Death

Looking at Marlo White, no one would ever guess that he would be in front of a high-speed train that afternoon. He didn’t plan to be, so it was a shock to him too. School had just finished, and he was walking home, looking forward to another summer of doing very little. Especially little, seeing as he would not be returning to school. Ever again if he could help it. Marlo was not an individual who thrived in an academic environment, and it had not thrived with his presence either. He had very little clue what he’d do next, but he figured he’d work it out as he went along. He usually did. That was just the kind of person Marlo was.

Someone walking past might guess him to be sixteen, nineteen, or perhaps somewhere in between. Their eyes would be drawn to his salt and pepper hair, alternating bands of white and black falling loosely around his face and down his neck, contrasting with his tanned skin, and capping off his tall, slender physique. His own eyes would ignore them, instead lazily watching a sky just as blue as they were. But he was nothing special beyond that. No secret notions of heroism, no real aspirations. Nothing like that. Just a normal person.

When this normal person rounded the corner of the small side path through the woods, he came to the train tracks, as he had every day for years. He wasn’t expecting anything. It was a nice day, after all, the sun trickling its way down through the sparse canopy of leaves overhead, rays of yellow and green splashing the ground all around Marlo as he walked. The ground was warm and comfortable underfoot. A gentle breeze swished through the trees, and Marlo considered just wandering off into the woods to spend a few more hours out here, rather than go home immediately.

He stepped onto the tracks, and as he looked lazily around, he saw something. A cloth tarp, fluttering on the train tracks. He stared at it. It wasn’t just a piece of fabric, fluttering along. It was big, over two metres wide, and seemed to be anchored in place by something, occasionally twitching in the breeze. He looked closer, and as he did, a corner was peeled back by the wind, revealing just for a second, what it was hiding. His eyes widened. He started to run, directly towards the piece of green tarp, which was now moving a lot more. This movement did not unearth what he had seen again, but now as he was rushing closer, he could hear noises coming from underneath. They were muffled, and quite hard to make out even in the still of the afternoon. But he kept going, hoping against hope he had not seen what he thought he had seen. It had been a hand. And it had been moving.

He reached the tarp, and desperately peeled it away. Part of it came loose, revealing the face of a terrified woman. Her right eye was a massive purple lump, and her mouth was gagged. Through it, she made indiscernible screams which got more insistent when she saw Marlo

“MMMMM! MGGGHH!”

Her neck, along with every limb was bound to the rails by thick ropes. Inside them, Marlo saw the rails were starting to vibrate. He looked to his right, and saw, snaking towards them like a hunting Viper. The train.

“Oh, God. Oh my… I…” Marlo had nothing. He felt sick. Shakily, he dropped his bag, and after some frantic searching, pulled out a tiny pocketknife. He used it to open bottles and the torch attachment for if he dropped his phone down the side of his bed. He hadn’t even seen the blade in the past year. When he pulled it out, the blade got stuck for a second, and in his panic, he dropped it. After some frantic scrabbling to pick it back up, upon being unsheathed, it looked painfully small

“I don’t know if this’ll be enough.” He said to the woman. She just made another desperate noise through her gag. Marlo tried to take a deep breath but felt like his chest was closing up. Just a second ago, he had felt like he had no problems in the world. “I… You’re gonna be fine. Let me just see…”

He stuck the knife into the tarp and ripped it open. What he saw made him almost throw up instantly. The woman’s body was stripped to just rags, her clothes shredded, and her flesh beaten and bloody. At least two of her limbs were bent at unnatural angles, bound horribly to the bars. She definitely couldn’t walk, even if he did get her out. The metal felt hot from the Sun. it must have been agonising to lie on, and he wondered how long she had been here. He hadn’t seen her when he had walked to school this way this morning. But what if she had been there, and this was just the first train of the day? How long had… No time for that. He looked desperately at her bindings, trying to work out which one to cut first. But did it matter? Surely every single one helped. She wouldn’t be free until they were all gone, so why not just pick one at random?

He leant in, bringing his knife to cut her gag. She pulled her neck back as best she could, and made a strained, terrified groan.

“It’s okay!” Marlo said. “I won’t hurt you!” The woman shook her head as best as she could and motioned with her eyes to the ropes wrapping her to the rails. Marlo stared for a second or two, then realised what she meant. Cutting her gag was useless, what mattered most was getting her out of here.

“Oh God, you’re right. I’m so sorry, I should have-” Another strained grunt from the woman interrupted him. He shook himself and nodded.

“You’re going to be fine.” He assured her, leaning in and sawing at the rope around her neck. “I’m going to get you out of here.” He could feel the rumbling of the train tracks getting louder, and the woman would be able to as well. Could he get her out in time?

After a couple of seconds of frantic sawing, he managed to get through the rope. He almost kept slicing in his panic and cut into her neck but managed to stop himself just before it. The woman pulled her neck as far away as she could, wincing in pain. It made a series of pops as it did so, and the thick red mark the rope had left on her throat made Marlo even queasier, but he kept going, moving down and working on the arm that had been tied to the same track as her neck. He cut and cut, and again after a few seconds, the arm was free.

It seemed unusable in its current state, bent and broken as it was, with an awful burn on the forearm from the hot metal but he pulled the rope away and carefully lifted it over to lie on the woman’s chest. More tears came to her already blotched face, but she seemed to understand it was to avoid further burns. He leant over her awkwardly, leaning on one hand to avoid putting any of his weight on that broken arm. Instead, all his weight pushed down on his left palm, driving it into the gravel. He grit his teeth as he felt the skin of his hand break. While it was being pricked, his right was sawing, back and forth, back and forth. Eventually, he freed her other hand. This arm, she could move by herself. She grabbed her broken arm and, groaning the entire time, moved it to what must have been a more comfortable position.

