Train Wreck

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Just an ordinary morning. Heaving a loud sigh, Ne scrunched up the juice pouch and threw it into the receptacle. Pulling nis jacket tighter, ne sniffed a bit affectedly at the chilly autumn air.

Ne was about to yawn when someone bumped nim to the side, making nim step on a girl's polished shoes. She yelped then gave nim a displeased pout.

Apologizing lamely, ne returned nis gaze to locate nis rude assaulter.

"Sorry!" The young man shouted back at nim as he squeezed between throngs of commuters to catch the transit shuttle going into the medical district.

Cocking nis head, the Stranger shrugged.

---
"Made it!" The young man thought aloud as he squeezed into the sliding doors moments before it closed on him. He just caught the last train to his destination. Every day there was a cap to the number of visitors who can enter into the fortified city-state dome.

He was dressed in his best Sunday clothes. Today was his big day and he was on his merry way to claim a prestigious national scholarship that would solve all his financial ailments.  

Uncomfortable to be rubbing shoulders with the passengers on the crowded sky train, the young man tried to turn his body sideways to hold onto a rail-loop and even his breathing, but was elbowed in the ribs by a fat man. The other commuters ignored him and he was forced to press his chest to the translucent sliding doors. 

He looked outside the doors at the fast-approaching, magnificent view of the glowing city-state submerged undersea and marveled at the engineering might of the late city builders.

Much of the sur-terrain was contaminated across the Patagonia thanks to the warring Houses. Food and resources have been stretched thin or otherwise running scarce until two decades ago, when the Alliance finally struck a peace treaty with the various Houses and ended the age-old strife for power.

The young man took a look at his grandfather's old wrigit* and thought of paying the rascal homage later this evening. But first things first. Get my scholarship, go through the boring ceremony, register with the school council, then before cleaning gramps' grave I can tour the city...oh, wait, I bet lil'bro is finished with the book already. Good thing I bought a new one from my way to the hospital, after all, this is our first real reunion. If not for the meddlesome adoptive parents..., the young man thought with a frown.

The Aeriatron* was sloping down the maglev roller faster and faster and the train effortlessly glided through the scanner junction. Once through the underground tunnel and pass the underwater tube, I will finally be inside the city-state! The young man thought to himself excitedly and let out a whistle, a wide smile breaking on his chiseled face. Several passengers gave him a weird look and he quickly adjusted his stance.

---
Day 1:
Whoa, what happened? He shook his head to clear the fuzzy vision. When he reached up to touch his face, something wet and sticky made him freeze. "Oh, no, am I bleeding?" He groaned and tried to flip himself up from the floor. The fat man was squashing him and he heaved the lifeless form off  his body and sighed with relief when he realized the blood was not his own. Quickly checking for the fat man's pulse, the young man could only tear his eyes away later to refocus on finding other survivors.

"The fat man has only been dead for a couple of hours, which means I must not have been out for very long." The young man said to reassure himself.

The lights were fizzing and flashing on and off and as he surveyed the mess of broken glass panels, still writhing electric cables and inert bodies lying around, a terrible feeling crept upon him. "Hello, anyone still alive? Hello, please answer or make a sound if you can hear me!"

Something was struggling underneath the fallen hand-rails and overturned seats. When he removed all the heavy panelings away, a young lad about his age looked up at him with blood-shot eyes.

He tore a strip of his jacket and bandaged the young lad's bleeding head. Gingerly he lifted the lad up and together they stepped out into the caved-in tunnel.  "Thanks, my name is Marc Gladdenstone, what's yours?" The lad said by way of introduction as the young man sat him down gently on the wet ground.

"Rushear, Rushear Raii'deon."

"Ru- Rushheehr-ya Raii'deon? What a queer name. You aren't from the city-state, are you?" Marc said curiously.

"No, I am a refugee transfer, but I have a brother who lives in the city-state." Rushear answered unfaltering and proceeded to check for other signs of wound on Marc. "I want you to stay here, there seems to be no other external wounds I can detect. How are your legs feeling, still hurt a bit?"

"No, they are fine now, thanks. Are u a doctor?" Marc inquired.

"I am trying to become one someday." Rushear smile and said, "Now wait here, I am going to search for other survivors. From the surrounding rock bed, I suppose we are not far from the junction connecting to the tube below sea."

"No kidding, I am fine now. Why don't you go look at this segment here and I will search the next train cabin?" Marc stubbornly stood up and against Rushear's protest, wobbled to the disfigured Aeriatron.

