“Gimme
a ticket for an aeroplane,” the car radio sings.
“Ain’t got time to take a fast
train,” I join in, solemnly.
“Lonely days are gone…I’m a-goin’
home…My Baby, just a-wrote me a letter,” the radio continues on its own as I
drive into the parking lot and pay my five dollars. Damn! Wasn’t it only
yesterday when it was just two dollars to park in this dump? Oh, yeah. It was yesterday.
Yesterday.
What a beautiful day.
I wish it were yesterday.
As
I park my heap in this dirty, pothole-ridden money trap, my mind returns to the
letter I received yesterday.
We
have your little girl.
Come
and get your little girl.
No
police.
No
authorities.
Or
no little girl.
I
have the address they gave me but not the ten thousand dollars they demanded.
I don’t have ten bucks to give these bastards. Forget the ten thousand.
How did this happen to me?
Why did this happen to me?
I make my way through the slimy
turnstile and onto one of the ugly cars on this deteriorating train.
It seems like yesterday the fare was
a dollar instead of two.
Oh yeah. It was yesterday.
What the hell am I sitting in? Nice
to see the price increases are put to good use.
It is a sunny Saturday morning, yet
I am full of gloom and misery.
I check my watch. It’s 10AM. It tell
myself – no – I convince myself that
this nightmare will be over soon.
I forget everything about my life
and anything that has ever happened before today as I prepare and wait to meet
with them. There are probably other
passengers around me, but I don’t notice. And I don’t give a damn about any of
them. I hate them anyway. I hate them all. I hate them because they are on this
stupid train, and they are probably on their way to a ball game or to go
shopping or to walk about town while I am on this train waiting to meet some
bastards who have my little girl.
I hear the sounds of the bell
signaling the doors will close soon. I look at the open doors and cement that
image into my mind before I close my eyes. I hear the doors close but I don’t
see them. It’s a trick I taught myself in an attempt not to feel trapped. I
don’t fly in planes anymore. At least I feel somewhat in control on the ground in
something that will hopefully not be a long ride. My claustrophobia kicked into
high gear after my wife and I got trapped in –
Okay, Robert, stop thinking now.
Stop thinking. Calm down. Shut op, for God’s sake, Robert! Breathe in. Breathe
out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Another trick that works. Sometimes. Feeling a
little better. But not much. Something is better than nothing.
I should’ve called the police.
I should’ve called the authorities.
But, I didn’t.
And now it’s too late.
A few stops later. I feel drowsy. I feel my head start to bob. My
eyes become heavy, and my head feels heavier.
That’s when she approaches me.
My little girl approaches me. Is
this really possible?
“Tina? Is that you, Sweetheart?”
“Hi Daddy, I have something for
you.”
My daughter hands me a folded piece
of paper. It’s a letter. But, something is wrong. She appears younger than she
actually is. Tina is thirteen. But she looks five or six.
“Read my letter, Daddy.”
I carefully unfold the paper that
reveals words etched in pencil. The lettering doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t
look like a thirteen-year old girl wrote this letter. It looks like a five or
six-year old wrote it.
I read.
I
miss you, Mommy and Daddy. I love you, Mommy and Daddy. Tina.
I
have all I can to keep from breaking down, especially at the word “Mommy.” I
miss her so much. I’m on a train surrounded by strangers, and I don’t want to
break down in front of them, and who cares, because I will never run into them
ever again.
“You look so sad, Daddy. Don’t be
sad. I’m okay. I’m right here.”
I reach out to touch Tina and feel
my entire upper torso jerk back up into an upright position.
DAMN IT! I was dreaming. Are you
kidding me? I am sad. I am cold. My face is tight. I feel a lump in my throat.
I can’t swallow. Robert, don’t cry. Don’t cry on a train filled with strangers.
I look around me.
Where the hell is everybody?
I look around and realize that I am alone
on the train.
And it’s dark.
The emergency lights are on, casting
eerie shadows throughout the car.
It’s supposed to be a sunny morning.
Why the hell is it so dark? Why are the lights off? Why are we going so slow?
We must be pulling into the next station. I don’t recognize anything outside
the windows. That’s because I can’t see anything outside the windows.
We’re in a tunnel.
No, we’re not, I try to convince
myself. We’re outside. I just can’t make out the shapes. We are not stuck in a
tunnel.
