The Valley

In The Beginning...

The train wheezed into the station at Llebywyd, the two carriages clicking and whirring as it slowed to a halt by the platform. The station was large with high ceilings, and partly open to the elements, so the normal breath of wind for an overcast day in August whipped up inside the glass and steel structure and rushed past everyone with a ghostly whistle.

There was a small crowd scattered across the stone platform, unmoving in the uneasy tension of the not-just-yet, and staring glumly at magazines or smartphones with the slack expressions of people waiting. They stirred at the sound of the train's familiar rhythm and craned their necks as it trundled out of the yawning, overgrown mouth of a tunnel.

Sam paced slightly, rocking on her worn boot heels as she saw the train emerge. She sucked in a few more lungfuls of her cigarette which she cupped inside her hand, pinching the filter between her thumb and forefinger. Her eyes scanned around her for any security guards or cameras nearby before she tossed it to the ground, leaving the glowing end to die slowly on the concrete next to the scattered corpses of her previous smokes. Her stream of exhaled smoke was snatched by the latest gush of wind as she eyed the stubs, surprised at how many there were. That would be her last one for at least a few hours, she thought as she pocketed the packet, maybe more if she couldn't slip out the back door without being noticed. Just like being seventeen again. Her mother ran her house like a guest house, with nightly turn downs and bouquets of plastic flowers, and it did not do to have a packet of fags lying about the place. Casa del MacKenzie did not offer smoking rooms, Sam thought with a wry smile. Her mother had sounded shocked at first, then suspicious, when she'd called.

'Oh, oh right. I mean, yes, of course. Of course you can stay,' she'd said. Then, '...Is everything all right, Samantha?'

'Yes, Mum,' Sam had answered, gazing at herself in her apartment mirror as she wiped long trails of wet mascara from her cheeks. Her old Worthington holdall reflected back at her, as it lay open on the bed, filled with a mixture of mismatched clothing, in a change from its occasional outings to a new gym each January before being stuffed back into the wardrobe.

She pulled her long black coat tighter around her and felt the fabric tingle as her phone vibrated in her pocket. Her stomach jolted as the screen flashed. David, it read. She chewed her lip and pressed the Busy button. Her eyes lingered on the screen for a few seconds and she returned the phone to her pocket. Maybe some changes would do her good, she thought, looking at the train. Anything had to be better than this.

With renewed resolve, she hooked her fingers around the straps of her holdall which was parked by a platform bench, easing it slowly off the ground and rolling her shoulder as though greeting the weight of it. She surveyed the number of people waiting for the lights on the train doors to blink their admittance and hung back. The train hadn't ferried anyone back this way, and so lay empty, waiting for passengers, and as the first train to Bythdeffro today, it didn't look like she'd struggle to find a seat.

She stepped into the rear carriage, filing in after everyone else, and had to linger in the doorway area as people squashed their bags and cases into the narrow metal luggage rack. As she leant down to slide her holdall onto the lower level, a middle-aged woman stood suddenly from the seats to the right of the luggage area and lifted a one-person travel case, like those wheeled by air stewards in their delightfully smug show of travelling light, onto the metal shelf and left it squarely on the edge, blocking any more bags.

'Um...?' Sam said impatiently, expecting the woman to miraculously realise she wasn't on the train alone.

The woman met her eyes. Her fine auburn hair hung in longish, frizzed curls and framed her face which seemed to be all lines and harsh angles, as if chiselled from stone by a sculptor in a bad mood. Her watery brown eyes flicked down to Sam's boots and back up to her face as quick as a camera shutter, and like a judgemental Polaroid produced a slow sneer, and then she sat back down in her seat and turned away from Sam without a word.

Sam puffed indignantly, muttering a selection of swear words under her breath which she stopped short when a young Indian lad caught her eye and smiled weakly in a vague gesture of 'Some people, huh'. She raised her eyebrows in return, then tip-toed her holdall onto the top rack above her head, just managing to squash it in next to a bulging pink camping bag with a garish flowery pattern, which sprung back against her hands like Play-Doh as she pushed at it. Her brown hair came loose from its ponytail with her effort and she brushed it out of her face in annoyance as she walked past the Bag Lady with a scowl, and slid into a pair of seats by the window on the left of the carriage further along.

She settled into the seat and a soft beeping could be heard over the noise from the station, signalling the train doors about to close. A young woman with blonde straggly hair came into view outside the window and just as the doors slid shut she made a quick, almost unconscious movement to the side and was on the train when the engine rumbled.

A low buzz sounded as the blonde woman brushed through the aisle looking at the carriage like she'd never seen one before, and Sam felt the all too familiar tingle in her pocket and pulled out her phone with a sigh. David, the screen insisted. She looked skyward as if for answers, but the train only offered her some Passenger Safety notices. She cancelled the call again and put the phone face down on the pull-out table in front of her.

She leant down and unzipped her black boots, wriggling her toes and closing her eyes in private relief as she spun to her right and put her thick socked feet up on the vacant seat next to her. Resting her head against the window, she settled into a comfy position and closed her eyes for a bit, if only to quell the nagging feeling in her head.

The light in the carriage had changed when she opened them again, darker now and somehow grimy, and in the instant of wading through the haze of half-sleep to consciousness, she wondered if it was night already. Looking out the window, she saw the train was cutting through the bowl of a large valley, with dark mountains clinging to the horizon on all sides. A mile or so ahead was a large tunnel, which bored through the wall of dank earth the colour of slimy seaweed. Sam yawned, turning her phone over and illuminating the screen with a button press. No signal. She was almost relieved to be out of range. The large telephone mast flitting by the train window outside didn't strike her as strange as she was too busy reaching a hand down to find her boots and put them back on now she was awake. She got one on and spun her legs down to the floor again, to slip the other on. Her head pushed against the back of the seat in front as she fitted the other boot on and pulled the zip.

Head upside down in the small space, she noticed the light around her falter and return to normal with a quiet electric groan. Then everything exploded with white so harshly her eyes stung. And then the darkness enveloped her. She felt, rather than saw, that she was forced roughly up against the seat in front, her neck straining from her bent position and the scream of metal and scraping vibrating through her bones. Her breakfast of coffee and cold pizza lurched inside her stomach and she was thrown from her seat as the walls rocked, the carriage in chaos as though the train were ripping itself apart. The blood in her ears rushed with a high-pitched whistle. Something shattered nearby and glass shards seemed to rain down upon her from below, and she felt a brief gust of air around her before her head crunched against something solid. The scream died on her lips and the world dissolved.