To Drop Or Not To Drop

“Please don’t smother me with the cacti. I’ll jump off into the ravine. I will. Even though it’ll most likely kill me. Please… Please…”

I was forced to jump and jolted myself awake. Somehow I recognised it was a dream at the precise moment it became unbearingly uncomfortable and I managed to escape from it. How strange, but not as strange as where I appeared to be; on a train, sat around an empty table, gazing out the window as bleak countryside dashed by. Was it my train? I didn’t remember getting on, or drifting off to sleep. The last thing I remembered was being in the station waiting room and that woman in the vibrant, migraine-inducing patterned dress almost glided past in front of me, one way, then the other, like she suddenly changed her mind, and…

I lost my train of thought as I shuffled myself up in my seat and felt a peculiar tightening sensation against my skin under my shirt, which appeared to carry all around my torso, up over my shoulders, and then right my back to where my shirt was tucked into my pants. It felt like something was on me, something that shouldn’t be there. I unbuttoned my jacket and felt around my chest and stomach to confirm it was indeed real and not the half-drowsy after-effects of a deep sleep. It was bumpy and spongy in parts, and fastened to me like a bulletproof vest; most definitely not something I had left the house with that morning, or arrived at the station with, or even owned in the first place for that matter.

I loosened my tie and unbuttoned the top of my shirt. Then, as I tentatively pulled the collar away from my body, I saw it - this huge black band fitted around my body, with straps hooked up over each shoulder, and consisting of what looked like small pouches just below my chest that were obviously stuffed with something, which was causing the bumpy look and feel.

Confusion turned to panic as the prospect instinctively dawned on me that I’d somehow been fitted with a bomb. Was it really that absurd? Whoever had done this had got it onto me without me having any idea, so there could literally be anything stashed away inside; something illegal, explosive… I shivered, but instantly stopped myself and froze, terrified that such a juddering movement could detonate whatever this was and blow this train off the rails and into a million pieces.

Sweat caked my skin. My hand was shaking as I moved it away from my collar and my heart was pounding so hard I was worried it could potentially trigger the bomb it sat millimeters from. I craned my neck to look beyond my empty table booth. The rest of the carriage was just as deserted.

I sat back as slow as I’d ever moved in my life, closed my eyes and attempted to get my breathing under control. Who would blow up an empty train? Was this situation a case of mistaken identity? Had my hidden vest in fact been discovered while I was dozing and all passengers and crew had departed the carriage, rushed to the front or the back or wherever was furthest away until the train came to a halt at some police block? How would I explain this? Would I even get a chance to? They were far from relaxing thoughts and my heartbeat of course hadn’t eased one bit.

There was a sudden pssh of air as the nearest door to me that connected my carriage to the next opened and in walked a man; not a member of the train crew or a police officer, judging by his rather casual appearance of baggy jeans, reddish-brown sweatshirt and matching beanie hat, unless he was undercover; stranger things had already happened this morning. It was right then I realised I had no idea what time it was. In my confusion and terror I hadn’t even thought to check my phone or watch, then realised I couldn’t feel my phone in my pocket nor my watch on my wrist. Had I been robbed as well as set up?

“Ah, you’re awake. Excellent.” The man’s deep voice seemed to echo around the carriage like a drawn-out groan, or perhaps that was just my head, and he wasted no time in sitting himself down in one of the seats opposite me across the table.

I stared at him, now actually starting to think I must still be dreaming. He had his elbows on the table, forearms upright, and was hunched over slightly to rest his chin on his interlocked fingers. There was the faintest sign of a smile.

“How are you feeling? Do you need a drink?” He reached down and his hand reappeared with a full, seemingly unopened water bottle, which he held out for me to take. I desperately needed a drink, but still didn’t take it. He eventually placed it on the table with a shrug. “Well, it’s there if you want it. I dare say you will.”

I remained silent, hoping it would get him talking and I’d find out what the hell was going on. Why were explosives strapped to me? What was the plan here? Who was he? And why me?

The man didn’t seem at all unsettled, quite the opposite in fact. He gazed out of the window as the train rattled through yet more sparse, open land; a very satisfied complexion adjourning his face, like he was taking in the lavish sights on one of those scenic train rides through mountains and forests.

