Terror

This one's kind of weird and creepy. Sorry bout that. It was almost entirely based on a dream I had the other night, cept the dialogue. Although the last line at the end certainly was. In the dream, I was trying to say something that started with 'var' or 'ver', but I don't know what it was. Funnily enough, I didn't seem to be scared in the dream, nor when I woke up. So it wasn't the kind of nightmare you'd expect...

We all sat, holding onto our lives as the train stood motionless on the tracks. This was a full carriage, full of innocents, full of hostages, and just two men stood walking backwards and forwards. I sank lower in my seat, fidgeting with the ties upon my hands. Whoever these men were, they had come prepared. There was not one of us passengers left that didn't have our wrists tied by rope or cuffs. None of us dared to breathe a word as they guarded their posts. We could see the police outside, no doubt trying to devise plans to get us out of there alive. My hair fell across my face, as I went by unnoticed, as did many of us quiet ones. I did however, have a knack for detail, and the man sitting a few rows in front passing along a screw behind him did not go unnoticed by me. If they were all cutting their restriants free, they had to be careful. If our captors caught sight of it . . .

Too late. The one with the rifle swung around his chest turned just as a woman up front was accepting the passing screw. He hit her across the face, and she screamed, tears streaming down her face. He bent slightly to pick up the fallen screw. He held it up to us all, spinning it swiftly in his fingers.

"Whose bright idea was this?"

I stared around the carriage, full of men and woman, middle aged, elderly, even a young mum. We all held our breaths.

"Don't make me repeat the question."

A young kid at the very front of the carriage stood, his wrists free of his cuffs.

"You?"

"Aye."

The guy lifted his rifle. I saw a pair of hands grab it and pull it upwards and before I knew it, everyone around me was scrambling for the doors. Some, like me, still tied up. Others from the front free of movement. I was shoved forwards amongst the hostages bursting for the door and I saw the second captor pull out a knife and strike the nearest person within reach, just when we heard the first gunshot go off. Everyone ducked, beginning to edge back to their seats. I stood swaying in the aisle. I ambled forward to the nearest handle grip, but my fingers slipped and I fell to the floor, my face beside someone's shoe as I realised that I was the one who'd been shot. The bullet stung my back as I fought to keep consciousness.

"Now you understand what happens."

I felt him slam his foot onto my back, boot across my shoulder blades. Stay alive, I thought, stay alive. I heard the train doors open and felt a welcome fresh breeze play with my hair as my breathing slowed, my eyes drooped. I became aware that I couldn't move my body, and yet, I was alive and hearing.

"Your first body!" I heard a voice somewhere above me yell, and I was dragged forwards. I felt the floor beneath me disappear as I fell, about a metre, to the ground. The doors slammed shut again. The police stood hestiant, watching my unmoving body, before someone came forwards to check for my breathing.

"She's dead." the person announced grimly. No, no I wasn't. I could still feel the pain. I tried to open my eyes, but it just wouldn't work. So I tried to use my voice instead.

"Var . . . ver . . . ver . . ."

I knew then I was going to be okay. I just hoped the rest of the hostages would be, too.

[612 words]