Night Train

by David Quantick

  Nothing happened. Poppy pulled it again.

  “Perhaps there’s a button,” said Garland.

  “There isn’t a button,” Banks replied.

  Poppy pulled again.

  “Aaah!” she shouted. The handle came off in her hand, as well as some of the door.

  “Shit,” she said, dropping the handle. “Fuck this for a game of soldiers.”

  She punched the glass in the door, hard. It gave a little, but didn’t break.

  “It’s not even cracked,” observed Banks.

  Poppy forced her fingers into the edge of the window and pulled. The frame didn’t move. She kicked the door, and it didn’t bend.

  “The outside door seems to be stronger than the inside ones,” said Banks.

  “No shit,” said Poppy, and began kicking the door as hard as she could. It dented a little but was otherwise fine.

  Now Poppy began to punch the window, and then the door, again and again.

  “You’ll hurt yourself,” said Garland.

  “Fuck off!” shouted Poppy, and thumped the window so hard that her fist recoiled and she fell over.

  “Told you,” said Garland.

  Poppy grabbed her by the jacket. Garland raised an eyebrow.

  “Just open the door and you’ll be rid of me,” she said.

  “I don’t want to be rid –” Poppy said, then stopped.

  “Shit,” she said. She walked down the corridor and began punching a window. Just like the other window, it didn’t so much as crack.

  “FUCK!” she shouted. “How do I get off this fucking thing?!”

  She crouched down and began punching a hole in the floor.

  “That’s going to take a while,” Banks pointed out. “And you’ve got all the chassis and gubbins underneath to take into consideration.”

  “Chassis and gubbins?” queried Garland as Poppy punched on.

  “I’m not an engineer,” Banks said.

  Poppy stood up, her fists clenching and unclenching in frustration.

  Just then, a whistle went off.

  “I don’t believe it,” Banks said. “That’s a train whistle.”

  “That’s our train whistle,” Garland said. “I think we’re moving again.”

  “No!” Poppy shouted. “Fuck shit no! I have to fucking get off!”

  There was a rumbling from below.

  Poppy looked around wildly.

  The train began to move.

  “Shit the FUCK!” she shouted. She pulled herself upright, and began to punch the ceiling.

  “I am not!” she yelled, punching. “Staying! On this! Fucking! TRAIN!”

  A small hole appeared in the ceiling. Poppy kept on punching. Wires tumbled out. She kept punching. Some debris fell out.

  The train began to gather speed. Poppy kept punching. The hole got bigger. The train sped up. Poppy punched, and punched. And then she gave up.

  She collapsed into the seat below her and slumped back.

  “It stopped,” she said, in tears. “It stopped.”

  Garland sat next to her. Banks sat opposite.

  “You gave it your best shot,” she said.

  “Yeah,” said Poppy.

  She began to laugh, even while she was still crying.

  “First prize, getting off the train,” she said. “Second prize, not getting off the train.”

  The hole in the ceiling made it quite cold, so they wrapped themselves in bedding. Poppy went into the bathroom and locked the door.

  * * *

  After a few minutes, Garland knocked.

  “Fuck off,” Poppy said through the door.

  “You really should stop using that word,” said Garland.

  “You use it all the time.”

  “I’m not the one with a teddy bear stuck down my top.”

  The door opened.

  “Do you think Teddy can understand swearing?” said Poppy.

  “Nothing surprises me any more,” Garland said. “I wouldn’t be that shocked if he was behind all of this.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Poppy. “He’d tell me if he was.”

  * * *

  Garland sat on the ledge by the sink.

  “I suppose getting off the train was as important for you as staying on it is for me,” she said.

  “Except you want to stay on the train for the same reason as Banks. Because you’re scared.”

  “No, Banks is scared, I just want to get to the front. I want to know what’s going on.”

  “Whereas I don’t give a – I don’t care what’s going on. I just want to get away.”

