chapter 4

‘You want sugar with that?’

  ‘Sure, just one. I’m trying to cut back.’

‘No problem, be right back.’

Two men sat opposite from Darcy, dressed in jeans, white t-shirts and jackets rolled up to their elbows. One got up, to get the coffee with one sugar and the remaining man smiled at Darcy. She did not smile back, because she had a blank expression on her face, staring into oblivion. He quickly looked away, assuming she was probably a whack job, high on something, probably.

Darcy then glanced out the window, unsure where she was or what was happening. Outside, the air was still cold, people walked about wrapped up in winter coats, some with scarfs, others with hats. The digital clock displayed the time 6:38pm, Grand Central Station. The large sign sat prominently between two benches as the seconds flashed and the clock moved on one minute. Passengers hurried onto the train before it departed, eager to get to their destination. A child started to cry, which startled Darcy and she looked around the carriage. A mother and a young girl, probably two years old, sat on a row nearby, the small girl had long pig-tails tied neatly in a bow.

  ‘It’s alright Darling. We’ll be home soon.’

She cuddled the child to soothe and comfort her, reassuring the girl with a soft voice. Darcy thought about her own mother, reading from Alice together. You remind me of Alice. Sometimes I think this book is about you. But for some crazy reason, which she could not understand, she also saw Todd, her manager, reading from this book. Darcy dismissed the thought as a large man in shorts and a wooly coat caught her attention walking through the carriage and sat down on a free seat. He pulled out a paper and started reading. Shorts! Seriously!

Darcy glanced around at the other passengers, each going about their business, waiting for the train to leave. Some were leaving work returning home, others maybe visiting family or friends and those wearing shorts, were expecting the temperature to rapidly heat up. Further down, three smartly dress men sat around a table, paperwork spread out and one of them was having a lively conversation with the others. Darcy could not make out what they were saying, but it sounded serious.

  She then looked at the man sitting next to her. He had a moody expression, chiseled jawline, and a strong upper body. She could see his muscles flexing through his shirt as he moved his arm, he clearly worked out and looked after himself. The door slid open behind her, letting cold air onto the train carriage and she heard an announcement outside, the train was ready to leave.

Darcy started to think about what she was doing on the train and where it was going. The eight carriages were filled with passengers, not full, but busy. Most seats were taken and only a few were free. She did not even remember boarding the train, let alone buying a ticket to who-knows-where.

The door slid shut and the brakes released its grip, hissing and creaking as the train began to slowly move. Metal started scraping on the rails as the train gained traction and built up speed, pulling out of Grand Central Station.

Darcy’s foot brushed against a bag that was resting between her legs, a backpack which she had not noticed. It was a small sports pack, enough to carry gym gear and a bottle of water. Was it hers, she wondered? Maybe it belonged to the sullen man next to her?

The train had now left the station and was gaining momentum, moving onward, passing rows of houses and offices, leaving New York. Darcy had no idea where the train was heading. She turned to the large man next to her, perhaps he knew.

  ‘Excuse me sir,’ she asked. ‘Can you tell me where we are heading to?’

He turned to her and smiled. Strange, she thought. She asked again, perhaps he had not heard over the noise from the train. Instead he spoke to her on a completely random subject.

  ‘It’s warm for this time of year,’ he suddenly said, looking at Darcy. ‘I was hoping for snow, but maybe the train would be blocked if we had snow.’

A memory clicked. Darcy looked at him. The device, she thought. But what was he talking about? She responded with a polite smile and looked out the window.

The man sitting opposite her, who was waiting for his coffee, with one sugar, answered her question.

  ‘It’s heading to Connecticut. You on the wrong train?’ He smiled at her with brilliant white teeth.

  ‘Oh. Thanks. No, its fine. I wasn’t sure I was on the right train.’ She smiled back and looked away.

Connecticut. Why the hell would she want to go to Connecticut? Unless she wanted to visit Yale University or see Mark Twain’s House. The last thing she remembered was leaving 2080 after stealing the device and nearly getting caught. Had boarding a train been part of her plan for minor changes? Darcy then remembered her journal, tucked neatly into her back pocket, the leather creased and well used. Hopefully, she made some notes as she always did, about historical events and ideas for what she wanted to do.

