Neat Rings

Clink; clink-clink, was the ice’s reply to the whisky glass in which it had bounced around – there was no whisky in the glass, mind you (let alone any other liquid). William encouraged the ice’s soliloquy by idly swirling the glass around to the rhythm of train-wheels against the tracks. The very same train whose dining cart William was staring out of with his chin rested in his palm and the very same tracks that separated two remote towns. Clink-click, said the ice in the winter of 1906.

The forest was dark, leafless and superimposed by dry grass around the trees. There was no snow but a shadow hung over the trees as if they wanted to be blanketed. William liked the idea of a haunted forest. He tried to find patterns that might look like ghost or ghouls’ faces since he enjoyed such childlike fancies. The stripes on the trees looked like long horizontal windows on tall buildings, from the window of the train.

Thinking of buildings reminded William that he was suspensively far from any of them. They hadn’t passed any signs of civilisation in the three days of travel, but that was expected, nor should they pass any for the second leg of the trip. The only people who passed between the two young towns were wealthy businessmen (at that time, women had no reason to travel long distances) and then people like him who… his thoughts trailed off as he felt a presence beside him.

A disquieting, yet neatly dressed, man stood beside the booth at which William sat.

“May I join you, mate?” Asked the man to William.

“Uh… uhm,” stuttered William as he was brought out of his scenic observations. “Yes, by all means.”

The man didn’t wait for the sentence to finish to lend himself a seat opposite William in the booth. In his one hand, he held a bottle of scotch and in the other hand, a half-empty glass of the drink (half-empty and not half-full because by the faint smell in the man’s breath, the volume was certainly decreasing).

“Shall I top you up?” said the man gesturing to, what must have seemed like, William’s lonely glass.

“Unfortunately not,” said William apologetically, “I don’t drink. My doctor told me that it doesn’t mix well with my medication.” An image of a blue and white tablet with “RDY 259” written on it flashed in his mind. He then explained to the man that he was making this trip in order to collect his next prescription since the mail service had been down.

The man shrugged, topped up his own glass and, just before sipping, said, “I’m Allec.”

“William.” The two shook hands with Allec having the firmer and more confident grip.

Before they let go, Allec gave William a serious look and said, “Don’t be so serious.” He then burst out into some mirthful laughter which only stirred up the other six people in the coach a bit. Allec looked sideways as everybody went back to what they had been doing.

Allec asked William if he knew any of the other passengers. William said, “No.” so Allec took it upon himself to provide some “bio”. The man sitting in the opposite booth, reading a newspaper was named James; he was a stock-broker by trade. The person standing at the far back of the coach, smoking his pipe pensively was Steven; a banker. Closer to the front of the coach was Thomas who reported for the newspaper.

This stream of personal backgrounds was stopped in a fraction of a second by a catastrophic failure in the delicate systems that humans put in place to give themselves a sense of control. The train lurched as if colliding with something and chaos ran free in slow-motion through the coach. Death gave a hollow stare at the passengers of the train and said – “Quake.”

What happened next came as a blur to William. Smoke filled the coach and the people stood up quietly amongst the scattered cutlery, crockery and furniture… but only for a moment. Suddenly people started shouting as smoke flowed into the coach. Someone tried to force open a door; another tried to break open a window. The latter succeeded and so the eight in the once-lavish dining coach poured. Out of a window like termites from a log on-fire.

They ran a distance away to see that the entire train was derailed and on-fire.

“Take cover!” shouted James, foreseeing a secondary catastrophe. As they all ducked behind the lifeless, deciduous trees, the train exploded into high powered shrapnel. What was once a vessel to a far-off destination was now a monument to desolation and the rest of the train who somehow didn’t make it off in time?

“Is everyone ok?” asked James. Painting, the eight of them came together, still recovering from the shock. Amongst themselves, they tried to figure out what had happened. No-one knew. James took charge and said that they should scour the wreck for survivors and useful items since they were clearly not going anywhere, anytime; any-speed. “We’ll meet back here.”

William walked through the wreckage, in silence, with the others. Once or twice he saw charred corpses jutting out from beneath steel plates – mostly in the sleeping coaches where people didn’t have a quick way to escape and were closer to the front of the train where the accident started.

All the luggage and staff-equipment had been obliterated, and all that remained in-tact was a goods-coach with a heavy-duty shipping container (though even that had, had a hole blown into its side. In the container was found spare food, blankets, bags and other useful items. These were collected and taken back to the meeting place.

When everyone met back in despondency, there was a silent question of what to do. Allec immediately seizing the opportunity for command and said that they should make their way back. It would be safer, he reasoned because they already knew what they had passed.

James calmly interjected and that there was a higher chance of them finding civilisation in the Eastern direction that they had been going. “We might, at least, find something or someone,” he said.

This was assented with positive mumbling and nodding. Thereafter, the eight of them packed the equipment and food into the bags and, to Allec’s annoyance, they walked East, along the tracks.

