An Iron Horse for an Iron Course

The soft buzzing of electricity was all the Conductor heard when he awoke. He rubbed his bleary eyes and glanced out the window, shocked to see the landscape scrolling past as though the train were in motion, but no sounds came from machinery. There was no clacking of wheels along the tracks, no belching of steam from the engine, no sound at all. The Conductor had to listen close to pick out any noise besides the quiet hum of the lamp in front of him. For a brief moment, he heard the tinkling of the overhead chandelier as it swayed in a phantom draft.

The Conductor shifted in his seat to take a look around the rest of the carriage that he'd dozed off in. It was empty, aside from him. This came as an unsettling surprise. If the train was en route to another station, there should have been more passengers, or at least some luggage in the overhead racks, but there was nothing and no one. Hair rose on the back of his neck, and the Conductor broke out in a cold sweat. Something was not right. He patted his pockets for any items, but they were empty. Not even a ticket stub rustled.

He stood slowly, studying his surroundings and trying to jostle his memory. The passing landscape was full of endless, rolling hills and no distinct landmarks. It gave no clues as to the train's location. The door to the next carriage down was strangely locked, with no window to see inside. The carriage the Conductor occupied was a simple sitting room, filled with green velvet seats and small, polished wood desks for writing letters and postcards. The walls of the carriage were covered with a decorative red wallpaper, filled with floral scrollwork designs, and the floors were carpeted in a deep green. The only other object in the carriage was an odd photo that hung on the wall next to the door leading towards the front of the train. The Conductor did not recognize the image, so he approached it for closer study.

The black and white image depicted a hellish sight that took the Conductor several moments to parse out what he was looking at. It appeared to be the remains of a train engine, pictured from the front, but instead of the normal smokebox, the engine was transformed into a beast of exploded piping. The metal tubes reached outwards like the fingers of Satan himself, grasping at nothing. It looked vaguely like the train the Conductor was in charge of, but it seemed a poor, broken imitation of the original. The photo tickled something in the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite figure it out, so he tried the door to the front carriages. It opened easily, and he stepped through.

A small café occupied this next carriage. The only inhabitants were a young woman and a bartender, both mysteriously dressed in all-white clothing. The woman sat next to the window, watching the scenery with a passive expression, and the Bartender stood behind his bar and wiped a cloth over the shiny surface. He glanced over at the Conductor and gave a cursory nod before turning back to his work. The acknowledgement emboldened the Conductor, so he approached the Bartender and sat down at one of the cushioned stools. He flashed an easy smile and said, "What's buzzin', cousin? Could I trouble you for a cuppa joe?"

The Bartender slapped the rag over his broad shoulder and met the Conductor's gaze. His eyes were a bright blue, settled beneath dark brows. The skin at the corner of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. The Bartender replied, "Sure thing, ace," then turned and started up the coffee machine. As the man worked, the Conductor tried to get some information. He said, "This is going to be a might strange question, but could you tell me where this train is headed?"

The Bartender glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the Conductor with a quirked eyebrow. He quickly looked back to his task, now grabbing a porcelain coffee cup and preparing to fill it. He replied, "It's going where it always goes, sir. Would you like cream and sugar?"

The Conductor didn't like the cryptic response. He absentmindedly tapped the bar with a finger as he said, "Black, please. Strong as you can make it." Then he glanced over at the woman still seated at the window. She had long, red hair the color of a true flame, but he couldn't see much else since she was facing away from him. She hadn't seemed to have noticed his entrance into the carriage.

The cup and a saucer clattered into place in front of the Conductor, full of hot and steaming coffee. It smelled incredible, but he decided to let it cool for a moment before taking a sip. While he waited, the Conductor tried again, "I woke up just a short while ago and I'm having trouble recollecting myself, I'm afraid. Could you please help a fellow out?"

The Bartender only shrugged and returned to polishing the immaculate bar. His voice was deep and gentle as he said, "You're on the train you've always been on, sir. It's simple as that." The Conductor nodded to himself and grasped the coffee cup in his hands to warm them. After another moment of checking out his surroundings, he asked, "Where are the other passengers? I've only seen yourself and the dame by the window since I woke up."

The Bartender didn't even stumble in his cleaning. "They all got off at the last stop." This gave the Conductor pause. "The last stop, you say? And where, perchance, was that?" But the Bartender only shrugged, briefly looked towards the woman by the window, then looked back down at the rich wood grain. He didn't speak again.

The Conductor turned his attention to the windows and watched the scenery pass by as he sipped as his coffee. The land was unbroken by tree or shrub, still filled only by the gentle hills. After a while, the Conductor was startled to see a station blurring past. He nearly toppled out of his chair in his haste to stand. He shouted, "There! There's the next station, why are we not stopping? Where are the engineers?" He left his cup on the counter, forgotten, and stomped towards the front of the train. The door to the next compartment was firmly locked, so he rounded on the Bartender once more and prepared to wring his neck for answers. Before he could take more than a step, the woman's soft voice broke the tension.