  Opening the soft book, she found a newspaper clipping dated December 9^th, 1980. She caught sight of the man reading the paper a few rows down and noticed the date on the front page was the 8^th. The headline on the clipping in her journal was for tomorrow and said, Train Bombing. 100 Dead.

Reading through the article, her eyes widened, her heart rate began to rise, then a memory clicked and Darcy realized that this train would be destroyed and she was on it. There was also a photo attached to the clipping of the wreckage and a caption, 100 confirmed dead.

  Frantically flicking through, Darcy read all the loose pages detailing plans for a device to stop the attack and disable an explosive on board. A diagram labeled, Blocking, showed a unit with a countdown clock that would release a magnetic charge neutralizing the explosion and preventing 100 confirmed dead.

Shutting the journal, Darcy opened the backpack slightly and saw a small black device with a blank digital display. Had she taken this with her when escaping from 2080? It was all in her notes, she had planned this and wanted to stop this horrible attack from happening. The articles she had read indicated that the bomb denotation would occur at approximately 7.25pm. They had left the station at 6.40, five or ten minutes had gone by already, so she didn’t have long to leave the device in the toilet and get off the train. Again, a memory clicked.

The small girl had started crying again and her mother was stroking her long blond hair, sorting out the pigtails and reassuring her. The man opposite had been reunited with his friend and the two were enjoying coffee and chatting and laughing. Darcy picked up the backpack, excused herself as she squeezed though the seats and made her way to the toilet. The three smartly dressed men who were sat around the table were talking as she walked by.

  ‘Yes Senator,’ finished a bearded man.

  ‘What’s the problem? We must win Connecticut. Regan is going to be elected next month, but not without Connecticut. Do you understand?’

The balding Senator spoke forcefully and commanded respect.

  ‘Yes Sir.’

Darcy stopped when she heard them speaking. Senator? Regan? Another memory clicked. She remembered. Regan was to be elected President next month and the Senator, Regan’s right hand man was key in helping him win the campaign. But she did not remember reading about the Senator being killed in the explosion. That would have made news.

  ‘Help you miss?’ asked the bearded man, once he noticed Darcy staring at them.

  ‘umm. Sorry?’

  ‘You ok?’ he asked again.

  ‘Oh yes,’ fumbled Darcy. ‘I, um, just wanted to say what a great job you’re doing Senator.’

The Senator looked up and smiled, waving his hand in the air. The bearded man spoke for him.

  ‘Kind of you.’

Darcy walked on and stepped over into the next carriage, clutching the small black bag and headed toward the lavatory.

Jones, who had been sitting next to her, got up and walked to the train’s door and quietly talked into his earpiece.

  ‘Jones here,’ he said, pressing gently onto his ear and listening.

  ‘Roger that. Subject is responding and carrying out plan.’

There was a pause as he listened to the conversation through his ear. He nodded as if someone could see him, then spoke softly.

  ‘Yes sir, I’ll make sure she gets off as soon as the device has been set.’

He finished the conversation and returned to his seat, watching and staring straight ahead in the direction Darcy had walked down.

The train steadily moved along the tracks, occasionally creaking as it turned a corner, moving out of the city heading through Manhattan and the Bronx toward Greenwich, Stamford and eventually Connecticut. Very few of the passengers watched the scenery, oblivious to their surroundings, engrossed in either reading a paper, a book or sleeping. Darcy would have loved to watch the changing landscape, but she had a mission, a plan. Save the train. Stop the bomb.

  Reaching the toilet cubicle, she stood outside impatiently, waiting for the current occupant to finish whatever they were doing and get out. She thought about the plan. Leaving the ‘blocking’ device in a toilet, puzzled her. While looking through her notes, she had not come across a reason why she would plant the unit in the lavatory, perhaps it allowed the magnetic field to reach more parts of the train. Perhaps it could travel through the air vents. She had no idea. Just a feeling that is what she should do. What is a magnetic field anyway?