  “You think you can? Get away, that is.”

  “I don’t know. But at least if I get off this thing, I can decide where I’m going.”

  Poppy sat up and looked at Garland.

  “Now get out,” she said.

  Garland raised her hands.

  “Sorry. I was just having a conversation,” she said.

  “Yes, so was I, and it was very nice,” said Poppy. “But I want a wee.”

  Garland got out.

  * * *

  “Is she all right?” Banks said.

  “She’ll live,” Garland said.

  “I suppose that’s the thing,” Banks replied. “We all live. It’s keeping living that’s the issue.”

  “You should do inspirational posters,” said Garland. “You’d make a fortune.”

  * * *

  Poppy appeared. She had washed her face, and Teddy’s fur.

  “I’m ready,” she said. “Ready for what, I have no idea.”

  “Right,” said Garland. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  “Not in front of Teddy,” Poppy said.

  * * *

  They left Banks’s compartment and were immediately confronted by the corpse of the bear thing.

  “We should move it,” said Garland.

  “I killed it, you move it,” said Poppy.

  Banks crouched down by the body of an animal that wasn’t a bear.

  “Poor thing,” he said.

  “Easy to sympathise now,” said Garland.

  “Yeah, now I’ve killed it,” Poppy said.

  “Did you kill it?” said Garland. “You never said.”

  “It’s like us,” Banks said. “It was harmless – well, fairly – and then they did something to it, and now it’s a monster.”

  “A monster that I killed,” said Poppy.

  “Take a photo and stop going on about it,” said Garland. “Please.”

  Poppy leant down and pulled out one of the bear thing’s teeth.

  “Better than a selfie,” she said.

  * * *

  They had a snack and some juice in the wreckage of Banks’s bedroom. Poppy put a counterpane over the animal’s body, then took it off again.

  “It looks silly with a blanket on it,” she said. “I don’t want it to look silly.”

  They walked on down the carriage.

  * * *

  There were no more compartments in the carriage, just empty sections which looked as though they were waiting to be completed. The carpet also stopped abruptly, a few metres before the end of the carriage, as did the wallpaper and the fancy paint.

  “It’s like the edge of a video game,” said Banks. “Like they couldn’t be bothered to finish it off properly.”

  “‘Video game,’” said Poppy. “Are you from the olden days or what?”

  “Says the girl with the teddy bear,” Garland pointed out.

  Poppy stroked Teddy’s head with a finger.

  “I am not a girl,” she said. “Now, are you going to open that door or shall I pull it the fuck off?”

  “I’ll open it,” said Banks.

  * * *

  The door opened easily and Banks and Poppy stepped through into the next carriage. Garland closed it behind her.

  “Oh,” she said.

  “Oh is right,” said Banks.

  “Wow!” said Poppy. “Stuff!”

  * * *


  The compartment was lined with shelves from wall to ceiling, and the shelves were crammed with things. There were books, and handbags, and shoes, and vases, and bottles, and belts, and watches, and books, and music players, and boxes. In fact, the majority of things on the shelves were boxes. There were big boxes, and small boxes. There were cardboard boxes, and metal boxes. Glass boxes and plastic boxes. Functional-looking boxes and decorative boxes.

  “This is like a treasure trove!” said Banks.

  Garland pointed at a large cash register.

  “Or a shop,” she said.

  “That too,” Banks agreed.

  They walked up and down the carriage, mesmerised.

  Banks said, “I’ve never seen so much –”

  “Stuff,” Poppy finished for him.

  * * *

  Garland reached out and pulled down a book. It had no writing on the cover or, she found when she opened it, inside. Just photographs. She laughed.

  “Funny book?” Poppy asked.

  “Look at it,” she said. “It’s just pictures of –”

  She gestured.

  Poppy shrugged.

  “It’s a catalogue,” she said. She picked up a tiny jewelled egg.

  Garland bristled a little. “Where’s the prices?” she said.

