The day that Ellen Andersson died was just like any other day, which is to say it had been a grind. To escape reality she had bought herself a new book. She clasped it in her hands as she filtered out the whooshing sound of the subway train. Her aching neck cracked and popped as she rotated it stiffly from side to side before settling into the flow of the text. Pipetting all day was not good for her body, it might be time to get a new job. It was most probably impossible to find work that was less boring than her current employment.

The speaker crackled and announced that they were arriving shortly to Stockholm Central station. The deceleration made her lean forward ever so slightly looking up from the book, a classic type of fantasy in medieval times with magic. The doors slid open and people milled aboard together with their heady perfumes masking the stench of sweat from the sweltering late summer’s day outside. She kept an eye on them, waiting to see who would sit next to her as well as across from her. It was always disconcerting to have people be so close and to make it easier she looked at them to form an impression of what kind of people they were.

Next to her a young woman with a backpack sat down and immediately began to scroll through some app. Opposite a tall man sat down, he splayed his legs out to both sides and gave her a look that may have been apologetic for the rudeness of taking up that amount of space, of course he couldn’t help it since his legs were much too long to be comfortable in the space they shared. She on the other hand didn’t take up much space and so he was welcome to it, though of course she didn’t tell him. Talking to strangers on the underground was something she never did if she could avoid it. His eyes were a startlingly cold blue that crinkled slightly in amusement as he looked at the words on her t-shirt “Women. They are a complete mystery.” accompanied by the face of Stephen Hawking. Their eyes met briefly before he quickly turned his gaze down towards the phone that he drew from his gray suit pants. It was typical that people would always look at their phone, it seemed as if no one could let go of them for more than an instant. She tsked inwardly at the shame that people didn’t read books more, before she turned back to hers.

For some reason she could not find the peace to read any more, usually she was rather good at shutting everything else out. She kept on pulling the bookmark, a plain piece of thick white paper, up and down along the book page, fiddling it around and quite distracting herself. Glancing over her book she mused to herself that the man across from her was rather pleasant to look at. Her thoughts wandered to what it would be like to have someone like that in her life. Maybe she should make more of an effort with her looks. If she fixed her appearance she might meet Mr. right. They could get married, the wedding would be small and intimate, her long dark curls would look lovely under a white lace veil.

Her reverie was interrupted by the train drawing to a halt and the announcement that they would have to wait for a while because there was an oncoming train. Lately she seemed to be falling into these daydreams more and more. Maybe it was because her life was exceedingly dull. When she came home today she would sit down and begin looking for a new job, though she doubted that there would be much out there. Of course, she didn’t know that she would never have the chance to apply to another job again.

When she was young she had thought that being a biochemist would be exciting. Her father had held her on his lap and told her about people who had done amazing research and against the odds with lots of dedication found solutions to problems. If she could, she would have loved to be just like the people in the stories. She would have fought against the popular conventions and helped people around the world. A new Alexander Fleming or Louis Pasteur and win the Nobel prize in chemistry.

The reality was much different, she applied to PhD programmes but mostly she didn’t even get an answer, sometimes she got a refusal, never an interview. One day she had realized that research was not in her future and when she applied for a job working with validation in a lab, she got it. Maybe with some experience under her belt they would want her now.

A woman standing close to the door holding a handle from the ceiling was asking a burly man next to her what was wrong, why wasn’t the train moving, they had already been there for ten minutes. Her voice was getting shrill. The burly man claimed that there had probably been an accident that they weren’t being informed about. Ellen thought that it might be true, but she was hardly concerned, she had all she needed with her, a good book.

The story was getting exciting when a distant bang was heard. She looked out of the window but saw only the dark grey of the concrete tunnel. The people in the car were looking around at one another. The woman with the shrill voice clasped a phone in her hand and told no one in particular that on Flashback it was being reported that there was a terrorist attack. Considering the source Ellen was not convinced. Still it was disconcerting considering that bang. A look at her watch told her that they had been there for half an hour, much too long for an ordinary stop. A chill ran down her back and the muscles in her neck grew taut.

Staring out of the window she saw an orange glow creeping along the wall. She sniffed at the air as it began to turn gray. She felt it sting her eyes and throat, the acrid taste of plastic in the air. 

The tall man got to his feet and tried to speak to everyone there. Ellen couldn’t hear what he was saying, the woman with a shrill voice was in a state of panic as she spoke down her phone, words of frantic love. The young woman with a backpack was sobbing, not hiding her tears. The whole carriage was filled with a cacophony of sounds. The man looked strangely calm, he made a gesture with both his hands, palms down and moving downwards. Ellen could hear the man’s words shouted now.

“We need to keep calm.”

An ear splitting bang, debris flew like confetti from a canon. Large chunks of metal and plastic fell around them, followed by rock dust as people screamed in terror. She had thrown out her hands in an act of saving herself and caught at the tall man’s suit pants which she clung on to. Somehow she found herself kneeling on the floor, hanging on, knuckles whitening. Now she knew that her life would end, in a place surrounded by strangers. Clutching at a man she didn’t know.

The man’s knees buckled and he sunk down towards the floor where she was sitting. He flung back his body as he was falling as if trying to not crush her though failing as he slid of the chair and down beside her, his head lolling back onto the chair. A dark trail of glistening blood stained the blue chair where his head had slid. The tall man seemed small as he sat there, his body crumpled, his knees pressed uncomfortably against her face as she heard more bangs, further away again. He stared at her, mouthing something that looked like “I see you.” From her cramped position she pulled herself up trying to hold up his head to examine the wound, see if there was anything she could do. His head weighed heavy, a dead weight, the metallic smelling blood overwhelming. It was impossible for someone without medical equipment to help him. She could feel herself screaming, every muscle in her body tensing as sobs began to rise in her already constricted throat.

Again the feeling of knowing that death was near came upon her. It was stronger than before as she tried to shrink away from the dying or already dead man. What would her parents think and feel? The tears in her eyes were for their loss, the grief she knew they would feel at losing her, the only child they had left.

Another bang and a wave of thudding noises made her duck falling onto the warm body of the man. His heart was beating, or perhaps it was her own. Clasping her hands to her head in a futile gesture to save herself from what was to come. The last thing she thought about was the face of her brother. The ceiling creaked as it gave way to the rocks that had piled onto it.