Pain Cages

by Kane, Paul

That’s the effect you still have on men, Belinda, she said to herself, and giggled. She finished up and moved on through the sliding doors to carriage C. The first person she came to was a man facing away from her, listening to the radio, clinging on to a holdall. He jerked slightly when she came up behind him, pulling his earphone out.

  “Yes? Oh, right, ticket.” He fumbled in his pocket and brought out a crumpled orange and green card. Quite how it had got into this state since leaving the station Belinda had no idea. She stamped it and handed it back.

  “Cheers.”

  “You know, you look a bit uncomfortable sat with that. There’s space to put your luggage down here––”

  “It’s okay,” he cut in, a bit too quickly. “I’ll keep it with me. Thanks anyway.”

  Belinda noticed his fingers trembling as he held the bag. She was doing it again. You know you really should stop intimidating innocent young men, Belinda. She shrugged. “It’s up to you, sugar.”

  Moving away from him and on to the next passenger, she turned back briefly. In those few seconds he’d gone, his seat empty. Now you’re driving them away completely, she thought. Belinda shook her head and got on with punching some more tickets.

  Compatibility Match––Libra and Gemini: This pairing could have some wild times ahead of them! The Libran will value the Gemini’s freethinking attitude and active mind––and what a mind it is––plus encourage them to develop the more sensitive side to their personality. As potential mates they will work well on all levels, but in particular on an intellectual plane. Though if the Libran has anything to do with it there will be more than just mental stimulation to spare.

  Libra and Scorpio: This couple just do not get on well together. An extremely thorny match, they will struggle to work each other out and in the end probably walk away. The Libran might quite like the Scorpio’s ardor, but when they have to lose control completely that’s when the problems ensue. Balance is everything to a Libran and they won’t tolerate anything disrupting the equilibrium, whereas Scorpios tend to thrive on this and have a ‘live for the moment’ mentality. They mix as easily as oil and water.

  Mary Dowling didn’t have to trek too far to find the nearest empty toilet; it was a good thing. The next intersection after carriage E boasted a big, empty loo. One of those spacious modern ones with Star Trek style doors that you locked by pressing a red button.

  She’d nipped inside and emptied her bladder quickly, moaning with relief. She didn’t want to spend too much time in here because the next stop wouldn’t be far away, but she still wanted to check her throat in the big mirror and maybe sing a note or two before taking her seat again. She’d probably even go to the toilet a second time, just to make sure she’d drained every last dreg out. It was silly, she knew, and only caused by nerves. But all the same…

  Mary opened her mouth and said “arrrrr.” She couldn’t see any inflammation. She’d risk a few lines from ‘Heart of Glass’.

  Stop it, Mary.

  Mary started to sing, accompanied by the chuntering of the train as it sailed along.

  There was a banging on the door.

  Oh blast, somebody’s heard me. No, probably just someone bursting for wee like you were before.

  The banging came again.

  “Just a minute. I won’t be a sec,” said Mary.

  The banging came hard now. Mary quickly rose above her initial embarrassment and started to get angry. It took a lot for her to lose her rag, but this impatient person was really winding her up. It wasn’t as if she’d been in the toilet very long anyway.

  More banging.

  Mary pressed the red button to unlock the door. It started to slide across. “I said I won’t be a––”

  A hand grabbed her and forced her back into the toilet, covering her mouth, shoving her against the sink. There was a sudden pain in her side and she realized it was the hard porcelain jabbing into her. Her eyes pinwheeled, taking in the features of this person: the piercing blue eyes, the spiky hair. Her breath came in short gasps through his fingers, muffled sounds emerging through her clamped lips.

  Her attacker pressed the red button and the door closed again, sealing them both inside. Then he held up his other hand, fingers spread, palm outwards.

  “Ssshh… Please, please be quiet,” he said. “Please… I don’t want to hurt you.”

  No, he just wants to rape you. Here, in a train toilet, on the way to an audition to sing ‘Heart of Glass’, or maybe ‘Dancing Queen’? Things like that just didn’t happen. In dark alleyways, maybe, on your own walking… walking your dog. But not here, not now!