We’re in a tunnel.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
As the train continues to slow down,
it gets even darker outside the car.
And darker inside.
And colder.
My stomach drops.
And I am having a hard time
breathing.
“Attention, passenger,” the voice
begins over the speaker. Why did the voice say “passenger” and not passengers”?
Now the train is not moving at all.
It has stopped.
It’s so quiet.
Silence hangs in the air as if
suspended by a noose.
I feel the silence envelope me as the last of the emergency lights fade out completely.
“…this train is being taken out of service. We are sorry for any inconvenience.”
Out of service?! What the
hell is going on?!
I have to meet those bastards who
have my Tina!!
I have to save my little girl!!
I can’t tell the difference between
my eyes being open and closed.
If I could see it, I would reach for
the emergency call box.
“Hello?” I yell out.
No response.
“Hello? What’s going on?”
I can’t stay calm.
I can’t stay calm.
After a long, long while, I hear
breathing coming from the speaker. Someone is there. Someone with answers. I
hear and feel breathing in front of me. I stop breathing. Robert. Get it
together. It’s just your imagination.
Someone is going to tell me what the
hell’s going. Someone is going help me.
Help me. Please help me.
Help me. Please help me.
It’s so cold.
And so dark.
The voice crackles from the speaker,
“I am so sorry, sir, for the inconvenience, but this train is coming out of
service, and we will be delayed for some time.” Calm. The voice is too calm.
“Where the hell is everyone?” I
finally shout. “Why am I the only here? Why didn’t someone wake me when the
train was coming out of service?”
“I am terribly sorry, sir,” the
voices teases. “I somehow missed you. We should be out of here in no time. Just
relax.”
Relax?! There is no sincerity in
this voice. Boy, is headquarters gonna hear it from me. He doesn’t care.
He didn’t wake me on purpose!
He knows I’m here, but he did not
wake me up!
Am I sure this is a “he”?
WHAT THE HELL?!
“I demand to know what’s going on!!”
No response.
“HELLO!”
Breathing returns from the speaker.
“HELLO!!”
Breathing from the speaker.
“DAMN IT!”
“Now, sir, is that any way to talk?
What would Tina think?”
My whole body turns to ice. All
sense of reason stops.
I can’t move. I can’t think.
“Oh, yes,” the voice continues, “I
know all about Tina!”
“Who are you? How do know Tina? What
kind of sick joke is this? I demand to speak to the conductor of this train!!”
“Oh, sir, didn’t I tell you? I am the conductor of this train!”
“DAMN!”
“Now, sir, what have I told you
about language? You watch your mouth, and maybe – just maybe, mind you – you
will see your little girl again!”
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING
ABOUT? WHO IS THIS? HOW DO YOU KNOW TINA? WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?”
“Oh, sir, you haven’t figured that
out yet?” The voice slows down. “WE are the ones YOU are supposed to meet!”
Before I have a chance to let that
sink in, I feel someone grab me by my shoulders and force me to stand up. I
want to scream, but I can’t. I want to breathe, but I can’t. My attacker is now
behind me, and I feel an arm around my neck. My legs tremble, and my body is
ice. My mouth is dry, and my head is blank.
My attacker’s other arm reaches
around my face and produces something right in front of eyes.
Even in the darkness, I shut my
eyes.
As I do, my eyelashes feel it.
It’s sharp.
It’s cold.
I feel the icy cold blade rest
gently – too gently – against my nose.
It’s a knife.
I feel the knife with its sharp edge
directly in front of my eyes!
I want to open my eyes.
But can’t.
I want to blink.
But won’t.
The blade teases the bridge of my
nose.
I start to wonder how it will feel
when it happens. I start to wonder how it will feel when the blade punctures
and slices through my eyes. I can picture it. I can see it. I can feel it. I
can taste it.
I sense light in front of me.
I want to open my eyes.
But can’t.
“Go ahead,” the attacker hisses.
“Open your eyes, Robert. Don’t you
want to see your little girl?”
I can’t believe this.
I slowly begin to open my eyes, and
the sharp blade tickles my eyelashes.
I make out the blade in front of my
eyes. Even with the double vision and blurriness I make it out. I somehow also
make out the sight of Tina sitting directly in front of me. She is staring up
at me. I am too terrified to move or say anything to her.
