Chapter Twenty-four

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Chapter twenty-four

Does your train of thought have a caboose?

Unknown

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I ended up being twenty-five minutes late for work. For some stupid reason the trains were not working. Mark and Queenie had already jumped the stiles when an announcement broadcasted that due to maintenance all number ten tracks would be terminated until early tomorrow morning. I didn't stop to ask the ticket teller what was going on, there wasn't time. As one we all ran out the station, back out into the pelting ran and sprinted the entire way to the shelter.

Bursting through the doors I shouted, "I know, I know. I'm late. Put a sock in it Kennan, life goes on."

Completely drenched I stormed through the frozen crowd it wasn't until I donned my apron and grabbed a ladle ready to serve before I realised anything was wrong. No one had moved. People sat at tables plates empty; some had their mouths wide open in shock but most just looked sad. Captain Granger stood slacked jawed in the centre of the room complete with an open bible in his hand.

Not understanding everyone's reaction I planted my hands on my hips and demanded, "What's everyone looking at? I have snot hanging from my nose or something?"

"No it's not that." Granger said calmly lowering the bible, "Haven't you heard what's happened?"

"The world turned. The sun went up, the sun went down and I was late because trains never run when there suppose to. Just spit it out Captain, I'm not in the mood for guessing games." I snapped with frustration.

"The Vicar's dead." Jon announced sombrely stepping forward. The wrinkles on his face all sagging down seeming to emphasising his grief.

"Hypothermia?" I asked, more respectfully now trying to come to grips with what happened. The Vicar, while in his late thirties, had always seemed so full of life and strength. Death by exposure was not uncommon on the street but I was surprised that he had fallen victim to it.

Jon just shook his head.

"What happened?" Petra asked while I was still trying to process this.

"The train station," he announced and spat on the floor, " Some punk ass kids thought it would be fun to mess with a homeless man. They stole his sign and started throwing it between them, every time he would make a grab for it they just laughed harder. They were all running and jumping around, getting closer and closer to the tracks. One bright spark through it down onto the rails and the Vicar climbed down after it. I could see the top of his head as he kept trying to jump to get out, and this had the jackasses braying like donkeys. The train horn sounded as I was running down the escalators. He was praying, even as he tried to get out, he was praying. I dove. Our hands clasped. I pulled and the train arrived. I fell back still holding his hand, but that was all I saved the rest of him is spread along the platform ten rails."

I forced the vomit climbing up my throat back down.

"They were arrested though right?" Matt asked naïvely from the doorway, "The three that did this."

Jon laughed, a low soulless sound, "Ya not from around here are ya dropkick? The police came and I told them what happened. They told me what happened was this: A drunken homeless bum stumbled and fell onto the tracks, end of story. When I argued with them further they told me that maybe they were wrong, maybe two drunken homeless bums got into a fight. One pushed the other down onto the tracks and was now making up a story about three innocent upstanding individual's to alleviate his guilt."

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