Lilith

Jacob Valdis hated trains. He hated them almost as much as he hated his father.

So waking to the click click click of the wheels and the wail of the horn made his heart quicken and his skin break out in a cold sweat. The swaying motion of the car, far from soothing, made him nauseous.

Jolting up, he banged his head on the roof of the cramped space he laid in. He groaned and rolled over, which nearly sent him over a shear drop.

He was in a train car, one of those with a built-in double row of stacked beds. It was dimly lit by diffused LED light fixtures between the bunks. The other beds had their privacy curtains tied apart, revealing neat, empty beds.

Jacob lowered himself to the ground and peered out the rear door window. Twin lines of train tracks extended before him until they faded into the night, beyond the reach of the car's dim illumination. To either side, he could faintly make out the ghostly silhouettes of tree branches rushing by.

For the life of him, Jacob couldn't remember how he got there. He had the propensity to drink and lose entire evenings to the effects of alcohol. But he couldn't see himself willingly boarding a train, even in that state.

He stumbled as he walked toward the opposite end of the car. The sudden onset of a migraine confirmed that he had been drunk not long before. He opened the door and entered the next car.

This cabin was much better lit. Small crystal chandeliers twinkled as they swayed with the train. Pairs of brown leather chairs ran along both sides of the car, with end tables between. A space was left free along the wall to his left to allow a better view of an Ed Shareen poster. A bar took up half the wall to Jacob's right. The man wiping the countertop was the only person there.

The beep beep of a digital clock beside the door opposite Jacob showed that it was 11pm.

The bartender looked up from the counter. "Good evening, my friend," he said, "Please, come, sit." His voice was cheery and upbeat.

Jacob approached the bar but remained standing. "Where am I?"

"Where are you?" the bartender laughed, "Good sir, you are aboard the Lilith. Only the finest luxury train in the world. Please. Sit. Have a drink." He gestured to the stools in front of the bar.

Jacob hesitantly pulled out one of the stools and sat. "Where are we headed?"

"Many places. Lilith is well traveled. May I interest you in a drink, Mr.—" he raised an eyebrow.

"Call me Jacob."

"Jacob it is, then. My name is Kodi. It's a pleasure to meet you. What can I get you?"

Jacob hesitated. Waking up after a binge on a train with no memory of how he got there should be enough reason to reject the offer.

"Negroni, on the rocks," he said.

"Excellent choice."

It didn't take long to mix the simple drink. Jacob was a bit surprised at the bartender's skill and the quality of his tools. The mixing glass had to be crystal, he stirred with a bar spoon, and the garnish was cut from a fresh orange using a channel knife. The drink set before Jacob was far fancier than what he usually received. The man even reached under the bar and laid a small tray of cheese cubes next to the glass. Jacob became acutely aware of his missing wallet. Not that it would have made a difference.

"Uh … How much is this?" he asked.

"Drinks are complimentary, my friend."

Jacob shrugged and took a sip. The familiar sensation instantly relaxed him, and he sighed. His blackout no longer seemed to be a big deal. What did it matter where he was heading? Life was unpleasant wherever he was. But at least at this moment, he could relax.

"That's good," Jacob said.

Kodi smiled. "So what brings you aboard the Lilith? Not running from something, I hope."

"I don't know, actually. Do you know when I boarded?"

"Sorry," Kodi said, "This is our first encounter. So you are a lost soul, then? Is there anyone you can contact to help you find your way? Any family?"

Jacob took a long drink. "No. No family."

"None at all? Surely not. You must have some family."

"I have—had a father. He can't help. Serving a life sentence can make that problematic." He gestured to Kodi with his glass. "And that's not even getting into how he would help," He lowered his tone, imitating his father, "This is an opportunity, son. Use your problem-solving skills to adapt and find the answer to your situation." He emptied his drink. "The prick."

Kodi took the empty glass and started making another.

"Everything was a lesson with that man. Nothing could just be what it was. All to prepare me for the family business. It was a 'noble heritage,' he would say." Jacob scoffed. "There was nothing noble about it."

A fresh Negroni appeared before Jacob, and he downed a gulp.

"What was the business?" Kodi asked.

Jacob didn't answer. Flashes of unwanted memories flowed through his mind.

