It Has To Start Somewhere

If fate had anything to do with it, the man would have been given a name of legend.  It would have been so powerful, it would have shook the very foundations of society at its mere mention.  If it was written down, all of the letters would rearrange themselves of their own accord into a highly decorative font; in bold. Underlined. 

However, fate had something else on its mind at the time he was being named.  He ended up being called ‘Kevin’.  Kevin always knew deep down that he had been robbed of something fantastic, but he could never quite put his finger on what that was.

He watched the landscape sauntering by from a window seat as the train sliced inelegantly through the countryside at a hundred miles an hour.  It struck Kevin that the closer landscape was definitely more in a hurry to pass by than that of the landscape in the distance, which in comparison was positively lethargic.

Kevin looked around the carriage.  A young lady adorning a pair of headphones sat nearest the door at the far end staring out of her window. Further along in the four seats around a table sat a party of Japanese businessmen.  Several ridiculously small laptop computers, a printer and what looked like a miniature satellite dish sat amongst a weave of wires that ran all over the table, provided them with a source of constant argument.  Nearest sat a lady who was nursing her young child.

The door on the far side of the carriage slid open revealing a plus, bordering on multiplied-by, sized lady.  She was carrying several items of large, awkwardly shaped hand luggage.  

"Excuse me," she said as she clobbered the young female music enthusiast on the back of the head.  "Coming through," she added gaily as she surged forward.

"I do beg your pardon," said the woman as she knocked over a drink on the Japanese businessmen’s table, sending sparks and plumes of smoke into the air.  The four men jumped up and started trying to salvage what little they could of their destroyed mini network.  A ticket inspector had now appeared behind the large lady and the businessmen turned their torrent of angry Japanese banter in his direction.

During the commotion, the lady stumbled and fell into Kevin’s lap.  Kevin was surprised as to how little she actually weighed.  She looked him right in the eye, grabbed his arm tightly and said in a deadly, level and serious voice, "Your life is in danger.  If you want to live, count to ten then follow me."  She then steadied herself, brushed herself down and entered the toilet cubicle just behind Kevin’s seat.  He was actually amazed that she was able to fit into such a small space, however the door successfully slid shut behind her.

Kevin started counting - partly as an indicator as to when he should follow the woman and partly to decide whether he should actually buy into what could only be described as a poor practical joke.  By the count of six, he had come to the conclusion that she had only asked him to meet her in the toilets.  If this had come from a more attractive female, he might have fantasised about it being a prelude to a mating ritual.  However, given that this proposition came with the hint of a death threat, it was a completely different kettle of piranha.  The number nine came and went.

Number ten arrived with the conclusion that was a combination of ‘why the hell not’ and mild curiosity to see if they would both fit into the tiny room.

Kevin got up and walked to the toilet.  He knocked on the door twice.  No answer.  He tried the handle and found it was unlocked.  The cubicle was empty.  Kevin looked back into the carriage.  The four businessmen and ticket inspector were now heading forward, all of their eyes locked on him and carrying what looked like long knives.  Kevin could just make out that the girl with the headphones was hastily trying to screw a silencer onto what looked like the end of a pistol.  Kevin quickly jumped into the small room, slid the door shut and locked it.

He found that he had to hold onto the tiny sink as one of his feet was no longer making contact with anything beneath.  Everything in the room appeared normal.  Toilet, check.  Sink, check.  Then he peered down.  There was an open hatch in the floor.  Kevin's common sense reminded him that he should have been looking at the train tracks flying by at a blurry speed.  However, all of his other senses told him otherwise.  An impossible twenty foot ladder was leading down into an equally impossible room full of boxes and crates.  He could still feel the sway of the train as it took gentle corners at high speed.  The light flickered as trees and other unidentifiable structures swam across the frosted glass window 

"Get down here now," demanded, with overtones of urgency, a female voice from the room below.  There was now a banging and scraping from the other side of the door.

He made his way down the ladder, carefully as his legs had now turned to jelly.  He looked up to see a two foot knife slice through the door and into the space he occupied moments earlier.  As he reached the bottom rung the hatch slowly slid shut, shearing through the ladders which clattered to the floor. The room shook, lights blinked and dust rose from the floor.

"What the hell is going on?  Where am I? Where are you?' Kevin asked loudly.

"I’ll be out in a minute," said the woman’s voice from behind some of the crates. "I’m just changing."

Given what had transpired over the last ten minutes of his life, Kevin acknowledged that a change of clothes was the last thing on his mind.  Then, considering where he was and how he got there, darker thoughts entered into his head.  

"What into?" he asked with an air of uncertainty, not really sure he wanted to know the answer.

A young, smartly dressed, slender woman walked out from behind the crates. 

"That’s better," she said making final adjustments to her clothing.  "Sorry about that, I had to use a disguise."  She jerked a thumb to where she had just come from.  

A large, amorphous blob of skin coloured flesh sat quivering in the corner.  It looked like a person who had had all of their insides sucked out.  One of the flabby arms took out a lit cigar from somewhere and put it in its deflated head, inhaled and blew out a steady flow of smoke.

Noticing it was now being stared at it said,  "What?" in a deep baritone and held up both arms from either sides of its body mass.

"What the hell is that?" Kevin asked the woman.

"That was my disguise," replied the young woman, "Meet Glove."

Kevin simply blinked, then turned back to the disfigured, amorphous pinkish blob.  It now resembled an inside out rubber mask; only this was the whole body. Kevin just pointed, open mouthed, at the living shape, not quite believing what he was looking at.

"Yo," said Glove waving a floppy hand.

Next Part

© Copyright 2010 Paul Phillips

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