She gaped in disbelief.
The stranger felt her ears burn, and looked up. She frowned to find Ruby staring straight at her and let her book slowly fall to her lap. Ruby smiled, held up her own copy, and fingered her jumper. The girl peered at Ruby’s book and raised her eyebrows suddenly, seemingly confused.
“Hi!” Ruby said above the hum of the clockwork clack of the train wheels; “Good book, isn’t it?”
“Umm… yeah, I’ve read it a few times now, it’s one of my favourites.”
Ruby sat in silence for a while and considered the situation, then got up to sit opposite the stranger.
“Hey, I don’t want to sound odd or anything but don’t you think this is weird? I just… I believe that some coincidences are there for a reason. Like”… Ruby blushed as she listened to her own voice – “like one of us has a message for the other or something. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes, but, I don’t know what to say… that message could be anything, we could be here for hours trying to figure out what it is. Uh, my name’s Robyn though, does that help?” Robyn scrunched her nose in an awkward admittance of the setting.
“Ruby.” they exchanged smiles and both glanced out the window in embarrassment. Ruby considered giving up and returning to her seat… they were approaching Killiney Dart station, the part with the best view of the entire Dalkey to Bray coastline and she hated to miss it, but she stayed put, not wanting to appear rude.
The acceleration pulled the girls towards the rear of the carriage as the train lurched from the station, momentum building, the ocean coming into view. A sudden gunshot crack interrupted their thoughts and the seats underneath them jimmied slightly… the girls exchanged curious glances in the seconds before chaos ensued.
The carriage swayed slightly as another loud snap could be heard, and juddered violently as though it had driven over a giant pothole. A second later a more violent judder rocked the carriage and another shortly after that. The train began to shake uncontrollably, then buckled and tipped on its side as its wheels left the track and forced the girls into temporary suspension. Robyn shrieked and grabbed the nearest support bar, Ruby slammed into Robyn’s midriff and grabbed her waist as the train’s carriage blundered back into an upright position. They slammed against the glass and tucked their feet behind the hand-rail for extra support as the carriage lurched awkwardly screaming its metallic protest, the atmosphere lit with incandescent sparks. The girls watched in horror as the first carriage containing the driver and several souls left the cliff and plummeted towards the sea, screaming voices all around them drained Ruby’s face as she began to pray. Violent jerking as the second carriage tipped towards the the bottom of the cliff made metal howl under the strain of the carriages behind it. Two left. The third could not be seen from the vantage point of the girls, but the reactional movements told them it had probably followed suit over the edge of the precipice. Ruby closed her eyes.
The screeching at this point was deafening, passenger’s voices melted into the scream of tearing metal and bending steel… shattered glass flew in every direction and a final loud bang spun their carriage sideways against the inner wall by the railings as the carriages detatched from one another. The carriage slowed to a deathly silence. Ruby opened her eyes to find that the side of the train she had originally been sitting on was completely destroyed… everyone on that side had perished instantly, horror lay to their left as a small gathering of disjointed bodies could be seen towards the carriage front through the thick black smoke and random carriage debris.
The girls escaped cautiously and stumbled away from the wreckage in silence, both understanding now what the coincidence meant with vivid clarity. The girls separated, lost in the crowds of spectators, never to meet again.
Hours later Ruby sat unscathed on her mother’s couch under a thick blanket and held on to her sweet tea for dear life as she watched the grim footage replay on the evening news, her eyes glued to the images. Her breath caught suddenly. Without removing her eyes from the screen she felt for the television’s remote control and re-wound the footage for a second look… she gaped in awe as she watched herself stumbling away from the wreckage… alone. She could have sworn… the teacup fell and splashed her goosepimpled legs as she lost consciousness.
In her shadow
I remember when she was born, my Emily. We were close at first, she and I would spend hours talking and trying to make sense of the world, sometimes long into the night. When we were finished I would lie beside her and keep her warm and safe in the knowledge that she was loved unconditionally.
As she grew and other worldly interests held her attention, we spoke less and less… she slowly forgot about me which is the natural order I suppose. Nevertheless I stayed with her. I walked with her through dark evenings on her way home from school and held her hand. When she wrestled with the enormous volume of schoolwork that had been laid before her, I didn’t interfere, instead I quietly placed helpful material in her path to aid her inspiration, but she never thanked me for it.
I remember well the early days of her marriage… a misplaced match by all accounts but I said nothing, for it’s better that she learns from her mistakes. I watched her anguish as she slowly realised her husband was not the man she first thought he was and I remember the worst night of all… the drunken tornado of abuse she suffered, left crumpled on the bedroom floor like discarded underwear, with violet bruises erupting on her beautiful complexion. She lay on the floor with vomit dripping from her hair and fresh blood seeping from her recently inhabited womb and I said nothing, for all I could do was sit beside her and hold her tightly, trying to help her feel that it wasn’t a way out she was now looking for now, but a way back in. I couldn’t hide the pills from her that night, all I could do was grasp her hands and lend her my strength – I poured wordless encouragement into her heart until the morning came and kept her alive – kept myself alive. I think she remembered us that night as we used to be… forgotten childhood friends… though I can’t be sure.
How she grieved for her lost child! It was a source of infinite comfort for me, ample thanks for the love I’d given her in the past and I told her so, even though she couldn’t hear me. I explained to her in her dreams one night, I explained that the child was an error, that it could not have been born, for its soul belonged to me. I explained that one day, when she departed, I would be born to a different mother and it would then be Emily’s turn to nurture my mortal soul. This is how things work with Guardian Angels, this is how it has always worked.
I stay in her shadow now… I push the forceful words out of her mouth when she needs strength, I close her eyes to the things she should not see and I turn her in the direction of the things she should. I think she knows I’m here – she feels the warmth of my support and berates herself for entertaining the notion that I exist but she still knows deep down.
