Premier Writing showcases poetry, essays and short fiction by new and emerging Irish writers. This week’s short story is by Karen Corcoran from Carlow.
Short story
One Last Job
HE WATCHED FROM the shadows as she stepped out into the frosty darkness, softly closing the front door behind her so as not to wake anyone else in the house. Pulling up her hood she walked quickly down the little cobbled street and turned left onto the main road. Heading in the direction of the train station. She walked quickly and he followed at a distance; no need to hurry, there was very little chance of losing her. The village streets were deserted at this early hour, the locals tucked up sound asleep in their beds, and he knew her routine.
He’d been following her for the past few weeks, ever since the boss had told him about this assignment. His last assignment hopefully, if he pulled it off successfully. This last job filled his quota, and he could move on then. That’s how it worked, apparently.
They reached the station after a short walk. The place was in darkness, the ticket office didn’t open until 6am, just in time for the first commuter train at 6.15. The only trains that passed through Ballynacossagh between 8pm and now were freight trains, big chunky metal snakes that thundered through the little station at high speed. They ran to a fairly regular schedule, which he knew like the back of his hand. The next one was due any minute now.
The girl entered through the side gate, which creaked as she pushed it open, the sound reverberating eerily in the early morning stillness. She lifted her head and paused briefly, listening for sounds of life, before slipping through. He waited for a minute or two before following her out on to the deserted platform.
He couldn’t see her, it was like she had disappeared in those few short seconds. He looked left and right and left again, squinting in the dim light. An unusual feeling of panic began to rise in his stomach. There was a lot riding on this. He couldn’t fail now, not when he was so close.
Suddenly a flicker of movement caught his eye, at the far end of the platform, the “out-of-town end” as the locals called it. She was heading towards the overpass bridge, he thought, as he moved slowly in her direction. The fizzle of panic dissolved and was replaced by something else, a sort of hopeful jubilation. It looks like tonight’s the night, he thought to himself. He needed it to be tonight. He was tired and weary and wanted to be done with all of this; he wanted rest and peace.
He watched her climb the flight of stairs, her head dipped, face obscured by the large hood. But he noticed she now had a spring in her step. He was contemplating this when she stopped suddenly on the top step. She lifted her head, the hood falling down, and she turned to look in his direction, as if she had finally realised she wasn’t alone. Instinctively he stepped backwards into the shadow of the building, pressing his body against the jagged granite stone of the old building. She stood unmoving, facing his direction, her bare hands gripping the rail of the bridge. Her face was visible now, pale and luminous against the dark that surrounded her. He waited with bated breath for her to seek him out in the darkness, but her attention was focused on the tracks, and further afield. The boss had also warned him to stay hidden, not to reveal himself to her. In this line of work staying invisible was crucial. But the girl stood there in an almost trance-like state for what seemed like an eternity.
In the near distance, the tooting whistle of a train horn. Which meant in two minutes or so the train would come barrelling through the station. The girl had heard it too and was running up the steps.
He stole a glance at the big old circular clock that hung from a metal bracket on the next pillar over. It was 3.22am. The train was late, he realised, it should have been and gone by now. He glanced back at the bridge. She was no longer in the middle, but making her way back towards the steps. Damn! A bubble of anxiety pinged in the pit of his stomach. This was proving to be a difficult assignment for him to complete, it was as if the universe was conspiring against him, if one believed in that kind of thing.
He watched as she made her way down the stairs, and was almost at the bottom when he heard it. In the near distance, the tooting whistle of a train horn signalling its passing through the crossroads on the far side of the village. Which meant in two minutes or so the train would come barrelling through the station. The girl had heard it too and was running up the steps. A frisson of excitement rippled on his skin, his adrenaline coursed through him.
“Here we go,” he muttered to himself as he took off after her. When he reached the top of the steps, he was momentarily blinded by the lights of the train, pummelling down the track towards the station. He looked to the middle of the bridge, where she stood. She was lit up by the beam of light from the train; her mouth was moving as if she were talking. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, the noise from the approaching train was deafening. The palms of his hands were sweaty and he rubbed them on his jeans as he edged his way closer, never taking his eyes off her. He was no more than three feet from her now, he could see her face clearly in side profile. She looked much younger and even more vulnerable than ever. What a shame her life had come to this, he thought.
Suddenly she turned and looked directly at him, a look of surprise crossed her face. For a brief moment time stood still, as they stared at each other in confusion. She had seen him. That had never happened before. This caught him off guard, and it took him a moment to compose himself.
He raised his hands in a gesture he hoped she would interpret as “I come in peace.” He moved towards her. She stepped backwards. The train had reached the station now, the bridge beneath them shook from the thunderous rumble as it bore down on them. He could only watch as the girl climbed the railing and dangled from the edge of the bridge, over the track below. She turned and smiled at him over her shoulder. It was a sad little smile, but it was enough to jolt him into action. He lunged towards her just as she let go of the rail. It was too late, she plummeted towards the track and into the path of the oncoming train. He could do nothing, the train ploughed onwards. A feeling of dread washed over him. Overwhelmed by what had just happened, overcome by the pungent scent of diesel and hot metal, he suddenly felt dizzy and sick. A bright and blurry white light flashed before his eyes and then everything went black.
He opened his eyes, squinting. Everything was still fuzzy and bright. Blinking rapidly, he tried to focus his eyes. Where was he? Why is everything so white, he wondered. He tried to stand and stretch; his body ached all over. He felt like he’d been hit by a train. A jolt of recognition hit him like a lightning bolt, and it all came flooding back. The assignment, the girl, the train, and more importantly the failure. He flopped back on the bed, running his hands through his hair. He had failed the assignment. He hadn’t saved the girl.
The door opened, and he looked up. It was the boss, and she didn’t look happy. She caught his eye and shook her head, a disapproving look on her face. Burying his head in his hands he began to sob. He had been given one final chance to atone for his sins, and he had blown it. Now he was destined to spend eternity roaming the Inbetween as a lost soul.
*
About the author:
Karen Corcoran grew up with her nose in a novel and a dream of becoming a writer. Now a devoted mother and an avid reader, she channels her passion for storytelling into her own work. As an active and proud member of a local writing group, she enjoys honing her craft and cheering on her fellow writers. Karen lives in Co. Carlow and collects inspiration from her daily life and the landscape around her.
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