Chapter 11 – Kyle
Kyle Winter looked around him, before slowly walking towards the airport cargo area. He forced a smile as he approached the desk. A blonde woman of late middle years, wearing a dark blue suit did not return the smile, but just looked blankly like a computer waiting for instructions. He handed her a crumpled slip of paper, cleared his throat, “I’m Kyle Winter, I’m here to collected a package.”
As the woman took the paper, Kyle looked behind him, he saw two men in dark blue suits looking towards the cargo area. What the hell is in it? he thought. They’re looking at me very suspiciously; waiting for me to collect the package so they can arrest me. They must know more than me. I’m just doing what I’m told or… Calm. Keep calm. Smile. No, don’t smile.
The woman disappeared into a room behind the desk.
Maybe I should leave now, just walk away, think of another way to get the money. Robbing a bank would be less stressful, I can’t do this. He looked behind him again, and the security men were walking away from the cargo area. Now they’re trying to fool me into a false sense of security, they’re trained to read body language, minds even. I’m best to forget the whole thing. He started to walk out of the cargo area.
“Can you sign for your package please, sir.” The blonde woman was back holding cheap black pen, and a clipboard. Her face was emotionless, and Kyle began to question on whether the airport had actually employed her, or manufactured her. He took the pen and clipboard, trying hard to keep his hand steady as he signed his name, a false scribble. “And can I see your passport?” She reminded him of when his most feared schoolteacher had asked for the homework he hadn’t done.
He reached into his jacket pocket, his hand trembling. He felt sure the security men would be walking towards him now, and he would feel hands grabbing both of his arms. He handed the passport to the blank-faced woman.
She scanned over a glass panel which then gave a bleep, before handing it back to him. “Thank you, have a good day,” she said with smile that didn’t meet her eyes.
Kyle’s smile was not false, it was a smile of relief. He took the package and walked out of the cargo area towards the exit. He noticed the two security guards standing near the exit. Must not look nervous, must not look nervous, he kept thinking, as he walked towards the exit where the security guards stood. He felt sick in his stomach, sure that they were going to stop him, pull him over and search him, open the package, and take him into those rooms to interrogate him, before sending him to prison and eat nothing but rice for the next ten years. But this was not the Far East, this was… what was it? It was civilisation. He felt damp air on his face, and the smell of fumes in the air. He was outside, and had walked past the security guards without being stopped. The rest was easy, just get the train to wherever it was he had to go, and then wait for his money. Goodbye ‘Loadsa Money’ and their tacky TV commercial. He’d never be so impatient to buy an unnecessary electrical item again.
Finding the train station was easier than he imagined, and he was thankful he didn’t have to fire up the GPS on his mobile phone, which sometimes worked, most times, tried without success to find his current location, in twice the time he would have finding it using a traditional A-Z.
The station was old looking, no TV screens displaying what trains were at the platform. There was a chalkboard advising that the next train was was cancelled, and the following one would be a five-hour wait. He noticed a large tired looking man sat at a counter, and decided to ask if there was an alternative way of reaching his destination, besides waiting at this little station with only cold metal seats for comfort, and a drinks machine dispensing overpriced, oversweet drinking chocolate.
“Excuse me, but is there another way of getting to into the city,” asked Kyle feeling doubtful. The tired looking man’s face seemed to light up like an old television set that had been switched off. “Get the next train and change at Loris, it leave in three minutes from platform two.” The man’s face then went back to its sleepy expression as he pointed towards a train. Holding the package, Kyle hurried up the steps and over the railway bridge towards the waiting train. The train made several bleeps as he stepped on board, and pulled away from the platform.
He hadn’t asked the man how many stops it was to Loris or whatever it was he said, at least the seat was comfortable, much more comfortable than the fixed seats in that waiting room. Keeping the parcel on his lap, he looked out of the window beside him. The scenery outside began to get greener, buildings, with buildings getting older. After over an hour of travelling, he saw outside what appeared to be the station he had to change, Loris, this must be it. What a quiet little place. It reminded him of a spooky old film. It was starting to get dark already, and he wondered how long he would have to wait for his train. There were no notices up about the next train, so he decided to go and look for help. An elderly foreign-looking man in a dark uniform carrying a large jangling bunch of keys was locking up a door next to the waiting room. “Excuse me, but do you speak English?” He asked the man, feeling his reply would be no. “Little” he said. “No train, til ten forty two, last train,” he said, looking at his watch, as though the watch was telling him the time of the next train.
“But I was told to change here, to get to the city,” Kyle said, starting to feel panicked.
“No no, you change at Loris to get to the city, this is Louis. L O U I S,” he said with an amused expression on his face, checking his watch again. “No trains go there now until the morning, 7:00.” He smiled and looked at the gold watch again, this time tapping it with his forefinger. “I leave waiting room open for you, but no heating, sorry.” The man turned and left him, as Kyle walked into the waiting room.
He sat on the long wooden bench in the dimly lit room. It was quiet except for the buzzing of the flickering fluorescent light overhead. He had nothing to read, only his mobile phone for company. He could log into Facebook and post about it, but then people would wonder what he was doing there, and if he was carrying drugs, he didn’t want anything to be traced back to him.
He picked up the parcel and shook it lightly. It made a very slight rattling sound. Must be drugs, he thought, hard drugs, I’ve become a drug smuggler, stuck in a deserted train station for the rest of the night. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t taken out that stupid loan, if I hadn’t wanted to buy that game console.
He heard a sound outside that sounded like a metal bar being thrown on the ground, and then footsteps. Well-meaning people don’t walk around with metal bars. Drug gangs might. Had they been following him? He hadn’t noticed anyone get off the train. He stepped out of the waiting room, there was no one to be seen, nothing to be heard. They must be watching me, he thought. Suddenly the sound of a distant police siren broke the eerie silence, followed by the sound of running footsteps.
The siren was getting louder, when in the distance, was the rumbling of a train. Hearing the police car siren and seeing the walls of the waiting room flashing blue, he left the parcel behind on the long wooden bench inside the waiting room, and rushed towards the train.
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The Parcel Page 11