Going Backwards

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Clarke watched the world trundle by through tired eyes. As soon as the ticket inspector came by he’d allow himself to drift off to sleep. Why could he sleep on trains but not in his own stupid bed? It must have been three weeks since he’d managed to sleep a whole night through, last night he’d woken up at exactly 3.01, 4.01 and 5.01, it was like he was playing darts. The ticket collector made him jump out of his skin; Curtis’d been on the verge of sleep when she’d come in to the compartment. She apologised with a smile revealing her pretty dimples and yellowing teeth. Clarke smiled back realising just how foolish he must have looked. She said something in Czech. Clarke’s Czech was getting better but she spoke quickly, he tried to catch the words but they were gone in an instant. Clarke nodded, his season ticket ran out tomorrow, she must have been warning him; yes that made sense. She stamped his ticket and with a cheery nashledanou she was gone.

Clarke settled back down, his feet on the seat opposite, his top two buttons on his shirt undone and his sunglasses on his head. The train continued its journey to Prague while Clarke’s journey took him to the land of nod.

Stations usually roused Clarke from his slumber but despite being aware that they’d been standing still for sometime, Clarke clung to sleep while other passengers left the train. Normally Clarke would huff and puff about delays but they’d been doing an upgrade on this line for so long Clarke would have been more surprised if there were no delays.

Clarke came round from his snooze as gently as he’d gone under. He stretched and yawned still delightfully groggy from the sleep. He checked his phone for the time. 18.47. He’d slept nearly 90 minutes, over half of the way home. A satisfied smile spread on his face, what better way was there to kill time on a long journey than snoring contentedly in the first class carriage?

Clarke looked around, more awake now. But something was wrong. He checked his pockets for phone and wallet; all present and correct. His bag with computer and passport was at his feet where he’d left it. Clarke looked out of the window, why was he going backwards? Clarke always faced the direction of travel, going backwards made him feel sick, but he was going backwards now. Had he changed position during his sleep? No his bag and jacket were exactly where he’d left them. He was heading back towards Ceske Budejovice. Dark clouds were gathering and up ahead, Clarke could see the rain sweeping down. Dark clouds were gathering in Clarke’s brain too; why on earth was he heading back from where he’d come from?

Clarke could hear the voice of the ticket inspector in his mind; he replayed her words trying to decipher the meaning. Rain crashed into the side of the train, lightning flashed in the sky above him, and Clarke was struck with the realisation that she’d said rail replacement bus service not season ticket replacement.