The Day After

By Maya Ali

For Edward, this wasn’t going to be any ordinary Friday morning. No, for Edward, Friday 8^th July would be a day he’d never forget. His daily commute to King’s Cross St Pancras was about to take a turn for the worse, though he was completely unaware of what lay ahead.

Edward worked in the city as a banker, and generally, he enjoyed working in London. He liked the chaos of the bustling metropolis, adorned by ubiquitous towering skyscrapers. Yet, perhaps his favourite thing was the River Thames, which flowed through the centre of his favourite city. Every day he enjoyed taking his lunch break by Embankment, crossing the bridge and pausing just so he could ponder the view.

London was the kind of city that provided people like him with the belief that they could soar beyond the stars, making them feel like the world truly was their oyster, and it was this very feeling of invincibility that brought Edward back to the city time and time again. Having said that, Edward believed London was changing, and not in a good way; these days all kinds of people were settling there, taking wrongful ownership and wiping away the very essence of the city. Outsiders were making it feel unsafe and hostile, something that was evident from the growing number of armed police circulating London.

Every morning Edward had to catch the train into the city, which was another thing he despised about new London. It meant he had to share the carriage with all kinds of people, which was the thing he disliked the most about his daily journey – coming into contact with ‘others’.

Whenever he stood on the platform, waiting for the train to arrive, he would see all kinds of people: the ones plugged in, listening to music or playing games on their phones, and those reading books, whether digitally or normally. However, these were not the people he disliked the most. It was the other kind. The dark-eyed, camel skin-coloured strangers. The Bedouin desert monkeys. The ones that got up at the first sight of dawn, smacked their heads to the ground, and chanted, ‘Allah Akbar!’ He disliked those ones, for he never knew what they were thinking, and he just couldn’t relate to them at all.

Some people in England thought that Islam was a deadly cancer, eating away at the English way of life. These people believed it must be fought and killed, or at least contained and retrained. Edward was one of these people. Muslims were everywhere in London, and many were sneaking into the country in the backs of lorries or swimming across the English Channel. Edward was baffled by this – why come to this glorious country only to blow yourself up?

There were armed officers and police dogs dotted everywhere on the platform, and random checks were being carried out. Edward watched as a man wearing baggy trousers and a hooded top was searched, whereupon he was arrested for having stolen someone’s wallet.

An officer walked by Edward, nodded, and said, “Morning.”

Edward was relieved to see officers finally capturing and putting them away, making London feel safe again.

A female officer sauntered by Edward, and he returned her gaze with a furtive smile. He knew very well he was a handsome chap with economic status, and although it was the twenty-first century, he knew some women were still very much drawn to men with financial power.

Whilst waiting for the train he could see that the platform was stifling with people, but his gaze picked out one, in particular, his eyes locking upon her in an instant. This woman was shrouded in a black garment from head to toe, her face veiled, exposing only her eyes. She had a large rucksack of some kind clutched closely to her chest. Edward tried his very best to glance away but he just could not; it almost felt like it was against his will. He had an urge to watch her carefully, so he kept staring, his eyes tracing her amorphous covering cloak. She stood there, mysterious, bewitching him to gawk. Edward wanted to know what was under the veil. What was she hiding?

 “Bruv… behind the yellow line!” a gruff voice yelled, snapping Edward out of his trance.

“It’s Edward.”

“Right… behind the yellow line,” the man said again, and then – after a pause – he added, “Edward,” in a dilatory, grudging fashion.

Edward stepped back and waited for the approaching train, his eyes quickly returning to the woman. This time, though, she saw him and stared back, her eyes dark and mysterious. They stared awhile whilst other travellers hopped on and off the train carriage, her looking at him intensely, refusing to lose eye contact. This caused a mild tingle in Edward’s stomach and he suddenly felt very worried.

They both got onto the same carriage, the woman sitting down in the only vacant seat whilst he stood in front of her, staring, eyes still locked. As she took her seat, a light frosty chill coursed through the stuffy carriage. Everybody just gawped at her and then there was silence. No word uttered. No page turned. Music on mute. Silence. Everybody just froze in fear, staring at the woman in black.

“Stay away from the closing doors!” the conductor’s voice crackled over the speaker, breaking Edward’s – and everybody else’s – focus.

