First-Class Cancellation

Annie woke up with a throbbing headache, and a roiling feeling in the pit of her stomach, like she had been on rollercoasters for a full day in the sun. This was one of the worst hangovers she had ever had. With a groan, she rolled flat onto her back and squeezed her eyes shut against the light that was trying to force its way in. She took a deep breath and willed her bed to stop moving under her.

It didn’t work. The world was still moving, rolling, swaying side to side. And then the whole thing lurched, suddenly and violently, and Annie slid right off the side and landed with a thump on the hardwood floor.

Hardwood floor. Not the threadbare rug she had been meaning to replace. And the bed she had fallen off had been much higher than the one she usually crawled into.

With a great deal of effort, and an embarrassingly long pause, Annie managed to marshal her scattered thoughts into a neat and orderly conclusion. This wasn’t her room.

This realization was enough to push all thoughts of how miserable she felt to the side, temporarily, and focus instead on a brand new one. Panic. She didn’t know where she was, and she didn’t remember getting there.

Finally, and not without some resistance from some stuck together mascara, Annie opened her eyes.

It didn’t help at all.

The room she was in was completely unfamiliar, and completely bizarre. Her first instinct was to fight the urge to close her eyes again. From polished wood, to sparkling mirrors, to gleaming gold hardware, and a glittering chandelier, and even to the soft lustre of a silk comforter, every surface in the room was dazzling in the morning sunlight. It was all a bit much, especially when her head was threatening to split open at any moment.

Her second thought was a feeling of claustrophobia, because everything in the room, even the luxuriously made-up bed she had just fallen out of, was tiny.

The floor beneath her gave another convenient lurch, which helped Annie finally put the last few pieces together. She was on a train. An incredibly fancy train, but a train, nonetheless. With a small sense of satisfaction that she had solved at least one mystery so far, she crawled upright into a standing position.

Three quarters of a criminology degree haven’t been completely wasted, she thought to herself, deliberately ignoring how many clues it took her to get to that conclusion.

A quick glance out the window, squinting to avoid her new nemesis the sun, was enough to confirm that she was definitely on a train, and it was definitely moving.

Quickly.

The plants and trees that were near the tracks blurred together into a translucent haze of green. Beyond that, the view was stunning. The train was rocketing along the edge of a large river, or maybe a long lake, with the sunlight bounding off the jewel blue waters. On the far shore an imposing mountain range reared up from the horizon. A scattering of white buildings in the distance looked like an enchanted fairy tale hamlet perched on the edge of this vision.

Annie didn’t recognize any of it.

She was pretty sure that last night she had been out in London. She might have only been visiting for a few months on a work/travel/quarter-life crisis, but she was pretty sure she had been in the UK long enough to know that there weren’t any mountains like this anywhere near London. Or possibly on the entire island.

Turning away from the window, Annie saw a wooden vanity built into the wall of the cabin. Displayed proudly on top and reflected hundreds of times over in the tri-fold mirror, was a large gift bag in a rich royal blue colour. Embossed across the front in a fancy gold script were the words “Welcome Influencer!”.

Annie was beginning to think there had been some mistake. She did have dreams of becoming a famous travel blogger, it was what she had been working towards the past few months since she dropped out – taken a break from – university. But there was simply no way this message had been meant for her. Even at her most optimistic she knew that the scant 2,300 followers she had amassed was barely enough to get her a “personalized” email inviting her to purchase her tickets to the travel and hospitality conference she had been at the day before. It certainly wasn’t enough to earn a trip on a rolling Versailles.

The travel conference! That’s where she had been yesterday. Maybe that was a hint for how she had gotten here. She closed her eyes again. There had been an organized social event, drinks at the hotel bar. How many did I have?

Feeling a prickle of fear that she had embarrassed herself at what was supposed to be a work-event, she opened her eyes again and looked around the room. Annie spotted her phone, tossed on top of the suitcases she had brought with her to London and that she had been living out of instead of unpacking. Well at least I have a toothbrush and a change of clothes.

She booted up her phone, and immediately pulled up her notifications. A quick scroll through a handful of likes and comments on her most recent post, and a few texts from her mom didn’t turn up any clues. But then she saw the notification for a private message from an account she’d never heard of, MissTerriTravels:

I need your help.

And you need mine.

