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| The Station literature prompt from IronAge.media |
All the old people say our town hasn’t been the same since the war. I can’t say for sure, ‘cause I don’t remember that far back, but looking at the bombed-out factories and scorched rubble that nobody ever managed to clean up in fifteen years... it at least seems believable.
Is that why I listened when that old man sat down for me to shine his shoes? Maybe because he seemed to know what he was talking about. Maybe that glimmer in his eyes told me that there was something better for me if I played my cards right.
Like a lot of kids in town, I got thrown out by my dad when I was about thirteen. He had three younger mouths to feed, and he told me I was big enough to make it on my own. At first, I hated him. I didn’t cry, even though there was a part of me deep down somewhere that wanted to. But, you know, he turned out to be right. It wasn’t long before I found I could make a decent enough living running errands and shining shoes, as long as I didn’t mind having roommates.
Mackie, Corny (his parents named him Cornelius, can you believe it?), and Ted shared a little apartment with me in one of the buildings that managed to stay up through the war. Everything else around had been blown up and never fixed, so it was a long walk to the center of town. But the rent was cheap and nobody bothered us. Mackie wiped windows, Corny ran newspapers and magazines around, and Ted brought food to people. We were poor, but so was everybody else—well, maybe they were a little less poor than us. But still, it wasn’t a bad life.
I mostly shined shoes. It had been a totally normal day for me until that smiling old man sat in the chair and put his shoes up onto the platform. He introduced himself as Briggs. Then he asked me my name, and I told him it was Lou. I got to work, and he just talked. Lots of customers were like that, but most of them were talking to hear themselves, not because they really wanted me to hear. I always thought, whatever—I’m getting paid either way.
That’s why I was so surprised when the old man started asking me questions about my work. He even looked me in the eyes and gave me time to answer. Most customers hated it if I stopped shining to answer them, so I had gotten into a habit of just kind of grunting whenever I heard their voices go up at the end of a sentence.
Not this guy. He asked me a bunch of questions about my work, how much I was making, and about my friends, too. At first, when I just gave him my usual grunt, he repeated the question. It was so damn strange that I even started to feel a little uncomfortable. Somehow he picked up on that and pushed the conversation forward.
“Have you ever thought about going to one of the bigger cities?” he asked me. “Lots more shoes to shine, and people have a little more money to give the shoeshine boy.” The last line came with a little chuckle.
I told him that of course I had, but the war had destroyed the train tracks leading out from our town. Our town was in a valley that was nearly impossible to reach by car, and we had no airport. The country was screwed up enough already. Nobody had time to dig a new tunnel or lay new tracks. It had made us poorer, but also more self-sufficient. It’s that kind of philosophical mind I got from shining shoes in a poor town for a living.
But Mr. Briggs grinned, wrinkles spreading over his face. “That’s where you’re wrong, Lou,” he said. “In fact, the train tracks have been repaired over the last few weeks, and the new station is opening tomorrow! Haven’t you heard about it?”
I hadn’t heard. Hell, even if I had heard, I probably wouldn’t have thought too much about it. What were the chances I would be able to afford a ticket? Even if I could, I would be leaving my buddies high and dry. And what would I do in a new place by myself? At least here I had some friends and could afford rent. No telling what trouble I would end up in, alone in a big city.
Still, there was something oddly persuasive in the way the old man talked. As I finished buffing his shoes, I began to wonder if it was such a bad idea after all. Maybe I could talk to the guys about it. At any rate, it wouldn’t hurt to look, would it?
Somehow the conversation got around to the price of a ticket, and when I said I probably couldn’t afford it, the old man chuckled again. “Back in the old days, nobody would care too much if a couple of kids jumped a turnstile or two,” he said as I finished up polishing his right shoe. Then he stood up, thanked me, paid me (including a nice little tip!), and vanished into the crowd.
I worked the rest of the day in a bit of a trance. I don’t think I really heard another word from any of my customers. Could we do it? Maybe we could afford tickets if we worked at it a little while. Maybe we’d have a better life in a new city. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I brought all those maybes home that night and we talked about it for a while. I told them everything the old man had said to me.
Mackie and Ted wanted to go check it out in the morning. Corny was worried, and we took turns painting rosy pictures of how cheap the tickets would be, how much work we’d find in the city, and all that good stuff. We even told him we might make enough money to send some home. His family was even worse off than mine, and he always worried about them. Finally, we got him to agree to come with us and see, at least.
We all got to bed later than we probably should have, but we were excited and it was going to be a big morning.
The next morning, we dressed up a little heavier than normal. I had a cabbie’s cap and a scarf to cover my face a bit, Ted had a long, greyish-blue wool coat, Mackie wore his beat-up old cowboy hat with the brim pulled down, and Corny had a wool beanie and a worn leather jacket with a high collar. We looked more silly than sneaky, I thought to myself, but I didn’t say that to any of them. Mackie probably would have given my arm a nice bruise if I had.