The woods were quiet and not an animal or insect was seen. Life had become reclusive and absent from its fear of this winter. No-one talked much except to try and figure out what had caused the accident. There were no clear signs when they had looked.

At dusk, they reached a large meadow in a clearing. And despite the dead look of the trees surrounding the clearing, the grass seemed unusually green. Perhaps it got more sun, pondered William.

“Look!” exclaimed someone. There was no need for further explanation. On the far Northern side of the clearing, stood a structure that was clearly not natural. A building. There was a buzz of excitement as all eight rushed to it. When they started getting closer the buzz became ill and the velocity became sluggish. It wasn’t a building; it used to be a building; it was a ruin.

With the last dregs of hope, they searched the empty once-was-house and found nothing but dust and patches of grass where soil had built up. The roof, obviously having had been made from perishables, had rotted away.

“We should set up camp,” said James. “We can carry on tomorrow. We all need rest.”

Drearily, people pathed to the centre of the clearing. James said that someone needed to collect firewood and the rest would set up a tarpaulin. William and Thomas volunteered to collect the wood.

While walking back and forth between the camp and the forest, William questioned Thomas about his work. “I liked your typewriter,” said William.

“Thank you,” laughed Thomas. “It was quite the machine. I got it from my grandmother. It’s a pity that it was destroyed along with the train.”

William and Thomas had an instant rapport. They continued talking until it was dark, like old friends. Someone had started the fire and people were laying out sleeping places for themselves with blankets. The food and equipment was stored in the small shelter.

William noticed that Allec had deliberately placed his own bed as far from James as possible. Some preserved food was handed around in tin bowls. After their meals, everyone crawled into their uncomfortable sleeping places and talked amongst one another.

The following morning was woken by angry bellowing. “Where is the food?” shouted Allec.

“Calm down. What do you mean?” asked James.

Allec replied, “Half of the food is gone. This place is cursed. We should have gone back.”

James replied that it was probably animals’ doing. But he couldn’t deny the neat ring of blood on the ground. He then said that they couldn’t carry on, though, because they would need to collect more food. Annoyed, everyone spent the day foraging for elusive food. That night, it took them not long to fall asleep and their sleep was deep.

The subsequent morning was, again, awoken by shouting but in this case… it was a shout of terror. Steven cowered as he cried in shock to the centre of camp where there was vertical stake in the ground. However, it was not the pole that frightened him but rather the hare’s head impaled onto the stake. There was a neat ring of blood around the stake.

“It’s a sign,” said Steven. “Something doesn’t want us to carry on.”

“Nonsense. We should carry on moving. I think, that it was one of you,” said James. But even he sounded a little unsure. This was all followed by a heated argument in which there couldn’t be resolved which way to go. The stake and the hare’s head was burnt and everyone went to swelter in anger, around the clearing, on their own.

During the early hours of the evening, when people had calmed down considerably and returned to the camp, they found that two people were missing.

“Where were they last time you saw them?” asked James.

Someone volunteered a finger pointing towards the western edge of the forrest. They went and when they got there, there were no people but on the ground, made clear to everyone, were two neat rings of blood. William gagged.

“What have you done?” asked Allec to James.

James was enraged at the accusation. He stated that he was going to carry on Eastward the next morning whether anyone went with him or not. William and Thomas opted to do this but Steven and the other man chose to return West.

William, Thomas and James took their share of the belongings and made a smaller camp on the Eastern side of the clearing. Exhaustion and the need to rest for the journey to come made the three fall asleep easily. But William slept anxiously.

In the early hours of the morning, William woke up with a strange feeling that something wasn’t right. He called for James and Thomas. James woke up and, together, they found Thomas missing. Around his blanket, was a neat ring of blood.

Neither of the two could sleep because they were weeping in fear and mourning. At daybreak, they started as a figure approached. It was steven.

“What do you want?” asked James, irritably.

“I need to tell you something,” said Steven, after a nervous pause to look at the ring of blood. He struggled to articulate himself and while he was trying, there was a rustle in the woods.

“What was that?” asked James.

William, because the other two were petrified, opted to inspect. He picked up a knife and his hands shook violently as he walked away from the relative safety of the clearing. After some silence, something jumped out in-front of him and sprinted off. The adrenalin pumped and he reeled back until he saw that it was just a hare. He sighed and walked back.

William returned and to his horror, he saw a lack of the other two. In their place, were neat rings of blood. His spine chilled and his mind went into overdrive. It all made sense. It must have been Allec. Steven had come to warn them. Now it was just him left. He had to get away. William kicked sand over the fireplace and doggedly made his way to the old ruined house with his rucksack. He would be safe there… for now.

He rushed into the building and leant back against the wall with his eyes closed; panting as he slid down to the floor. When he opened his eyes, a chill ran down his spine. Before him, lay the corpses of the seven other survivors neatly lying in a row – Allec, James, Thomas, Steven and the others. He looked up to the opposite wall and painted in blood was a neat ring and written in it were the words “RDY 259”.