Suspense Short Story – The Death Ride
Photo credit: chelle from morguefile.com
It was not supposed to happen this way.
The newspapers call me a terrorist; the public curses my soul every day. I wonder what does my husband thinks of me now. He used to love me once. Now, I am not so sure. It doesn’t even matter because there is no breath left in my body. The burns cover it; I am not sure if I will myself recognize it. But as I said, it was not supposed to happen this way.
It all began with that train ride. The month end and weekend collided with each other. I was late in office again. People who think finance is an easy job need few days of work in my shoes. The closing of accounts took ages to complete. By the time I left office, the clock showed 10:30 p.m. The last metro would leave in few minutes. I rushed to cross the street. I heard some footsteps following me. I tried to ignore, but I couldn’t. My heartbeat shot and I picked up the pace. Somebody shouted STOP from behind but my courage left me. I increased my speed and was soon running through the dead night and crossing the road. I caught my breath only when I was at the platform.
The platform was almost empty. There were only four or five people. I did not count exactly. With hitched breath, I walked towards the ladies’ compartment. I was still trying to catch my breath when the whistle of the train sounded. At the same time, that voice echoed again. I looked this time. A man with black overcoat and monkey-cap appeared behind me. He was saying something, but I did not stop to listen and boarded the train. He followed without any hesitation and fell down at my feet.
Rest is just a blur for me. I did not notice when the train started. Blood was oozing from somewhere and the floor of the train was soaked in red. I looked around; there was no one in that compartment. I was trying to dial the emergency number when his hand touched my legs. I tried to free my legs but his grip become stronger.
He mumbled, “Help me. Please help me.” I stared at his hand, which was offering me a package. His raspy voice frightened me more. “This should not be found. Keep it…” He was going to say something more, but his voice died down. I again looked at the phone. I should have called police or ambulance; my hands froze. My mind went in shock at the sight of the blood. The announcement of next station came and made my decision. There was no point in getting embroiled in this matter. I looked at the package, took it and left from another gate. I made sure not to touch the blood.
I guess that was my only mistake. I should have called the police. I should not have taken that packet, but I did. Why, I don’t know. But I did. I kept that small packet in my purse and went home as if nothing had happened. I lost myself to the arms of sleep and my family.
Next day, newspaper shouted about a dead body found in the metro. Guilt seeped into my bones. I recalled the moment when I could have called the ambulance. Hunt for eyewitness and the criminals was on. I might be framed. They might consider me the criminal. I did not have the gun. I can go and give them the package. What if they considered me a murderer because I did not call the ambulance? Dichotomy reigned over my mind. I could not decide whether I should or shouldn’t approach police. I did not even tell anything to my husband. He asked me if something was wrong but I shrugged it as PMS.
On the way to office, I decided to open the package. I know it was foolish but devil has taken the hold of my mind. I had imagined it to be some kind of drugs or pistol but it turned out to be a pen. I sighed in relief and decided to approach the police. They could not frame me for carrying a pen.
I was still thinking my course of action when my neighbor asked for the pen to write and I offered it to her. That was when it happened. There was a click and then boom. I never opened my eyes again.
Now I hover here, in this place, waiting to be free from the name of terrorist, waiting for all the curses to end so that God can decide a place for me. I am bound to this train by the thread of profanities thrown at me by those passengers. Unless they pass, I will hang in here. As I said, it was not meant to happen like this.
__END__
