[Usual disclaimer that all characters are over 18 and not based on real people, I don't condone any of these actions, and this is all fiction.]
***
Sarah cursed and stomped her feet on the platform, her breath puffing out in front of her. She shrugged her bag higher onto her shoulder and pulled her scarf up to her nose as she leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the train departure board. The station's PA system kicked in and announced something in an unintelligible automatic voice. Probably the reason for the fifteen minute delay on her train home.
Her phone rang deep in the confines of her bag, and Sarah struggled to take off a glove to swipe to pick up the call. "Hey, where are you? I've been texting you for ages!"
"Sorry, I must not have heard it buzz," Sarah apologised. "I'm still waiting for the train, it should be here in five."
"What?! You're still at the station? I thought you were going to leave work early!"
"I know, I'm sorry - goddamn Corinne decided to change up our whole strategy for the pitch and I had to run a bunch of new analyses," Sarah sighed.
She heard her sigh echoed on the other end of the line. "Sarah, we really need to talk about your work. You're going to burn out if you're not careful. I'll see you soon."
"I -" Sarah started, but the line had already gone dead. She tried to call back but her phone ran out of battery. "Stupid cold weather," she muttered, chucking it back into her bag and pulling her glove back on to her frozen hand.
When her train finally pulled in, Sarah quickly hopped on the last carriage and slumped into a seat, setting her coat and scarf down on the seat next to her. Within a few minutes, the gentle rocking of the train had lulled her into a half-sleep.
She was pulled out of her doze when the train jolted to a screeching halt. With the lights on in the carriage, Sarah struggled to see anything out the window into the pitch black night. She cupped her hands around her face and confirmed her suspicions - they were not at a station. This was the weird part of the journey where the city fell away before reaching the suburbs, and the train travelled through what looked like fields in the middle of nowhere.
The train's PA announcement came on, and a garbled message from the conductor came through in bits and pieces. "Freaking rail network," Sarah grumbled, "nothing works, can't ever hear shit." She thought she caught the words
electrical fault
but beyond that, had no clue what the issue was.
She stood up and glanced around, noting she was alone in the carriage. She sighed and slumped back into her seat, figuring the train would move eventually.
After some time - with her phone dead, Sarah had no idea how long - she got bored, and stood up once more. The carriage was still empty, but she decided to walk through the train and hope to find someone, anyone, who knew what was going on. She headed one carriage over, and found a pair of businessmen quietly chatting in a corner, still wearing their suits and drinking from fancy flasks.
"Hi, excuse me," she said as she approached them, "do you know what's going on?"
They stopped talking and turned to her, looking unimpressed at the interruption.
"Train's stopped," one of the men announced.
"Yes, I can see that," Sarah replied. Her patience was really being tested today. "Do you know why?"
"Electrical fault," shrugged the second man. "I think."
"Great, that's just great," Sarah scoffed and threw her hands up. "I'm gonna find the train guard."
"There isn't one," the first man told her. "They run driver-only trains on this line, now. About time, too, overpaid dicks who don't do shit, just sitting in their little compartment making their announcements." He guffawed and took a sip, his friend nodding along approvingly.
"Well, clearly, this is a case for why train guards are still needed," Sarah retorted. "And I don't think the train guard who works 12 hour shifts for 40k a year is the overpaid dick, you Armani suit-wearing, Rolex-toting, capitalist pricks," she snapped.
She turned on her heel and walked away, heading back to her carriage. A twinge of guilt fluttered through her - she wasn't normally so abrasive to total strangers - but she rationalised it away. It had been a long day, she was cold and hungry and tired and just wanted to get home.
And they probably were rich pricks anyway - the Armani and Rolex thing was real, she'd spotted that as she was talking to them, and the capitalist thing... was probably also real. Although they were on a train, heading to the suburbs, instead of a private cab heading to a swanky loft in the city...
"Fuck," Sarah groaned, feeling decidedly annoyed at her outburst.