“It is 12pm,” he said suddenly, without averting his eyes. “In ten minutes we will cross the border. You’ll know when this is because we’ll pass through a tunnel. Once on the other side I will need you to wait five minutes, then reach into one of those pouches under your shirt, take out what’s inside and drop it out the window. Then wait two minutes and do the same with the next pouch. And so on. Ten pouches. Two minutes apart. All done in 20 minutes, before the train enters the urban outskirts.” Now he looked around directly at me. “They must all be out before the train reaches the outskirts, do you understand?”

My mind was playing catch-up, repeating in slow motion what I’d just been told like it had some other meaning, and before I could respond in one way or another he carried on: “I will be in the back carriage. Do not attempt to come to me until this is complete. Only when it is done, successfully, and I will know when that is, will I ensure your personal belongings and valuables are returned to you, and you are free to get off at the next stop.”

Now he was waiting for me to give some sort of sign that I understood. Of course I understood the instructions, but understanding what the hell I was mixed up in here was far beyond anything I could relate to or know how to react to. I was more stunned then scared, like the consequences of what was to follow weren’t yet real. So I wasn’t about to blow myself or anyone else up, but assuming this was what I now believed it to be with almost certainty - drugs, this was still dangerous and high-risk… or was it? The carriage was empty. The outside was empty. It wasn’t like anyone was going to see me crank the window and drop a series of bags or mini-pots out of the window. All things considered, the terrifying, fatal situation I thought I was in when I first woke on this incorrect train had actually improved. I now saw an outcome where I would walk away alive and unharmed, which seemed impossible just a few minutes ago. But I still had to try and make sense of it if this would be my only chance.

“Why me?” I said, while inside furious that my voice was on the verge of breaking. “Why not someone else, or… or you, if you know the drill?”

“But you do know the drill,” he said. “You have the goods. Ten drops. Two minutes apart. What more do you need to know?”

I foresaw all his answers from then on as smart remarks. There was one he would have to at least shed some truth on though. “What happens if I don’t do this… if I refuse to do this?”

His eyes darted around my face and upper body. “I’m afraid you do not have a choice,” he said at last.

“No?”

“No. The next stop is the end of the line. Crime is rife in the area and security there is tight. I would not advise you to disembark the train with a kilo of that stuff strapped under your shirt. Nor would I suggest attempting to dispose of the vest without having done the drops. A man steps off the train with no identification and then this vest turns up stashed away somewhere, maybe in one of the restrooms… it’s an equally unpleasant outcome, and one where not having your valuables returned to you will be the least of your concerns. Do you really want to risk any of that when what I’m instructing you to do is… easy?”

I allowed myself to stare at him for a few seconds, then shook my head and looked away.

He stood up and shuffled out into the aisle. “I’ll see you in the back carriage in half an hour.” And he stepped towards the door.

“One second,” I said and he stopped. “How will I know the time and when it’s been five minutes, then two minutes, and so on, if you have my phone and my watch?”

“Count.”

“Sorry?”

“Count. Sixty seconds in a minute. Use your fingers if you need to. I don’t care how you do it, just that you do.” He pressed the button on the door to open them with another pssh of air. “This conversation never happened. And remember, don’t do anything… foolish.”

Off he went, the door sliding closed behind him.

I stared forward, not really focusing on anything in particular. The whole surrounding world might as well be a typhonic blur. If this really was as straightforward as I’d been told, then surely they wouldn’t be getting innocent civilians to do it for them. Did that mean this was their common drop practice so no one higher up the chain got caught? I had to accept I probably wouldn’t ever know. But what about afterwards? Was the plan foolproof even if I did as I’d been instructed? Would I just have the empty vest taken from me when it was all done, or would I still have to disembark the train with it under my shirt? But I’d have my identification, hopefully… but what if they had sniffer dogs? Would they still be able to pick up the scent? I was needlessly scaring myself with speculation. I just had to accept and be satisfied with what I already knew.

I pulled my shirt away from my neck once again and looked down at the black contraption, bulging in all the places where the money-makers were. I reached down with my other hand and poked two fingers into a top pouch, hooking the tips under part of the flimsy bag inside and slowly moved it upwards so I could see and be sure. A clump of white came into view and I instantly yanked both hands away. I thrust my head forward into my palms, opposing forces straining against one another with all the energy they could muster. There was really no way out. It was all real. The drugs. The man. The train. The vest… wait… I pulled my head away and sat back. The man had implied the vest could be removed should I disobey his instructions and attempt to hide it somewhere… on the train. What if I removed it and shoved the whole thing out the window? I’d have to fold it up small, but it was possible. Then upon leaving the train my line - if required - would be that I’d just lost my wallet, and if they suspiciously trawled through the carriages, there wouldn’t be anything to be found. Was that maybe easier than conforming? The latter option meant trusting a complete stranger, and I couldn’t even be certain he had my belongings anyway.

