The Terror Deep Below

He was trapped, unable to move. Not just him, but many others around him. Penned in together and surrounded by darkness.

Another trickle of sweat rolled down the back of his neck, following the curve of his shoulder blade, down onto his back. Sweat was also in his nose. Not his own, but the stale stench of sweat from a man to his left, also trapped in the small space. He couldn’t see the man fully, just a red football top strained across his large belly, and the stubble on the sagging flesh under his chin.

It mingled with the smell of perfume. Strong, confident perfume, perhaps Opium? He couldn’t tell where from, he couldn’t even move his head, the ceiling was too low, forcing him to look down, at his chest, at the shoulder of the woman in front of him.

It seemed to get hotter every moment, more sweat running down the inside of his shirt. He regretted putting a suit on this morning, but how could he have known he would be trapped underground like this? The floor vibrated gently under his feet, but then jolted suddenly, momentarily pushing the obviously large breasts of a woman behind him into his back. Embarrassing for both, but at least they couldn’t catch each-others eye.

The regular rumble and vibration continued underfoot, it seemed to go on endlessly, how much longer would they all be kept squeezed into this space? The only break in the monotony was an occasional screech. How long would this go on?

He closed his eyes. Deprived of his sight, his senses focussed on what he could feel and smell. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, hit his eyebrows, then ran down his temples and nose. It tickled. His arms were pinned where they were, he couldn’t move to wipe it away. He tried to twitch his nose to dislodge the drops, but more kept coming. He gave up.

Garlic. Strong, foul. Must be someone’s breath. It could have been mint. Why did it have to be garlic?

Time seemed to pass in slow motion. With the heat, eyes closed, unable to move, and the steady rhythm underfoot, he began to feel sleepy. His mind wandered.

Suddenly the screech came back louder and more persistent, and there was a sudden jolt. People around him were pushed into him. He opened his eyes, had he fallen asleep? For how long? The people crammed in around him stirred and shifted. The rhythms underfoot had stopped. All he could see though was the shoulder of the women, the belly of the football fan, and the back of someone else. He closed his eyes again. 

Suddenly a new sound! And then a breeze, not cool, not refreshing, but cooler than the stale hot air he had been breathing. It felt wonderful.

The press of bodies surrounding him moved, there was space, and air, he opened his eyes again. And nearly screamed!

All around him people were moving away rapidly, desperately trying to escape. He watched as they squeezed through a gap that had opened, perhaps three people wide. They jostled him as they passed, streaming left and right once they escaped.

But right in front of him was a nightmare vision. People flowed around her as she advanced right towards him. Was it the heat, that he had just woken up, or the sweat in his eyes? He tried to rationalise, but it seemed like she moved in jolts, rather than just moving forward naturally. Suddenly she was a foot closer than she had been a second before. How could that be? Her head was partly down, but her eyes were looking up, directly at him. Her long black hair, slightly curly, and obviously unwashed, hung down the sides of her head, covering her cheeks.

She was unnaturally pale. She wore a long baggy white shirt, almost like the long white nightdress you see women wear in costume period dramas.

He was frozen in fear and confusion. He wanted to run. But how? Where to?  This wasn’t real. Things like this were just in the movies.

People jostled him as they moved past to escape through the gap. They avoided her, but at the same time didn’t look at her. Were they afraid, or did they just not see her, see how she moved?

She was right in front of him, blocking his way out, if he wanted to use the gap and get out.

Behind her more people came, squeezing into the small space. Somehow fast, but at the same time in slow motion, she kept moving towards him. She lifted one arm up, hand reaching towards him.

No No No, this couldn’t be real. He was sweating from more than just the heat now. There was no reaction from the people around. They seemed hot, unhappy, distracted, but no-one looked towards him and the woman advancing towards him. Hadn’t they seen The Ring? Didn’t they understand?

The woman’s hand closed around the bright blue pole running from floor to ceiling in front of him. A different woman’s voice said, ‘the next stop is Oxford Circus’, and the tube train jolted as it moved off from the platform, and into the tunnel. The steady vibration underfoot started again.

The strange women, just like from The Ring, stood in front of him, her hand just inches from his on the pole. She had that unfocussed look that people in London learn to avoid eye contact. There were less people on the tube train now, and he could see a work colleague by the tube door, looking very red in the face. Just one more stop to go.