Carriage number seven assumes itself a test of courage. The interior is entirely empty. There are no chairs, no windows, no doors. Just the door I came through, and the door I desire to pass through.
The curator of this train needs lessons in management. There was absolutely room for chairs in this carriage. What's the final carriage? A verbal exam on a single chair?
I take one step forward, which appears to be my first mistake of the carriage, because upon my foot touching the vicinity of the carriage, it starts to spin around. Not horizontally, the train is not changing direction. The train is rotating entirely. My feet went from the floor to the wall in a matter of seconds. At first, clockwise, then, faster. Before I knew it, every step was in a different cardinal direction. One step was the port side, one more on the ceiling, one more starboard, and so on and so forth. Needless to explain, this was the least traumatising of the carriages so far, but definitely the most physically demanding. Lucky for me, I am determined to no longer remain in a train.
Within eighty steps and two pages, I make it to the unlocked door and proceed into the eighth carriage. A personal record so far.
I check my watch. Initially, it should be far beyond 4:30, because we've been here for at least half an hour inside the train since we've been separated, and yet, somehow, my watch reads 4:15.
Yet another phenomena created by the train to fuck with me.
Double whatever.
At presumably 4:15, I enter carriage number eight.
Considering the previous trials and tribulations, one would assume the third-last carriage would be a pool of lava with the mission to jump on the seats to survive.
Carriage number eight looked exactly like my room.
I walk through the only door to my own bedroom, onto my own carpet. Everything is exactly as it was left before I was picked up by Milli. Bed, unmade. PC computer, on. Files and documents sprawled out onto the desktop like stars in the night sky. The last thing we checked was the video files of Raphael talking in extreme detail about his hypotheses on our possible methods of escape, followed by his rambling about… something. Something messy.
I instinctually check the files laid out for me, finding similar files to what we saw at my house this morning. But… something doesn't feel right. The time is 10:15AM here, and my watch continues to read… no. My watch also says 10:15AM.
Triple whatever.
At this point, thinking too hard is going to put me right back at the beginning.
I minimise the video files, already 99% seen, bar from one second of Raphael turning off a camera with a remote. All until I've been left with pages of folders waiting to be opened. I click 11783, as if God moved my hand herself, and behold the contents.
The folder, is nearly empty. One single file is here, and it isn't a video, it's a single photo. A photo of nearly complete darkness. I check underneath my desk, in case a printer manifests when I need it the most, but alas. The family printer exists only with my father.
Now that's another stupid thought.
I make towards my bedroom door, ambitious, but mostly hopeful. If this is somehow my house, then the other rooms must exist too.
I open my bedroom door… I try to open my bedroom door… I fail at opening my bedroom door.
Trapped. Held hostage by my own bedroom, forced between four walls and a window that lies.
I sit back at the PC and squint my eyes to get a closer look at the photo, which remains as dark as possible, with little to no clue on where to go next. Until…
There's a single speck of light.
A single speck of light can make the whole difference.
The light frames itself in a straight line, as if beaming through blinds. I don't have blinds, though there is one thing that could simulate the effect.
I open the closet door, and push the hanging clothes to the side, revealing a doorknob inside the wardrobe.
What an absolutely sick concept.
In my actual bedroom, directly on the other side of the wardrobe, is my sister's room. This would never work normally, unless for some reason she installed it herself.
Thank God she isn't here to see this, she would have made it happen.
I grip the doorknob and twist it, revealing the familiar smell of train, and enter the penultimate challenge.
You truly never expect what's on the other side of these doors.
Milli.
Milli laid out in front of me, dressed to the nines, in a carriage not to similar to the first. Chairs in rows, three doors, being the entry door and the two carriage connecting doors.
Naturally, it wouldn't be a challenge if we didn't have any consistency, so naturally, there are no windows.
Milli was breathing. His breath was sharp and shallow, but the man doth live. His body, slightly contorted. A couple broken and dislocated limbs, but nothing life threatening or entirely coma-inducing. I recon he won't mind me searching his pockets for clues, or something to defend myself with.
