Into Oblivion

Chapter 1 ~ Carnage Without a Conscious

The train was speeding across the city en route to Rue Leon Jost, Paris, France, a mile away from the Champs Elysees. I have awoken, but in fact more so startled to life from a deep lumbersome sleep; to find myself somewhat, sluggish in my movement whilst in the company of some seemingly perturbed, agitated, yet roughly disguised anarchists. They were clothed in black, as though they were dressed for a felonious and delinquent heist as amateur criminals would. Smeared on their facial cheeks were a set of darkened, black-matt paint spread across just below their eyes. Perhaps painted with their two fingers of each hand like in the game that young, petty little children would play as cops and robbers. Only to make themselves appear tougher and indestructable only to be recipricated in front of me.

"Ciarra!" somebody called out distantly from the further end of the carriage.

I immediately turned in the face of the direction from which I heard the calling of my name. I was confused as to why I was even on the train and how I got here in the first place.

With a sudden rush the train began to screech and was coming to an almost immediate halt, perhaps there was an animal or another train, causing an obstruction and so blocking the continuation of the tracks. Without a second to waste the carriage doors swished open and had soon become empty like a colony full of bees, scattering out to their designated areas of pollenating flowerbeds.

The people on the train and those surrounding all were running like a vicious herd of bulls at the sight of a red flag being intentionally waved to their faces, but in a much more worrying manner. At the same time an announcement was being addressed over the public tannoy ordering everyone to vacate the premises of the current station because of mechanical issues with the train. However, his voice seemed awfully too trembling and shaken-up as he continued to repeat the command. 

"Attention tout le monde!... S'il vous plaît faire votre chemin vers la sortie la plus proche d'une manière ordonnée, nous éprouvons quelques problèmes techniques, donc le travail doit être fait ... s'il vous plaît quitter les lieux immédiatement!" 

"ATTENTION ALL! ...PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE NEAREST EXIT IN AN ORDERLY FASHION, WE ARE EXPERIENCING SOME TECHNICALITIES AND WORK MUST BE CARRIED OUT... PLEASE VACATE THE PREMISES IMMEDIATELY!!".

Yet, from the emotion in his voice it seemed artificially deceiving as if he were lying. This was obviously not the case as I looked through the window on my left, people were rushing from one side of the station of where we stopped, to heading upstairs along a non-moving escalator. People were stomping across to their nearest way out. Now, why would maintenance cause such a frantic hysteria? This couldn't be the matter surely.

Now it was gradually becoming clearer and clearer. The horror of hearing gunshots and the glass windows of the trains and storefronts being smashed in. The voices of innocents being wounded and killed ruthlessly was being heard by everyone in the carriage. Panic ensued, after a prolong eerie silence, as we all in the train took a minute to ingest the fact of what we were hearing, the screaming cries and riots increasing in reverberation, all began to run towards the exit.

As the crowd of people were rushing through a single door of each carriage, the innocent victims of the public became angrier and denser as too many people were making every effort to get out at the same time. It became violent and brutal to the point where children in pushchairs and babies in prams were being pushed roughly to one side and the poor elderly people with walking canes and wheelchairs, who cannot move fast enough are pushed to the ground and trampled upon along with children. Voices are raised to a deafening crescendo with men shouting and women and children screaming. The crush of people leading to shop windows just outside the platform being broken and passengers were being forced through the openings of the train's jagged glass that teared into their flesh. Ripples of blood appeared on the floor of the train which grew and swarmed until they were drowned within their own screams. It overflowed and the current urged all feelings of despair and loss to rise until every man was for himself surrounded by a wave of panic, which crashed down upon their shrieking heads.

As the announcements were being made in a repetitive cycle, the trains were becoming more so empty as guns fired at each person like they were being hunted down as prey. A man dressed in a monochrome uniform of a black and white hue entered the carriage's third compartment and hastenly exclaimed, "...do we know where the bomb has been planted?!" where he continued to stomp across to the rear end of the carriage where I was retreating in fear that it was my turn next. The resonance of his footsteps became blaring and louder as were the gunshots coming my way. I could hear the man on the tannoy being interupted and he soon disappeared, I now without doubt felt alone and threatened. I was almost at a metre of a distance away from the door where the man in monochrome uniform was about to barge through. Leaping into another closet but making sure some blood was smeared across my blue laced shirt, across my cleavage. I make it seem as though I was attacked and put to my death. Until the man was at a foots width from my leg, I realised what a vulnerable game I was playing...