She regretted her choice to dramatically turn away and walk back to her carriage. She could have carried on and tried to head to the driver's cabin at the front of the train to get more information, but now she was stuck: there was no way in hell she was walking past them again. Otherwise she'd have to apologise, and she hated doing that.
So instead, Sarah got comfortable on her seat and took out her work laptop - without internet, all she could do was play solitaire, and the remaining battery would surely drain in less than a half hour, but they would for sure be moving by then, right?
***
Sarah's laptop turned off just as she was about to place her final card, the one that would have made all the remaining cards fly up into their rightful place in a satisfying flutter, and she sighed in frustration.
The sudden loss of light from her computer screen made her realise just how dark the carriage had gotten. Had the lights dimmed while she was playing? Perhaps this electrical fault was more severe than she thought.
Just as she was debating trying her luck walking past the business douchebros again, the inter-carriage door slid open. Curious, Sarah stood up and looked back.
"Speak of the devil," she thought to herself, as the two businessmen entered the carriage, holding their phones up to illuminate their way.
"Hey lady," one of them called out. "We've got news!"
Sarah stepped out into the alleyway, walking up to meet them halfway down the carriage, next to a group of seats facing each other.
"The driver came down the train to give us an update," he continued. "Electricity's out on this part of the track, something to do with the cold. The train's almost out of power, and -," the remaining lights turned off as if on cue, "scratch that, the train is
completely
out of power. Everything's out, lights, heating, CCTV..."
Sarah sighed. "Did he say how long we will be stuck here?"
"Dunno," the man shrugged. "Driver said it could be at least another hour, probably two."
Sarah groaned and rubbed at her forehead. "Fan-tastic," she muttered, "just what I need, with my phone out. Well," she looked at the men in turn, "thank you for letting me know, I appreciate it."
Sarah held out her hand, and the man who'd given her the update took it. His grip suddenly tightened and she struggled uncomfortably in his grasp.
"Name's Jack, by the way. Not, what was it? Armani-wearing, Rolex-owning asshole?" he said, his deep voice holding an edge in shocking contrast with the smile plastered on his face.
Sarah winced. "Yeah, I'm, listen, I'm sorry," she stuttered. "I've had a long day, but that was out of line."
"Damn straight, missy. Now I think you owe my partner Pete and I a proper apology," he growled.
Sarah looked over at Pete, standing a few steps back. He was holding his phone close to his face, and the torchlight blinded Sarah so she couldn't quite make out his features.
"I said I'm sorry," she muttered past gritted teeth, pain creeping into her hand, still held in Jack's vice-like grip.
He pulled her in to him roughly, and she yelped as she stumbled and fell into his chest. He brought his lips close to her ear, his breath hot on her neck. "Yeah, but I have higher expectations than that," he whispered.
He pushed her back roughly and she stumbled again, falling backwards onto the seat behind her.
"Plus I'm bored," he shrugged, "stuck here with nothing to do." He looked her over appreciatively as she pulled her legs under her and shimmied away from him, her back hitting the wall sooner than she'd like. He was still standing just a few feet away.
"Show me your tits."
Sarah was so shocked she couldn't help but laugh. Anger flashed through Jack's eyes and he ground his teeth, his fingers tensing on the back of the chair next to him.
"Don't fucking laugh at me, you worthless bitch," he said, voice low and dripping in contempt. "I said, show me your tits."
Dread slowly crept over Sarah. She'd never been in a situation like this. She didn't know what to do, how to react, how to handle this. She glanced over at Pete, but his demeanour remained stoic, giving nothing away. He didn't seem to be encouraging Jack, but... he clearly wasn't going to stop him either.
Jack took a step towards her and Sarah flinched. He held his hands up apologetically, and took a step back.
"Okay, okay, listen, I'm sorry," he said. He put his phone down on the seat, the light pointing up and casting shadows on the ceiling as he shrugged off his suit jacket and loosened his tie.
"I think we got off the wrong foot. I've also had a long day, you know," he sighed, sitting down next to Sarah who remained frozen in place. "But you really did insult me, earlier. You know, I come from nothing. I come from dirt poor, and I worked hard to get to where I am now."