He looked out of the carriage at the physical scars gouged into the earth as the train thundered out of the city. At points, the trains speed made individual features difficult to see. Elsewhere the size of the destruction made them impossible to ignore. For 60 long seconds the view from the grimy, streaked window was only of the crater, as deep as it was broad. He could make out on the far edge that rain had started to fill the bottom. A sickly brown gel, untouched by the howling wind, glass smooth. He remembered his terror when he heard of the atomic that had created this hole, deployed at the beginning of the decade long conflict. Destroying half of the city he had just left, killing millions. Triggering an insane escalation that led to the death of billions.
As the train continued, the crater gave way to deep ravines. Violently formed, screaming in terrible anguish as the rock and earth were torn from their deep slumber. Ringed with broken, denuded trees, they were the colour of bruises, vulnerable and exposed to the elements. Lying bare under the slate grey sky. Devoid of life and purpose. This was not the home that he wanted to return to, but one that he had fought to defend. It was of little comfort to him. He turned away from the window and sank back into his seat.
He felt sick. His mind was racing, but in a short time, as he sank deeper into his grey woollen overcoat the regular swaying of the train rocked him gently to sleep. He was warm for the first time in years. He couldn’t remember when his feet had been this dry. Fatigue was seeping out of his bones and into his flesh. He ached, which he hoped was the first sign of recovery. He was briefly woken from his light sleep by a voice crackling over the tiny speaker above his head letting the passengers know that they would be reducing speed to a crawl for the next 15 miles as track repairs were ongoing and the temporary rail would slow them down.
A jolt woke him fully. He did not know how long he had slept, which was, in itself unusual. He squinted through the window at the scene outside. The light was dim, it must have been some hours. The train was coming to a stop. A hastily constructed platform appeared to come to a halt as he watched. A sign slowly crawled past his eyes. This was his stop. He stood quickly. Excited to make the last leg of his journey. He was overcome with dizziness and the backs of his legs came back to life painfully. Swaying slightly, he grabbed the metal bar that served as a shelf for his luggage and steadied himself. Gods he was hungry. He tried to put that thought to the back of his mind as he grabbed his carry-all. Only a few short hours now and he would be home. Swinging the huge bag over his left shoulder he let a small smile form on his face. He couldn’t help himself from imagining the smell the stew on the stovetop. His mouth watered. He would need some food soon. But he wouldn’t let himself stop, not now he was so close.
He made his way onto the platform, jostling for position with a hundred or so others that were alighting at the same station. There was a delay at the exit ahead as their documents were meticulously checked. It seemed to last an eternity, but he checked his frustration and was patient. He was so close to home, he reminded himself that they still could not be too careful. The light of the day had all but gone and the queue that he was in was illuminated by huge arc lamps. Grey coats blending into one organism picked out in sharp relief by the bone white lights. There was a murmur of voices as the line crept forward. His stomach growled again. He remembered his flask and reached into his greatcoat to retrieve it. When there is no food, you make do with sleep and water he had been told. Well, this was just fine. He tested the battered, metallic kidney shaped flask by shaking it. It was half full and would last him.
The volume of voices increased as the line shuffled forward. He couldn’t make out individual words, but it sounded like an argument was beginning. Angry shouts made him look up. The line had broken up ahead, bodies had scattered to form a loose knot of people. Around what? He couldn’t make it out. His patience started to fray a little. Anger bubbled up from within.
“What’s going on?” He asked to no one in particular.
One of the greatcoats in front of him turned and the man inside shrugged. “Fucked if I know mate.”
He looked directly at the figure that had spoken. The face was hidden in shadows created by an enormous fur hat. But strangely there were no features to catch the light spilling from the cranes around them. The face was a black oval. He looked again and saw that he was mistaken, a white stripe seemed to form out of the darkness, the profile of a nose. ‘A trick of the light,’ he thought to himself. As he blinked, he saw small white streaks appear, picking out cheeks. The man in front turned away. I really need some food he thought to himself.
The fur hat bobbed as if nodding and the greatcoat turned back to face him. “But it’s time for you to wake up.” A quiet voice stated.
His scream tore its way out of his throat as he opened his eyes and strained against the straps that were binding him to the cold metal cot in the laboratory.
Something moved over him. “Good” he heard. “Well, that was a great success. Now, we’d like to try something else.”
He blinked, a sharp, dry pain lanced into his arm, spreading an alien cold sensation through him. Then he blinked and he looked out of the carriage at the physical scars gouged into the earth as the train thundered out of the city.
