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Train Ride
By Jason Bourne
Note:my previous story sucked so i'm posting this one, which is a good novel i had abandoned four months ago 'cos i didn't have time to write.
TRAIN RIDE
A HORROR NOVEL BY J.BOURNE
1
With a soft hiss that sounded perfectly familiar, the train doors opened and I stepped in. The instant I stepped in, I eyed a seat and had no more started to take a step toward it when a kid sat down on it. ¡®Darn.¡¯ I hissed. An old lady standing quite nearby glared at me. I shut my mouth.
Oh well, I guessed I had to stand.
I held onto a strap on the ceiling and tried to pass time girl-watching, but there weren¡¯t any pretty girls around.
What was a thirteen year old boy who was wearing a tee shirt that says ¡°LET ME LIVE¡±, a pair of denim jeans and track shoes doing in a train alone? Well, probably the same reason why all the other kids were here, to stop off at Wall Street for the Annual Book Fair there. Although one or two new good novels could hit the spot, my main reason was that they were selling CDs, music and game ones at a 60% discount; something no kid in his or her right mind would miss it.
I sighed when I thought about the fair. Half Life 2 was a game I had been waiting for about three months; I simply HAD to get it.
The train stopped. The doors slid open and she walked in coolly and sat down on an empty seat.
I muttered a very rude word under my breath.
The old lady glared at me again.
Oh well, this is, after all, the city of Greenwater, USA.
2
The ¡°she¡± in question is Tricia McClain. She¡¯s one of those, you know, girls that other guys in class talk about all the time. She had brown, silky hair, large bambi eyes and a small nose and mouth. She looked great in jeans and a plain black tee shirt. The soundtrack in my head started playing ¡°There She Goes Again¡±.
One part of my mind told me to run a mile. The other told me to go over and engage in conversation with her.
As usual, goodness hardly put up a fight.
As the train went into the subway tunnel, I made my way toward her seat. Be cool. The little voice in my head said. So I did.
When I got there, she was reading a book. ¡°PRIDE AND PREDJUDICE¡±.
I tried to look and sound like Matt Damon.
¡°Uh, hey.¡± I said.
She looked up and her soft brown eyes almost made my composure melt, but I kept it.
¡°Oh, hey.¡± she said.
She talked to me! At school, she always ignored me.
Be still, my heart.
The train stopped and the guy next to her got up and left. I eyed the seat but didn¡¯t do anything.
She looked at me like I was an idiot or something and then said, ¡°Well? Are you going to sit down or what?¡±
I sat down, saying nothing. Wrong move.
There was an awkward silence for fifteen minutes before I broke it.
¡°Um¡ you going to the Book Fair?¡± I asked nervously.
She looked up from her book again. ¡°Oh, no. My piano exams are today.¡±
¡°Oh,¡±
Suddenly, the intercom made me jump. ¡°Next stop, Verne Street.¡±
She put the book into her bag. ¡°That¡¯s my stop.¡±
¡°Good luck with your piano exams.¡± I said.
Tricia smiled. ¡°Thanks.¡±
Something about that smile made me sweat. Oh God, she smiled at me. She actually smiled at me!
The train suddenly stopped. I was grateful for that, even a few more seconds looking at her face was something nothing could ever replace.
¡°Must be another train passing.¡± I said, before I suddenly wondered why I had said something sooo goddamn obvious.
The other train passed and I felt that there was something wrong with it, something I couldn¡¯t place my finger on.
That is, until the collective and horrified gasps filled the train. My mouth dropped open; my mind was struggling to put together what I had just seen. The room suddenly seemed infinitely cold; shivers ran down my spine.
It just wasn¡¯t possible.
Tricia must have noticed. ¡°What?¡± she asked.
I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, I pointed to the window I was facing. She turned around, and all at once, her face turned white.
The windows of the other train were painted red with blood. From the windows of our own train, we could see that.
Not only that, we could see bodies, mangled, torn, and ripped open inside.
The train was gone as quickly as it had come. Tricia and I looked at each other, our faces telling each other what we had seen.
The PA crackled, making all of us jump.
¡°Dear passengers, we have seen that and we know what¡¯s happening. Please remain calm; there is no need to panic.¡±
¡°What kind of bullshit is this?!¡± someone remarked.