Suddenly the carriage was plunged into darkness. The window became a black mirror. The train had entered the tunnel. I had to decide fast. Did I do what was easy or what was… right? Three deep breaths and make a decision. I closed my eyes.

One.

Two.

Three.

I opened my eyes at the precise moment light poured back in, rendering me visionless for a few seconds. As the patchy blotches cleared I went to push myself up, but then came that pssh of air as the carriage door beside me slid open.

A uniformed conductor carrying his chunky handheld ticket device was peering down at me. “Ticket, please.”

I felt lost, like I’d just woken up all over again, not knowing what to think or do or say. “I… I… don’t have one, sorry.”

“Well, I can sort that for you, sir. Cash or card payment?”

My body was heating up, most noticeably the parts under the vest. “I don’t have my wallet. I don’t have any… cash.”

The conductor frowned. “Excuse me, you are unable to purchase a ticket?”

“Yes.” I kept eye contact as best I could, quite ridiculously praying he’d just let me off.

“So if I’m understanding this correctly, sir, you knowingly boarded a train without a ticket or any way of being able to purchase a ticket. You do know that is breaking the law?”

“No,” I said. “It’s not like that. It’s… it’s…” I had no idea how to explain it and it was showing.

“Sir, please can I request you accompany me to the front of the train where we can take further details?”

This time I properly tensed up. I absolutely couldn’t go anywhere. Regardless of whether I was going to undertake the drops or ditch the vest, I couldn’t do it if I wasn’t here, or in the presence of the conductor. “I… can I…” This was awful. “You see… the thing is… can we not just quickly do it here?”

He sighed. “Sir, please do not make this any more difficult than it needs to be.” He gestured for me to stand up and move.

The temperature of my body was rising at an unprecedented rate. How did I get rid of him? My heartbeat was returning to what it’d been when I thought I was strapped to a bomb. My stomach was doing somersaults.

“I get terrible travel sickness,” I said, “moving around on trains and buses and… anything like that. I feel a bit queasy now, so I’d like to stay where I am please. Can we… sort this at the next stop?”

For a moment I thought it had worked, then he sighed again. “Sir, you must come with me now. I don’t want to have to ask you again. We can take it slow. And if you are indeed feeling that way, please could I advise you drink some of your water. It doesn’t look as though you’ve had any. You could be slightly dehydrated.”

I stared at the unopened bottle having completely forgotten it was there; just something else that had blurred into the background. I was reminded of my thirst, but still didn’t reach out for it.

“Sir?”

How had the man from before been so careless as to not get me a ticket? This rookie error was on the verge of ruining his whole plan. At least if no drops were made I wouldn’t be culpable, would I? I still had to dispose of the stuff though, and couldn’t do it in front of the conductor.

“OK,” I said, “I just remembered. My… colleague has my wallet. He is sitting in the back carriage, wearing a hat and browny-red sweatshirt. Would you be able to go and get it from him and I will gladly pay for my ticket?”

His frown phased into an awkward grin, followed by a light chuckle. “Sir, if you do not retrieve your own wallet then that is still going down as a refusal to pay. It’s not for me to go and get it for you. Besides, I have just come from the back carriage now and there’s no one in there.”

“What?” I blurted out. “He’s in there, or… or maybe the one before that, I might’ve got mixed up. A man in a browny-red sweatshirt and hat.”

“Sir, there are only another five passengers on this entire train and none of them match that description.”

I stared at him. What more could there possibly be on top of everything that had happened already? Why would the conductor be lying?

He seemed to recognise I wasn’t faking this minor freak-out. “I will be more than happy to accompany you, sir, and you can see for yourself.”

I didn’t hesitate and stood up, determined to catch at least one of them out. “OK, let’s go.”