  Mary struggled against his body, wriggling beneath him. His free hand came down and held her by the shoulder.

  “Stop. Stop it.” The man cocked his head to one side, as if listening to something. “No. Please. I don’t want to.” He was bending her further back over the sink, then his forearm came up and he pressed it hard against her windpipe. It was so quick there wasn’t time for a scream. Mary bucked, bringing up her nails to scratch his face, but he pulled back just in time.

  “You said we could wait.” The man was crying now. “You said not yet. Please…” He looked her in the eye. “I don’t want to hurt you, but He says that I must. If I don’t then something terrible will happen. Something really terrible.”

  Jesus, he’s not going to rape you, is he? Not going to rape you at all. He’s going to do something much worse unless––

  Mary brought up her knee, driving it straight between the man’s legs. She felt him crumple, the forearm dropping. She tried to yell, tried to call out, but nothing came. It still felt as if the pressure was there.

  Look what he’s done! There’s no way you’ll ever get a decent note out now. No way in––

  Mary twisted around, falling over the toilet, reaching out for the red button. She got up, then felt hands on her again. They pulled her back. Her fingers stretched out, centimeters away from the button. So close, so close…

  Then she was being twisted around again, and struck across the face. Her head rocked back and banged against the toilet roll holder. “I said, don’t!” His face had changed now, it was contorted. Whatever––whoever––he’d been talking to was taking over.

  And more than anything in the world, Mary needed pee again.

  Compatibility Match––Taurus and Gemini: Oh dear, another mis-match. The Taurean, being an Earth sign, likes to lead with the heart and can be far too full on for the Gemini sometimes. Gemini’s will feel smothered by the Taurean’s emotional reactions to situations, and the Taurean will be hurt when all the Gemini wants to do is spend all their time on their own ‘vital’ needs. The Gemini will soon lose patience with the Taurean and there could be fights aplenty. It’s difficult to see what attracted these people to each other in the first place, unless there was a third party matchmaker involved of course.

  Zachary Tench threw a look over his shoulder.

  He knew he shouldn’t have let the encounter with the ticket woman spook him, but he couldn’t help it. Whether it was an after effect of the coke, or he was just feeling on edge––and who could blame him?––he couldn’t help being jittery. He’d had to get out of carriage C as soon as possible and kept walking. Maybe the ticket woman suspected something? Why couldn’t he have been cooler about the holdall? She probably thought he had a bomb in there or something! Might even radio ahead to the stations and set up searches like they did when there was all that terrorism threat stuff.

  “Excuse me, sir, but would you mind just opening your bag up. Now then, what’s all this in here?”

  A fucking truckload of cash, that’s what. Wouldn’t take Wyatt’s men long to find him then. And he had long arms; jail was no safe place.

  Why couldn’t he have acted more relaxed? “Oh, there are breakables in here, I’d rather not put them in the compartment if it’s all the same with you.”

  Because he’d fucking panicked, that’s why. And the way she’d looked at him afterwards, like he was
insane or something.

  “Shit,” whispered Zach. “Shit, shit, shit.”

  The door opened to take him through another space between compartments. He looked over his shoulder again, trying to see down through the carriages, to see the ticket woman. He stood on his toes. Still couldn’t see anything. He backed up a couple of spaces…

  And the toilet door behind him slid across. Zach whirled round, clenching his holdall, almost cradling it like a baby. A girl fell out of the toilet––couldn’t have been more than twenty-two or three––holding a handbag. She was trying to say something but either he’d suddenly gone deaf or she couldn’t get her words out. She looked terrified; her mascara had run where she’d been crying. Zach saw two hands grab her from inside the toilet, haul her back in. Her eyes pleaded with him for help.

  Don’t get involved, he said to himself. The last thing you want to do is draw attention to yourself. It’s just a domestic between boyfriend and girlfriend. He wants to do it in the bathroom and she’s changed her mind. That’s all. Leave it well enough alone.