Anyway, what would have been the point? It was pretty much all we had. We left the building early enough that we expected to get to the station just as the morning rush began... assuming there was going to be a morning rush.
The station was a little ways out from the places in town I usually got to. The war had knocked out the old town center, so when people rebuilt, the new downtown area ended up nearly a mile from where it used to be.
The new station was built on the ruins of the old station, now quite far from where any of us worked. The new building looked pretty nice, the fresh, white stone walls rising to a gently-sloped, old-style roof.
It was even busier than I thought it would be—there were tons of people walking about, many of them dressed in the drab, cheap clothes you see everywhere in town, but I saw a few well-dressed people and even some guys wearing top hats! They must have come from out of town already.
We went inside and it was even busier. There were even more people occupying even less space, somehow! There was a long line for people buying tickets, two wide sets of turnstiles, and over the top of that we could see a couple of big trains pulled in at the platforms. The station workers wore dark blue uniforms from the neck down and shiny black leather caps. They directed the rest of the people around with sharp efficiency. There were “Help Wanted” signs in all of the windows of the counters.
We all bunched up in front of the ticket counter, out of the way of the lines but close enough to see the prices posted in big letters on a giant board. I don’t know about the others, but I had to resist an urge to whistle when I saw the numbers even for the cheapest ticket to the nearest city. We would have to save for weeks at least in order to afford them, and even then... I saw everyone’s face sink when they saw those prices.
We shuffled as a group toward the turnstiles, watching the people come and go. One of the station workers gave us a hard eye for a second, but he was way too busy to spend much time on us—there were tickets to take and directions to give.
We stood, looking at the shiny aluminum of the passenger cars and the black iron of the engines. One of the engines was running slowly, spitting clouds of gray smoke up into the sky. We saw well-dressed people getting on and off the trains. Mackie and Ted just looked unhappy, but Corny had this weird, longing look on his face.
That’s when it happened. One of the trains started to move, and there was a loud crash from the station entrance. I heard a man and a couple of women yell, and everyone’s attention was drawn over there. It looked like a big stack of boxes or luggage or something had fallen over. There was a pained moan from that direction, and the station employees all started moving in that direction.
Corny chose that moment to jump the turnstile.
The rest of us gawked at him for a few seconds, then we glanced around. No one was looking at us. It was now or never, so of course we all followed him. As I leapt over the turnstile, I had this weird feeling in my stomach. Was this really so wrong? I gritted my teeth and caught up with the rest of them. We did our best to look inconspicuous as we walked toward one of the trains.
Nobody seemed to notice us. Nobody yelled—hell, nobody even gave us a second glance.
There was a big banner over the platform that said the train was going to New Redton. That was a big city a few hundred miles away, beyond the edge of the mountains. It was probably ten or fifteen times larger than our little town. It was as good a choice as any.
Ted got to the passenger car first and hopped up to grab onto the handle outside the door of the car, but when he put his hand onto it, he suddenly screamed and flung himself backward, landing all curled up back on the platform. He was squirming around on the ground and clutching at his hand and moaning, and we all ran over to see what had happened.
Mackie bent down and grabbed Ted’s hand, and it was all red and swollen, like he had burned it. Corny walked over to the train and put his hand near the handle, but he didn’t touch it.
“It doesn’t seem hot,” he reported to us.
That’s when I realized something else was wrong. Nobody was stopping to look at the crying kid with the burned hand. All of the other people just walked around us like they couldn’t see us but knew they didn’t want to bump into us. It was really strange.
Mackie pulled Ted to his feet and put Ted’s good arm over his shoulder. We all looked at each other and knew this had been a stupid idea without saying a word. We started to head back to the turnstiles in defeat.
Still, nobody seemed to notice us. It was getting really creepy.
Back at the turnstiles, everything seemed normal. Corny went first, heading back out to the main lobby, toward the station entrance. The turnstile clicked, clicked, clicked as he walked through, and as it locked into its new position, Corny vanished.
He was just gone.
We all looked around in surprise for a moment, and then we heard Corny’s voice from over on the other side of the station. He was over at the other set of turnstiles now, and he waved at us and started to walk our way. Mackie handed Ted over to me and started to walk toward Corny, and that’s when I noticed him.
One of the station workers was looking right at us. There was a strange glint in his eyes, and he started to move. But he didn’t walk toward us, he walked toward the ticket counter and vanished into a large group of people.
