Bravo, Charlie!

“But that’s only if you open an LLC. Then you want to open a C-Corp. A trust should follow. Two trusts will do you better,” Aldus Voe conversed with Mindy Gaynor.

I heard only the end as I was roused from sleep. I looked around the place. Why the hell was I on this train? My ticket. Where is my ticket? I reached into my pants. Both had holes in the pockets. No phone, no wallet, no keys, none of the ordinary, everyday items that facilitate a day outside of the house. I see no attendants in this cabin. That’s good.

I can try to figure out who or what placed me on this train. Did I just feel the thing speed up?

A P.A. over my head clangs. “We’re experiencing some technical difficulties with the computer system. Please remain in your seats and fasten your seatbelts,” Gerry Wong announces to the passengers.

It feels like slugs are sliming through my stomach. There’s some way out of here. If I just remain calm….

“Help!” I shriek. I’ve drawn attention to myself. I am in a world of hurt now. Attendants will swoop down on me like vultures and pick apart my words like what I express is carrion. I see an attendant running my way.

“What is it, sir? I know you’re probably wondering why the train is moving faster and faster. It’s okay,” Tabby Simms reassures. She wears a blonde wig but is black as coffee. She smells like fresh strawberries and I can’t get away from her healthy, brilliant teeth.

“Thank you. I’m much better now,” I reply.

“We’re going to see what else happens in that control room. Until then, try to remain composed….” She pauses waiting to hear my name.

“Charlie.”

“Charlie. We should have all this worked out in a few moments. Sit tight.”

I can’t believe it. This emergency has pushed my lack of a ticket or any credentials to the backburner. I look around the cabin. I see some couples holding hands. A man kisses his wife or girlfriend, okay I see the rings. Correction: wife, on the head as in her tousled brown locks. Little kids make slight noise. They’re the only ones besides me who have even make a peep.

The gleaming polished steel and freshly shined windows make an amalgam of the outside world streaming past us like a water current. I balance in my head what is more important: my stuff or this runaway train. I don’t know how I got here or where I’m headed. I hope it is back to Wilmington. I’ve called Delaware my home for all of my twenty-three years. Wherever I traveled to and then woke to find everything gone must have been some town. I hope I had a good time.

Wong dings the PA system again. “We’re going to be going at this speed we’re traveling indefinitely. It appears that the system experienced a glitch, disallowing this train from stopping. We ask you to continue to stay calm. Thank you.”

Sighing won’t help, I know. But it’s such a response to the inconvenience of not knowing what happened to my stuff and being on the last train from Hell. The little kids get restless but remain relatively quiet. I’m not freaking out, but I should be. What the Hell? I’m digitally stranded while zooming at speeds close to three hundred miles an hour. I am bereft of all vigor. Time seems to slow down the faster we go.

I’m a low-level computer tech. I wonder if I can lend any “expertise” to the situation. Ha! I barely win at video games. Everyone always beats the game before I can level up on the thing. And my job is simply data entry. My time at Delaware Institute of Technology (DIT) served no real purpose. I did get my job, however.

If I can give any assistance to the crew on how to stop or at least slow down this thing, I’ll be satisfied. Oh, what’s the use? I’m looking at my watch which is connected to my iPhone. It shows a little red rectangle with a diagonal line signifying that it is out of range. It means I had it on this train. But where?

The black blonde attendant walks by again.

“Are you faring better, sir?” she asks.

I clear my throat. “Yes, of course. Is there any way for a passenger to possibly see what the problem is?”

Her face looks like crinkled paper.

“No…that’s normally not permitted.”

“Would you consider this situation normal?”

She smirks. “Let me at least see some ID before I let you go traipsing into the control room.”

“That’s just it. Someone literally clipped my pockets. I’ve got nothin’ but my smiling face to prove my identity.”

“Just a moment. Let me consult with my fellow attendants and the conductor,” she replies. The strawberry-smelling lady saunters back to where the other train attendants gather like wasps to a nest.

I beam. My hands fold behind my head and I kick out that little metal bar under the seat for my feet to rest. Ah, yes…a footrest. She returns.

“Let me just ask you a few technical questions the engineer wishes to know.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you not have anything?”

“Nothing but these clothes I have on right now. I don’t even have luggage.”

“That means you don’t have a ticket. We’ll discuss that later. We’ll focus on vital statistics. Are you a felon?”

“No.”

I almost become rattled by the question, but persevere nonetheless.

“What is your highest form of education and at what school?”

“Sophomore year at DIT. Dropped out. I have a certificate from an Internet course I passed, though.”

It looks like she is about to scream out, “Is there real IT aboard?” Instead she sighs.

“Okay, you’re the best thing going. Follow me.”

I whisk my afro with my fingertips and straighten my collar. I unbuckle my seat and trail the ebony with the blonde locks.

The venture to the engine room is a mixture. Some people show tear-stained faces. Others look on with blank stares as if they had seen their third tour of combat.

Still, others display a twisted sort of glee as the train builds up more and more speed.

As I walk past, I see a man in a yellow sport coat grinning from ear to ear and rocking rhythmically touching his fingertips together.

Finally, I move past him and enter the control room. It is like a spaceship in here. The lights shine like lamps down onto the touchscreens. I look at the main screen. That’s when the engineer skips introductions.

“I hope you can fix this. Once we go past a station at this speed or greater, we will blast away the sides of this train. What do you got, Charlie?” Wong queries.

My stomach drops. I can tell what had happened. It couldn’t be I say in my mind.

“What? What is it?” Wong presses.

“Okay, this is a hack. Actually, it’s a coordinated, multinational attack. Russia, China, Saudi Arabia, North Korea, and Iran have all joined to attempt to disrupt this train’s information.”

“What can you do?” Wong asks.

Another sigh expels from my mouth. “It’s simple. All I need to do is reverse the code and send all of their messages back to their servers.”

“How long is that going to take?” Tabby asks.

“It could take anywhere from a few minutes to a couple hours,” I explain.

“Remember the station. That’s about fifteen minutes from this location,” Wong notes.

“I’ll get to it.” First, I sit down and analyze the data. It’s complex, but easy to decipher. I type in a code that I always use on video games. I’m usually the last, but once I put in the code, I beat the game. This is no different. Like a robot, I input the bits of data.

“We’re less than a thousand yards away from that station,” Wong reminds me.

“Just a few more seconds….” I counter.

I punch in the codes and a red light appears.

“It was supposed to be green,” I said.

“Wait. You’ve got to be kidding,” Tabby says, fear rising in her voice.

“Okay. I think if I remember my rudiments from school on how to code, we just might be alright,” I respond.

“Five hundred yards. Do it!” Wong commanded.

I put in the simplest code. “It’s not an aria but a short sonata.”

“Of course. The shorter the better. Go, Charlie!” Tabby exclaims.

My fingers fly over the touch screen like a tarantula scurrying into a hole. I tap the return key and the screen illuminates in green glory. The train gradually begins slowing down to a halt right in front of the station.

“Bravo, Charlie!” Tabby hugs me while I’m still seated.

Wong applauds. “I’ll recommend you for an IT job supporting the rails after this,” he says as cheers and hoots rise up from the cabins.

“I would but I think I’ll start my own private company tracking down threats from countries who wish America harm,” I say evenly.

“I can respect that.” Wong smiles.

“Now about that ticket….” Tabby remarks with a grin and her arms folded.

I shrug.