Run Away, Train

Thursday, March 19th, 1874

West Coast Main Line Railway

London, England

to

Glasgow, Scotland

Rhythmic rumbling and thumping noises woke the young girl slowly from her almost coma-like state. Her head hurt and her whole body was cold and stiff. She desperately wanted to move as her right arm had pins and needles shooting through it from being crushed by her body. With great effort that resulted in her head throbbing even more, she rolled onto her side with a gurgled moan. It was dark and stuffy. The young girl didn’t know where she was and had no memory of how she got here.

As her mind began to focus, the young girl could make out the starry sky through the windows, and a full moon would shine through once clouds passed. With the varying light, she realized she was surrounded by luggage of all kinds. Some of it was cargo, others were personal traveling trunks used by ladies and gentlemen. She must be on a passenger train then, she thought. But how in the world did she get here? Was she a passenger?

The girl started searching for a ticket only to find there were no pockets in the little clothing she wore. Her cheeks flared hot with embarrassment. She was only wearing her drawers, chemise, and socks. No coat, corset, or even shoes! No wonder she was freezing. She touched her head where it was most tender but felt nothing amiss. When she raised her arm though, white hot pain shot up from her left side. She grasped the source of the pain and bit her lip to keep from crying out. The area was wet and her fingers were covered in a sticky substance when she pulled her hand away. The moon was hidden behind clouds again so she couldn’t see, but the iron-like smell told her it was blood. Every breath felt like nails were being jammed into her side and any movement made the pain worse. Nausea bubbled up in her throat. The constant bumping and swaying of the train was making her dizzy, or was it the wound? She recalled a lesson her mother had given her and her brothers when they were in their early teenage years about illness and injury. The most important thing was to stay calm and assess the situation. Gingerly, she ripped the hem of her filthy chemise and fashioned a makeshift gauze to stop the bleeding. Another torn section was used to secure the gauze in place and tied as tight as she could get.

The girl leaned against a stack of boxes and took deep breaths, trying to stop her world from spinning. She must have lost a lot of blood with how sick she felt. Instinctively her hands went to her tender stomach and jumped when something seemed to kick her from within. Trembling, she placed her hands once more on her slightly risen stomach, and again a kick came in response.

Her heart stopped.

She was pregnant.

How could she have forgotten that? The girl glanced at her left hand and saw no ring or even an indication there ever was one. Dread sunk in. She was alone with a child on the way and had no memory of how it happened, who the father was, or even how she got here. Her mother would be devastated about this, wouldn’t she? The girl began to wonder when was the last time she saw her mother, or anyone for that matter. Then again she couldn’t think clearly with how cold she felt.

She knew stealing was wrong, but in times of desperation she believed God would forgive her as she rummaged through the closest lady’s trunk. As luck would have it, the owner was roughly the same size as her and there were so many pieces to choose from surely the owner wouldn’t notice one blouse and skirt missing. The blouse fit perfectly but she struggled to get the high-waist skirt over her protruding belly. The garments made a significant improvement, however the girl still shivered. She didn’t want to take any more from this person, but instinct to protect her baby overthrew any hesitation.

Finding a simple but warm, red wool coat, her trembling fingers struggled to fasten the half dozen silver buttons. Once the task was completed, it wasn’t long before the well-made garment warmed her. Even her baby seemed to be at ease. Now she could start to really think, or she tried to until her head throbbed too much.

So she’d been hurt by something, or someone, and had taken refuge on this train without anyone noticing. She must have been desperate to get away from whatever danger she was in. Was the person who did this to her on the train as well? The girl shivered again, but not from the cold. She began to realize she was in big trouble. She had no papers, no money and no ticket. She’s stolen clothing and was a stowaway, worse yet she was an unwed mother to be. Lord knows what would become of her and the baby when she was found, which was only a matter of time. The girl decided the best thing to do was to get off at the next station, no matter where it was. Having somewhat of a plan helped keep her calm through the night, allowing her to drift into a deep sleep.

The girl woke again this time to sunlight streaming in her face. Groaning, she rubbed the grit from her eyes and stretched her sore limbs. The train seemed to have kept going through the night, or she’d slept so soundly she didn’t notice it stop. It was pure luck that no one had found her yet, despite her efforts to hide as far back in the car as possible, even pulling some rolled up rugs into a teepee structure.

A loud sliding noise startled her. Someone was coming through the gangway into the luggage car. Her heart pounded so loud, surely the person could hear it. The person had a heavy footfall, making her think it was a man. Peaking out, she saw a young man in working clothes wandering around, checking on the cargo. He shuffled a few pieces of luggage around, muttering something under his breath before he turned to leave. Then he stopped, his attention on the floor. The girl covered her mouth to stifle a gasp as he inspected the dried puddle of blood from where she’d been lying the night before. He started to look around and the girl hid instantly, praying with all her might he wouldn’t start looking through the car for her. After what seemed like an eternity, she heard the gangway door close.

Time seemed to pass slowly. The girl’s stomach growled loudly and her throat ached from thirst. Her motherly instinct to provide for her baby warred with her fear of being discovered. Before she could make a decision, however, the gangway door slid open once more. She scurried as far back into the cramped space as she could, covering her mouth to stifle her breathing. Footsteps approached. Cold sweat dripped down her back. A pair of work boots appeared outside her hiding spot. She was caught!

Just as she was about to plead for mercy, the man placed two small bundles and a glass of water on the floor, then left. The girl couldn’t believe it. The young man knew she was there, yet he gave her food instead of outing her. When she heard the gangway close she reached out to grab the bundle and glass of water. The cold liquid was downed in seconds then she tore at the first handkerchief. Inside was a delicious loaf of bread. The girl cried softly as she ate it. Opening the second bundle there was clean gauze and a small bottle of liquor to sterilize the wound. God was truly merciful in sending her such an angel.

Throughout the day the young man returned with more food and water. He never spoke to her, merely retrieving the handkerchiefs, replenishing them, then leaving the offerings without a word. At the end of the day, the girl found a folded piece of paper and a pencil in the bundle. It was a note from the man.

'Are you well?'

The girl felt her heart thump heavily in her chest. Somehow the note made it seem intimate, like they were in a relationship. Trying to be legible, she wrote back,

'Yes, we are fine.'

The young man returned not much later and this time paused as he read the reply. The girl wondered if he knew what she meant by “we”. The next time he brought food showed he’d figured it out. It contained much more food with fruit, two loaves of bread and a full canteen of water. He’d also written a longer note.

'I am sorry for your situation. Please know that I mean you no harm. Would you tell me your name?'

The girl wiped away tears of gratitude.

'My name is Zaira.'