The Icebound Clocktower and Other Noise Inspired Stories

The Escape

Rain Noise, Railroad Noise, Wind Noise

As the waking world comes into focus, it takes a few minutes to recall what had happened. There's a stinging pain in the back of the skull... Ah, yes. It's the muffled noise of the rails through the train floor that sets the gears turning. There was a search for... a signal watchamajig? That... and... Someone? The last thing heard before blacking out was gunfire... thankfully it wasn't of a deadlier nature...

It's almost tranquil, the car rumbling along as a storm raged on overhead. It was dark now, with the occasional flash of lightning. Rain drips and plunks on the windows, and a freezing draft is coming from one of them... that means one is open...

Wait...

One is open...

Escape is a priority, though it hurts to get up. The earpiece is gone, as is the scrambler, but that doesn't matter as much as the fact that for the moment, the car is otherwise empty, and death wasn't as sudden as it could have been. Caution is a virtue, and it takes effort to avoid being noticed through the small lit window on the exit door.

It's a terrifying experiment trying to squeeze through the open window in the compartment left to the door. (The door's locked, and voices are heard on the other side.) Rainwater has made everything slippery, and the wailing wind threatens to throw off anything that's not bolted down and a few things that are. Shaky, desperate fingers scramble for a flaw, crack, or bolt in the metal roof to grip onto. Rain splashes onto the face, nearly blinding the eyes and plastering hair to the scalp. The storm is not relaxing anymore. At long last the hands find a shallow ridge and tugs until the feet are now balancing on the windowsill. There's a brief moment between then and clambering up to the top...

And suddenly a foot slips.

The hands lose the fragile hold they had on the roof, and fear seems to push the very breath from the body. What happened doesn't quite click until the descent begins...

...And the hands reach out to clutch the windowsill on a reflex. The ability to breathe returns and wrestling back up is managed. Just as footing is gained, a shout is heard from the compartment. They've noticed their captive's gone missing.

Not knowing quite where to go but as far away from the window as possible, it's a race to the other end of the train. Footsteps, both the pursuers' and the pursued clank against the steel surface. Breath comes out in thick pale clouds, and the freezing chill sets in more every time another gap is hopped.

And suddenly, it all screeches to a halt.

Now it's a choice between definite death and certain death. Staring down off the caboose at the ground whisking by at hundreds of miles per hour in front and hearing the shouts of strangers behind. Looking around at empty air for a third option, but there's none.

Leap of faith?

The option is tempting.

Just take a deep breath...