Before the train departed, Edward witnessed a cluster of brown-skinned bearded men, being quizzed by police officers on the platform. The men were hunched over, carrying heavy-looking bags on their backs. A police dog tugged at the feet of one of the suspects being questioned, and when the policeman tried to settle the frantic dog by patting him, the dog barked back. Edward smiled at the comical commotion. One of the men not being questioned by the police saw Edward smiling and smiled back, his mouth like a crescent moon. The train then set off, leaving the men behind on the platform.

Edward glanced around to see that everybody was still looking at the woman in black. A knot of teenage boys in uniforms giggled and pointed at her, whilst miming acrobatic ninja moves among themselves. Clearly, her clothes reminded them of a character in their video games, like Call of Duty, Shinobido, or Metal Gear. Another woman – well dressed in business attire – shook her head, tutting under her breath every few minutes. A rather shabby-looking man got up and squeezed his way to the other end of the carriage.

Now, you would think that the woman would have been unsettled by all this, but oddly enough, she was not. In fact, she simply whipped out a dark emerald book with gold binding and began to read. Edward took a closer look, examining the book. It was the Koran. Her finger trailed each line and letter delicately, whereupon she recited verbatim.

A tingling current ran through Edward, much as it had on the platform. He knew exactly what was going to happen. He turned his head slowly to the left, and then to the right. There was silence again. A man reading his book stopped and inconspicuously peeked at the woman, his eyes wide with fear.

Next, the woman began to mutter something, and Edward tried to decipher it. He could make out the faint word, Allah Akbar.

“Hey, mister… you’ve got to do something about this letterbox,” murmured the man beside Edward.

Ostensibly, the woman was up to something, and the knots cartwheeling in Edward’s stomach confirmed it.

A moment later, the cloaked woman began fishing for something in her bag.

Edward could hear his heart pulsating faster, could feel it in his chest. A woman carrying a small child kept looking over at the woman in black, then she kissed her child on the head, her eyes glistening with moisture. As everyone watched, the woman pulled out some beads on a string and continued to mutter in foreign words, alarming Edward and others further. This forced a man to get off at the next stop, wanting to catch the next train. Edward considered doing this too, but something made him stay.

The woman looked up at Edward, her eyes large and the pupils dark as if accentuated with eyeliner. He stared back into her eyes, and for a brief moment, he felt the ground tilt beneath his feet. Then she blinked like a lizard, and he suspected once again that she was smiling under the veil as if enjoying getting a rise out of him.

With ferret eyes, Edward looked again to the left and right of the carriage; the passengers were becoming uncomfortable now. The woman in black needed to be dealt with!

Edward thought it was outlandish that women like her could go out in public dressed like that. Similarly, he – like many others – believed that if wearing a balaclava and white hooded curtains in public were banned, then so should this ridiculous apparel.

Edward looked back to see a young boy – no more than five years old – hiding behind his father. The sight made Edward’s blood boil; she was terrorising these people, even children!

Once again, the woman began rustling in her bag for something, and as she did so other commuters shuffled to the ends of the carriage, leaving her sitting all alone. All eyes were fixed on her.

She locked eyes with Edward again, refusing to lose contact. In response, Edward’s hands became quite clammy, and he realised he could feel thick rivulets of sweat coursing down his face. Reaching for the handkerchief in his pocket, he wiped away the sweat.

The man beside him loosened his collar and said again, though this time with a sense of urgency, “Hey, mister… you’ve got to do something about this letterbox.” After a beat, he said, “I’ve got a wife, and I’m going to be a father soon.” He pulled out an ultrasound photo of what appeared to be a tiny foetus floating in some nebulous fluid. He then placed a sweaty hand on Edward’s shoulder and beckoned him with his nervous eyes.

As the woman rose out of her seat, Edward’s gaze trailed her loosely fitting garment once again; he couldn’t help but notice her Junoesque body that she was trying her best to masquerade under that hideous curtain. He wanted to see what was under the veil.

A cry of an infant snapped him out of his trance once again. For some reason, every passenger on the carriage was goggling at him closely, willing him to do something – probably because he was closest to the woman.

His eyes fell on her again.

She was clutching the heavy bag tight to her chest, and this time her eyes were closed. Edward could see her lips muttering something but he was unable to make sense of it. Nonetheless, she appeared to be getting ready for it – getting ready to detonate, selfishly taking Edward and all the others with her.