Find me. ;)

Annie clicked through to the profile and felt an instant pang of jealousy. It was everything she was aiming for herself. Photos of beautiful and far-flung locations, all taken in perfect weather. There were no shots of the owner of the account, just sunset beach silhouettes and a tumble of beachy curls in a constantly changing array of colours, always taken from behind. Always accompanied by an inspirational, slightly saccharine, quote.

All of them were posted the day before.

Something is weird here.

Scrolling back up to the top, Annie looked at the numbers. They no followers, and only followed one other account: hers. The bio had no information either. It was very short, “I live to travel” with a rainbow of coloured hearts.

Annie was prepared to chalk the message and the account up to a weird coincidence and a bot when a new post appeared in the timeline. In the background was a now familiar mountain vista and arranged in the front was a royal blue gift bag that perfectly matched the one in her room. Annie checked the caption underneath: “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing – Helen Keller”.

********************

Mystery messages and kidnappings were very distracting, but eventually a girl’s gotta eat. Following the sounds of life that were starting to drift in from outside her compartment, Annie set off down the hall towards the end of the train.

The dining compartment was every bit as luxurious as her cabin. Heavy crystal glassware and sparkling white plates were laid out on crisp table linens. A soft light was coming from chandeliers that tinkled softly with the motion of the train. A long bar along one side of the car held steaming silver carafes of coffee and tea, and plates of pastries and baked goods. Morning sunlight was pouring in through windows that provided a more expansive views of the staggering mountains and the deep blue water she had seen from her cabin. Attached to the back, as the caboose of the train, was an equally sumptuous observation car, with wide-open double doors leading to a viewing deck to let in the morning air.

The population of the dining car was equally impressive. It seemed to be overflowing with people who looked like they had just stepped from the glossy pages of a magazine. A quick headcount told her that there were only thirteen of them, but the initial impression was still overwhelming. From height to skin colour to clothing style, every one of them somehow managed to stand out like they were the one main character in an ensemble number in a musical, so much so that they all blended into one intimidating group. The one thing they all had in common was that they all looked perfectly put together, and they were all remarkably good-looking.

Annie suddenly became aware that she hadn’t even bothered to run a brush through her hair before going in search of food. At least I changed my shirt – she thought to herself, tugging slightly on the hem to try to smooth out the wrinkles.

“Hello,” the woman closest to the door said sweetly, “should I know you from somewhere?” She titled her head to the side like a curious Labrador, golden beads in her long braids clicking together.

The words sounded like a school-yard insult, but they were delivered with a smile that looked like it should be on a toothpaste ad. Annie was scrambling for a retort when she realized she had, in fact, seen that toothpaste ad before. The woman was model, the kind that had even walked in a few fashion shows in addition to posting on social media. Annie tried not to think about the cream sundress that would make Annie look like a bowl of unseasoned porridge but glowed against the model’s dark skin.

It probably wouldn’t seem insulting to ask if you should know someone when everyone in the world already knew you. In fact, a quick second gland around the room showed that she recognized at least four of the others by name, and another handful looked vaguely familiar. “I’m Annie,” she answered, a little too loudly and after too long of a pause. “I wan- I do travel…” Annie trailed off, not knowing how to explain her presence when she still didn’t know where she was, or why.

“Oh right, like press.” The model said, her eyes drifting to the camera Annie had felt too nervous to leave in the sleeping compartment.

“Something like that.”

“I’m Thereza. It was nice to meet you!” The way she pronounced it made it clear she wanted Annie to know it was spelled with a “z”. Thereza flashed another dentist approved smile and drifted off to start the same interaction over again with a teenage boy Annie recognized as a semi-professional wakeboarder.

Since she didn’t feel like approaching anyone, and nobody else seemed as invested in networking with her as Thereza, Annie poured herself a cup of black coffee and sat down at the only unoccupied table, the one in the corner, closest to the door, and the most out of sight. Her stomach turned over furiously in protest of the fancy offerings on the menu. She couldn’t remember a time she had felt this nauseous after a night out.

She pulled out her phone and studied it furiously. While normally this might be a social coping mechanism, today she was desperately trying to decipher what had happened to her between last night and that morning. She pulled back up the cryptic message from MissTerriTravels, noting that it had been sent that morning, after the train had already departed.

“May I join you?” A low voice asked, startling her. A woman with loose black curls and draped black clothing, adorned with a magpie’s hoard of silver jewelry, was already pulling out a chair at the table. “I’m Ophelia,” she said, without waiting for an answer. She sat down, gazing unblinkingly at Annie with dark blue eyes. “Annie.” Apparently satisfied with the answer, Ophelia silently shifted her stare out the window.