  “I think,” said Banks, “if you can afford to shop in here, you don’t need to ask the prices of things.”

  “Whoops,” said Poppy, as the tiny egg fell to the floor and smashed. They stared as its contents spilled out over the floor.

  “Are those sweets?” said Garland.

  Banks picked one up. “Only if emeralds are sweets.”

  “What the fuck kind of place is this?” said Garland.

  “Out of my price range,” said Banks. “I wonder if there’s anything to eat.”

  “Keep an eye out for hampers,” said Garland. “Might be some caviar, I suppose.”

  “I think there might be something in there,” said Banks, pointing at a squat metal box. “Poppy, give me a hand.”

  Poppy didn’t reply.

  “Poppy?”

  Garland turned to see Poppy sitting on the floor. She had a magazine on her lap, and she was crying.

  * * *

  Garland crouched down. The magazine lay in Poppy’s lap and Garland picked it up. It was printed on absurdly thick and shiny paper and, while it was not entirely wordless, was mostly composed of photographs. Fully half of the photographs were of watches and perfume bottles, so it fit right in with the rest of the shop. But some of the photographs were of people. Most of the people were wearing the watches and holding the perfume bottles, but some of them were photographed in more candid situations, such as at parties and outdoor events.

  One of the outdoor events was clearly a sports competition. There were pictures of athletes taking part in winter events, like skating, and ice hockey. In the middle of the photo spread was a picture of a young woman, smiling and holding a medal on a ribbon up for the camera to see. The woman was Poppy.

  “They took it from me,” Poppy said. “They took everything.”

  * * *

  Garland sat with Poppy for a few minutes. Every so often, Poppy would pick up the magazine and look at the photograph of her with the medal, then when she began crying, Garland would take the magazine away again.

  “I was so good,” said Poppy. “I loved it. When I was out there, I never wanted to stop. And it was all me.”

  She looked down at her hands that weren’t her hands.

  “It was all me,” she said.

  * * *

  Banks came over.

  “Is this a good time?” he asked.

  Garland and Poppy started laughing.

  “Please stop,” he said, but they didn’t. “Please stop it now,” he went on. “I really don’t like being laughed at,” he added.

  “We’re not laughing at you,” said Garland, trying to control herself.

  “Yes we are,” said Poppy, spluttering.

  “This is the most exceptional fun,” Banks said, as they continued to snort with laughter. He looked down, and saw the magazine.

  “Is that you?” he said.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Garland said. “Sorry, Teddy,” she added, before she and Poppy fell once more into convulsions of laughter.

  “I can wait,” said Banks.

  “Just as well,” Poppy managed to say, “I think we’re going to be some time.”

  * * *

  Finally, when some time (a great deal of time, it seemed to Banks) had passed, and Poppy and Garland had reduced their output to the odd giggle and some sniffling, Banks assumed a dignified expression.

  “Are we done now?” he said.

  “Wait,” said Garland.

  “Yes,” said Poppy.

  “Good,” said Banks. “I need you to help me open this box.”

  * * *

  “I don’t see why that’s funny at all,” Banks said, a few seconds later.

  * * *

  The box was small, but heavy.

  “Do you want me to rip the whole thing apart or just snap the padlock?” asked Poppy.

  “Just the padlock,” began Banks, but Poppy gripped the lid of the box and pulled it off like paper on a bar of chocolate.

  “Sorry,” Poppy said, throwing the lid across the floor, “I needed to let off some steam.”

  They looked into the box. It was full of closely packed banknotes.

  “Money,” said Garland. “Useful.”

  Banks removed the notes from the box. Underneath were some tiny jars. Banks took one out.

  “Caviar,” said Garland. “Told you.”

  “I love caviar,” said Poppy, snatching the jar from Garland. She unscrewed the lid and scooped out the contents of the jar with a finger. She crammed the gloopy lump into her mouth.

  “Salty,” she announced.

