A Journey to Remember

The sound of the train on the tracks was the first thing he registered. That rhythmic beat that soaks into the body. As sense slowly returned to his body the man realized he was, rather strangely, lying on the floor. With what was far too much effort for such a simple task he opened his eyes and, rather unsteadily, sat up. He was indeed aboard a train, in what looked to be the cargo hold, a reasonable deduction given all the stacks of boxes. Deciding that the binds of the nearest stack looked too strained for his liking, the man forced himself to his feet.

That was easier said than done. The speeding train jostled its passenger about, nearly throwing him from his feet on more than one occasion, as he made his way over to one of the few windows of the carriage. But, as the passenger reached for the window ledge, he realized his lack of balance was the least of his concern. As his brain slowly rebooted, the man began to realize just how little he knew. He had no idea, for instance, why he had been lying unconscious on the floor. He had no idea why was on this train. Or why, despite his continued fumbling, he could not find a ticket for this journey. For that matter he had no idea why the train's speed appeared to be increasing with every second, especially considering the apparent lack of staff. And, most worryingly of all, he had no idea who he was to begin with.

The window. Some small answer had to be found in the window. Sure it was unlikely the train would pass by a recognizable landmark, if he even had any memories of landmarks anymore, but a passing sign might shed some light on this bizarre situation.

Or not.

It was not pitch black. That implied some lack of color. But there were colors. Muted shades of pigment that shifted at the whims of some unseen light source. The many varieties of unnatural colors flowed over each other, like the tide of some unseen shore, whatever landmass there was hidden beneath the unearthly waves.

No ticket, no memory, no one in sight and in a very, very, strange land. The man’s breath became rapid and he felt his chest tightening, casting about the cargo hold in half manic state. There had to be something in here to help him. Some clue as to what on earth was going on.

Breathe.

It was an instruction the man repeated over, and over. He forced his eyes to focus on the rather unremarkable door to the next carriage. Breathe. Panicking wouldn’t do him any favors. He was a practical man, at least in the few minutes of knowing himself he seemed like a practical man. Breathe. He had no idea what situation he found himself in, fine then he would break the problem down into its different parts.

The foremost of those parts was the illogical landscape outside the train. His first thought was a dream, but the inside of the carriage was too well defined for that. Drugs then, whatever had knocked him out to begin with, must be creating this distortion. He just needed to clear his system and he could remove get out of this warped nightmare. Looking around the passenger, for that was all he could think to call himself, set about finding some water.

That was when he felt the chill.

It was a small creeping chill, seeping into the passenger’s bones, stopping him in his tracks. He was not alone. His breath began to condense in front of his face. A cold sweat appeared on his brow. The passenger, in spite of his screaming instincts, turned to face the rear end of the carriage, and the lone figure that was standing there.

It was dressed in long ragged robes, each torn item adding together to form a patchwork that completely obscured the figure beneath. This was topped, quite literally, by the low hanging hood that obscured whatever face lay beneath. The veil of shadow it created too thick for the passenger’s eyes to penetrate. Honestly it might have all seemed like a poor imitation Halloween outfit. That is if it weren’t for the slightly misshapen way the figure stood, or the discomforting aura it seemed to exude with every breath.

Then it took a step forwards.

Its feet remained as covered as the rest of the body. In fact if it were not for the strange, ungainly, lurch of the upper body the passenger would have thought the figure had floated. Then it took another step. It threw itself into each stride, like some new-born abomination taking its first steps. Then came the third step and only then did the passenger hear it. That squelching, tearing, sound. It was as if the very act of moving was ripping apart whatever unnatural horror lay beneath those ragged robes.

It was all too much for the seemingly practical man to process.

He didn’t care if this was drugs. There was nothing on this earth that could compel him to stay anywhere near that thing. The passenger spun round, he was through the door to the next carriage before the specter could shuffle any closer to him. Of course running, from the terror he knew, did not guarantee the safety of where he ran to.

It wasn’t so much out of the frying pan, into the fire. More like into the smoke. A pale, wispy smoke at that. The carriage was filled with it, a translucent colored mist that swirled around the compartment, and the passenger who walked through it. But, as he did so, the man couldn’t help but notice the lazily drifting fog seemed to move with more purpose with each step he took.

Then, as reached about halfway into the carriage, he realized the smoke had begun to coalesce. The wisps were becoming more solid tendrils. These tendrils formed up, layer upon layer, slowly building to some unknown. Shapes started to emerge, small shapes that rushed around, following and colliding with each other. And then, in the blink of an eye, the shapes were gone. In their place were children. Their edges were still blurred, and they left trails as they ran, but there was no doubt they were children. And at the heart of whatever game the kids were playing stood a boy, no older than eight. There was nothing distinctive about him. With his messy mop of brown hair, a small cut on his knee, he blended quite easily into the crowd. But the passenger knew. He knew the moment his eyes landed on the boy, that it was him. A young version of him that took no notice of his older body, he was so intent on the game.

