Panic Station: A Tale of Terror

Here's another short story based on lyrics! See if you can guess what song this is:

An abandoned tube station was, perhaps, not the most normal place for a first date. But hey, Donna was quirky and different like that, and if that's what she wanted, Alex could dig it. 

He'd fancied her for months, but had never plucked up the courage to speak to her until three days ago. He'd asked if he could walk her home from school, and she'd  clearly picked up on his feelings.She'd smiled coyly, flipped her waist-length black hair over her shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. 

"If you want to ask me out, just do it." Her grey eyes flashed, and she winked one heavily made-up eyelid at him.

Alex hadn't known what to say. "I-I-I ... I mean..."

She had grinned widely and said "Friday night, the old Panic Station, meet me there."

Panic Station. Between Burnt Oak and Edgeware, on the outskirts of the Northern Line, Panic had been closed since before Alex and Donna were born. It was something of an unspoken rule that you just didn't go down there: rumours ranged from rat infestations to crowd of the homeless, to the occasional crazy person who thought it was haunted. In reality, it was probably just dark, cold and flooded, but no one had taken the chance and gone to check it out. 

But instead of meeting down the local pub or on Hampstead Heath, Donna had wanted to meet Alex at Panic Station. And Alex ignored his misgivings, fastened the buttons on his coat and headed out the door, calling a vague "See you later, I'm meeting some friends" to his mom and dad, who were seated at the kitchen table. 

Being mid-January, the winter freeze had long ago set in, and Alex's breath came out in wreaths of steam and he jogged down the main street. It was 6.55pm, and Donna had wanted to meet at 7pm - he couldn't risk being late for his first real date ever. He picked up the pace as the entrance to the old station came into view.

Alex's high-top sneakers thudded heavily on the stairs down to the platforms, the rhythm almost formed a beat in his head, and it helped to calm his nerves. She was only a girl. He had no reason whatsoever to be nervous.

"Donna...?" He called. His voice echoed into the silence Donna-na-na-na-na.

No answer. He checked his watch: 7.10pm. It was fine, she was just running a bit late. Maybe girls always ran late.

It was creepy down here, though. And freezing. Shivers ran down Alex's spine, and he began to shake uncontrollably. He rubbed his hands together to warm them up, but it was as though he couldn't even feel them touching. And he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched...

"Donna? Is that you?" He leaned up against a wall, acting casual. No answer, but a scuttling noise made him jump. It sounded like multiple, light-footed people. There was, without a doubt, something coming towards him from the depths of the station. What if it was some crazy man with an axe, or a gun? Alex pressed his body against the wall, trying to make himself invisible. He tried to breathe softly, but his heart was pounding out a symphony is his chest. Surely anyone could hear it. The noise kept coming towards him... suddenly it was on top if him. Alex closed his eyes and tried to stop his body from shaking. Something light brushed his leg and he jumped. OH GOOD GOD, IT HAD EYES.

He could have sworn! The thing that had touched him had eyes! Not just two eyes, either. It had been low to the ground, and a reflection of light from outside had caught in its eyes - it had looked like a spider but surely no spider in the world was a foot tall. It was all part of the nerves - the dark was playing tricks on Alex's mind. It had surely just been an old crisp packet, blown towards him by the wind, or at a push, maybe it had been a rat.

That was when everything lit up.

For a second, Alex's mind turned off, he couldn't understand what was happening... and then he heard the familiar rumble of the train, and realised where the light was coming from. But that made no sense! When Panic Station had been closed, they'd dug up half the Northern Line and re-routed the train tracks - the station wasn't just closed: it wasn't on the line anymore! In fact, the Southern end of the platforms had been bricked up - there was no way for a train to pass through at all. Then how could it be that a red and white London Underground train was now speeding towards the platform - in a Southerly direction - with no signs of stopping? 