“Sorry.” Marlo winced. “I tried… That looks bad. I learned in school how to make a sling, so I can give you one when I get you… out…”

He made the mistake of looking up and saw the train. It was still a good distance away, but it was steadily growing closer. He couldn’t save her. There was no way in hell.

“Oh no.” He whispered, eyes pricking with tears. The woman looked back too and started to scream beneath her gag, thrashing violently.

“Stop!” Marlo yelled, fighting the creeping feeling of despair, and losing. “Just calm down and I’ll… I’ll…” There was no way the train would stop in time. He couldn’t get her out. He couldn’t do anything. Anything at all. Nothing he could do could save her He stood up slowly, and the woman stared up at him, eyes wide and fearful.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. The woman started to sob properly again, and her screams resumed, louder than ever.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeated. He took one step back and felt the woman’s working arm grab his leg. She was clearly begging him to help her, but what could he do? If he stayed there, they’d both get hit. If he stepped back then only she would… would… He couldn’t hold it anymore. He doubled over and threw up; hot, stinging gunk rushing up his throat and splattering all over the ground. He managed to turn away from the woman, but he didn’t need to look at her to imagine what would happen to her. The massive bulk of the train would grind her to nothing, the violent combination of weight and speed vaporising her into a fine mist.

Her grip loosened, and he stared at her, breathing heavily. She shook her head and closed her eyes. His heart sank. She wanted him to go, to leave her to this. He wanted to as well, more than anything. But… If he left now, after getting so far after giving her hope of freedom, then he was even worse than whoever had left her here. He didn’t know anything about her, not her name, not why she was here or who had done this to her. But Marlo did know, in this instant, that if he left her here, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

He knelt back down, and the sound of gravel crunching under him made the woman open her eyes. She took one look at him and started to yell through her gag, swiping at him with her free hand and trying to push him off her.

“I’m not leaving!” he yelled, picking his knife up from where he had dropped it. It was splashed with vomit, but he didn’t even notice how disgusting that was. “Work on your right leg, do anything you can!”

Her muffled shouts got louder, but he was ignoring her. Upon closer inspection, she looked about the same age as his mother, somewhere in her forties. Maybe she had kids of her own, which was why she was trying to save him. But he was here to save her, He could do it. He had to! He pressed his knife against the third binding and started to hack away. His whole body was shaking, and he realised he was still just as scared as before, if not more. If he stayed here, if he failed, the train would hit them both and the cloud of red mist would be twice the size. But that wouldn’t stop him. It couldn’t. He refused to let it. He worked and worked, as the train tracks rattled louder and louder, harder, and harder. The woman was now clawing at the ropes on her other leg. It wouldn’t do much, but if it meant he had to spend one less second cutting, that would help. He could hear the train now, a wall of sound rushing at them, getting louder and louder. He wondered how close it was now. A couple hundred metres? Less?

With a final slice much too quiet to be heard over the train, the third rope broke, freeing another broken limb. Marlo scrambled over to the other side, and as he did so, saw the train. It was closer than ever, still barrelling down towards them, and he could see the driver inside. A middle-aged, balding man, he’d clearly seen them, and was slamming the brake lever. It wouldn’t stop in time though. Not even close. But by then, they’d both be gone. He’d have to dive under the train probably, on top of the woman. It’d be very painful, and probably burst his eardrums. But he couldn’t back out. He ripped and tore, not even noticing he was screaming, a bellow of pure fear and effort, pushing his entire body into cutting this one rope. How long did he have? Twenty seconds? Ten? His whole body was tensing for a blow it couldn’t possibly survive. With one last roar, he sliced through the rope, and freed the woman.

His hands were moved before he thought, his body operating before his brain could catch up. His hands grabbed the woman by the shoulders, his hips rotated, and using every last possible bit of strength he had left, he threw her over him, out of harm’s way. The act of doing so turned him upside down, bringing him face to face with the train, now less than a metre away.

Time slowed down. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the woman crashing to the ground, just beyond the tracks. Her arms, both the working one and the broken, reaching for him. He didn’t care about that though, his eyes fixed on the massive hulk of metal in front of him. The logo DVIN was emblazoned across its front. It stank of oil and couldn’t possibly be avoided from this close. It was a wedge of metal, stabbing forwards at him, impossible to dodge. This was it. He was going to die here, in these woods. These woods, which he had loved for so long, that he had been playing and walking in for his whole life. He remembered swimming in the nearby creek, climbing the trees that now ringed his vision, eating berries from the bushes that were being almost uprooted by the mighty wind that followed the train. He had lived in these woods, truly lived, and now he was going to die in them. Just when his life was supposed to be starting for real. Dying, beneath a warm sun and a blue sky, having just saved a woman from the fate that he was about to experience.

For the final action in this life, Marlo White smiled. There were worse ways to go. Time sped back up. The train smashed into him, shattering his skull first, and obliterating his brain. It travelled practically through him, vaporising his body, just as he had imagined it would. Bone fragments flew everywhere, embedding themselves into the ground or even driving deeply into nearby tree trunks. The bulk of his blood sprayed upwards, splattering the window of the poor driver with a gory shower, who would need eighteen months of protracted therapy to ever touch a brake lever again. Not one recognisable body part remained. From head to toe, even in the most minute areas such as teeth or inner ears, Marlo White was destroyed, utterly and wholly. Death was instant and, almost certainly, painless.