I place one hand into his jacket pocket, and immediately feel murderous intent. I glance at his face to find him glaring at me as if I was going to be the next to die. There was nothing there, somehow, so I continued with the rest of his pockets, ending with his back trouser pocket.
Lucky me to find something in his inside pocket, because I do not have the confidence to check the trousers of a man who's staring at me as if I had just kissed his daughter in front of him.
The something I'd found came in the shape of a furry horseshoe. A strange amalgamation of rabbit foot and horseshoe, assumedly for twice the luck. What a beautiful and hilarious concept.
I mindlessly hold the good luck charm in front of me as an offering to the great door of access, praying for entry into the final puzzle, until suddenly.
Click.
My watch clicks with a noise so loud that it makes me physically jump at least 3 feet into the air. I check it, already bracing myself for 10:15, but find myself on a 10-minute timer instead.
Of course it couldn't have been easy. It's never easy three times in a row. The watch click harmonises with the new click of the train, as the north and south sides of the train start to close in together. The intention was apparently to crush me and Milli in the penultimate carriage before I even get the chance to tell him how much he sucks.
Fantastic.
I mean…
Quadruple whatever.
Looking around a nearly empty carriage with no clues or hints whatsoever, it's hard to discern what to do next. I am not even remotely a detective, I've just read books and watched a show about a particularly short one.
I make towards Milli, regardless of how much I really don't like him.
"Wake up, we're nearly there. How do we get out of here?" Calmness escapes my mouth in the face of death. It would be a huge shame if I panicked like this was my first time, or at least a really good act. Milli grunts and tries to lift his torso.
"No exit… Doors are sealed shut… No key… Broken bones…" gasped Milli, who whispered things I already knew.
Useless.
I left the mercenary on the floor to recover by himself. I mean, what else can I do? He tried to kill me a handful of times at least.
I take another glance the two walls closing in. The wall that held the door I just passed through had finally evaporated the door itself. Chairs that used to be in rows and columns start to break from their foundations and commence a domino effect of chairs on both ends.
No way in, no way out. Definite death.
I return back to the mercenary.
"Milli, have you found the way out?" I ask as calmly as possible. If this method doesn't work, the next best method is to lift him up and shake him until he gives me a cohesive answer.
"Notes… Back pocket…"
Cool. Whatever. The one place I didn't want to go, but this time, I have his blessing?
I turn Milli onto his side and check his back pockets as professionally as possible. Both pockets, just to make sure I find what I'm looking for. Lo and behold, the notes were in his leftmost back pocket, straight and flat, as perfect as it was from the store. I read the notes out loud, but most letters were marked with fingerprint-shaped bloodstains at what could only be seen as some of the most important moments.
"I'm —-ng to di-" Great. Even a kid could figure this out.
I'm going to dip.
Later.
I look for an exit; a crack in the facade.
If you've seen a train in the year 2000, you'll find it's not technologically advanced, it's somewhat primitive. The chairs are uniform in their placement, but removing them from their constraints will immediately invoke chaos. The chairs, row by row, push inwards towards us, creating a landslide of chairs in a matter of moments.
Whatever crack I could have found earlier was snubbed out before it could become our escape plan.
One row after another, chairs cascade against one another, closing in on us and encasing us in a coffin of cushions and plastic.
What a wonderful way to perish.
I stay next to Milli, the only iteration of a key out of this place that I have at this moment. I scan the notes he wrote, regardless of how bloodstained they are…
No. Something's wrong.
Hold on.
I check his hands and fingers.
There's no blood.
I unbutton Milli's shirt and inspect his torso.
There's no blood or indication that bones had been broken.
I place my ear to his left breast and hear a perfectly rhythmic heartbeat.
A heartbeat that harmonises perfectly with…
The train.
"Milli, I believe you are the train."
He scoffs, turns his head in shame, and turns back to glare at me. "Then you know… what to do…" He gestures tying a rope or something around his neck and strangling him.