Alex stared, transfixed, as the train drew level with him. It seemed to be empty. He watched it pass the platform, and now the front was approaching the wall, the back was just passing him... Alex whipped his head around when a flash of movement in the rear window caught his eye. A small skeleton was propped up at the back of the train, eyeless sockets seeming to mock Alex, standing alone on the platform. Alex felt a scream build up in his throat and quickly tried to suppress it. Instead, he let out a feeble squeak and shut his eyes, telling himself that the skeleton had been someone's idea of a funny joke. It was exactly the same as the one in the bio labs at school: nothing to be afraid of.

Alex opened his eyes in complete darkness. The train had disappeared through the brick wall on the other side. He shook his head and tried to focus his mind. Obviously the wall only covered part of the exit from the platform. A train simply could not pass through a wall and disappear. The skeleton was a toy, and the wall had been broken down, that was the only explanation. The time was, however, high to get out of here. He would call Donna as soon as he got home and ask to re-schedule. 

He started towards the stairs, he could just make them out, now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. A deep growling sound stopped him in his tracks. To his right, he could hear something pacing, it seemed to have claws, which clicked against the old cement floors. It was also growling in a regular rhythm.

Alex inched his way towards to exit, holding his breath and praying that his footsteps were light enough for the creature to miss. He was about ten steps from the staircase when the growling suddenly stopped. The creature's feet clicked in an irregular pattern: it was turning to face him. RUN!

Adrenaline kicking in, Alex sprinted to the staircase, and took the steps 3 at a time, until he emerged, panting back on the main road. To his surprise, Donna stood across the road, idly twisting her hair between her fingers and looking slightly bored. When she caught sight of him, however, she threw her head back in a terrible laugh.

"Donna! Something's down there, Donna, we have to get OUT OF HERE!" Alex screamed, panicking.

She smiled widely, eyes full of life. "I know what's down there, Alex. If we were a couple, I'd have to hang around with all your friends at school... I was just making sure that you got along with mine."

* 'Panic Station' - Muse.

The Road to Muse in Rome

You know that awkward moment when you travel around Europe spontaneously, and don't spend enough time creeping tour dates, meaning that you end up in the same city as one of your favourite bands, but without a ticket to their sold out show? What, that's just me? Oh. 

Way back in 2008, I'd barely even heard of Muse, so I gave absolutely no thought to the fact that they were in SA... they were filed away with The Killers, in that section of my mind reserved for bands that sounded scary. And there they stayed for approximately... well, the month or two that came between their performance at Coke Fest, and they first time I listened to 'Starlight' properly. I do apologise, Matt Bellamy, your band is awesome. 

And so I spent the next 5 years thinking that it would be pretty cool to see Muse if we happened to be on the same continent... I mean, I'd be willing to do a little traveling for them, but nothing that involved flying across an ocean. Unless, of course, that 'ocean' was just the English Chanel, and Muse just happened to be performing in France when I was in the UK to see The Killers! Unfortunately this plan quickly unravelled when I found out that their Paris and Nice shows were both sold out. Hence I ended up arriving in France the day after their Paris show, and 3 days before the Nice show. Aw, sadness, but I'd get over it.

Roll on the 4th of June, when I sat in a hotel room in Florence, Italy, plotting my route to Rome. I frowned to myself as I attempted to dredge up some vague memory ... Muse... tour... maybe I read that they were playing in Rome... on the 6th... hold on a second ... THAT'S THE DAY I GET TO ROME! The fact that the show was sold out did nothing to diminish my excitement this time: I'd discovered a handy little website called Seatwave, that claimed to still have tickets. 

Now, I'm very wary when buying tickets from anyone but the official retailer. I'm even warier when I have to pay online using my credit card as there's no outlet, and even more so when I find out that I won't be told where to collect my tickets until I have paid for them. I hesitate and eventually decide to make a call on the day of the 5th, I'll give myself some time to think it over, because this could go very, very wrong. Seriously, how would I know if it's some kind of scam, run by a corrupt computer nerd who's now using my credit card details to book himself a quick getaway flight to a remote part of Colombia? 