Just like you know deep down. On those nights when the silence seems oppressive and you feel despair clawing at the edge of your mind, know you’re not alone. Right now you’re being loved by somebody you’ve forgotten all about but it’s okay, this is how it’s meant to be. Stay very very silent and you’ll feel it, listen closely and you’ll hear it – the love of your minder, your connected soul. There’s no such thing as an imaginary friend. We’re very, very real.
Another Saturday…
I watched as he nervously approached the front door like a man on the verge of discovering the meaning of life. He seemed so damned happy and full of hope that I almost felt bad for him, guilt quivered like a hamster in the corner of my mind that such a nasty deed should have to happen to this random bloke and to whoever lived inside that house, but nevertheless, it had to be done.
I waited until he had stepped over the threshold to leave my stakeout position, closing the door of the seemingly innocent taxi cab quietly so as not to attract attention. Slinking unseen to the front door, I pushed it a little to find its lock engaged, but this didn’t matter, for I’d been given a key. They had almost made it too easy for me… I was privy to names, addresses, alarm codes, times of expected visitations… the plans had been laid out in detail with the omission of the actual reason for it all, but I didn’t care. At a price of €20,000 per head for these people, I didn’t ask questions for fear the job would be given to another taxi driver because hey, I have a wedding to pay for.
I pressed my ear to the door and waited as voices receded before inserting the key into the lock. I opened the door slowly and a warm smell leaked out; pine and perfume mingled with a feint suggestion of home cooking and guilt twinged again, but was quickly squished underfoot as I inched into the first available empty room and waited behind the door-jamb. Dusk was approaching, my timing was perfect. I waited.
As night fell, I heard laughter, sometimes nervous but mostly warm and interested; the cadence of conversation rose and fell and I was getting bored. The time had come… I had to separate them, only to have them re-join in un-imaginably unpleasant circumstances, the details of which only my boss had knowledge of. He was probably welcome to them given his reputation as a twisted gang-lord who seemed to have his filthy hands dipped into more pots than I care to imagine and I knew I was just as bad, but nobody needed to know except for a random few other taxi drivers who had the ability to slink through the night in such obvious disguise… the chosen ones… such a strange honour. I tapped on the radiator with an unnatural urgency.
“What was that?” I heard the question, deliciously predictable.
Footsteps approached as I fished in my pocket for the first syringe with my gloved hand. A shadow darkened the doorway and I sucked in my breath. A man entered the room and I instinctively knew he was reaching for the light-switch by my head, so quickly grabbed his mouth from behind and emptied the contents of the syringe into his jugular - he collapsed like a popped balloon and I dragged his limp form silently to the couch with little effort. Far too easy.
She however proved to be a tougher target, for I sensed immediately that her natural instinct had whispered to her that something was amiss – I heard the silvery sound of a kitchen knife as it was slyly removed from its housing block and suddenly the house was far too quiet for my liking. I edged toward the fireplace and stole the poker from its hook and primed it for reckless damage… the suspense was fun.
I heard her. A creak, a tell-tale sound of nervous intent. We stood for a second, back-to-back, separated by the section of wall adjacent to the doorway, each aware of the other’s position by sheer logic alone. The blade suddenly flashed as an arm appeared, the knife flailing in a random fashion as I almost realized too late what was happening. I ducked as the knife caught my arm; the sharp pain awakened my instinct as fresh warm blood began to ooze into the fibres of my work shirt. Shit. I ducked and crouched, swinging the poker a full 360 degrees around the door jamb. I connected with soft tissue and heard a shriek as I rounded the corner to face my victim, then heard a sickening whistle as the blade passed too close to my ear. I grabbed the opportunity while her balance was off. The syringe sank into her neck and she fell, the knife clattering to the hard-wood floor with alarming volume.
Careful not to contaminate the scene, I removed my sock and tied it tightly around my wound, then checked the floor for spilled blood to find nothing… lucky. Satisfied that my work was almost done, I began to prepare the limp bodies for transit. He fitted nicely into the boot and she, well she did an excellent impression of a drunken innocent.
The journey to the drop-off point was uneventful. I played Beethoven’s 9th symphony over and over to inspire the madness… sometimes I fear the truth that A Clockwork Orange may have had more of an effect on my soul than I’d first realized… good old Ludwig Van. I was empowered by the fact that the deed had run smoothly, laughed my way through a police-check along the way as I gushed through the tired old phrases… ‘Yeah, a little worse for wear I’m afraid’ and ‘I bet she’ll feel that in the morning!’ They didn’t give me a second glance.
I spotted the white van at the address I’d been given… a quiet by-road near an unsuspecting village. I fished for the second key I’d been given and checked for passers-by as I opened the rear doors of the van and transferred the unsuspecting couple with speedy stealth, right on time. I approached the driver’s door of the van and waited. The man inside rolled down his window and nodded subtly.
“Not bad for your first job… good timing. He’ll be happy with that.” He noticed the bloody patch on my arm and the ridiculous looking bandage. “Small price to pay, hey. I’ve seen worse. Here’s your consolation prize…” He fished a small briefcase from the passenger seat and handed it over with a wink.
Neat bundles of notes lay inside to the tune of €40,000 and I smiled. A small white envelope lay on top of the piles which I opened as I sat back into my taxi cab, but I paused before reading the name. Do I really want to do this all over again? I have a reputation for being a soft-head, a do-gooder… if they only knew. Is it worth throwing all that away for dirty cash?
Hell yes.
I opened the envelope and read the name of my next target, then frowned, placing the paper on the seat beside me. What does it mean? Who cares? I fired the engine up for its second job of the night and glanced once again at the mystery name of my next victim.
I’m coming for you, English Mum.
