14. Silent Train

The suitcase wobbles after her as she hurries along the cobblestones and through the masses of people trying to get closer to the ticket shop. Galyna does not like pushing herself to the front, but she already slept at the train station for the last two nights. But today she just needs to be on that evacuation train.

“Sorry. Excuse me. I have a ticket. Please. Is there a train today?” Galyna asks the tired looking man at the office.

He looks at her ticket first, then back to her, and she can already see the rejection in his face and braces herself to fight with the last little bit of strength that she has left. Then his gaze flicks to the walking stick that she is leaning on heavily.

“The next train leaves in one hour. Go to the platform now,” he says.

Galyna nearly drops onto the floor with relief. She can leave today. She will leave this hell that once was her home. No more rockets flying directly above her balcony that she usually sits on to read in peace. No more explosions, screams and death. No more sleeping in cold, wet basements.

She hurries to follow the volunteer to the platform and holds on to her ticket tightly, sitting patiently on top of her small suitcase.

When the train arrives Galyna is even lucky to find a seat for herself. She holds her big jacket closer around herself to keep warm. With age, she started to feel the cold more than she used to.

When the train starts moving, she closes her eyes and exhales deeply. After twenty minutes the train comes to a halt and a voice crackles through the loudspeakers.

“In front of us there is an active war-zone that we have to pass. Please turn off your mobile phones now and remain as silent as possible while we continue our journey.”

Galyna hurries to find the right buttons on her phone and holds it tightly to her chest. She can feel her heart drumming inside of her, and she is close to a panic attack.

Then the lights go off.

The train is dead quiet. No one even dares to breathe deeply or move a limb. Mothers hold their hands over their babies’ mouths to silence them.

Then the train starts moving again. Slowly. Creeping forward metre by metre. Out of the window Galyna can only see trees passing by, but she can hear the explosions. One is so close it shakes the train.

Every second feels like ten years, as they pray that they are not found. That no one starts shooting at the women and children holding their breath in the dark train.

Ten minutes pass. Then the lights turn back on, and the train continues towards safety and out of Ukraine.