  But a face, a name, suddenly entered Zachary’s mind. Colette. He’d left that situation well enough alone and look what had happened. Swearing again under his breath, he approached the toilets. The door was just about to close again. He put his foot in it and the sensors reacted accordingly.

  The door peeled back and he saw the girl again, held fast by a lad who wasn’t that much older than her. Definitely her boyfriend. No, wait, hadn’t he seen this girl before, on the platform, and she’d been on her own? Anyway, he’d tell them to stop pissing around and––

  Zach saw the straight razor in the boy’s hand. The kid with the spiky hair looked up and saw Zach. He was so shocked he let the girl go, and she stumbled out of the toilet into Zach’s arms. He dropped the holdall.

  The expression of surprise on the boy’s face suddenly changed. He snarled… and brought up the razor.

  Then the whole world turned upside down.

  There are times, and they don’t happen very often, when all signs face major upheaval in their lives. When the winds of change blow through and nothing is ever the same again. Take, for instance, when Mars passes through your sign. As can be expected from such a belligerent planet, you’ll probably endure a time of turmoil, although whether this results in good or bad fortune is often left entirely to the individual. The only constant in life is change, so these minor shake-ups can be beneficial if seen in the right context. We all, no matter what sign, pass through pleasant and not so pleasant times. But these changes are what shape us and make us who we are. If we remember that, then whatever we are going through can’t really be that bad. Can it?

  At 9: 39 precisely a freight train traveling in a westerly direction came off the rails. A later report could find no reason for the buckling that had occurred in this section, though repairs had been made in the area the previous month. The train derailed traveling at 100 mph, skidded for a mile and then jack-knifed across the opposite track. At 9:42 and thirteen seconds, a mainline passenger train heading in an easterly direction was traveling along these tracks. Oliver Collins was the driver. He had very little time to realize what was happening, but he did note that something wasn’t right. The freight train should definitely not be on his stretch of rail. It wasn’t in its proper place. This annoyed him. However, what annoyed him more was the thought that someone, somewhere probably hadn’t done their job properly, hadn’t made the checks that he always made, hadn’t made sure that everything was running like clockwork. And he hated that. If he could get things right, why couldn’t everyone else?

  Then his beloved Joyce hit the freight train, ramming it out of the way. Oliver didn’t have time to flip any switches. Didn’t have time to look at any of the read-outs, turn any dials, didn’t have time for anything really except to console himself with the knowledge that this wasn’t his fault. And that he and Joyce would at least die together.

  The cabin was crushed instantly, and the passenger train started tilting to one side, just like those fancy trains from abroad. Sadly, Joyce wasn’t designed to travel on her side. She was designed to travel straight ahead, on the tracks. And now, just like the freight train, she’d come off those tracks with terrible consequences.

  The front part of the train broke off from the main section, which then tipped on its side and came to rest about 200 yards further down the line, sparks flying as metal ground against the gravel covered ground.

  The split occurred at the intersection between carriages B and C.

  Scott Edmonds heard the sound of the crash immediately.

  He’d taken a break to sit under one of his favorite trees, up on the hillside, and had fallen asleep there. The noise of the impact, the loudest bang he’d ever heard, abruptly followed by whining metal, stirred him from his slumber.

  Scott could see the smoke now, twirling into the air in thick, black curls. He stood up, brushed down his cords, and grabbed his coat with the holes in the elbows. Scott stepped out of the shade of the tree. Putting his hand to his eyes he squinted down the hillside. He couldn’t see anything from his angle––the hill was too rounded, and he was on the very top of it––but Scott knew full well there was a train track down there. He should do, he’d roamed these parts more times that he cared to remember. He liked it out here, it was usually so… so peaceful.

  Scott couldn’t stand the crowds, the commotion of city and town life. The headache of all those people surrounding him. He only ventured there when he needed any money. Then he grudgingly busked with his mouth organ in the underpasses and outside the large food-chain stores, ignoring the stares of folk who thought he was the lowest of the low. Some of the stares Scott could actually feel like a slap in the face. The judgments passed, the superior body language.