The passenger watched his younger doppelganger, memories slowly drifting to the surface of his mind. He could remember this, he could remember these happy days filled with laughter and fun. And, though it was only slightly, he could remember her.

Even as these thoughts and feelings returned to him, a young girl ran up to his doppelganger. Her straw blonde hair messy with mud and sweat. She grabbed the boy’s hands, pulling him into the heart of the fray. The two kids ran around together, slowly growing getting older. The other children faded back into their multi-colored mist. Everything fell away, leaving only the pair.

Suddenly, the mirage was shattered as the abominable specter burst through the children, returning them to the mist. It reached out towards the passenger, grasping at him with its cloaked hands. The passenger jumped backward to avoid the clutch. Possibly a bit too forcefully. His footing was quickly lost on the unseen floor and the man found himself half running, half falling, through the door to the next carriage.

Instantly the atmosphere shifted as the passenger fell into the middle of the next carriage. Into the middle of the next, smoky, mirage. Regaining his footing the man cast about for the specter, only to see it had yet to pursue him, though it was hard to tell. This mirage was more concrete than the childhood memories. Its occupants more defined, moving with more purpose. So too was this carriage’s doppelganger. His age was fixed and he carried a little more world wearied look, which he wore on his sleeve.

All that weariness was blown away as a beautiful woman practically danced up to the doppelganger. There she was. The older version of the girl the passenger had seen in the last carriage. Her name springing to his lips even as his doppelganger said it.

“Amy.” The voice of the doppelganger was not quite normal. It was more like a whisper carried by the wind.

“You should have a drink, relax. Lord knows you deserve it.” The woman, Amy, said as she tried to drag the doppelganger away from the wall on which he was leaning

“Not tonight Amy.”

“You should learn to let your hair down. This last year you’ve been so overworked and rushed off your feet, cracks are forming. And I’ve noticed things are starting to slip through.”

“Yeah I find myself noticing that too.”

“All the more reason for you enjoy a good drink.” The passenger could tell the doppelganger’s resolve was nearly broken by the smile she flashed him. And yet he held to his sobriety.

“No, no I think I want to remember this night.”

“What’s so special about tonight? The passenger smiled as watched his doppelganger respond not with words, but by falling to one knee. Amy’s breath hitched and the extremely friendly, chatty, woman fell completely silent. Waiting for the doppelganger to say his piece.

“I wanted to take you somewhere as wonderful as you. But the chances all just slipped by. So I thought I would make a big occasion of it. But money has been so tight recently that, in the end, this was the best I can do. A simple office party and a rambling idiot on one knee. But.” Thankfully Amy held up her hand to stop the doppelganger talking. She looked down at him, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

“We’re here. It’s you and me. That’s all I need.” The doppelganger breathed such a loud sight of relief a passer-by might have thought he had been holding it all night. In a way he had been.

“Love of my life, what did I do to deserve you.”

“You did nothing. I choose you, it’s that simple.” A brief pause followed the words as the doppelganger remained motionless.

“So is that a…?”

“Of course it’s a yes you idiot!” Amy shouted as she pulled the man to his feet.

It was such an intimate moment that the passenger nearly missed the flash of motion in his peripheral vision. Luckily he reacted on instinct. The quick dodge to the side was just enough to avoid the swipe of the robed specter as it lunged at him.

Instantly the mirage dissipated back to its mist form. The passenger didn’t notice as he barely avoided two more swipes from the abomination. It was hard to judge the distance with the strange lurching nature of the figure. Luckily the many tattered robes were not the most maneuverable of clothing. It was enough of an advantage to allow the passenger to slip out of reach, out through the door to the next carriage.

This time he did not spare the forming mists a glance. The passenger threw himself against the closed door, just as a heavy weight slammed into it from the other side. The force nearly threw the man from his feet. But the combined effect of fear and adrenaline was enough to allow him to stay upright.

More blows came. The door rattled on its hinges. The passenger’s muscles screamed from strain. Even the train itself seemed to shake with each blow. But the fragile wood held up. It held until, eventually, the abomination stopped its hammering. In the silence that followed, the passenger strained his instincts trying to detect when the next blow would fall. But none came. A small, hopeful thought that the figure had stopped its chase briefly flashed through the passenger’s mind. Wishful thinking, but it was still possible. That was when he heard it. That low, pained, creaking groan.

Curiosity overwhelmed caution as the passenger leaned forwards, pressing his ear to the door. He could hear it more clearly now. That horrid croaking. It paused not for breath or speech, just a single pained utterance. Two facts were obvious. The first was that the noise undeniably came from the creature. The second, more unnerving, fact was that it was coming from the right on the other side, at the exact height of the passenger’s head.