So what do I find myself doing on the 6th of June at around 12pm? Using the hotel's computer to purchase two tickets for Muse at Stadio Olimpico, Roma, Italia. My feelings of dread only increase once the booking is final, and the address for collection is given as a mail box. Huh? It's with some trepidation that we make our way to the general region around 3.30pm (collection time is 5pm sharp), and by the time we've located the correct street and walked up and down it twice without finding mailbox 1, you could say I've hit, well, Panic Station. Popping into a hairdresser's near the end of the road proves to be my saving grace: at my request for directions to number 1, the receptionist smiles and asks "Tickets?" then points me down a flight of stairs next door. Aha! So it does exist. 

In that case, we may as well walk around a bit and kill time before we collect the tickets. The weather's looking a bit ominous, but it's nothing to worry about, surely just a few clouds that'll blow over long before the show starts. Other than that, it's been another beautifully warm day in Italy, and I'm in jeans and a t-shirt, with a thin jacket just in case the temperature drops during the show. 

We set off across the road to the Piazza del Popolo, and are happily snapping some pictures in front of a fountain when the first drop of rain hits the top of my head. I don't even bat an eyelid. Then I feel the second one. And the third. That's when I notice the tourists running. Not even just speedwalking to the nearest bit of shelter, I mean flat-out, omg-there's-a-monster-chasing-me running. "Haha, why are these fools running, have they never seen a drop of rain before?" But the words have scarcely left my lips when the heavens open. I'm drenched before I can move a muscle. As we flee the square in search of shelter, I'm forcibly reminded of that scene in 'The Day After Tomorrow', when the tidal wave is destroying NYC, and they only safe place is the library. No lies. We manage to get under the eaves of a building, but it's not much help. This is literally end of the world type weather, the piazza is already flooded, the gale force wind is blowing the icy-cold rain onto us, and we're forced to just give up and wait it out. My shoes are disintegrating, and my jeans and top are soaked through. 20 minutes later, we're granted a brief reprieve, and manage to make it back across the piazza before the rain comes back with a vengence, and we're forced to take cover under an archway. By the time round two eases up, it's almost 5pm, there's no time to go home and change, the ticket collection office is about to open, and I look like I've just had a bath in the Atlantic. Great.

Ticket collection goes off smoothly (minus the two small puddles left behind from the residual rainwater evacuating our hair and clothes onto the floor of the ticket office), and before we know it, we're stadium-bound, with real, live tickets for MUSE! Well, at least I hope they're the real deal. I'll only get excited once I'm in my seat, there's still too much that could go wrong.

The Internet claims that the best way to get to the Stadium is to hit the Metro to Ottoviano, and then take the bus number 32 to the stadium, but being the seasoned concert pro's that we are, we're pretty sure that it'll be quicker and easier to walk from the station. Having ascertained that we're going in the right direction, we set off for the stadium, a couple of hundred others also giving up on the bus and following suite. Twenty minutes later we're in the grounds, we've scanned through the turnstiles (massive sigh of relief), and we're in line for merch. While my thin top has dried a bit by now, my jeans are still soaked, but at least my new Muse t-shirt is warm and dry. I should also mention here that there's NO SECURITY at this stadium whatsoever. No guards, no handbag checks, no sniffer dogs, no metal detectors, nothing, nada, zip, zero. Maybe that's why it's so easy for the guys behind me to get their weed in. Ew. 

Seats located (halfway through the second opening act, thanks to ushers who have no idea how the stadium layout works), we're supposed to be in the 'limited visibility' area, but I can see just fine! I'm not at all surprised to see that the set up for the night includes giant, light-up neurons and something that looks a lot like a gigantic blow-up lightbulb. It's Muse, after all, and they're known for ridiculous live performances. The stage itself is set up much like Coldplay's, T-shaped with a B-stage at the end, where Matt will, no doubt, perform the slower songs on piano.

Some time later, a disembodied voice says a few words in Italian, and then one that I can understand: "DVD". We're being filmed!