  If he could avoid doing so, he did. It wasn’t so much that Scott was a proud man, though he did still have some pride left, even living the life that he led. It was this contact with the outside world: a world that he’d never got along with and which had never got along with him.

  Someone from the Daily Record had once done a piece on him. The local character, a thirty-five-year old hermit who shied away from people. They’d wanted to know the reason why. So he’d told them about how his parents had died in a car accident when he was just a kid and he’d ended up staying with one nasty relative after another until they got sick of playing pass the parcel with him and dumped him in a home. When that hadn’t worked out, he’d run off and tried to make it on his own… which he’d been doing ever since. Nothing more complicated than that. Just pure bad luck.

  But they’d paid him for the story and everyone had been happy. He could eat, they could all pat each other on the back for turning in a social conscience piece. Where had the state gone wrong? that kind of thing As if any of it mattered now. Scott was who he was, lived the life he lived. He wasn’t looking for sympathy––in fact in some ways he knew he was better off than people who had so-called ‘normal’ lives. He liked his own company, he left the world alone and asked only that it did the same to him. On lazy days when the weather was nice he could escape out into the countryside and nothing and nobody would bother him. That’s how it was mostly. But not today. Today the world had decided to bother him, had decided to give him a wake up call he’d never forget.

  Scott scratched his stubbled chin and began to walk down the side of the hill. When he got so far, his walk turned into a run.

  Aquarius (represented by the water carrier): Aquarius people are not like any other sign. They are the oddballs of the zodiac, unique in every way. They don’t seem to fit into society and any attempt they make to do so will fail miserably. It is important that they celebrate their individuality because that’s what makes them who they are. They look at life from a different viewpoint to the rest of us, each one of them unique in different ways. Of course, they do share some common characteristics, and these include a fiercely independent nature (no one will ever tell them what to do or where to go) a
stubbornness that sometimes causes them real harm, and a love of spontaneity. It’s very hard to predict what an Aquarian will do or even when they will do it! Most of the innovators in history have been Aquarians. They like to go against the grain. And because they are an Air sign they tend to be incredibly intelligent people. They have a remarkable ability to disengage and look at things objectively. Because of this they’ve gained a reputation of being a bit detached and unemotional. That reputation is totally unfounded. Aquarians are the most caring people you could ever wish to meet, and they usually have a very wide circle of friends who are drawn instinctively to them. Aquarians are also great humanitarians.

  The scene was like something out of a nightmare.

  As Scott came down the hill, he saw the train wreck quite clearly. Actually, there were two trains involved, he could see now––one, looked like a passenger train, had hit the other then broken in two. Both were on their sides. And where the most damage had been caused, pieces of track were churned up and now clung to the main body of one of the trains like a metal spider’s web. In addition to the smoke, sparks were flashing here and there along the length of the carriages. The smoke seemed to have infected the sky, which was now darkening considerably, clouds covering the sun, blocking out the daylight.

  “My God,” murmured Scott. He screwed up his eyes then opened them again, scanning the devastation. He saw bodies though cracked windows. Here and there doors had flown open and hung by their hinges. He needed to fetch help. But he saw that some of those bodies inside were moving. He broke into a sprint again, heading for the wreck. Those people needed help right now, and he was the only one around to provide it. Maybe the authorities already knew, perhaps they’d spotted it on one of their computer screens or whatever they used to keep track of… He’d worry about that later.

  Scott skidded down the embankment, then got to his feet. He ran past the mangled yellow cabin that had probably been the driver’s compartment. Nobody was getting out of there alive, that was for sure. A spark flew just meters away from him and he flinched, bringing up his arm instinctively to shield himself. If he was going to help anyone at all, he had to get inside that row of carriages on its side. Scott ripped his old tattered jacket in two down the spine, and started to wrap it around his hands. He quickly found a hand and foothold and started to climb up onto the train. Scott reached over the top and grabbed hold of the edge of the train. He pulled himself up onto its surface. The door was open here and he saw the carriage letter, upside down.