We passed through one empty carriage, then finally came across other passengers in the one after. Firstly a bespectacled woman engrossed in a book who didn’t look up as we walked by, and another woman further down in a vibrant, patterned dress which I recognised from the station; my last memory before I woke up on the train. She briefly glanced up at me as I drew closer, then flicked her eyes back to the window. I noticed the patterns on her dress were actually brightly-coloured, cartoon-like cacti, twisting and turning in all directions. That was probably why they’d featured in my dream. It was almost dizzying looking at them, especially while in motion, and as I passed her by I momentarily considered asking her if she remembered seeing anything suspicious, but then the moment had gone.

Another deserted carriage followed and as we were approaching the next the conductor spoke up: “This is the last one.”

I pressed to open the door, genuinely not knowing who or what I’d find, and stepped through into yet another empty carriage. I walked the length of it, quite absurdly checking every section of seating, then back to the conductor who had remained by the door.

“This… this isn’t possible,” I said, sounding properly distressed for the first time. “He was… he told me he was in the back carriage, that’s where I could find him.” I hastily looked around again as the conductor shook his head. “He must be in the toilet, or… or he moved down to the front. Let’s check. Let me check. I swear he’s here and you’ve just missed him. Come on.”

He didn’t budge. “Sir, I’ve been more than accommodating by allowing this to go on as long as it has. Enough is enough. I’m going to have to ask you to take a seat here and I’ll let security deal with you when we reach the final stop shortly.”

“No,” I pleaded, bordering on a shout. I couldn’t stay here. How many drops had I already missed? Could I possibly atone for the misses by bunching some together and releasing them through the window in this carriage? Or likewise with the whole vest? Not with the conductor waiting with me, and I most definitely couldn’t be handed over to security in my current state. It was a lose-lose. “I need to get back. I need to check.”

“Sir, please calm down.”

“I am calm.” I was anything but. “I… I don’t know what’s going on. I’m not meant to be here. I fell asleep at the station this morning and woke up on this train, with… with… my things gone and… and no idea where I was going or what’s going on. I still don’t. I…”

“Sir,” the conductor held up his hand. “You are getting very worked up over what seems like a misunderstanding. I’m sure if you explain this to security when we arrive at…”

“I can’t,” I interrupted, stressing every syllable for all it was worth. “You don’t understand. I… I…” I was trembling. The pitch of my words was all over the place. “I’ve been set up. I’m being set up.” I didn’t care anymore. I grabbed at my shirt collar and yanked it away from my body, causing two buttons to shoot off in the process and revealing the upper part of the vest. “Look. Look. I didn’t do this. I have no idea how this was put on me. A man came to see me when I woke up and told me I had to drop what’s in here out the train window when we… we were across the border, out of the tunnel. I… I didn’t have a choice. I’m being set up. I’m being blackmailed. I… my life will be ruined if you allow me to walk off the train like this, and I haven’t done a thing wrong. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

His expression was a hybrid of confusion and disgust. If he understood, if he sympathised with my situation, he wasn’t showing it.

“Sir,” he started, still very measured and professional, looking at me through squinted eyes. “Do you realise you’ve just told me, and shown me, that you are illegally transporting drugs?”

“Yes, but without knowing. I… I’m innocent. This isn’t what I do. I’m a goddamn hotel manager. Why in the world would I knowingly do this?” I gestured to the vest with both hands.

“I don’t know, sir. But it’s not for me to say if I believe your story or not. We can leave that to the police when we arrive at the final destination. I will notify them in advance.” He started to turn and I instinctively shot out an arm and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to turn back. Now what? All I knew is that it was too late… for anything. Even if he left me and I managed to dispose of everything incriminating he already knew too much.

“Don’t do this,” I pleaded, on the verge of tears through my anxiety and frustration. “Please.”

He calmly moved my hand from his shoulder. “Sir, I am just simply doing my job. I…”

“This is insane!” I screamed. “Let me off now! Is there an emergency brake? There must be. What about a way to break the glass?” My eyes darted around the carriage for some kind of wall-hung implement used to smash through a window in case of emergency. I noticed one at the far end and shot over to it, wasting no time in breaking its plastic casing with a single punch and taking it out. The conductor was yelling something, but I didn’t know what or even care. I brought my arm back and swung the little hammer forward into the window. A small crack appeared. It was working. Sweat was cascading downwards from my forehead, running over my face and around to the back of my neck, and I no longer felt in control of my own breathing, but this was working. I was escaping. I was going to bail out of a train hurtling along at full speed. I had no choice. I brought my arm back again.