Meanwhile, the other guests in the compartment – the real guests, Annie thought to herself – drifted to the other tables alone or in small groups, and breakfast got under way. A handful of immaculately uniformed wait staff appeared in the car and began taking orders. Annie asked for yogurt with fresh fruit and granola, the least upsetting item on the menu to her still-fragile stomach.

The breakfast arrived quickly, but not before most of the guests had moved again, this time out to the observation deck where they were carefully jockeying for the best photo spot at the corner of the railing. Annie and her quiet tablemate remained seated. Ophelia was now reading a small, cloth-bound book, her pale face still turned towards the sunlight filtering through the window.

Suddenly the train lurched, and a loud high-pitched screech cut through the air. A few of the standing guests nearly lost their balance and held on to railings or made their way back to their seats.

A man in a gold-trimmed uniform walked back into the room. “Apologies for the inconvenience,” they announced in the soft, apologetic tones of a server telling a table that they were out of the special. “The train has picked up too much speed as we approach a tight turn in the tracks, and the conductor is slowing down out of precaution. The sound is just the brakes, nothing to be alarmed about.”

The screeching continued and the side-to-side rocking of the train picked up in intensity as it rounded a sharp curve, heading towards a tunnel cut through a low hill. Annie closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of the coffee and trying to focus on not throwing up the few bites she had eaten. Through her eyelids, she felt the warmth of the sunlight disappear as the train entered the tunnel, and complete darkness. Apparently, the chandeliers had not been turned on with the bright morning light. Everything lurched to the left with the sharp curve of the tracks, cups and plates rattling violently on the tables. A few of the guests screamed, the sound blending into the pervasive shrieks from the brakes.

The darkness couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes, but it felt much longer than that. With a final whooshing noise they were out of the tunnel and back into the blinding daylight. Annie’s stomach turned over again, and she glanced around the compartment, looking for reassurance that at least some of the other guests had been affected. Ophelia looked completely unperturbed, continuing to read her book. Everyone else began putting themselves back to rights, adjusting clothes and patting stray hairs into place. A few people laughed nervously.

Annie turned to her breakfast, realizing her hands were trembling slightly as she lifted her coffee cup up to take another sip. She felt a little silly, since the other dozen guests were already back to chatting quietly and taking photos of the train, the scenery, and themselves.

The other dozen guests.

Annie whipped her head around, counting under her breath. There were only twelve other people in the compartment. Hadn’t there been thirteen?

She tried to remember who was missing, but she hadn’t paid much attention to the group. Thereza and Ophelia were both still in the car. So was the wakeboarder. She hadn’t made note of anyone else.

Nobody else seemed to notice the absence. Maybe she had counted wrong before?

Annie scanned the room again. There, at a table in the corner where nobody was sitting, an uneaten plate of crepes. So, there had been thirteen. Maybe someone went back to their cabin while we were in the tunnel? That was the only explanation.

She tried to bury the thought that she was sitting the closest to the dining car doorway, and she would have heard if it opened. The brakes were so loud, and it was dark. She probably just didn’t notice. What other options were there? There was nowhere to hide in the dining car, and nowhere else to go. Except for the observation car. And the exposed viewing deck.

With a very low railing.

Her hands were trembling even more now, coffee splashing over the rim of the cup. She opened her phone again, looking for a distraction, but she suddenly felt clammy. MissTerriTravels was still pulled up on her screen, but now the account was following 13 people. With a growing feeling of unease, Annie opened the list. A quick glance confirmed her suspicions, it was a list of all the guests on the train.

All the ones who were left.

Switching back to MissTerri’s page, she noticed a new post. It was an artfully staged shot out the window of the train, the mountain framed by the royal blue curtains, and the water sparkling in the sun. In the foreground was an out of focus cup of coffee and platter of sugar cookies from the pastry bar. They were shaped like gingerbread men and decorated with gold and white icing.

The caption was another quote: “It is better to travel well than to arrive – Buddha”. Beneath it were hashtags: #abakersdozen #allforme.

Annie had felt cold before, but suddenly she was sweating. She counted the cookies in the photo. Thirteen of them.

One of them had their head bitten off.

Her phone pinged in her hand as a notification flashed across the top of the screen. Another message from MissTeri:

Your turn. ;)