A small lady stepped out of the toilet, smiled at Darcy awkwardly and walked down the carriage back to her seat. Darcy stepped inside and locking the door, looked around the tiny space for a secure area she would hide the unit in. A small stained toilet, along with a dirty sink and rusty taps filled the space. A misty window reflected pale light into the room and Darcy noticed the dusty air vent overhead. She was not short and just about managed to push the vent with the tip of her fingers. The vent budged a little releasing some stale dust onto her face. She coughed and looked away stretching to reach a little further, using her fingers to push the vent higher. More dust fell onto her and she slid the vent away exposing the duct that carried air around the train.

  Reaching into the backpack, Darcy pulled out the device and examined it. The unit was compact, square in shape and with a small display or counter that sat along its side. Two buttons sat on the top, one red and the other blue. Maybe they started and stop the device, Darcy pondered? She had never seen this unit before and even though her journal contained drawings and diagrams, she was sure she would have remembered taking it and bringing to 1980.

The train jolted a little as it turned a tight corner and caught Darcy off balance and she steadied herself. There was a light tap on the door, followed by a male voice, ‘You done in there already?’ Darcy ignored the deep voice and continued studying the unit and wondering what to do with. The green button is normally for go, so she pressed it. A yellow digital display appeared on the small screen marking the time as 05:00. She assumed that was five minutes. She pressed it again. This time the clock changed to 10:00, ten minutes. Red must start the countdown, so she pressed it and immediately the small display began counting backwards toward zero. The train continued to chug forward, creaking, and rattling as it sped along the metal tracks. Darcy reached up, holding the device high up in the palm of her hand and gently tucked it into the shaft on the vent. Grabbing the edge of the opening, she slid the cover back over the hole, just in time to hear another tap on the door, this time a little louder.

  ‘Hurry up in there. We’re all waiting.’

  ‘Sorry, I’m done,’ replied Darcy, flushing the toilet.

Opening the door, Darcy was greeted by a large man, wearing a crinkled suit and a brightly coloured tie. He grumbled something at her and pushed by shutting the toilet door behind him. Ten minutes Darcy wondered. That should give her enough time to get off at the next station and wait, hoping that the train would not blow up into a thousand pieces.

Walking back to her seat, she heard the announcement that they were approaching the next station. Holding tightly onto the backpack, she sat down and noticed the moody man was no longer there, instead he was standing by the doorway waiting to get off. She turned and glanced at him and saw that he was talking to himself and nodding occasionally. There was something familiar about him, Darcy wondered. He looked at her and she quickly stared out of the window pretending she had been watching the scenery go by. Bare trees rushed past the window along with a light covering of frost that gently touched the ground. It was getting colder and the night began to set in.

It was then that she saw a folded piece of white paper inside the backpack which she had left open after leaving the toilet. Pulling it out, Darcy curiously unfolded the sheet and opened it, noticing a newspaper clipping was also fastened to the document.

  Another announcement came through the tiny speakers on the train, muffled and barely audible and the bored conductor said the train would be stopping shortly. She felt the brakes engage with a moan, grinding against the weight of the carriages. A gentle jolt backwards and the train slowed down pulling into the station. Darcy grabbed the backpack and still holding on to the paper, she went to stand next to the doors. Five or six people had also joined her waiting to leave. Darcy stood patiently, along with the sullen man who stood nearest to the door.

  The train abruptly stopped at the platform and the doors were pushed open from a tiny handle allowing the flow of passengers to leave and new ones to board. Darcy stepped off the carriage and on to the concrete and slowly moved away from the train. She looked at the clock on the wall. Five minutes. Hope it works, she wondered. Hope she had stopped the bomb.

There was a black bench behind her, the paint was peeling and she sat down, placing the backpack next to her and Darcy now looked at the piece of paper. The train had just pulled away, struggling forward, and gaining momentum, leaving the station behind. Most the passengers had now left the platform, a few had crossed over to the other side, waiting for another connection and the moody man, dressed in black jeans and a black t-shirt sat at the end of the platform watching her. What did he want? She ignored him and looked down and read the paper she had been holding. With each word her eyes widened, memories clicked and absorbing the words she could hardly believe or understand what she was reading. It was then that the headache started. Tiny nails began to knock into her skull, a burning sensation stung the back of her head and the pain intensified. Closing her eyes small details flashed through her mind.