Before I swung forward the door to my left that led to the restricted access driver section at the very back slid open. “Eric,” came a voice, and I stopped.

An elderly, moustached man in grey chinos and a navy jumper with a sky blue polo shirt collar folded out at the base of his neck had emerged, followed by another man, who I recognised instantly.

“That’s him,” I shouted as I turned to face the conductor who had taken a few steps towards me. “That’s the man, the one in the hat and sweatshirt, the one I told you about, who… who did this to me.”

The conductor was nodding, quite solemnly. “Yes,” he said. “I know.”

“What? What do you mean you know? You said you didn’t… said there wasn’t…”

“Eric,” the elderly man cut me off with his repetition of my name, “Please can I ask you to sit down and listen to me for a moment?”

I stared at him. “Who are you? What’s going on? Are you with him?” I nodded at the man in the hat. “Are you in all this together?”

The elderly man grimaced. “Yes, we are, Eric, but it’s not what you think. Please sit down and…”

I held the little hammer out in front of me like some kind of weapon, aware my whole arm was shaking and knowing how pathetic it must’ve looked to them all. “Let me off right now. Stop this train and let me off, or I swear, I’ll smash this window and jump out.”

“Eric, please, you need to listen to me. This isn’t what you think.”

“No?” I said, but in my manic state just came out like a slurred groan. I twisted to face the window and brought my arm back. One more huge hit would do it.

“Eric!” His voice had gone up a notch. “This is all a test. The drugs, the drops, and you not having a ticket. It’s all an experiment to see how people react in these situations.”

I kept my arm where it was, but looked back around at him.

“We only selected you when we first saw you at the station this morning,” he continued. “There was no pre-planned arrangement. We simply picked you and hypnotised you without you being aware. As much as it is unethical to not inform you of your participation, I’m sure you can understand that you knowing would significantly impact your ability to act naturally in such an extreme situation, and that is what we need. Eric, you’re not the first, but this has been the first reaction like… this, and I couldn’t stay hidden for any longer. Please, if you just calm yourself and sit down I will fully debrief you.”

No one spoke for what seemed like a minute. My arm ached, but it was nothing compared to the spinning going on inside my skull, causing my whole head to throb. I knew of social experiments and their controversies, but this!? I glared around at them all, ending back on the elderly man.

“You’re lying,” I said. “You’re setting me up. You’re all in on it, all part of the drug run, and setting me up to take the fall because I haven’t done the drops, or… or…”

“Eric,” the elderly man attempted to intervene, “think about it. If that was really the case then why would we allow you to be hindered to such an extent? Why would you not have a ticket? Would any of that even make sense?”

I didn’t care about sense, or logic. They would have answers to everything and say anything to get me to believe them, to sit quietly and listen to their lies, then hand me over to the police the minute the train pulled into the next station where my life would be as good as over. There was only one way that wasn’t happening.

“I’m getting out. You can’t stop me.”

The elderly man looked past me to the conductor. “Get Alice, please.”

The conductor nodded and turned. Whatever that meant, it wouldn’t make any difference. I was going to break out right now. I swung for the glass and this time there was a sizeable indentation at the centre of the spiralling cracks.

“Restrain him, please.”

As I went to throw myself against the window in the hope it would be enough force to push myself out, someone grabbed me from the side and wrestled me to the ground. I lost my grip on the hammer and couldn’t get any of my limbs in a suitable position to fight back. The man in the hat was holding me down.

I squirmed and wriggled, but he wouldn’t budge. I shouted all manner of obscenities because it was the only form of attack I had left. Eric attempted to chip in with his smug lies whenever I stopped for a breath.

“We are testing conformity. High stakes conformity.”

“We never explicitly say they are drugs, it’s all in the implications.”

“We added on the ‘no ticket’ scenario after the first round last year.”

“We are interested to see the choices made by people like yourself.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” I wailed.

“You always have a choice.”

I sobbed. No longer emitting sensical words, just noises and groans to drown out his ramblings.

I suddenly felt the hold on me start to weaken and seeing the opportunity I pushed myself up, getting to my knees and swivelling to where I thought the damaged window was. I was facing down the aisle and all I saw was a vibrant, cactus-patterned dress, drawing closer as it seemed to glide one way then the other, forcing my eyes to follow and causing the lids to feel so heavy.

“Please don’t smother me with the cacti,” I said. “Please… please…” My head began to drop forward. Going… going… gone.