Steady stuff. Mostly monotonous, often dull. Secure. He was glad he wasn’t married and able to lead his own life without worrying about children, schools, neighbours, H.P., holidays. Not that he really ever got up to much on his own. He believed in keeping himself to himself and not getting involved in other people’s problems. He had enough of that at work, although he never became emotionally involved. The church choir was the only social outlet he enjoyed, meeting once a week to rehearse, and Sunday morning singing his heart out, the only form of exhibitionism he allowed himself. He raised his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Mondays were neither depressing nor exhilarating for Henry Sutton; one day was much the same as any other.
The train suddenly gave a lurch and screeched to a halt, throwing the surprised solicitor’s clerk on to the laps of Violet Melray and Jenny Cooper.
‘Oh, excuse me,’ he stuttered, his face red alerting as he pulled himself up again. Other passengers were in the same predicament and were now picking themselves up, some laughing, others tutting angrily.
‘Here we go,’ a voice was heard to say. ‘Another twenty- minute delay.’ He was wrong. They sat or stood for forty minutes in a state of agitation, trying to hear the shouted conversation between the driver and the guard over their intercom. Henry Sutton, Violet Melray and Jenny Cooper were in the first carriage so they could hear the driver’s replies to the guard’s questions quite plainly. He’d seen something on the line, not quite sure what, but it had been quite large, so he’d jammed on his brakes and cut his power.
Having decided that whatever it was man or animal, it must have been killed by the train and there wasn’t much he could do about it now, so the obvious thing to do was to go on and send a crew back from the next station. The only trouble now was that he couldn’t get any juice. No power. It could be that whatever he’d run over had done some damage to the train although he doubted that, A faulty cable maybe?
He’d actually heard of rats chewing through cables.
The driver, or ‘motor-man’ as he was officially called, had been on to central control and they’d advised him to sit tight for a while until they located and repaired the fault. But it was the smell of smoke that decided him upon his course of action. The passengers became aware of the smoke at the same time and began to stir apprehensively.
The next station, Stepney Green, wasn’t very far, so he would get them off the train and up the tunnel.
With so many passengers it would be dangerous, but it would be better than have them panic in the confined spaces of the carriages. Already he could hear excited voices coming from the carriage next door. He told the guard of his intentions then opened the connecting door, to be confronted by anxious-looking faces.
‘It’s all right,’ he reassured them with false confidence.
‘Slight hitch, that’s all. We’re going to go along the tunnel to the next stop - it isn’t far and the rails won’t be live.’
‘But something’s burning,’ a concerned-looking businessman informed him gruffly.
‘That’s all right, sir. No cause for alarm. We’ll soon put that right.’ He made his way forward to the end of the carriage. ‘I’m just going to inform the rest of the passengers and then I’ll be back to lead you through the tunnel.’ He disappeared into the adjoining Compartment leaving the dismayed commuters in an uneasy silence.
A few minutes later, they heard a scream followed by shouts of alarm. The connecting door burst open and passengers spilled in, pushing and shoving their way through the crowded carriage. The smell of burning followed close behind. The hysteria spread like the fire that caused it.
Henry Sutton was once again thrown upon the two female travellers before him.
‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ be murmured, his glasses skimming to the end of his nose. This time, the crush of people prevented him from disentangling himself from the frightened women.
They were forced to stay locked together as men and women pushed by them, terrified now by the billowing smoke that began to fill the train. Scuffles broke out as men found their escape impeded by others. All the way down the tube train doors were being forced open and passengers were jumping down into the dark tunnel, some knocking themselves sense-less against the wall and being crushed by others landing on top of them.
Violet gasped for breath beneath the prostratesolicitors clerk, while Jenny struggled to get free.
‘I’m terribly sorry, ladies,’ he apologised, helpless to move,
‘If - if we keep calm, I’m sure the crush will ease soon and then we’ll be able to make our way off the train. I don’t think the fire will spread this way for a while. We’ve plenty of time.’ Strangely enough, Henry felt extremely calm. For one whose life had had so little adventure he marvelled at his own composure. He’d often wondered whether he’d be brave in time of crisis and now, as people panicked, and pushed, and screamed all around him, he’d surprised himself by his own lack of fear. He felt quite pleased.
By now, the carriage was becoming less crowded as the people used the side-doors to escape the choking smoke.
‘Ah, now I think I can stand.’ Henry got to his feet and reached down to pull the woman and the girl to theirs. ‘I think we should stick together, ladies. When we get into the tunnel we’ll hold hands and feel our way along the wall. I’ll lead, come along.’
He led the two white-faced passengers towards the front of the carriage. Suddenly the screaming reached a new pitch. In the gloom of the tunnel, lit by the lights of the train, they could see struggling figures. There were so manyfaces out there that they couldn’t comprehend exactly what was happening.
Henry caught a glimpse of one man, still wearing a bowler-hat, disappearing from view beneath the window with something black against his face. As they neared the open door of the driver’s compartment, they saw that people were struggling to get back on the train but were being blocked by those still trying to get off.
Henry and his two female companions reached the small darkened driver’s compartment.
‘Now let me see,’ he said, half to himself, ‘there should be a torch or a lantern somewhere here - ah, just the job.’ He reached down for a long rubber-covered torch tucked away in one corner. A sudden scraping noise made him turn towards the driver’s’ open door. Something black was crouched there. He switched on the torch and shone a beam of light towards it. Jenny screamed as it reflected on two shining, evil-looking eyes. Instantly, without realising his actions, Henry lashed out with his foot, catching the rat’s head and knocking it back into the tunnel.
‘It’s one of those black rats that the papers were on about!’ Violet cried in horror. Jenny burst into tears, burying her head into the older woman’s shoulder. Henry shone the torch down into the darkness and was dumb-struck at the scene before him. In the confined space of the tunnel, men and women were running, fighting, cowering as hundreds of black rats rampaged amongst them, leaping and tearing, their bloodlust stirring them into a frenzy. He quickly closed the door and then looked back into the carriage.
He saw that the rats had entered the train and were now attacking the passengers who hadn’t managed to get off or had scrambled back on. He slammed the compartment door shut and switched off his torch.