---
Day 2 - 3:
Most of the survivors have been dug out or bandaged to the best of his knowledge but the bad ventilation in the tunnel and the damp earth have costed them two lives. Of the hundreds packed into the Aeriatron initially, there were only fifteen of them still mobile and conscious. Four were wounded beyond help and it would only be a matter of time before they too, joined the dead.

Surprisingly, the salvaged train emergency kit contained plenty of nutrient bars and water pouches and coupled with the snacks and sandwiches and whatnot gathered from the passengers, the food, if distributed sparingly, should last them one and a half weeks.

"Marc, your knees are swollen. I suggest you rest for awhile." He put his hands on Marc's shoulder and surveyed the sullen faces before continued to say in a bright tone, "I will scout ahead to see the condition of the cave-in, everybody stay close and keep each others warm." Finding the only usable flashlight clutched tightly in the hands of a shaking man dressed in a tailored suit, Rushear went over to request for the turned-off flashlight.

As he bent down, the man snapped when Rushear's hand came close to his flashlight and punched him on the nose. "Don't you dare touch my light! Who made you the leader here anyway? It's better if we all stay here. Who knows what danger lies ahead and you might not return."

"Hey, back off, Efren, give the boy the light." A few other passengers piped up and a techie-looking man called Sloan with an injured rib gave Rushear the thumbs-up. "If not for Rushear and Marc, we would still be buried under the train wreckage."

"But he's a transfer, he's not even one of us. For all we know, he might be the one who bombed the train!" A young woman whose one eye was damaged in the explosion whispered and moved closer to her unconscious husband.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Marc snapped back and went and took the flashlight from the unwilling man. "Here you go, be safe." And with a slight push, sent Rushear off.

As Marc watched Rushear's disappearing silhouette, he muttered: "With the tension still raw with the outliers, no wonder the city-state dwellers distrust the refugees. Alas, goodness knows we need your level-headedness."

---
Day 4:
The nauseating gases released from the shattered rock bed was making him dizzy and he tied a handkerchief around his face and squinted into the dimness ahead. All the power cables were out in the tunnel and he was dismayed to find the head of the train crushed and flattened under piles of solid boulders the size of a shuttle bus.

He tasted the smelly air and knew nothing would escape or permeate from the direction of the tube junction. "Well, at least we won't drown for sure." Rushear said into the darkness and began his way back laboriously. The climb over all the debris and jarred train parts and burning wires have left several welts and scars on his limbs. He had not been careful in his rush to find an exit and get out of the miasma.

Day 5:
By the time Rushear made it back to the huddled groups of survivors, he was shocked to see two teenagers tied up with cords and rail-loops. Marc was guarding the small heap of food and water and Sloan was lying painfully on the ground, with a pale lady holding his hand encouragingly.

"What happened?"

"The kids here were stupid enough to listen to Efren and tried to steal the food for themselves." Marc answered and sighed with relief when he saw Rushear's familiar face. "What, I have only been gone for one day and you guys already are revolting among yourselves? Quite incredulous, I must say."

"Right, so how goes your scouting?" A mother with a coughing little boy looked up at him and implored hopefully.

"No exit ahead, I am afraid. We should try and move back inside the train cabins. There are unknown toxic gases from the shattered rocks and I don't know how long before the miasma spread here." Rushear answered honestly and examine Sloan's injuries but his face soon turned grave. Whatever the teens used to hit Sloan, the tools had fractured three more of his ribs and if Sloan is moved now, his heart might be pierced. He turned to glance at the young lady named Aileen beside Sloan but said nothing.

"Untie the two," he said without anger and proceeded to return the flashlight to Efren. The teenagers would not believe their ears and Marc was almost outraged.

In the end he explained that they need all able bodies to help move the injured and cover up the dead to prevent disease from occurring. When by the end of the day they were finished relocating further back, Rushear asked the two teens to volunteer and retrace the train track with him to see if they can escape the way they came in.

---
Day 6 -7:
One of the teens were gripping his hair in frustration and another was fiercely hitting his fists at the crashed tunnel gate. "A dead end too, we are doomed!" One of them hollered and broke down in sobs.

Then the truth finally hit him: they were buried live under the sea bed. No help will arrive.

Trapped within the slowly miasma filled tunnel, water were leaking in rivulets from between the rocks. This does not bode well, Rushear thought, but there is no point feeling defeated, might as well hold out as long as possible and save the water and food for the young. Let's just hope the water pressure won't prevail and crush us all under.