The silence continued until Jacob finally asked, "So where is everyone?" He gestured to the empty seats.

"Lilith is a bit light on passengers at the moment. I am aware of only one other passenger besides yourself and I."

"Ok," Jacob said. "Where's the next stop?"

"Oh," Kodi laughed, "I actually don't know. I don't really pay attention. It's so hard to keep track."

"But you work here. Isn't that a question you should be able to answer?"

"You would think, wouldn't you?"

Jacob stared at Kodi for a moment, giving him a "can you throw me a bone" stare. But Kodi just held his smile.

"Where can I find out?" Jacob asked, his tone annoyed.

"I would imagine the conductor would know."

"The conductor? Really?"

Kodi shrugged.

Just then, the clock beeped again, announcing that it was midnight. Jacob started. How had an entire hour passed? He only sat down a couple minutes ago.

An inexplicable sense of dread came over Jacob. The car's lights seemed to dim, and the air chilled. Kodi, still smiling, stopped moving. His hands were frozen around the glass he was polishing. Jacob felt something watching him from the cabin's rear door.

He turned slowly, unable to stop himself.

The back of the car had gone almost completely dark. Jacob could just barely make out the shapes of chairs and end tables. And the darkness was spreading, moving toward him like a giant maw. But the growing shadow wasn't what held his attention.

The figure standing behind the door window seemed to stare at Jacob.

It was a silhouette more than anything else. The black of its body against the less dark background gave it shape. The form was familiar. Its shoulders, head, and general way it stood told him exactly who it was. Despite not seeing any eyes, Jacob could feel the hate-filled gaze on him.

The door opened, and it stepped through, its eye-less stare never leaving him.

Jacob ran.

He pushed open the door and barreled into the next car. Looking behind, he saw the figure standing beside the bar, its gaze still locked on Jacob. The cabin had lost all its light. The chairs and bar were only vaguely visible, and Kodi had disappeared in the black entirely.

Jacob turned to run again but froze at the site before him.

Pairs of cushioned chairs with end tables between, a large poster, and the bar on the right wall. It was the same car he had just left. Or nearly so.

The chairs had a checkered pattern, and the end tables looked cheaper. The walls were covered with a dual-tone wallpaper, and the poster was of Blu Cantrell's Bittersweet album. He felt like he was in an early 2000s fast food joint.

Kodi stood behind the bar, focused on a drinking glass in his hands. He was dressed in a white shirt, and dark pants held up with suspenders.

The digital clock, bulkier and with bolder numbers than before, beeped, showing 11pm.

Kodi looked up from his glass and smiled.

"Jacob, my friend. It's nice to see you again," he said enthusiastically.

Jacob didn't respond. He ran past Kodi and into the next car. Once again, he was greeted by the same scene but with slight changes. The floor was a dirty-purple printed with diamonds, the ceiling had dotted wallpaper, and the poster was of the Spice Girls. The digital clock sitting atop the bar, this time a monster with a red display, beeped as it turned 11.

Kodi didn't have time to finish his greeting before Jacob passed him again and entered the next car, not stopping to take in the details. He just kept running. Car after car, he ran through. Each was the same as the last but decorated as if from the decade before. Kodi was always there, always smiling and ready with a greeting. The beeps of the digital clocks gave way to chimes, announcing 11pm every time Jacob stepped through a door. Whenever he looked behind, he could see the darkness filling the previous cabin with the figure watching him through the glass.

He finally stopped in a car styled like it was in the early 1900s. The furniture was all dark hardwood, and the poster was for something called The Two Orphans. Kodi looked up from wiping the counter just as the small wall-mounted pendulum clock finished its 11th chime.

He waved. "Now, Jacob. You need to slow down. Please sit. Let me get you a drink. If you're not sure what you want, may I recommend a whiskey sou—"

Jacob grabbed Kodi by the shirt and hauled him over the counter. He pinned him to the floor and punched him in the face.

"What. Is. Going. On." Jacob said to the rhythm of his fists impacts. Each word was spoken like its own sentence.

Kodi coughed and wiped the blood from his lip. "Please, stop. I don't—"

Jacob punched him a couple more times. "Tell me what is happening," he screamed.

"I'm just a bartender. I don't know anything. I swear."