“Go ahead,” I am instructed, “reach
out and hug your little girl. Reach out and hug Tina!”
If I were any other kind of person,
I’d fight this bastard, get the knife away from me, grab Tina, and get the hell
off this train.
But I am not that person.
I am frozen.
I want to scream.
I want to cry.
I want to get Tina.
But can’t.
I am paralyzed with fear.
I am numb with horror.
“You’ve been a bad boy, Robert! Tina
will be punished! YOU will be punished!’
Breathe, Robert!
Move, Robert!
Help me!
Someone, please help me!
Help me!
Someone, please help me!
“Robert, my dear, YOU now make the
decision of who dies – YOU – or TINA!!’
I scream! Damn it! I scream!
The knife is released from my face.
The arm is released from my neck.
I am free. I think. I am free to
move and rescue Tina. And me.
The lights go out again!
I fall to the floor, and I attempt
to make my way back up in the pitch-blackness.
Did the knife cut my nose? I think
it did. Is it my imagination, or is that blood oozing from my
nose? No time for that now.
I can’t see a damn thing in this
train.
I collapse again.
I’m tired.
I’m weak.
Where’s my attacker?
What’s worse than seeing someone
attack you?
Not knowing where they are two
seconds later.
Get a hold of yourself. Breathe in.
Breathe out.
“Daddy?”
What? Is that Tina?
I hear Tina’s voice from the
speaker.
“Tina? Is that you, Sweetheart?
Daddy’s here! I’m here to get you!” I need water. I need Tina. I need Tina to
be okay.
Be strong. Be strong for your
daughter.
I hold back tears as I hear running
to my left. Someone is running towards me. Or away from me. I can’t tell. I
hear a door slam somewhere.
Did someone leave me or join me?
I sit on the floor and cradle my
head in my hands. I have to convince myself that both us of will be out of here
soon.
In the darkness I wait for my eyes
to adjust and try to look at my watch. I don’t really know why I want to know
what time it is. I guess I just want to know how long I’ve been in this Hell.
A large thud.
It’s the train. It’s starting up again.
Please tell me this son-of-a-bitch will pull into some station somewhere with
Tina and that everything will be over soon.
I hear the voice hiss over the
speaker.
“I apologize for any inconvenience,
lady and gentleman, but this train is out of service. I apologize for any
inconvenience, lady and gentleman, but this train is OUT OF CONTROL!”
The train moves. But it’s moving too
fast. I slide across the floor. I slide across the floor and hit the opposite
wall. Or is it a door into the next car?
The train is moving too fast for me
to describe. I feel the train leave the tracks. It’s going to careen out of
control even more. I feel every bump and every thud as we speed through this
tunnel. Or are we outside yet? I’m too scared to open my eyes.
HELP US!
SOMEONE PLEASE HELP US!
HELP US!
SOMEONE PLEASE HELP US!
The train speeds down the tracks,
out of control as promised, and I cling against the wall. Or door. I want to
die. No, I don’t. I don’t want to die. But I sure as hell don’t want to live like
this.
I hear the train screeching, and my
voice screeches in unison. How long is this tunnel? We have to stop! We have to
stop somewhere! We have to stop sometime! And someone has to know we’re here!!
*
* *
I wake up. I’m lying on the floor staring
at the ceiling. The lights are on. No, they’re not. The train is outside and
strong sunlight beams through. My blurry eyes see someone in front of me.
“Sir! Sir! Are you alright?
Are they kidding me with this?
“I am the head of public transportation.
The paramedics are on their way to make sure you and your little girl are
alright.”
My little girl?
That’s when I realize Tina is
cradled in my arms.
Asleep.
She’s asleep but okay.
She’s asleep and okay in my arms.
I want to cry.
I want to cry from relief but don’t
have the strength to do it.
I’ll cry.
I’ll cry later.
The speaker crackles again.
“Give me a ticket for an aeroplane,”
the voice hisses. Even this man who identified himself as the head of public
transportation looks concerned.
Sweat trickles down my spine, my breathing becomes labored...again. What the hell just happened?!
“Ain’t got time to take a fast
train,” the voice continues. “Lonely days are gone. I’m a-going home. My baby,
just a-wrote me a letter…..”
“The
Letter,” Copyright 1967, written by Wayne Carson.