¡°We will stop at the next station and we ask all passengers to alight there and leave the subway station immediately.¡± I heard murmuring on the PA, then: ¡°We have just received word from the central station, that every subway station in this town will be closed in exactly thirty minutes from now, at twelve thirty exactly, so please, evacuate as quickly and as orderly as you can. Thank you for your_¡± I heard more murmuring, then suddenly a bloodcurdling screeching noise, then from the PA: ¡°What the devil is that_ AAAAAARRRRGHHH!¡±
I heard the sound of glass smashing, and then there was a horrifying crash. All the lights went out as they smashed to bits. Everyone fell over as the train moved- no, was pushed, pushed backwards. I heard the screams of adults and children as the train lurched backwards at dizzying speed with the same screeching noise we had heard on the PA. I looked out the window and saw white, blinding sparks flying from the sides. Terror gripped my mind, blanking out all thoughts.
Then, the carriage we were in and the other four behind it buckled, actually buckled upwards with a sickening heave. Already on the floor, my screams blended in with a hundred others as I slid downwards. I passed a metal strut and grabbed onto it.
There was another crash, this time somewhere from the left. I struggled to hold my grip on the strut as the train lurched to the side violently. I turned around and saw the left wall of the connector between the fifth and sixth carriage smashed outward as the front of another train crashed in. A guy who was standing on the right wall screamed as the front of the other train smashed into him and crashed out the other end. Half of his arm, severed from the other half flew out, squirting high pressured squirts of blood. In utter horror and disgust, I watched as the fingers of the hand wriggled in a frenzy.
I turned around and watched as electrical wires popped out from the ceiling, spewing electrical sparks. A bunch of then popped out a little too close to my strut. Sparks shot out toward the strut like lightning.
I screamed in pain as several hundred volts of electricity surged into my body and jumped backwards into blackness.
3
The thing that woke me up was an irritating buzzing noise.
Before I opened my eyes, I thought for one sweet moment that I was at home, about to wake up to a sumptuous breakfast, to my television, to my computer¡
In one cruel stroke, my dream shattered.
I slowly opened my eyes, remembering the chaos before; it was proved by what I saw.
There were bloodstains all over the floor and there were wires were popping out of the ceiling. There was glass from the windows on the floor.
Where is everybody?
I turned to the left, tilting my head slightly downwards and almost vomited. Question answered.
Because the top four carriages were tilting downwards, all the bodies in them were piled up at the beginning of the fifth carriage. I could see their faces, all looked shocked and horrified.
I turned away quickly, remembering everything: another train crashing into the connector, watching the unlucky man¡¯s severed arm¡¯s fingers wriggling, the death of the drivers, the PA¡
The PA.
The PA! The drivers had told us that at twelve thirty sharp the station would close! I looked at my watch and swore: it was twelve eighteen.
I got up, realizing that the only reason why I wasn¡¯t in the pile of corpses was because I happened to hit the side of a seat when I was unconscious to stop my descent. Lucky me.
Proceeding downwards carefully, I walked briskly down grabbing hold of seats to slow my descent until I made it to the pile of corpses. I took a deep breath to prevent myself from freaking out and closed my eyes. I walked over the corpses occasionally stepping on soft, squashy things which I don¡¯t ever intend to see. Eventually, I felt my feet touch hard ground and opened my eyes. I had made it over the pile. I shivered when I remembered the things that had brushed over my jeans and the soft, squashy things I had stepped on and promptly threw up. I cringed, feeling hot, acidy bile burn my throat and chunks of the hot dog I had earlier slide out of my mouth.
When I had finished, I reached into my pocket for a tissue and wiped my mouth and chin, and then blew my nose to let the bile inside stop stinging my nose.
I looked up and saw more corpses, bloody and crumpled lie in pools of blood. I wanted to vomit again, but I had emptied my stomach already.
I stepped over them, an inch from losing my mind.
I saw a body in front of me and for some reason, stepped forward, thinking it looked familiar.
When I saw the face, I gasped.
It was Tricia McClain. I held my finger under her nose and my eyes widened.
She was still breathing.
4
Meanwhile, four Army Black Hawk helicopters had landed outside the Subway, attracting a crowd that was quickly driven away by the Police. From the last helicopter, seven men in full combat gear leapt out.
