Snapshots of the Apocalypse
(By Katy Wimhurst)
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| Author | Katy Wimhurst |
Extract: Ticket to Nowhere
“Destination?” asked the woman in the railway ticket office. She had pink blotchy skin and dark bags under her eyes.
“Nowhere,” I said.
“Single or return?”
“Can I get an open return for the next train?”
“Not during peak hours.”
I sighed. “Okay, single then.” I had no idea how long I would be in Nowhere, but had taken a few days off work, anyway.
“That’ll be £35.”
“For a one-way ticket to Nowhere? That’s a complete rip-off!”
“Take it or leave it,” the woman said flatly. “Nowhere’s the cheapest destination on offer. I can do Elsewhere for £44 or Somewhere for £52. We have a special offer to Everywhere for £99, which includes free vouchers for a Nirvana milk-shake and Armageddon hamburger.”
“I need a ticket to Nowhere.” I opened my purse and handed over the money. “When does the next train leave?”
“In five minutes from platform three.”
I took the ticket, picked up my suitcase, and followed the signs to platform three. Pacing resolutely, I was conscious of the click-click of my high heeled boots on the floor. It was dark outside apart from the dim lamps that lit the platform at intervals. A lonely half-moon was hovering high above, and I turned up the collar of my woollen overcoat against the chill of the night.
A train slid out of a tunnel, then steadied to a halt. I found a seat in a carriage with few passengers. The train chugged off without enthusiasm into the night, and peering out of the window, I could see nothing, only darkness ahead, darkness behind. I felt anxious to be heading to Nowhere, but I had to go there. I’d much have rather been at home, curled up on the sofa with a novel.
My mind flitted once more to the last encounter with Marcus seven months ago: him begging me for one more chance, me striding out angrily with a: “You promised me you’d quit the drugs, so go to hell.” I thought too of the message I’d got two days ago from a mutual acquaintance, saying he’d heard Marcus was in a ‘dangerously bad way’ and was desperate to speak to or see me. The chap hadn’t got Marcus’s address or phone number, but knew he was in Nowhere. The message, which still sent a sliver of fear down my spine, was the reason I was on this train.”