"That was not your stop, Conductor."

The Conductor turned to look at the woman. Her eyes were a verdant green that were so sharp, it felt as though her look could pierce his very soul. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, at a loss for words. Then, "Excuse me, Miss, could you tell me what is going on with my train? Nothing is making any sense and I need to know. Help me to understand." The woman gestured for him to take the seat across from her and he did so, trying to remain calm and keep his anger in check.

She surprised him by asking, "How many years have you been the Conductor?"

He cleared his throat. "Ten years, nearly eleven, Miss. Why do you ask?"

Her face was impassive. "During your career, how many times were you pressed to meet a timetable?"

"Many times, of course. The trains have to keep to a tight schedule, as I'm sure you understand."

"And did you ever make a mistake?"

The Conductor started to say, "Of course not," but he cut himself off. Had he ever made a mistake? If so, what sort of mistake could she be referring to? His eyebrows drew together in confusion. He could only look at her, at a loss for words.

The woman nodded to herself before looking back out the window. Then she asked, "Did you see the photo in the other carriage?"

It took the Conductor a moment to recall what she spoke of. The strange, black and white image of a train destroyed so badly that it hardly resembled anything but a haunting demon. "Do you mean the one of the broken train?"

She nodded, then slid her gaze back to his. Her eyes seemed very sad when he looked into them. "That train was your mistake, Conductor."

The Conductor could only shake his head in confusion. She continued, "Many people are afforded the opportunity to make countless mistakes in their lives and to learn from those mistakes and become better for them. However, I'm sorry to say that this mistake was made when there could be no room for error. I'm truly sorry, Conductor. But this was the first, and last, mistake of this kind that you could be allowed to make."

His voice sounded alien in his own ears as he stuttered, "I-I don't understand. What are you talking about? I only just woke up maybe an hour ago, if that. I've not made any mistakes."

He'd barely finished speaking before the photo of the broken train materialized on the table in front of him. He cried out in alarm at its sudden appearance but recovered quickly. He studied the image with tired eyes, looking closer than he had initially.

The demonic fingers of tubes and piping were difficult to understand, but eventually the Conductor figured out what he was seeing. He whispered, "Those are the boiler tubes. How—?"

Then the memories swept him away.

~

They were on a time crunch, due in the next big city by 6PM and behind schedule by a significant margin. There had been an issue with rowdy passengers at the previous stop and their leave had been delayed due to having to wait for the arrival of the constable. This had set their timeline back by several hours, and the Conductor was frustrated. To make up for lost time, he had instructed the engineers and fireman to not take on more water at the last stop and to push through. It wasn't uncommon to push the train so hard, but in his haste to meet their schedule the Conductor failed in one of his most important tasks. He didn't think to put passenger safety before all else.

The temperatures rose from the increased demand on the engine, and the pipes eventually failed to contain the heat and pressure. The staff were too focused on meeting their deadline and neglected to pay close attention to the gauges. The tubing ruptured all at once, exploding outward in a scream of metal and steam. Everything dissolved into chaos and sound, then the memory cut and it all went black.

~

The Conductor came back to himself and gasped, shuddering and struggling to breathe. Unbidden tears spilled from his eyes and he wiped at his cheeks fretfully as understanding dawned on him. After a moment he choked out, "I made a mistake."

The woman watched him calmly, compassion in her eyes and sadness in the lines of her face. "Yes," she said softly.

"It was my fault the train was ruined. It all went to hell because of me... the passengers? Did I kill them?" His voice pitched higher on the last question, distraught.

She looked down at the photo still on the table and said, "They passed on. They all exited the train at the last stop."

The Conductor looked out the window and studied the landscape. He muttered, "The last stop..."

He was struck, then, by a thought. Glancing back at the woman, he relaxed back into his seat and said, "Does this mean my stop will be coming up soon?"

She returned his gaze and answered only, "Are you ready for it?"

The photo of the broken train swam in his vision, and the Conductor agonized for a while over the damage he had caused. The mistake he had made when there could be no mistakes. The knowledge burned deep in his soul, and his shoulders weighed heavy with guilt. Eventually, he met the woman's eyes once more and said, "I'm ready to get off, Miss. I will face whatever lies before me."

Her smile was gentle and sincere. The Bartender stopped polishing the bar and looked their way with a kind smile on his lips as well. The Conductor heard a whistle and the screech of grinding wheels as they began to slow. The train stopped at a station the Conductor had never seen before, one that he would never see again. The woman nodded to the door behind him, one that must lead to the carriage where he could exit the train.

The Conductor stood to leave and the woman reached out, touching her fingers softly to the back of his hand, and said, "Good luck, Conductor. May you find solace in the road ahead."

He thanked the woman and the Bartender both, then slid open the door to the next carriage. As he walked through, he glanced back once to see a shimmering light around the pair's heads that disappeared almost at once. Then the door slid closed behind him of its own accord, and the door to exit the train opened. His heart was full of sadness and grief, but at the same time it felt a little lighter as he took a deep breath and stepped off the train.