“How is this right!?” The passenger spun around at the shout, fearful that the specter had somehow slipped past him. But it was no apparition that weighted for him. While he had been so set on the door the mirage had formed. Before him stood two men separated by a desk. One was his doppelganger older, but not significantly so, then the last time the passenger had seen him. The other was better dressed, wearing a handsomely made suit and slicked back hair. He portrayed wealth and arrogance in equal measure. It was this man who responded to the cry.

“Sir you need to calm down.”

“To hell with your calm down! Tell me how you can stand there and tell me that?”

“As I said sir, this state has sanctity of life laws that prohibit.”

“I know what they prohibit damn you, I want to know how this is allowed?” The passenger watched his doppelganger berate the lawyer with a strange aloofness. Just like with the others he could feel the impact of the news. But, where his doppelganger reacted intense hatred and outrage, the passenger greeted it a cold acceptance. It was like he was midway through a script that he knew the end to. It was an ending that his doppelganger was certainly not privy to. Lacking any other options he continued to rage at the other man.

“Tell me how it is that I could take a gun, shoot you, and this state would quite happily send me off to die. But, if I remain a law abiding citizen, the state insists I live every painful minute I can. Where is the justice in that?”

“Ah you mean the logical, morale, argument. They don’t win in court.”

“My wife and I are paying you a lot of money to make it win.”

“Let me play this out for you. Because we can make the most indisputable moral case we want. But the other side just have to stand up and say these are thoughts of a depressed man.”

“Of course I’m depressed! I’ve been handed a death sentence!” The doppelganger’s temper was now reaching a boiling point. To make matters worse, this apparent lawyer seemed un-phased by the anger

“No what you’re asking for is a death sentence. What you’re asking for is State Sanctioned Suicide.” There was a pause after those words. They hung heavy in the air. The two arguing men were held momentarily silent by the heavy weight of what had just been said. It was a brief respite, which neither was keen to end. But that peace was shattered by the passenger’s next words.

“The long goodbye.”

“Pardon.”

“They call it the long goodbye. The people you know and love, their forced to watch as the person they knew slowly slips away. They will be forced to watch as I slip away. No one, not you, not the state, not the government, has the right to tell me to live through that. No one has the right to tell me to experience every day being that little bit less than I was before.”

“Forgive me sir but I wouldn’t be worth all that money you’re paying me if I did not at least play devil’s advocate. Are you not already experiencing that slip? Why not just end it all now?” At least the shouting had stopped, though it was still clear neither man was willing to back down.

“I could, I arguably should. But I’m selfish.” The doppelganger said with a sad smile as he glanced into his wallet at the picture held within. “But I want to be here with all of them, with her, for as long as possible. I want to go right up to that tipping moment, where my presence goes from being a pleasure to an agony. Then, and only then do I want to die.”

“Are you not scared of dying?” The lawyer seemed to catch himself but it was too late, the question had been asked.

“Oh I’m afraid to die. I’m petrified of death and the question of what lies beyond. But, as terrified as it makes me, I would take it a thousand times over the alternative. That is a pale imitation of life. Hooked up to all those tubes and machines, unable to experience any of life’s little journeys. Just forced to suffer as this thing in my head slowly eats away at everything it is to be me. That’s not the life for me. That’s no life at all.” Again there was another pause as the words sunk in. But, eventually, the lawyer moved around the desk and offered out his hand.

“I can’t promise you anything. But, if you get up in court and say that, we might just have a fighting chance of winning this thing.”

“That’s all I ask.” The doppelganger said as he shook hands with the lawyer and the mirage faded.

But they didn’t win. Of course they didn’t win. Their little moral cause had been outgunned and outmatched. And, when it was all said and done, the passenger has been shuffled off to somewhere quiet to die. Somewhere he couldn’t cause any more trouble.

The current mirage faded back to smoke, even as the next door seemed to call out to the passenger. With a step filled with unease the passenger strode up to the exit. Only to be forced to a stop. The specter was close now, the passenger could practically feel its croaking breath on the back of his neck. But for a moment he hesitated. His fear of the cloaked figure overcome by the terror of what he was about to see. But a part of him knew he had to see this through.

It was with that knowledge that he turned the handle and entered the next compartment. The last compartment.

The mirage was waiting for him when he entered. But where the other’s had been so lively, so active, this one was unnaturally still. The mirage also gave more detailed surrounding this time. Its mist coalescing to form a dank little room, lit by some out of sight flickering light. His doppelganger sat in the middle of the room, his worse fears realized. Wires protruded from every limb connecting to a battery of machines, which beeped and whirred in their constant monitoring. These beeps were drowned out by a rhythmic wheezing as the doppelganger drew in, never quite enough, oxygen through tubes in his nose.

