The Train - An Original Short Story by K H Simmons

On the exterior we all looked the same. Black armour covering every inch of our flesh, helmets enclosing our heads, high-calibre assault rifles in every set of hands. We stood in neat lines, still and silent, an impassable wall of soldiers. Ahead of us, the people crowded in the courtyard, shoving for space, shouting and spitting in our direction. To them, we were the problem. We were the definition of oppression. They didn't understand that there was no choice.
They were scared. I understood that. I would have been if the roles had been reversed. It didn't matter what the broadcasts said. They didn't think about what would happen if we weren't here. The consequences meant very little when it was your life on the line.

Beyond the barriers behind the people the train pulled into the station. 'You're killing us!' a woman screamed. She stepped out of the crowd, crossed the yellow line that separated us and punched a soldier in his armoured chest.

He didn't flinch. He didn't raise his weapon. He just stood there and let her pound her fists against his chest. A child broke free of the crowd and grabbed hold of the woman's coat. He was crying and begging his mother. He just wanted to go home. If we didn't do something, more of them would rush forwards, then there would be a problem. I stepped up, took the woman by the arm and marched her back behind the yellow line. The child stumbled with her. She tried to twist free, I maintained a firm grip.

'You're hurting me!' she shouted. I didn't let go until she was back behind the line. As soon as I let go, she tried to lash out at me but was restrained by another member of the crowd.

'Stop it, do you want to get shot?' he hissed.

'It's better than this!' she protested, then looked at her son's haunted face and fell silent. The barriers were raised, opening single-file gates leading directly to the train.

'You will board the train in an orderly fashion. Once on board the train please find a space with access to a safety rail or handle. Parents will secure their children first,' the voice on the speakers announced.
My captain gave the order and we took a step forward. We were a solid wall, enclosing on the people destined for the train.

As expected, there was resistance. They all knew where the train led. It wasn't somewhere that any of them wanted to go. It wasn't their fault, nor was it ours. We were just doing our job. They had no one else to blame though. They charged us, trying everything from biting to kicking to get through the wall of authority.
We pushed back. They were out gunned. We didn't shoot. That was a last resort. We simply increased the shielding in our suits and shoved back harder. Slowly, gradually, the crowd began to be filtered through the gates and into the dimly lit interior of the train.

Men, women and children alike made their way one by one through the doors and into the empty carriages. They were stuffed in like sardines in a can, there was barely enough room for them all. Each time it seemed like there were more of them. Soon there would be no one left. It made me wonder whether we were doing the right thing or was this simply an inevitable end we were trying to avoid.

As our line finally reached the gates, the last of the crowd filed into the carriage. They squeezed inside and peered out at us with pale, sickly faces streaked with tears. A few of them were coughing from the strain of moving. Most hadn't begun to show symptoms yet. They were still in denial, believing that there must have been some mistake. They didn't feel sick. They couldn't be sick. They just needed to go back home.

It wasn't their fault. We didn't wish it on them. Nobody wanted this for anybody. It was the only option though. If they stayed in the city, it would spread to even more people. Everyone would die. The train was the kindest option. It would take them into the quarantine zone where they could live out whatever was rest of their lives without infecting anyone else.

If there was any other way, we would have done it. Wouldn't we? No soldiers entered the train with them. Once the doors were sealed, they wouldn't be opened again until they were inside the quarantine zone. Not even a driver was needed. Tomorrow it would be back again, washed clean and disinfected, waiting for the next batch. The doors sealed shut and the train chugged out of the station disappearing into the darkness of a tunnel beneath the streets of the city.
A beep inside my helmet warned me before a needle slid into my thigh testing my blood after coming into close contact with the infected. Every soldier stood in silence awaiting their verdict. My heart hammered against my chest. A green light and a cheerful beep let me know that the reading had been negative. I had survived the lottery of life another day. A handful of my fellow soldiers hadn't been so lucky.

The negative reading deactivated their guns and paralysed their suits before it notified them, meaning that they couldn't resist as we detained them. Tomorrow it would be them boarding the train. One day it might be me.

About Me

I'm Katy, but go by K H Simmons officially. I write a lot of sci-fi, dark fantasy and dystopian fiction. If you're here for sparkly vampires, you're in the wrong place ;)

I frequently post short stories on my Facebook page, as well as work on full length novels. If you want more short stories like the above - check out my anthology Death, Demons & Dystopia available on Amazon/Kindle. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07YN5DY98

When I'm not writing, I can usually be found cuddling dogs, reading, at the gym or playing video games.