Ugh.
As if I haven't seen enough dead bodies today, and now I need to create one?
I sigh. I make a huff and I quickly think of alternate solutions. To my avail, Milli begins taking his button shirt off and hands it to me upon completion.
Dirty work.
I take the shirt in my incapable hands, staring with the sleeve, I wrap the fabric around his neck and squeeze as hard as possible. As if tying a disobedient shoelace. As the chairs continue to avalanche against one another on both sides, the time keeps ticking, and his heart keeps beating.
After what feels like an eternity, Milli goes limp. His heartbeat slows to a halt, and the ticking from the train does the same. Through the chairs, a shining door opens, almost like I'm being ushered to heaven. With only a slight hesitation, I enter the door to the unknown.
The final room.
The final challenge.
And then sleep.
The final carriage consisted of candles on the walls. A bar is fitted into the top-rightmost corner of the carriage, complete with a full stock of drinks and snacks. A cigarette counter stays at the farthest end of the bar. A television sits just above on the bar shelf, never interfering with the perfect order of drinks on the same shelf. Tables dotted themselves around the antique patterned carpet, accessorised with ornate wooden chairs with puffy cushions to complement them, tablecloths, cutlery, plates, glasses, water and wine.
If this is the welcome waggon, I need to know who the host is.
I avoid sitting down on the chairs, even though they may be the most comfortable chairs I've ever sat on. After what happened the last few times, I do fear for whatever life I have.
"Hello?" I say loudly, in the guise of a bell that you use to summon receptionists. I am rewarded with no response. I take a walk around the carriage. There's nothing out of the ordinary here at an immediate glance, but then again, there's nothing about this carriage that's ordinary.
I walk behind the bar and check underneath it. Glasses and tumblers or all shapes and sizes. Just what you'd expect… but there is something unusual here. I use my newly found detective skills to think outside the box and start taking out glasses to inspect a rectangle shaped item on the shelf. The item, upon closer inspection, is something I am very familiar with. A VCR tape, recently recorded on. No dust, the cardboard casing has no fraying or showing of wear or tear. The cover reads "God's Plan" in sharpie. I glance quickly at the television above me to see if I'm on the money, and luckily for me, the television cooperates. I place the VCR into the compartment, change the channel to the correct channel and press play.
The TV maintains static for a moment, cuts to a black screen, and fades into what can only be called an amateur flick. Figures show up on the screen, unintelligible figures that don't technically look like anyone, but could also be anyone also. The scenery is so far out of focus that it looks like a heroin fever dream.
Not that I would know how that feels, or looks like.
Moments after the figures speak intermittently, focus is attained. The figures appear to be children, not much older than 10, and their location… is Sole Station.
The children say things like; 'This is where it happened!' and 'This is really scary but the internet is going to love this' as they press on into the murky darkness. The only peace I have in my soul is that it appears they know what conspired here, and won't be too horrified by what they might see. There is a third voice coming from the one holding the camera, clearly shaken, unable to hold the camera steady, and with sweaty hands to boot. Every now and then, you can hear him say 'Hold up, guys, I'm coming!' while the camera is tilted either to the left or right. This was blatantly when he was wiping his sweaty hands somewhere.
As the kids venture deeper into the abyss, the camera spots figures that could only be perceived as humans, or humanoid figures. Their eyes glow red as a byproduct of 2000's technology, and then adjust to the surrounding blackness.
Did you know that a 2000's era camera cannot detect black inside of black? I didn't until today. The figures distort the camera and suddenly are placed in the middle frame. The children are no longer present now, just mysterious black figures that meld
into the shape of darkness. The camera zooms out. In front of the figures are the children, lying faced down on the station floor. The figures do not interact with each other, no sign language, no voices, no secret language. In fact, from the moment they appeared in frame, the volume had cut off entirely. All we see is the children, and the figures slowly growing appendages from all sides, proceeding to feast upon the children. The third child is nowhere to be seen, assuming he's safe and free, but if he survived, the trauma would've driven him to suicide.
