Kindness at a Cost

‘Hurry Hurry, Oh Come on, seriously another red light, that was amber, mate, are you trying to make me miss the train”

“No, Miss, I’m trying not to get a ticket, (stupid Aussie bitch) he muttered under his breathe, in Arabic.

The taxi slid into the clearway, opened the boot just long enough to fling her suitcase onto the footpath, grabbed her money, threw the change at his passenger and sped away.

“Well thank you, Not!” she yelled at the fleeting taxi. She bent down to collect her money off the footpath and that’s when she caught sight of the wheelchair. There it was blocking the doorway. She did not have time for this. She needed to get through the entrance door. There was less then 20 minutes to get checked in and get to platform 20, which was a good 10 minute brisk walk from the entrance. If only the taxi driver hadn’t caught every flaming red light on the way she would have had plenty of time. She approached the wheelchair, there didn’t seem to be anyone around, but it was late at night, and she was booked on the night train. Attempting to give the chair a nudge with no luck, it appeared to be wedged in the doorway. Frustration didn’t sum up how she was feeling as the minutes ticked away. When she was just about to start kicking the crap out of the chair in anger she realized the strap from a backpack, that was on the seat of the wheelchair was wedged in between the door and the chair. After a lot of tugging and pulling she finally released the strap and pushed the chair through the doorway. Not knowing what to do about the wheelchair and feeling responsible for getting the bag back to its owner she decided to just take them both to check in. Racing through the train station she threw her suitcase up onto the seat of the wheelchair on top of the backpack and ran. Sliding into the lift she hit the button over and over furiously trying to make it hurry. Out of the lift she went, there was not a single person around, that she could give the chair or bag to. She ran towards the booking office, damn, she had forgotten it was automated at this time of night. She scanned her phone and out came the luggage ticket. She attached it to her suitcase and pushed it through the conveyor belt. Making sure it disappeared into the back, then grabbing the chair and continuing her run to platform 20. Checking her watch confirmed there was still 5mins. Picking up the pace she swung onto platform 17, then 18, 19 and finally 20. Deciding that she would give the wheelchair and bag to the first conductor she came across. The platform was a ghost town. No announcement’s, no conductors or passengers. Was she seriously the only person in the whole train station and where was the train. It was due to arrive now. She began pacing up and down. What was going on. The silence was deafening, and the wheelchair had developed an annoying squeak, as she found herself pushing it back and forth like a baby’s stroller. She was thirsty from all the running and wished she had remembered to grab a water on the way. Walking further down the platform she found a kiosk, unfortunately it was all closed up. Should she look in the bag to check if the owner had left some identification in it. Maybe she could take the bag with her when the train came and give it to someone. Leaving it behind was never going to be an option she was way too invested now. The wheelchair not so much.

The train was now 10 minutes late. Odd there was no announcements telling the passengers. Not that there was any except for herself. She took her phone out, no coverage. Great so now she couldn’t even call up Sydney rail and ask them what the hell was happening and where the hell was everyone and the train. She sat, she tapped her feet, cracked her knuckles, which she was prone to do when frustrated, jumped up and began her pacing again. Twenty minutes turned to 30 then 40 and by the time it hit the hour she had enough. Grabbing up the backpack but leaving the wheelchair she headed off to find another human being. She stomped along angrily her shoes echoing in the silence. With every closed office door, she passed her annoyance grew ten-fold. Didn’t anyone work for the railway. Making her way back towards the entrance she had come in she took the stairs this time. The backpack was getting heavy on her shoulder she swung it onto her back for better support.

As she approached the entrance door, she realised it was closed, it had been open on her arrival, because the wheelchair had been wedged in the open doorway. Pushing the door forcefully, nothing happened. What madness was this, she was locked in a railway station all alone. She lost it and began to bellow loudly.

“Hey, let me out, hey, is anyone there, someone let me the hell out”

Grabbing her phone out, at last there was coverage. Who should she call? Damn it she was calling the police. It must be illegal to lock someone in a railway station.

“Police, fire or ambulance?” The operator asked.

“Police”

“What’s your emergency?”

“I’m locked in a railway station” she snapped.

“Sorry could you repeat that”

Speaking slowly and clearly, ready to totally loose her shit at any given moment she repeated.

“I am locked in a railway station”

“Which railway station would that be ma’am?”

“That would be Sydney railway station and ma’am right back at you” she snapped.

“Do you know the address there “

“Are you kidding me”

“Or perhaps a crossroad”

“That would be Sydney station in God Damn Australia and no I don’t know the address or any streets, I’m stuck in the station and there is not a sole around and I need help, do you think you can you manage to help me “

“No need to be rude ma’am, I’m just going to place you on hold for further information, please stay on the line”

“For the love of god, has everyone gone mad?”

“Are you still there ma’am?”

“Well, I can’t be anywhere else, can I?”

“No, I guess not, we are despatching a unit to you now. Please stay where you are” she was sure she heard a distinctive giggle from the operator as she hung up.

She began to pace up and down and round and round. The backpack was heavy and she placed it down on the ground. She was unzipping it slowly when she heard the police cars arriving. Sirens blazing, they must have been just outside the door. Such a lot of police cars just for her. She was locked in not a fugitive breaking into the Louve.

“Hello, can you hear me” the police officer asked, as his megaphone boomed.

“Yes, I can hear you can you let me out I’m locked in”

“What’s your name, can you tell us your name”

“My name, why does it matter can’t you just open the damn door and let me out”

“We are working on it ma’am, just your name please”

“Ok anything if you would all just stop calling me ma’am, I’m not a grandma”

“My name is Kathleen, Kathleen Benson”

“Ok, Kathleen, just a few questions, how did you get into the station”

“Are you all crazy, I walked in the door that you are standing on the other side of”

“The problem with that, Kathleen is that the station has been on lockdown since 7pm”

“What do you mean lockdown”

“There is believed to be a bomb somewhere on one of the platforms, the bomb square has been slowly making there way through each platform, so again I am asking you how you got into the station”

“And again, I’m telling you I walked through an open door, well once I moved the wheelchair and bag that was blocking it”

“Come again Kathleen, what wheelchair and bag, do you still have them”

“I still have the bag, it’s a backpack, I was just opening it”

“Leave it Kathleen, don’t touch it”

“Seriously, if it had a bomb in it, I would have blown myself up already, it’s been bounced from platform to platform, I will just check”

“No Kathleen, leave it”

“Oh crap, there is a friggen bomb in the bag, I’m gonna die”

“Bomb squad is nearly there just walk away from the bag, is it making any noise”

“No, it’s blinking green and counting down from 50. Should I run, should I throw it, what the hell should I do” she screamed hysteria in her voice.

“Kathleen, can you run fast, are you able bodied “

“Yes, I’m ok” she gently placed the bag on the ground.

“It’s down to 30, 29, 28”

“Stop counting and run” the police office yelled.

Kathleen ran so fast but unfortunately not fast enough. The blast sent her flying high over the rail and down onto the platform in the silence she lay, a simple act of kindness had led to destruction. She was not dead but oh so badly broken.