Beads of sweat trickled down Edward’s face and back, and he took a moment to loosen his tie and undo his collar button. Above him, on the carriage wall, there was a large Specsavers advertisement. The eyes of the doctor were dauntingly large, and instead of looking out of a face, they stared out at him from a pair of rimmed spectacles, the pupils like two huge pinballs, peering down at Edward.

The woman in black pulled something out of the bag, concealing it in the palm of her hands. Then, with her eyes closed, she started speaking softly to herself, her lip quivering and her hands trembling.

Edward surmised that it wouldn’t be long now, and he knew he must pluck up the courage within himself to do something about this irrational woman. But what?

A man behind the woman in black signalled to Edward that he would grab her once Edward had made the first move, and in response, Edward nodded inconspicuously. He had support… that was good. Slowly, he took a deep breath.

The moments that followed went by quickly, but they were by no means forgettable. There was an unnerving stillness about the carriage as Edward and his supporter got ready to cage the foreign stranger.

His supporter gave an edgy thumbs-up, and Edward responded with a nod.

When Edward’s eyes yet again locked intently upon the woman, he felt adrenaline surging through his bloodstream, his saliva thickening in his throat as thick beads of sweat trickled down his brow. Instinctively, Edward hunched forward, his hands raised like claws. He also opened his mouth to expose his canine teeth, which from a distance looked like sharp sheaths.

The train jolted then and the woman in black lost her balance, loosening her grip on the handrail. It was in this very moment that Edward leaped into the air and pounced on her, like a wild beast on their prey. There was a vigorous tussle on the ground whereby Edward’s supporter was elbowed in the face and fell to the ground.

Watching from the sidelines, the other commuters – in other words, Edward’s newfound supporters – spurred him on. “Come on,” one man shouted, “you’ve got her!”

Edward lunged out with his arm, his hands seizing and coiling around her throat, before jumping on top of her. An eruption of cheers and hoots filled the fuggy cabin, and when he turned to look at his supporters, they looked like a pack of famished wolves that had been deprived of a meal for weeks.

Edward dragged the woman to her feet, and – with the help of his followers – tethered her to a pole. Explosive applause flared up and Edward was crowned a hero. Strangers rejoiced and hugged each other. The teenage boys tore their school ties off and threw them in the air. The mother, who was still cradling her child, burst into a shower of tears and smothered her child with kisses. The scruffy man vowed he would shave and then planted a kiss on the woman dressed in the business attire. The soon-to-be father fell to his knees and wept.

After what felt like forever the train halted and the passengers disembarked, many of them calling instantly for the police.

Edward – who was still standing next to the woman, making sure she wasn’t about to escape – was rather pleased with himself.

With his final surge of bravery, he had torn off her veil and tossed it to the ground, finally exposing her face. She had powdery fair skin adorned with rosy cheeks, her eyes swollen red and stinging with tears.

For a moment Edward was taken back by her ordinariness, but he shook his head, snapping himself out of it. He reminded himself that she must be reported to the police.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long for an officer to arrive on the scene, his eyes wide as he looked at Edward and the woman.

“Excuse me, sir, I have one you may be looking for,” Edward said, sticking out his chest proudly whilst handing over the rucksack.

“I see. Thank you… mister…” the officer said, seeking a name.

“Edward. Edward will be perfectly fine,” he replied. “This woman here,” he added, looking at her with disgust, “was planning to blow up the train. Officer, I think you should inspect the bag.”

“Thank you, Edward,” the officer replied, as Edward smiled triumphantly.

As the bag was emptied out came the Koran, which was tossed to the floor, the praying beads, which by now were barely hanging on the string, a Tupperware box containing a sandwich and an apple, house keys accessorised with pictures of what appeared to be her children, and today’s newspaper, headlined, ‘Terror Bombs Explode Across London… Many Lives Lost.’ The newspaper featured a series of images of adults and children who had died in yesterday’s horrific attacks.

The barefaced woman opened her palm to reveal a picture of her child; a young gleeful boy whose smile reached his twinkling eyes. It was the very same boy plastered on the front covers of today’s newspaper, one of the ones who’d been reported dead.

She, like others, had lost love ones in the horrendous attacks.

Maya Ali is a Secondary School English teacher in London, England. Outside teaching, she enjoys writing fiction.