The implant is hot.

Do you remember Alice?

Train and then plant the bomb. You won’t even realize what you are doing.

Control wants the Senator dead and Darcy is the one to do it.’

Darcy stood up in absolute horror, shocked and feeling dizzy. Her head was pounding and she was sure that at any moment she would either vomit or faint. But the realization of what was happening hit her like the train she watched moving along in the distance. There was a temporary panic because she now understood what had really happened on the train. The device she had left behind was not a bomb blocking device, as she been told or lead to believe, but an actual bomb. She could hear Todd’s voice in her head, remembering as he spoke these words.

We have to get her on the train and plant the bomb. Control wants the Senator dead and Darcy is the one to do it.’

And she had done it. Looking at the clock there was less than four minutes and panic built inside her. All she did was scream, ‘There’s a bomb on that train. Somebody stop it.’

A few of the remaining passengers stopped and looked at her, eventually ignoring what they assumed was just a crazy person, a drunk or someone high on drugs. She screamed again, ‘Stop the train, it’s going to blow up in a minute.’ This time she caught sight of the man who had been sitting next to her, he was now standing at the other end of the platform, looking directly at her. Darcy immediate recognized him. Jones. The soldier.

  ‘It’s him,’ Darcy screamed, this time pointing to Jones. ‘He planted the bomb.’ Her finger stretched out, pointing toward Jones as she continued to yell, ‘It’s him.’

By now some of the passengers had stopped and were watching the train in the distance and two men in bright orange vests were walking casually toward Darcy without a care in the world. Less than three minutes thought Darcy. How can I stop that train?

  ‘cuse me Miss, what seems to be the problem,’ asked the man in the orange vest. Darcy did not pause for breath and threw her words out as quickly as she could. ‘There’s a bomb on that train and he did it.’ She pointed again to Jones who was calmly walking toward the exit, as if he were a passenger heading home from work. ‘You’ve got two minutes left,’ she finished breathing heavily and looking back at the clock.

  ‘and how do you know this, ma’am,’ asked the second man in a slow calm voice. But Darcy’s voice was not calm, her head was about the explode, she could feel the pain intensifying in the back of her skull. All she could think about was the little girl with the pig-tails, the man drinking coffee with one sugar and of course the Senator and the bearded man with him.

  ‘Stop the train. Just stop the train.’ She was getting hysterical, just yelling over and over to stop the train. Jones had now disappeared through the exit and the two men in orange vests looked at each other, they were clearly dealing with a crazy lady. One minute to go and there was nothing Darcy could do. She only hoped that she had been mistaking but Todd’s words were echoing through her mind and despite the pain, she could now remember everything before finding herself on the train.

  ‘It’s ok miss. Why don’t you come with us?’ His voice was calm and nonthreatening, like taking to a child who was misbehaving. 

  ‘You’re not listening!’ she screamed. Darcy dropped to her knees in frustration ‘Nobody is listening,’ Cradling her hands over her face, Darcy started to cry softly. She could visualize clearly all those poor people on the train, heading home or visiting family or going out for the evening.

‘It’s alright Darling. We’ll be home soon.’

‘You want sugar with that?’

The train was still visible in the distance, slowly building up speed, the wheels gripping into the track as it got faster and faster. The red lights at the rear were noticeable and the dim glow of the carriage lights zoomed past houses and carried on traveling through open fields.

Suddenly, everything around her was quiet, everything became still, except for the loud explosion in the distance. Darcy looked up at the sound of a massive bang, tears flowing down her face, to see red and orange flames shoot up into the sky. Immediately, several explosions shook the air and the carriages launched into the night, broken, and burning. Nobody moved. A few shouts carried across the platform as onlookers watched in total surprise to see the explosion and the entire train disappear into a ball of flames.

‘It’s alright Darling. We’ll be home soon.’

You want sugar with that?’

The two men wearing orange vests watched in disbelief as the train detonated into a million pieces and became engulfed in flames that soared into the night sky. They turned to Darcy, slightly apprehensive that she had known, but curious at the same time, ready to ask her some questions and call the authorities, instead all they saw was her body crumpled on the ground.