When Death Found Love

Chapter 2- Collision

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Chapter 2- Collision

I was suddenly snapped out of my daydream by a loud noise. I jumped in surprise when I realised it was the train switching it’s track. I took a couple of steps back from the track as the trains came into contact. 

From behind a tree, I watched the scene unfold in front of me. The train coming from my right turned onto the track of the one coming from my left. It caused a big explosion as it lifted the one from the left into the air and onto it’s side. Looking down the track I saw that the rest of the carriages were still deciding on whether to fall or not. I could hear the passengers on the two trains screaming for help, or in terror. 

When I first started this ‘job’ I felt guilty. More than anything I’d wanted to go and save the people who I knew wouldn’t make it otherwise. But as the years went on, I began to feel less and less emotion. I thought my ‘job’ was too personal. I didn’t want to get close to people. What if I did, and they were in one of these situations? I knew I wasn’t allowed to save them. It was a vicious circle.

I turned my focus back to the trains, which were now entwined. The fronts had been completely scrunched up, and a fire had begun to start. Windows were smashed, door handles were sprawled on the ground and paper flew in the air, slightly singed from the fire.

The fire grew where the trains met. It licked the sides of the carriages, leaving a soot trail, whilst it engulfed other carriages one by one. People attempted to jump from the upturned carriages, only landing on their faces and being knocked out, or breaking a bone. As I saw their hopeless attempts to escape, I couldn’t help but let a bitter laugh escape my lips. I felt no guilt as I laughed at their failed attempts to escape. I guess I really don’t have any emotion. But I honestly don’t care anymore.

I waited behind the tree, entertaining myself. The train passengers were still screaming, burning and dying. 

I sat down and began to doodle in my notebook, blocking out everything around me. I drew the scene I saw in front of me. Every detail, from the flames, to the shattered glass on the floor.

After another fifteen minutes, the emergency help came. Fire engines, ambulances and police cars drove up the track, dodging the forest trees. The fire was put out, people were taken off in ambulances and the policemen went to question survivors and inspect the track for clues as to how the accident occurred. This was my cue. 

I stood up from behind the tree and swiftly navigated my way through the chaos of people. I was fast, so no one saw me slip into a carriage near the front of one of the trains.

I looked around the carriage. Some seats were moulded into the ones in front of them, shattered glass lay all over the floor and traces of blood was everywhere. There were two bodies in here. I walked over to one. It was a woman, about forty I guessed. She was wearing a suit and was now sprawled out over an open briefcase. I looked down at her. Yes, she was definitely dead.

I leant down and pressed my hand against her heart.

“Time to go,” I whispered to the corpse, before I lifted her soul from her body.

I still found it fascinating how I had the power to do this. To take a soul from a dead person. Yes it sounds morbid, but it’s mesmerizing. 

If you haven’t put the pieces together yet, I’m death in the flesh. In a sense. At the scene of an accident, I’m there, but you won’t always see me past the chaos of the moment. I’m there to remove all the souls, of those who have died in the accident, and take them to either heaven or hell. I don’t think it’s a hard thing to do. More like boring. You see the same things happening over and over again. Plane crashes, car crashes, train crashes, riots, murders. It got old. But I’m pretty sure there are others like me. I mean, people die every minute, and my life isn’t that chaotic, I have times where I can relax.

I swiftly made my way through the rest of the carriages, grabbing people’s souls as quickly as possible. There was an interesting range of people on this train. Business workers with their briefcases, housewives with their groceries and tourists, who had been holding tightly onto their suitcases.

My gaze took to a middle-aged man. He was tanned, and wore a T-shirt with the Union Jack on it, and some khaki-coloured shorts. On his feet he wore red sandals.

“Definitely a tourist,” I said quietly, even though I knew no one could possibly hear me.

I looked over the lifeless corpse, and saw his suitcase on the seat next to him. 

Well, what’s the point in doing this job if you don’t get any fun out of doing it? I thought before reaching over the corpse and picking up his suitcase. It was reasonably heavy, but I managed to lift it over him with little difficulty, and without touching the man.

I set the case in the aisle and hastily unzipped it. The last thing I wanted was to be caught in here by the police, and have to be taken in for questioning. And then an inspection by doctors, to check for injuries. Yes, it has happened twice before. Once in a plane crash, and once in a car crash. I was only caught because I was pretending to fly the plane. Sounds childish, but I always used to be interested in planes. And the car crash, well that was near to the beginning of this job, and let’s just say I wasn’t too happy with having to let people die, and I began to hit the car in anger.

I looked down into the man’s suitcase. He’s packed a couple of pairs of shorts, some trousers, mid-length trousers, lots of T-shirts, a few jumpers and some trainers. He also had numerous hair products, deodorant, a journal and a map.

I reached into his case and pulled out the map and the journal. I quickly unfolded the map and saw lots of post-it notes stuck onto various places on it. London, Bath and York were three that he had circles and underlined. This was obviously his first time to England and he had a route set out of all the places he wanted to visit. I folded the map back up, pinching down the folds to make a clear bend. I tucked the map back into the suitcase and picked up the journal.  I flipped through it, and then went back to the first page. It was written in Spanish, but I’ve been alive for decades, so I’ve learnt some parts of numerous languages. I managed to make some of it out:

Hello Book!

I’m on the train to London...My Auntie should meet me at the station...I’m going to visit ‘Big Ben’ and meet the Queen!

I’m going to sleep now, I will talk later!

José.

I laughed at his remark about meeting the Queen. Heck, I’ve been here over one hundred years and I haven’t met the Queen- either of them.

I carefully slipped the journal and map back into his suitcase and zipped it up. I managed to lift it over him and slide it onto the seat next to him.

The next carriage was harder. It had been upturned, so I was walking on the windows. I saw a few people were still stuck in their seats, somehow not falling out of them. Others had slashes in their skin made from the glass smashing. I quickly finished with this carriage and then moved onto the next train.