A Day Off Work

The sun beat down hard on the metropolitan city below, the streets roaring with the sound of engines and conversations. You took a sip of coffee as you leaned back in your chair and looked out of the café window. Monday - the busiest day of the week, and frankly, the best day to have a day off work too.

“Honey, come on. We’ve been here for ages.”

“Alright, we’re going soon, just let me finish this cup.”

Your wife Rachel smiled and nodded.

“So how’s work been lately?” She asked.

You sighed.

“Got a bunch of fuckin’ customer complaints again. Can’t be asked to deal with those whiny assholes.”

“Oh no, not again. What are they on about now?”

“Customer service usually. All the employees can’t do their shit right and then the blame gets dumped straight onto my head.” You roll your eyes, reminded of the ghastly horrors you would have to face tomorrow.

“Why don’t you get your amazing secretary to deal with it?”

“Janet’s got enough crap to deal with already.”

“You did say she was very efficient.”

“Yeah, she’s good at her job, but wouldn’t want to burden her too much.”

“That’s very considerate of you, honey.” She smiled.

“Anyway,” you smiled back, “did you enjoy today?”

She stared down at the table for a few seconds, as if distracted by a separate train of thought.

“Baby?” You lean closer to her.

“Oh yes,” she looked up, “Yes, thank you. The view was spectacular.”

“I’m glad. We need to go there more often.”

“Yes, definitely. I loved it.”

You tossed your empty cup in the bin and stood up. “Let’s go.”

You made your way to the train station and walked hand-in-hand with Rachel up to the platform. The train had arrived at the perfect time, with no need for either a sprint or a wait. However, it was possibly the most densely packed train you had ever seen. People were pressed up against windows and shuffling around under other people’s armpits. Their red faces huffed in discomfort.

You looked into the windows down the length of the train, but all the carriages were just as full. As soon as the doors opened, the pungent odor of sweat and quiet dejected moans erupted from the inside. A few people were shoved out as those in a rush tried to make their way out, then promptly crammed themselves back in.

“Should we wait for the next one?” Rachel looked painfully at the open carriage door.

“Nah. It’s bound to be just as full at this time of day, if not even worse. It’s just three stops, then we can bus from there.”

“Right.”

You both pushed in and managed to squeeze behind the door opening with no room to spare. The doors closed and you found it slightly difficult to breathe. Rachel leaned against it, trying to find a better space for her handbag.

The dense train rolled its way across the city and over the bridge. You prayed for your stop to come faster as the beads of sweat began to gather across your forehead, and you huffed in exasperation. The next stop arrived, and you heard the doors open. All that time and only one stop had passed – could this train be going any slower?

Suddenly, a shrill scream erupted from behind you. You turned to the open doors and found yourself looking out, not onto the platform, but directly into the open tracks. Lowering your sight further, you see Rachel sat on the tracks below, having fallen out through the open doors. She stood up and looked around in confusion.

Silence spread through the entire carriage for a few seconds, before a wave of confused murmurs erupted and people started to yell in anger.

“Oi! Wrong side driver!”

“Stupid idiot!”

“Someone’s fallen out! Wrong door!”

Rachel looked up in disbelief.

“What the fuck?” She mouthed at you. You pointed towards the platform, and she ran to the other side of the tracks, then attempted to pull herself up onto the platform, but was unsuccessful. It was up to neck height, even with her wearing heels, and there was no indentation she could use to place her feet on. She ran back to the side with the open train door.

A train was coming from the opposite direction, and Rachel was directly in the way of its course. It emerged from the distance, and horrified shouts erupted from the carriage directed at the driver. You stared in terror, quickly bending down and reaching out your hand.

“Ah, shit. Fuck! Don’t close the door! Whatever you do, DON’T CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR!” You yelled, in a panicked frenzy.

Rachel turned to look at the booming noise, and her expression morphed into one of terror and panic. You saw tears well up in her eyes as she looked towards you.

The other passengers stared in your direction as you squatted and leaned with your arm outstretched out onto the tracks, your other hand hooking the inside of the door. The incoming train was racing towards the tracks in front of you, but there was still a sizeable distance. You were almost certain it would only come after you could pull her to safety.

However, it was still only a mere ten seconds away from shredding her to pieces, and was approaching ever closer. Once you got back, this dunce of a driver would be having hell, you promised yourself.

“You’ll be fine, you can definitely get up before it comes!” Yeah. Absolute hell for this shit.

“Try and pull yourself up!”

She grabbed your arm with both hands and stood still. Simply staring.

“Come on! You can do it!”

But she wasn’t trying at all.

“What’s wrong? Rachel! Stop wasting precious time!”

You turned to see the train coming from the opposite side now dangerously close, and your mind raced in panicked confusion.

Suddenly, you felt a sharp tug on your arm as she stood firm and pulled with all her strength, using both arms and applying the greatest force she could in the space of one second.

You couldn’t react to pull back fast enough. You lost balance and tumbled out onto the tracks below with her.

“WHAT THE FUCK RACHEL?”

Jumping up, you turn to see the train, just a few yards away now. A hand held your jacket firmly as you scrambled to try and get back into the carriage. The shock and terror weakened your muscles and your uncoordinated flailing was of no use. Your incoming fate sounded like a thunderstorm raging closer.

“I know you slept with Janet.”

For better or worse, you didn’t have enough time to process the high pitched whisper.