One way ticket through Hell, and back.....again.

“A ticket guard? Here?” asked Imogen with her ear to the door to get a better reception of any conversation from the other side. “Do you have a ticket?”

The creature shook its head and pulled inside out it's empty pockets.

“Then what’s likely to happen if we’re caught without one? Do they make you shovel the coal or something to pay your way?”

“No, you are invited to leave.”

“At the next station?”

“No. immediately invited to leave with severe prejudice.”

“And how would that affect your great plan to drag me across who knows where to get to wherever it is you want me to be?” Imogen whispered as she could hear the dragging noise getting closer.

“Tickets please.” the voice came again. From the sound of it it had reached the center of the three compartments. From the fact they had not yet seen the Guard from this side of the train Imogen speculated it would be coming towards them to finish it's round.

“We seem to have a queer bollix in the proceedings. Forgive my impertinence but…”

The creature took hold of Imogen’s arm and dragged her backwards and into the furthest compartment where he thrust her between two of the unprotesting gents and their papers whilst it took a position somewhere on the other side. Imogen couldn’t see it now from her cramped position between a tweed suited gent with a wide grey mustache and a blue suited bespectacled man in a bowler hat. Neither spoke or looked at her and she endeavoured to do the same.

The corridor door opened with a discernible click and the dragging sound entered their carriage. The first compartment door opened and a voice hard to pin between either se,x but Imogen guessed male from the period of which the train was set and back then it would have been scandalous to have a woman do something so shocking as collect tickets on a train, spoke out again in it's quest to visualise the transit permits of each individual traveller. Not another voice was heard and Imogen strained her ears to hear any sound which would signify the movement of the passengers to withdraw tickets from pockets or luggage, none we forcomming. When the first sound came it made her sink into the soft chair and raise her legs where she could hug them close to her chest.

A wet popping crack and the impression of rain or soft liquid falling against a surface.

“Tickets please.”

Pop, crack, splatter followed by dripping.

Driven by a flood of adrenaline into her system Imogen stood on her seat and fidgeted from foot to foot. She wanted to run, the ancient fight or flight impulse assisted her in the decision by removing one of the two, the ancient response was already was lacing up it's trainers and warming up. Across on the other side was the creature who looked on willing her to sit down with it's eyes.

“Tickets please.” crack pop, splatter.

The door to the first compartment opened and the dragging noise descended upon the center.

“Tickets please.”

There was a metal edged wire shelf where a number of briefcases, working bags and umbrellas were housed safety for travelling but behind it was a series of brass plates with vents used for the passage of air between compartments. It was difficult without pulling herself up off the seat below but Imogen could just about see into the middle compartment. The view over the mirrored luggage shelf only offered up the top of the paper and the round curve of a black bowler hat.

“Tickets please.”

Imogen embarrassed herself to get a better view and as her bum settled on a gentleman’s head, she mumbled an apology and jumped again to get her elbows on the shelf. What had made the first noise was now over and she saw a deep shadow come across the gentleman sat in the middle of the row and in her vision.

“Tickets please.” came the voice too close for comfort. The gentleman did not move, the paper never lowered and there was no orated apology over not having the ticket to hand as any Englishman would from this period in history. The shadow moved and a silvery snaked skinned head dominated the small window into the compartment. It struck down and the wet popping crack sounded again as blood erupted across the paper which sagged as the arms holding it lost their control. The Guard shuffled forward. “Tickets please.” As he moved there was a gap where the head of the middle gent should have been as it had been removed from the body leaving quivering tubes and gristle hanging from the neck.

Imogen dropped from the shelf and turned on the creature then back at the separating wall before turning again to the creature.

“Jesus Christ on a stick, that thing in there just killed a man. Jesus, it's going to come in here soon we have to get away. God why are you all still sat there, we all have to get away.” she moved to the door, no one moved to follow. The creature rose.

“We will go, our presence here is not appreciated and it will serve us nought to be caught here without a permit to ride.”

“What about all of these?” Imogen said pulling down the newspaper of the nearest man, he was staring straight ahead with a waxy complexion. His features did not move but his eyes rotated wildly within their sockets desperately trying to signal Imogen for help. She pulled on his outstretched arm which was still gently holding the paper between his fingers, he did not move as if he were a realistic statue or dummy in a railway museum showing visitors how once upon a time how everyone would sit during a journey.

“Tickets please.”

The creature broke the spell and shoved Imogen through the door and into the corridor where is ushered her forcibly through the adjoining door where she skidded over the bridge plate.

“Tickets. Tickets. You cannot evade paying the fare.”

“Shit.” said Imogen as she realised they had been spotted. Due to the space between carriages they couldn’t close one door behind them both without opening up the other and in her rush to open it she fumbled with the locking mechanism and had to try again. The door rattled as if swollen into place and did not open.