  “You’re sure that was caviar?” Banks said to Garland. Garland shrugged.

  “Very funny,” said Poppy. She reached into the box and came up with some tiny bottles with red labels.

  “Vodka,” Garland said. “Anything else.”

  “No,” said Poppy, then, “Wait. There’s something else.”

  She reached into the box and came out again with something small and shiny. A key.

  “That’s one thing we don’t need,” said Poppy. She was about to drop it back into the box when Banks took it from her.

  “You never know,” he said.

  “I do,” Poppy insisted. “I’m not a big key person, really.”

  “Nevertheless,” said Banks.

  He took one more look around the carriage.

  “Take whatever you need from here and let’s move on,” he suggested.

  * * *

  A few minutes later, having opened boxes of chocolates, and jewellery, they decided that there was pretty much nothing else useful in the shop.

  “Let’s go,” said Banks. He zipped the key into a side pocket, and led the way to the end of the corridor.

  Garland was about to open the door when Poppy said, “Stop.” She said it so quietly that at first neither of them heard her.

  “Stop,” she said again, and this time Banks and Garland turned.

  Poppy was standing at the door of a closet. The door was open and she was looking – no, staring – into the closet.

  “I don’t believe it,” she said.

  Inside the cupboard was a complete set of skiwear. Boots, goggles, trousers, jacket, helmet and –

  “Skis,” said Poppy and took everything out of the cupboard.

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  * * *

  Behind them, the movement of the door caused a small breeze to flow across the floor of the carriage. The bundle of banknotes slid across the floor and a few notes flew up. The notes were the same as banknotes the world over: a collection of complicated lines and curves, a denomination and a bland face staring into the middle distance.

  There was, however, one diffe
rence between these banknotes and all the others: the face on these banknotes was one that Banks, Poppy and Garland would once have recognised immediately.

  * * *

  At first, the door to the next carriage would not open.

  “It’s wedged,” said Banks.

  “I can see that,” said Garland.

  “No,” Banks said. “It’s wedged because it’s badly made. Like it doesn’t fit properly.”

  “Let me try,” said Poppy. She passed the skis to Banks.

  “Skis,” said Banks.

  “Be quiet,” Garland said.

  Poppy pulled. The door came away in her hand.

  “Much better,” she said. “Oh,” she added.

  Behind the door was something quite unexpected. A narrow doorway, containing two thinner, smaller doors.

  “That is ridiculous,” said Garland.

  “I’ve certainly never seen anything like it before,” Banks agreed. “Were they trying to save space or something?”

  “Never mind the philosophical discussion,” Poppy said. “Which one do we go through?”

  “Oh, what?” Garland said. “This is even more ridiculous.”

  * * *

  They stood and looked at the two doors for a minute longer.

  “We could split up,” suggested Banks.

  “That’s a terrible idea,” Garland said.

  “It’s just a door,” Poppy said. “Two doors.”

  “Two very narrow doors. I don’t like it.”

  “All right,” Poppy sighed. “Let’s pick one and go in together.”

  “OK,” said Garland. She indicated the left-hand door. “That one.”

  She stepped forward. Poppy moved in front of her.

  “I’ll go first,” she said. “Just in case.”

  She put her hand on the door and tried the handle.

  “Open,” she said. “Makes a change.” She grabbed her skis. This time Banks raised a large eyebrow.

  “What?” she said. “These are really good skis.”

  She gently slid the skis through the door and went in after them.

  * * *

  The door shut abruptly behind her.

  * * *

  Inside the door, Poppy turned to open it again.

  Outside the door, Garland grabbed the handle.

  * * *

  “It’s not opening,” said Garland.

  “Let me try,” Banks said, and pulled. The handle didn’t move.

  After a few seconds’ struggle, Banks gave up.

  “Why did you stop?” Garland asked.

  Banks said, “Look.”

  The door was shaking, imperceptibly.