When one teen turned to Rushear for a ready dose of encouragement and pep-talk, he found Rushear looking ill. "What's the wrong, Rushe? We can still get out, can't we? If we work together..."
Rushear raised his head and nodded, smiling kindly at the now cooperative boy. He has not made the wrong judgement and it was right to bring these two along to see for themselves. He went over to the other boy who was trying hard to stifle his sobs. "Don't worry, we still have water and food enough for you all."
"But...but, what about you and Marc? I am sorry Sloan died. We were fools, but from now on we will make ourselves useful..." The teen sniffed and Rushear thought it funny how the teen reminded him of his little brother, who he has only seen once online and had only communicated via the old mailing route over the years and by the continuous stream of books he sent.  

He could never imagine how his little brother must have felt when the social agency deemed him a perfect candidate for a wealthy couple in the city-state and forcibly tore them apart. Until now, he had committed himself fully to his studies and when grandpa passed away two months ago, he received the acceptance letter and scholarship to the prominent medical institute in the city-state.

Part of the reason he wanted to become a physician was to be able to study and live in the city-state and visit his little brother in the hospital. Recently his little brother has fallen ill from a decompression disease to the surface, trying to look for Rushear. Of course he was brought back into the city-state and the journey has left him weak, making his adoptive parents relent and send for Rushear to visit before the train exploded.
---
Day 8:
Rushear knew he did not have much time left. He was coughing up feats before he was back to the train.

He had sent the teenagers to return before him and remained on spot thinking about strategies when all of a sudden he felt a sharp and acute pain that quickly radiated up from the abdomen to the neck. He had vomited bile, mixed with blood and saliva. With a jolt of realization, Rushear knew he had internal bleeding all along and all the climbing, moving and lifting had exacerbated his condition.

By the time he was back, the number of survivors has dwindled down to ten. From the bleak looks on their faces, Rushear knew the teens have delivered the news a bit too exact.

"From now on, all my food and water goes to the women and children. Marc, you can take the rest of my supplies."

"What, no, man. Without you we would not have lasted for so long. You need to rest too and fill up. You don't look so hot right now." Marc has responded and eased him down on a tattered cushion and others nodded in agreement.

---
Day 9:
"Hey, Marc, do you have a digitpad in your bag?" Rushear inquired weakly, lying opposite from the snoozing survivors.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I think so. What do you need them for?" Marc rummaged in his sling-bag and produced the stationary.

Smiling his usual gentle smile, Rushear raised his hand for the writing pad and slowly but with a set determination, began to wrote on it. Marc scooted over and was stunned by the message Rushear was touching out. "Rushe? Don't scare me, whatever did you need to donate all your organs and body parts for?"

"Heh," Rushear traced and signed his signature on the reflecting pad and passed it over to Marc with difficulty, "Flip open my shirt, but don't alarm the others, from now on, you must lead them on until help arrives," he whispered softly in Marc's ears.

Marc unzipped his shirt but stopped and his hands shook when he saw with shock Rushear's chest and abdomen full of discolored red-purple patches and swellings from beneath the skin. "Rushe..." and tears began to well in Marc's usually clear eyes.

The others were looking on from the sidelines and a little girl began to weep in Efren's arms.

"Everything will be okay...you'll see, I just wish I could see my brother one more time-" and his voice trailed off.

One by one, all of the survivors started to trace out the same message and signed their individual signatures on their own pads. Marc held Rushear tightly and promised lightly in his ears.

---
Day 10:
"We've found them, seargent! There are still survivors..." From a distance, Marc heard faint voices from above and a bright flash shone at his direction.

"If only, sniff, if only, it's so close, Rushe." Efren smudged away the trails of tear from his dirtied face as the rescue team put him on a floater.

---
Standing beside the youth and his parents, the Stranger watched as the recovered Marc handed over the scratched and singed book into the slightly shaking hands of the city-state governor's son.

Rushear's brother has been cured thanked to the lung transplant from Rushear's own body.

It was an accident all along. One of the maglev conductor has cracked under the water pressure and caused the electric fuse to explode. The refugees were not to blame...

Ne cocked his head once again and sighed before fading to his realm.

Another life traded on the balance scale for another. Faireness certainly means not the same to my employer. Ne thought. Just another ordinary day in my line of work.

END

Note*:
Aeriatron = a sky train that moves within an aerial tube with magnetic rollers connected to hanging tracks much like a hanging roller coaster

Wrigit = a futuristic GSM watch phone with other handy functionalities like the present iPhone.





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