Amy was here too. His Amy. Once she had been so full of energy and love, now she was haggard and exhausted. Her eyes were sunken. The once near permanent smile she used to wear was diminished to the occasional twitch, mostly if she read anything entertaining in the book she thumbed through. Life had beaten her down and, heart wrenchingly, she seemed ready to stop the fight. Amy just sat there as the doppelganger wheezed and rambled. Unable to help. Unwilling to leave. But it was the way she looked at him that hurt the passenger. There was still love in that gaze, but now there was something else. Be it exhaustion or resentment, it was there. Some small part of her she refused to acknowledge, slipping out through her gaze.

They all held their positions in that limbo for longer than the passenger cared to think. Waiting on the end. Eventually the ramblings trailed off and there was a touch more thought in those ungainly movements.

“I’m here Amy.”

“I know you are dear.” The response came to quick, too used to the usual incoherent utterances to recognize the thought behind the words.

“No I’m here Amy, I’m still in here.” The doppelganger repeated the words more forcefully this time, hoping to be understood. But there was strain there too, as if even these few words were at the cost of monumental effort. “I just…I just get lost in the mists…from time to time”

Recognition flashed across his wife’s face with a whole mix of emotions. Joy at the momentary return of his sanity. Sadness for the near total loss of the man she loved. Hurt at the knowledge that this moment of lucidity would be so fleeting. Even that ugly emotion of regret flashed through her eyes. All this and more passed in an instant but were not expressed. Amy had never been one to waste any moment, why start now? So she pushed it all aside as she took up the doppelganger’s hand

“I know dear.” The repeated words were said more tenderly this time, with a slight hitch in the voice as she fought back tears. “But when you find your way out I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.”

“I just…I wish I had more time. There were so many things I wanted us to do, so many journeys I wanted to take you on.”

“We’re here. It’s you and me. That’s all I need.”

“Love of my life, what did I do to deserve you.”

“You did nothing. I choose you, it’s that simple.”

The memory the words conjured brought tears to both of their, eyes but neither would let them fall. The passenger had no such restraint. He felt the tears run freely down his cheeks even as his doppelganger, so frail and tired, tried to reach up and stroke Amy’s face. Even that action was deformed as a tremor ran down his arm making the touch clumsy and awkward. Still the action was enough to elicit a small smile. A brief glimpse of the connection that had been so strong.

“The mists are swirling again. You should get some sleep while you can.” A final, tender squeeze of his hand was all the response the doppelganger received. Amy stood and made her way to the door, seeking a well-deserved rest. But she did linger for the briefest of moments, sparing the half machine man one last look. And then she was gone. Off to try and find somewhere in that squalid facility she could rest her eyes for a few hours.

And yet the mirage did not fade. It had one last act to show. The passenger could only watch as the doppelganger took that shaky hand and, with a final act of lucidity, pulled his air tube from his nose. It was not to be a quick death. But at least it was quiet. Even the beeps of the machines had faded away.

And still the mirage did not end.

As the passenger stared at the dying man, so too did his doppelganger stare back at him. In those final few seconds the pair shared everything. They felt the pain in their throat as their body wheezed for air. They felt the shakes in their arms get worse as the limbs slowly ran out of oxygen. And they felt the whirling mix of emotions that was slowly smothered by cold, hazy, blanket. Truth be told the passenger was unsure if it was the cold creep of death, or the last drips of his lucidity fading away. He didn’t much care. He threw himself into that hazy cloud. Finally able to embrace the freedom he had been denied for so long.

And then it was over. The connection broke as the mirage faded away. And the passenger was left standing in that empty carriage. Standing there, with the spectre stood alongside him.

“Hello old friend, so good to finally meet you.” The passenger said as he turned to face the spectre. The robed figure for its part said not a word. It just raised one covered arm, gesturing to the door at the end of the carriage.

It looked no different to the other the passenger had rushed through, in his mad dash along the train. At most an unnatural green light seeped in from around the edges. Unnerving yes, but it didn’t even register as strange after all that the man had experienced.

And yet he knew, he knew with certainty, that this was it. The final door. End of the line.

The passenger and the spectre approached it side by side, neither needing to say a word. There was no hesitation in either’s step. This was the end, no point running from it. Equally no reason to rush it. The pair simply walked at an easy pace, together, until they stood before the door. And yet, knowing all this, the passenger couldn’t help but turn to the robed figure and ask.

“I don’t suppose you know what’s waiting for me? Care to tell me?” The spectre’s dark black hood stared back at him, as silent as always. The passenger smiled, more to himself than the apparition, as he rested his hand lightly on the handle.

“Yeah, you’re right. Where’s the fun in that.” With ease the handle began to turn as the man whispered his final words. “One last journey.”