Page 71 - NS 2024

The Trolley Car Roisin Murray
“You must choose, Peter,” a commanding voice said, echoing over the screeching trolley on the horizon that was zipping down its deadly course. “Need I remind you that there are lives at stake here?”
“You’re asking too much of me,” Peter said, gesturing to the hooded people tied up on the tracks
in front of him, his voice cracking as the pressure of his situation was growing heavier by the second. “Why me? Why do I have to choose who lives and who dies?” Peter was getting frantic now, watching helplessly from a booth that overlooked the diverging tracks as the trolley car came screaming into view. “I don’t even know who these people are!” He cried.
Though Peter looked alone, he was not. There was an intangible presence with him, a looming being that Peter tried not to look for out of fear that he would see something he didn’t want to or be sucked into the being’s essence, never to escape again.
Peter’s hand hung shakily over the singular lever in the booth; there were no other buttons or switches or keys to push, flip, or twist—just a wooden lever topped with a stone handle, the perfect shape for a hand to grasp.
“Well, Peter,” the voice called out from every direction, “it’s funny you say such a thing.” In a blink, so quick Peter wasn’t sure anything had changed at first, the faces of the hooded bodies that lay on the tracks became visible. There was one figure on the track where the trolley car was headed and three on the track that, with one pull of the lever, would instead be in imminent peril; and to Peter’s horror, his eyes were immediately drawn to one of the faces, one he recognized.
“Is that...” Peter said, slowly raising his finger to point at the body on the track where the trolley car was headed.
“Indeed,” the being said matter-of-factly. Peter’s face drained of color as he saw the terrified eyes of his little sister.
“How did she...” Peter said in horrified disbelief. “How did you...?” Peter started once again, turning around to where he could feel a presence. Before the being could answer, there was a scream so guttural that Peter’s hair stood on end.
“Pete!” He whipped around to see his sister squirming to get off the tracks and out of the way of the trolley that was now barely ten feet away from her.
“No!” Peter screamed and, almost instinctively, pulled the lever at the last moment, turning the trolley away from his sister and onto the other tracks where, in a matter of seconds, the three hoodless bodies were eviscerated by the trolley. The screams of the trolley’s victims were just barely drowned out by the snapping of bone and the tearing of flesh. Peter covered his mouth with his hand, violently shaking and in utter horror at what he just witnessed, what he just caused.
“How interesting,” the being said in a deep voice that seemed as old as time itself. Peter remained in place, covering his mouth to keep screams and vomit from pouring out of him; but, unfortunately for Peter, his horror was only just beginning. “Again.”
In another split second, the gorey mess on the tracks was gone—everything was as it was just minutes beforehand. There were people tied up on the tracks again, and the sound of the trolley was back in the distance, though not for long. These people were not hooded, rather they