Jacob punched him once more and then left him on the floor. He looked around until he found the emergency brake. He pulled it. Nothing happened. He pulled it again, still nothing. He screamed and pulled it harder and harder until the handle broke off. He threw it and picked up a chair. It snapped into pieces when he slammed it against the nearest window. The heavy wood didn't even crack the glass. He rampaged through the car, grabbing anything he could get his hands on and smashing it against the windows. He finally sat after several minutes. The cabin was a littered mess of debris. None of the windows were so much as scratched.

Kodi lay huddled where he left him. A small puddle of blood had pooled around him from a broken nose.

Jacob was overwhelmed by a sudden sense of familiarity. He didn't notice it before because of the modern decor. But here, with the old furniture, decorations, and the blood where Kodi laid. It was obvious; he knew this car.

Jacob leaped to his feet and ran to the bar. He undid the cork of the first bottle he found and took a long drink. But it was too late. The memory was too powerful, and it overtook his mind.

He was twelve years old. Around him were white canvas tents held up by wood stakes and twine. The smell of gunpowder filled the air, smelling like rotting eggs or sulfur. The pops of musket fire and occasional ground-shaking bang of a canon drowned out all other sounds.

The reenactor's mock battle provided the perfect cover. Jacob's father chose the day and place specifically for that reason.

Jacob and his father approached a retired line of train cars on display. The civil war reenactors converted them to fit with the era's style. A man had entered one only a few moments before. It was the opportunity father had been waiting for.

The car was an old luxury bar car. It was decorated for the event. Old curtains covered the windows, antique candle-lit lamps sat on the end tables between the cushioned seats, and a poster advertising a reenactment ball hung on the left wall. A grandfather clock, of all things, stood next to the door at the front of the car.

The man, whose name was Lisandro, as Jacob would later learn, was leaning on the bar alone. It didn't matter who he was; it could have been anyone. Because the day was about Jacob. It was time for him to show what he had learned, to join his father fully in the family business.

It was time to make his first kill.

Jacob pulled out his old-fashioned colt revolver. Blending in was one of the fundamentals of being an assassin. People would have noticed a twelve-year-old walking around with a Glock 17, even at a reenactment. But an era-appropriate black powder pistol? That was just part of the costume.

Lisandro turned to look at them as Jacob aimed the firearm. At first, the man chuckled awkwardly. He must have thought Jacob was just some kid playing around. But his eyes widened after a moment, and he raised his hands.

"Do it," father said.

"Plea—" was all the man got out before Jacob's bullet took him in the left eye.

The man's head thwacked against a bar stool before he hit the floor. Blood quickly spread out from around his head. Jacob stood in silence for a long moment, staring at the corpse. He kept his gun raised. The pungent smoke from the shot added a haze to the room.

Father rested his hand on the pistol, causing Jacob to lower it, and he crouched before him, meeting his eyes.

"You did good, Jacob," he said. "This was your initiation, your baptism. Now you can fully join me in the Valdis family work."

The approval on his face was so strong that Jacob almost felt good about killing that man. Almost. However, his father's pride didn't last long, for he had made a catastrophic mistake that day.

Lisandro had followed his daughter into the train.

The nine-year-old was frightened by the moc battle and ran. She was hiding in the cabin behind the bar. Lisandro was trying to coax her out when Jacob approached. She heard everything, including when his father said Jacob's name. Her testimony allowed investigators to rip through Jacob and his father's life. They found enough evidence to not only put him away for the murder of Lisandro but also for many others he committed through the years.

And Jacob was released.

They determined that he wasn't old enough to be charged with murder. That he had been groomed by his father and shouldn't be held responsible for the death of Lisandro.

Jacob remembered the judge's announcement at the trial. The angry family members saw their loved one's murderer being set free, so they shouted and cursed. Most of all, though, Jacob remembered the face of Lisandro's daughter, Aitana. She stood silent amongst the roiling adults, staring at Jacob with unblinking, hate-filled eyes.

She was right to hate him. Jacob was a monster. A murderer. He deserved punishment, not freedom.

He knew who the dark figure chasing him was. Jacob was in hell. He had died somehow, and Lisandro had come to take vengeance. And Jacob deserved it. Why should he be free? Maybe he should stay where he was, slumped behind the bar. Maybe he should let Lisandro have him.

