Going Nowhere Train

New Friends

I glance around, taking in the huge glass ceilings. It had been so light I hadn't registered that we were inside. The train station seems incredibly large, but I suppose it would seem more normal if hundreds of commuters were bustling and pushing to get on trains, drinking coffee and buying breakfast. As it is, hundreds of terrified children are standing together on platforms, almost completely silent. No one moves. I feel like I could step out of this scene, this photograph, and walk around the frozen faces.

Escape the frozen faces.

As more and more trains pull in, with more and more children unloading off the many carriages, a voice comes on, from somewhere, booming over the loud speakers. This seems to excite my peers, but shoulders slump as it dawns on the crowd that it's just a recording. The tone of the voice is similar to the voices announcing stops on buses. Just a recording.

"Please wait patiently as we announce further intructions."

Its so hard to not walk out of the station. Maybe all of the anger in me wants to disobey the instructions given to me. But I'm not blind, and I can see why no one else is leaving: no one wants to leave the only thing they know. They didn't have tell us twice - no one moved a muscle.

I don't usually get bored easily. Patience is a virtue, and one that I possess. But I know that the only thing keeping these crowds of teenagers still was the fear that came with being inexplicably abandoned. It would be near impossible to keep thousands of children from running wild, let alone without any supervision. No, everyone's to scared to leave. Maybe I won't leave, I'll just walk around a bit. I have spare clothes, I have no one to take care of and I have the upper hand over everyone else: if I am going to spend the rest of my life in a ghost town, I'm going to do it with friends. Not the people who'll laugh behind my back but smile at my face, like the friends I tried so hard to leave behind. I want actual friends. I want to go and meet people I like.

Slowly, cautiously, I start moving around the station platforms, looking for a group of other girls my age to talk to. It's only then that I realise that everyone is already in a friendship group. The confidence I have a minute ago is lost; I'm out of place, estranged, a fish out of water. After a few minutes, a group of boys a few years older than me stare at me, as if they're trying to read words scrawled on my forehead. I smile at them.

They don't smile back.

My confidence run out, I find a relatively empty space near a set of stairs and lean against them. Still, more trains draw up to the station. A girl slightly taller than me taps me on the shoulder. The first thing I notice about her is her madly frizzy hair, that reaches her shoulders, tangled and messy.

"You look a bit lonely. Do you want to come and talk with me and my friend?" As first introductions go, she seems very nice. At least kinder than everyone else here.
"Thanks, yes please," I say, smiling.
The mad hair girl leads me to another girl, shorter than me, with long dark hair tied in a plait that almost reaches her legs.
"Madison, this is, erm..." It takes me a while to realise that they are waiting for my name.
" Er, Em," I say, thinking on the spot.
"Madison, Em. Em, Madison," The mad hair girl says. The long haired girl, Madison, smiles and says 'Hi'.
"And you are?" I ask.
"Oh, my name is Flora." We talk for maybe a good half an hour, about SATS, secondary school, which I found out they had just started, like me. The conversation flows from pets to musical instruments, books to everything else. Except from the situation we find our selves in. I don't know how they can't be burning with curiosity.  We are completely free to do whatever we want. The only thing stopping us from running around like headless chickens, free, is the fear of our new surroundings. I'm not afraid. Apart from the constant interruptions from the steely-voiced woman on the recording, the three of us could be on a school trip, waiting at a train station for a train that will take us to a zoo, or a museum, or some historic monument.

But we're not. We are waiting at a platform for a bodiless voice to tell us what to do. And what then? Do we follow the instructions that will guide us to, what? Adults? A new place to live? And what then? Do we live here, helpless, for the rest of our lives? That's what scares me. Not the situation we're in now, with full bellies and a safe place to stay, but the idea that one day we won't have this in the future. The idea that one day we'll all be starving, lonely, or just plain dead. No, I want answers. As steadily as I can, I try to guide the conversation towards our current situation.

"This is crazy. I can't believe this is happening." Flora and Madison exchange glances. I continue. "That millions of children would just be ditched in a strange place, with no help. Like we're just expected to survive."
"I find it hard to believe that people, anyone in fact, would ditch several million children in a random place," Flora says, carefully. Our entire conversation seems as if we're both walking in circles around each other, avoiding a taboo. Cards close to our chest, it feels like we're both hiding something.
"Did you see any adults on the way in?"
"Not a soul. We're in a completely empty Scotland."
"But why would they take the entire population of Scotland, chuck them out, and replace them with us?"
"Maybe we've been taken away, evacuated, to be protected, from the adults. A sort of quarantine," Madison finally cuts in.
It's definitely a good a idea. Maybe a virus has broken out, or a new war has started, and like in WWII, all the children are being evacuated. It seems a perfectly good idea, until I think of something else.
"What's going to happen to the adults?" I know I've touched on something no one wants to discuss. Either the adults have been separated from us because there's a war coming, or because of something else...like a plague that can only effect adults. Either way, it isn't looking good for them.
"Do you think our parents will be alright?" Flora says, quietly.

Oh God. What if our parents die, and we have no idea? What if we die? Will they know? I start to miss my parents badly. Really badly. From the silence, I can guess that we are all thinking the same thing. Slightly ashamed from bringing up such bad feelings, I steer our chat back to what life was like before the evacuation. What we loved. What we miss. In a few minutes were all half laughing, half crying. Maybe I never noticed how much I miss my old life already. At least I've made two good friends.

I loose track of time, as we navigate the labyrinth of nostalgia. But my eyes still widen as I hear a loud voice, seeping from within the carriages we're standing outside. An adult voice. A man. Not a recording. People pile back onto the carriages to hear what he has to say. I purposefully hang back with Madison and Flora.
"Thank you for your patience and courtesy in your transportation. As you may have guessed, you have arrived in Scotland. Separating you from England is a barrier. We apologise, however your separation is necessary for your own safety. Trains packed with provisions and food will arrive monthly, starting in half an hour. Once again, we apologise deeply for this, but their really is no other way. Any further announcements will be made on the days of supply transportation, here in the railway. Thank you for your patience."

Panic sets in, as thousands of children push to be at the front of their platform. Shoving. Screaming. Chaos. The silence that I now miss has been replaced with a cacophony of shouts. The first image that comes to mind is one of a riot.