The Decision
Recently, Years 7 & 8 wrote for the National Short Story Young Writer competition. The winners will be announced in April. The remit was to write a short story entitled ‘The Decision’.
The decision is on the point; left or right; 2 death or 100 deaths. Decisions…
Normal morning, four AM start, I am one of the few lucky people in Britain who like their job, the hustle and bustle of the station, new faces, familiar ones and so many stories to hear. I get in my car and drive up to London Victoria. I love it when it’s busy, the pressure, the late nights, and I don’t have anyone to go home to… not anymore. As I pull in at the car park I pay and grab a coffee from Costa, my train isn’t here yet, I always feel sorry for the nightshift guys. When it pulls up I look at the usual mess, beer cans, bottles, crisp packets and sweet wrappers, I walk through the carriages all the way to mine, the driver’s cab. I sit down and slurp some of the coffee it burns my tongue and warms my belly, the sensation that keeps me awake all day.
Being a train driver is also lonely, no one ever talks to you, only the robot-like messages from the office. The first passenger gets on after about half-an-hour and a few more people after that, then its five AM and it’s time to leave. The train chugs out of the station and were off.
It hasn’t been great for trains lately, there has been storms, landslides and fallen trees, some of them falling on the track. One tree is on a line up ahead, I was going to travel that way but I’ll just have to take the other line which goes to the same place, it’s just slower.
Two stops to go, ten done already, we screech into my tenth stop, load and then unload. This is when I hear news from my ear piece, there is a mother and baby on the line but the train has to travel on. They say that the security are trying to get the back up onto the platform until the fire brigade get there, but they fear I am coming too fast to stop. But I have to carry on as if nothing’s happening, one rule of a train driver is not to panic the crew or passengers. One more stop until I’m faced with the decision, and it’s not a decision I want to make. As we draw up I look around, everyone looks so, so normal, if only they knew what I was about to witness. We carry on racing through the dusk, that’s where I see the point.
And this is where I started the story. The two lines are up ahead of me, one with the fallen tree, one with the mother and baby, one hundred deaths or two deaths, the end of one young life or one hundred lives already half way through. I carry on speeding along I’m getting ready to change direction, the guys from the office keep whispering in my ear “You know what to do”. I change direction and see the tree up ahead… but on the other line, I carry on going, even if I try and break now, I will still hit them.
That’s when I see them lying on the track, I panic, tears start welling in my eyes because I know that I can’t turn back. I try to break but I won’t slowdown in time, they’re about a meter away, the mother is cradling the child in her arms, she’s young and thin, tears are streaming down her already red and puffy face, But the child is not crying, just staring at the train as it comes ever closer.
That is the last glimpse I get of them before I hear the ear-splitting scream. And then, it’s all silence. I can hear commuters repeatedly banging their fists on the buttons for the doors to open, but I haven’t slowed down yet. Finally I come to a halt, I walk out of my cab and look around, all eyes have rested on me but I look around at the train, there is blood splatted on the windows, people running out of the doors screaming and crying. Then I see the mangled bodies lying on the track, the mothers arms outstretched, like she’s still trying to stop the train.
Later at home I get a call that I was expecting, a court case for tomorrow at one, they think that I tried to break and that I couldn’t do anything about it. But I didn’t try and break and I could have done something. But the decision is do I lie or tell the truth about the mother and child and more importantly… Anne. The name that’s tattooed on my neck, because we were going to be together forever.
Until one day, Anne and I were arguing about the amount of time I spend at work, she was pregnant and she wanted me to be able to spend more time with her and the children. She threatened that she would move away and said that I would be an awful father, then she stormed up to bed. I was feeling so angry I got drunk and dangerous. My anger still hadn’t gone, in fact it had gotten worse, so I ran upstairs, got a suitcase filled it with my things, and left in the dead of night. I have never returned because I fear that she would never forgive me.
My eyes fill with tears even thinking about it, I have never forgiven myself, I know I should own up but I’ve always been a coward at the consequences. The woman yesterday on the track, she reminded me of Anne, that’s why I found it so hard to take her and her baby's life
So that is my secret, and my decision.
Do I Tell.
