End Of The Line
All is calm, serene. Ridley drifts through blackness lost in his own internal world—nothing touches him, a dreamless sleep.
He jolts up, sucking in air as if 200 volts just shot through his heart. It takes a moment to find his bearings, all the while panting heavily in the throes of panic. On calming a little he finds his white shirt stained red with blood, several cuts on his face smart with pain, his left nostril full of crusted dried blood. He touches it, thick trickles run against his upper lip. It's then he finds a tear in his shirt as if burnt, his chest rips with pain every time he breathes. Undoing the buttons he finds a bullet hole just below his heart, the hole still wet with crimson.
Ridley wracks his brain trying to recall what happened. Nothing. There's only one thing on his mind: find a hospital. As he looks around he realizes the impossibility of his situation. He's sitting on a dirt road, ten yards to his left, a train track. Nothing but a vast expanse of fields can be seen in any direction. With titanic effort Ridley gets to his feet. He staggers along the dirt track, pain enveloping his body, legs weak, the heat of the early morning sun unrelenting. He sweats with every step.
I'm a dead man, he tells himself, this is the end of the line. A Ghost floating through countryside. His only hope, a passing train, but the chances of him managing to climb aboard one of the moving boxcars is thin to nothing.
He pauses to breathe, bent over, hands resting on his knees, a string of blood falls from his nose, he snorts it out. Somewhat recovered he stands up straight and checks his jacket pocket. In it he finds a blood-spattered pack of cigarettes, two left.
"Fuck it, I'm gonna die anyway." He plucks out the Zippo from his trouser pocket, with it he finds a scrunched up piece of paper. He unravels it, the cigarette dangling from his lips.
Ridley- I have the money; meet me at midnight, outside Central Station. -Alice
In a flash it all comes back. An affair, a very wealthy husband, a promise to leave, run away, as long as Ridley facilitated his death in order for Alice to get the cash. He's very hazy on the specifics, he clutches at images and memories, but they only remain in vague flashes. One clear memory emerges. Alice driving him out to the countryside, pulling a gun, shooting him square in the chest without a second thought, hitting the ground hearing the car engine roar away.
"BITCH."
Sometime later a train appears on the horizon. Ridley draws every last drop of strength and hauls himself into one of the many boxcars. He lies inside, sucking in air, the wheels rumbling against the tracks. Only one word runs through his mind...
Revenge.