The tape ends.
The doors suddenly open.
Freedom.
I exit the final carriage and walk towards the exit, when I am suddenly struck with an immediate concern.
Milli.
Milli isn't here. He isn't out yet.
I check my watch, which somehow has reverted back to 16:15, which means that we either never entered the train in the first place, or the train is itself a trapped reality that shelters all from the outside world, whilst creating trials to keep one's brain active.
No, that would be stupid. I never want to think about this again.
I decide to look for Milli, which to my understanding, is a needle in a haystack type of mission, but I believe in myself.
I create an image of Milli in my mind, etch it into my memory, and make my way to search for an elusive hitman.
I pace back and forth from the front of the train to the back, admiring its facade as a normal train from the outside. There aren't any passengers, let alone people who wish to be passengers, which is strange, as it's a Wednesday afternoon. I expected more hustle and bustle. However, this is perfect, because now I'm guaranteed to find him.
At exactly 4:30pm, the doors to carriages nine through one open one after another, starting with carriage one. I jog to the front of the train and thrust myself into the first carriage, as if I didn't learn my lesson before, and eureka! Milli is sitting unconscious on a chair right where I remember him.
I grab Milli's shoulders and shake vigorously.
"Wake up, I solved the mystery." I exclaim loudly at his face. Milli's eyes slowly twitch, and blossom into a frenzied rage that could only be described as a bank security guard who fell asleep while robbers ransacked the vault. He brandished a pure black pistol that would never be given to a normal secure guard and points it immediately at my forehead.
"Relax, I'm immortal. If you kill me, we have to do this again." I lie. If we wake up again, only he will have to do this again.
I'm good. I've had my fill of haunted trains for
this lifetime.
Milli slowly lowers his weapon and released a deep sigh of… Relief? Success? It's hard to tell with this guy.
"We're going home." Says Milli. No emotion, no humanity, no concern for my weak little recluse legs. I wasn't meant to be on my feet for this long, I demand restitution!
"Can we wait for a moment before we do?" Asks I, as a test to see how he responds.
"Yes, but not here. Outside. I need to make a phone call." He replies with his back immediately turned. "This place gives me the heebie jeebies." Follows he, under his breath.
We exit the train and make for the bench we walked past to enter the building, but for some
reason, the route is skewed. A bizarre change has occurred.
There are humans here.
Passengers big and small enter the train carriages from any open door that can be perceived. Crowds of people block the stairways and walkways as if anyone going towards the exit could be trampled on at a minutes notice.
Mystery number 2, it seems.
Milli pays no attention and…
Milli is gone again.
I press towards the entrance to Hair Station and eventually, against the will of the people, arrive at the bench. Milli is here finishing his phone call, and makes direct eye contact with me as he gestures to
the black car that had just arrived on the road closest to us.
"You can sit down in the car."
God, I hate him, but he's so efficient.
We enter the car and the driver proceeds to drive with no direction, just ambition.
Within 10 minutes, the driver has parked outside my house. I exit the car, wave goodbye to my new comrade, and put my key into the door.
With the time at 4:45, my parents won't ask any questions about where I've been, because school would be the only option. However today seemed different. The headteacher called my house to tell my parents that I'd been absent all day, and she's worried about my academic record. As cute as that is, my excuse was that I wasn't feeling too great and I decided to take a sick day at William's place, which was a blatant lie, but one that I had practiced and perfected over five hundred cycles. Mum sighs and accepts it, and Dad isn't home, so it's to my room, I go, and there I stay.
I go to my computer and check the USB slots to find the flash drive Raphael had left me still inside. I browse some folders to find the most abstract titles, only to be greeted at the finish line with pictures of tarot cards.
Suddenly, a phase of dizziness. My sight fades. It's not 11pm yet, but I feel death overcoming me.
In the midst of my personal episode, I collapse onto the floor, and wake up in my bed at 7am.