Mackie had made it about halfway to Corny when suddenly that station worker—I mean, it looked like the same one—appeared out of another group of people, right near him. The man had this weird, stiff way of walking, but he quickly made it to Mackie, approaching him from behind. I tried to yell out, but my voice wouldn’t work. The man stepped right up behind Mackie and grabbed his shoulder with one hand. Mackie stopped and let out this horrible, low howl as he twisted his body, like he was trying to see who was grabbing his shoulder and that shoulder grab was the most painful thing in the world.
They both vanished in a puff of smoke and ash.
Corny and me both saw it. Ted was still groaning and I couldn’t tell if he was paying attention. Corny jogged toward us, a terrified look on his face. “Did you see that, too?” he asked as he reached us. I nodded.
“What happened when you went through the turnstile?” I asked.
Corny looked confused and sick, like he was about to throw up. “I felt dizzy, and suddenly I found myself back inside, at the other end of the station.” He paused to look worried, and he gulped. “I... I don’t know.”
I heard footsteps, and saw another man in uniform heading our way. I looked at Corny and tilted my head toward the train tracks. There was a big opening there for the trains... maybe we could get out that way.
We started to move, as quickly as we could while I half-carried Ted. It seemed like suddenly there were a lot more regular people in our way. They vaguely tried to avoid us, but right before I walked around a big group, Ted stumbled and I lost my hold on his arm. He slumped to the ground and a bunch of people suddenly pushed in between us. I tried to push through them but it was like banging on a wall. I heard him pleading, “No, no, no,” from behind the crowd, and then the sound stopped. When the group passed, Ted wasn’t there anymore.
Corny saw it too. I ran to him and we started to run toward the tracks, toward the huge opening into the trainyard. It was our only chance. I saw three men in blue uniforms heading toward us. Corny was sweating, and I guess I must have been, too. I had never been so scared in my life.
We made it to the opening to the trainyard, and Corny was just a few steps ahead of me. But as he tried to leave the building, he cried out and fell back onto the ground. From behind a pillar, a man in a blue uniform appeared and reached Corny before he could get up and before I could reach them. He grabbed the sleeve of Corny’s jacket, and Corny tried to pull away, but he was on the ground and, even though his jacket was old, the leather was too strong to rip free.
The station worker looked right at me, and my heart felt like it would stop. The worker had Mackie’s face. Maybe a little older, but it was Mackie’s face, all right. He looked right at me, and I saw it wasn’t a glimmer in his eyes, but a deep blue glow that chilled me right to the bone. Corny looked at the man’s face, and at that stomach-churning blue glow, and I saw his whole face contort in fear. He let out a painful wail.
They both vanished, leaving just a puff of smoke and some stringy ashes floating in the air. The ashes were weird—my dad was a welder, and they looked like the stuff you get when you burn acetylene without enough oxygen. They were stringy and oily and gross. Now I felt like I was going to throw up.
I turned and ran. I ran back toward the platform, not sure where I was going, but keeping an eye out for those dark blue suits. Somehow I didn’t see them now. Where were they? Behind me? They moved so quietly, and they seemed to vanish into and walk out of crowds.
I turned suddenly and tried to get a quick look. I didn’t see them there, either.
Was I safe?
My breathing was ragged and my heart was racing. I would spy a dark blue uniform from a distance and run in the other direction. I had no idea where I was going, but what I noticed was that there were two rows of pillars leading toward the center of the station, and it seemed like none of the blue-suited men would walk between those two rows.
Maybe I could use this? Maybe it would lead me somewhere I could get out? I slowed from a run to a quick walk. The regular people were... there were fewer of them, or was I seeing things? My stomach lurched again and everything got blurry for a second, but I kept going. The two rows of columns led me to a big statue.
The statue was made of stone painted brown, a likeness of several men in military uniforms. They were beat up and injured, surrounded by a wall of sandbags. There was a big, bronze plaque on the base of the statue, and for some reason I felt compelled to slow down and read it. It didn’t seem like anyone was chasing me.
“In memory of the Army’s 18th platoon, 4th division. These brave men were ordered to hold the station at all costs. They held out valiantly for days, just long enough for reinforcements to arrive. However, the enemy bombed the station just as the reinforcements arrived. The entire station burned and fell down around them as they bravely held their ground to the very end.”
Below those words, there were two columns of names, Private So-and-so, Sergeant Some Guy, like that. But at the very bottom of those two columns, there was one name in the center that caught my eye: “Lieutenant Martin Briggs, platoon leader.”
That’s when I heard a familiar chuckle from behind me. It was the voice of the old man from yesterday. I froze, and before I could move, I felt a strong hand grip my shoulder from behind, and felt the pain of a fire from fifteen years past.
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Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little story. I love these prompts from Iron Age Media, but I'm trying to push my interpretation of the prompts a little further afield from the picture. It's interesting trying to branch off in various directions from just an image and come up with something creative.
Check out my free short story Out of the Corner of my Eye for some more horror goodness!
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