Captain Gordon Roland gripped his weapon tightly. He smelt something bad in this mission and his nose was experienced. Still, he couldn¡¯t blame himself for leading the best team in the U.S Marines, Delta Team.
He patted his Colt M4A1 Carbine. It was state-of-the-art of course, like all of the others Delta Team carried. His had a pump-action shotgun attachment on it. It also had a three hundred and sixty meter zoom scope, with a pin-point accurate laser sight with a battery with enough power to let it be switched on for a month and still be pin-point accurate. His sidearm was a special one, not like the ones the other soldiers carried, either M9 or 92FS Beretta pistols or HK .45 USP match pistols, his was something he had bought himself, an Israeli Desert Eagle pistol loaded with a seven round clip of .50 Action Express bullets; one bullet being powerful enough to kill an elephant. His other equipment included four spare thirty round clips of 5.56 caliber bullets for the carbine, two spare clips for the Desert Eagle, two M67 impact fragmentation grenades, night vision goggles, a radio and sixteen additional shells for the shotgun.
He looked at his men, six, Irving, Lester, Waldo, Alfred, Neil, and Toby were carrying carbines like his. Harold was the Demolitions Guy, so instead of having a shotgun attachment, his carbine had an M203 grenade launcher on it. In addition to that, he also carried four remote controlled bombs and six plastique C4 explosives that could blow apart whole rooms. Ace was their sniper and recon man. He was the most observant person in the team, and with a good sniper rifle, he never missed. He was also, ironically, a very strong believer in Christianity, and was a very moral person; Gordon had never heard him say a vulgarity during all the time he had been in service; in contrast, he himself had never said a single vulgarity in his life, he normally said lots of them. Ace also refused to kill people who were unarmed. Ace was armed with an AWM Super Magnum, a very powerful British sniper rifle that carried a ten round clip of .338 Lapua Magnum rounds and had an effective range of one thousand and one hundred meters.
He gestured for them to follow him to the main entrance of the Subway station.
¡°It¡¯s not locked. And there are no more civilians down there.¡± The sour looking manager of the Subway said, and handed him the keys. ¡°By the way, why did you order us to shut it down? Losing a whole day of commission isn¡¯t very good, I¡¯m not earning much y-¡± Before the manager could finish, Gordon shoved a check signed UNITED STATES OF AMERICA GOVERNMENT. The manager looked at the check and his eyes widened.
¡°Now, can you tell us how many trainfuls of civilians were killed?¡± he asked.
The manager looked up, smiling, a sharp contrast to his earlier attitude, and said, ¡°Four, sir.¡±
¡°And where are they?¡±
¡°Somewhere between this station and Wall street Station, sir.¡±
¡°Are you sure there are no more civilians?¡± Gordon asked.
¡°I¡¯m sure, sir.¡±
¡°Good,¡± Gordon said. He leaned closely and whispered as softly as he could to the manager ¡°Now, can you tell the media when it comes that the trains and the people were killed by an armed group of terrorists?¡±
¡°Yes, yes.¡± said the manager.
¡°And if anyone asks about this conversation, tell them that I was telling you in code what to do.¡± Gordon whispered.
¡°Yes, yes of course.¡± the manager replied.
¡°Remember, you would be charged with treason and executed if you don¡¯t do so.¡± The manager paled. ¡°And if you do, you would be paid the amount in that check,¡± Gordon motioned to the check very slightly. ¡°Plus an extra four million dollars.¡±
The manager¡¯s eyes widened again. ¡°Yes, yes of course.¡±
Gordon and his team moved to the door. Then Gordon turned back to the manager. ¡°Remember.¡±
The manager nodded vigorously.
Gordon sighed and opened the door he went in first and had his team follow him.
¡°Toby,¡± Gordon said.
¡° Yes sir?¡±
¡°Seal this door up.¡±
¡°Yessir!¡±
Toby took out a small welder and proceeded to weld the door shut.
Gordon turned around. ¡°I¡¯ve got a bad feeling about this.¡± He muttered under his breath.
¡°Come again, sir?¡± Lester inquired.
¡°None of your business, soldier.¡± Gordon shot back.
¡°Sir, yes sir!¡±
Gordon sighed, then turned his soldiers. ¡°Okay, team, listen up¡¡±
10/13/2005 6:51:04 AM
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