No.

Some primal part of Jacob couldn't let himself be taken. He stood just as the clock started chiming. The air chilled, and the far side of the car began to darken. Lisandro's silhouette filled the now open door frame. Fear once again overtook Jacob, and he ran.

He fled through several cars, but it didn't make a difference. Each time he entered a new one, Lisandro was always one car behind. He finally burst into one final car and pulled on the door at the front, but it didn't open. Through the window, he could see the exhaust of the steam engine over the coal car. No matter how hard he tugged, the door didn't budge.

He turned and took in the cabin. It was the car, the exact one. The grandfather clock, the curtains, the poster on the wall advertising the civil war ball. It was all exactly as it was on that day. He could even faintly make out musket fire over the train's roar.

"You know," said a cheery voice. "You could try to not run."

"What?" Jacob said, not looking at Kodi. He kept his eyes glued to the cabin's rear door and the darkness beyond.

"Maybe the point of all this is to force you to face it," Kodi said. "You know, the only way to overcome your fears is to confront it and all that."

"That's stupid. He will kill me."

"Aren't you the one who believes he deserves to be punished?"

Jacob looked at Kodi. The man was smiling. There was no evidence of the beating Jacob gave him.

"Believing it is one thing," Jacob said. "Letting it happen is another."

"Sure, sure. But, look, Jacob. This is the situation. There is only one way off this train. And it's not the door behind you."

"I— I can't."

"You have some big scars in your past, my friend. They have built within you for years. All that untended trauma is bursting at the seams. It's grown to the point that you must face it, or it will kill you."

"I'm not strong enough. I'm broken. I don't deserve to overcome it. Maybe I should just die."

"If that's what you think," Kodi said, "stop running."

Jacob nodded slowly. Maybe he could muster the strength to face his death. To go down with some sense of dignity. What other choice did he have?

The clock started chiming.

Darkness oozed from the rear door, filling the car, and the figure approached.

The shadow moved with Lisandro, making the chairs and lamps fade away until Jacob and he was all that remained. Jacob braced himself.

The silhouette began to change.

The blackness gave way to reveal a green t-shirt. Brown hair grew, and the figure shortened. Skin lightened to an olive tan and stern brown eyes locked onto Jacob's.

The person standing before him wasn't Lisandro but Aitana. Not the child from the trial. She was a teenager, maybe sixteen or seventeen. And despite the time, her eyes still bore that same hate as she looked at him.

Not this. Anything but this. The memory rising within Jacob was worse than when he killed Lisandro. Worse than all his father's cruelty. He couldn't face this; he couldn't face her.

She faded as the memory forced its way into his mind.

He was lying face down on the floor of the train car, in the very spot Lisandro's corpse had landed. Around him lay several empty bottles of various alcohols. Vomit spread before him, but he didn't care enough to move.

It had been four years since he was released into the foster care system. He had bounced from house to house, none of them sticking. About a month ago, he discovered that his current place was only about a mile from the park where the retired train car still stood on display. He started spending more and more time in the cabin, drinking himself to a stupor with whatever alcohol he managed to steal. He lost count of how many times it had been.

Someone entered the car and approached Jacob. Probably the police, come to haul him into jail again for the night. He didn't care; he didn't even look up.

He felt the figure standing over him for a long moment. Whoever it was didn't say anything. They just stood there. Finally, the person stepped back and slumped to the floor beside Jacob.

After another long pause, she spoke, "I heard you were coming here."

Jacob jerked up and scooted away. He knew that voice. It was Aitana. She sat with her back to the wall opposite the bar with her head tilted back against the wood.

She continued, "I thought, 'this is it, this is the moment I've been waiting for.'"

Lifting her right hand, which was hidden beside her leg, she revealed a handgun gripped in her palm.

She looked at him with her hard eyes. "I came here to kill you."

Jacob recoiled, pressed himself into the wall behind him, and squeezed his eyes shut. Despite how much he hated life, he did not want to die. But still, he couldn't help but think she should do it. This was right, wasn't it? Why should he be free after taking her father from her? This was right. It was justice. He deserved it.

"I almost did it, you know," she said. "I had the gun pointed at your head just now, my finger on the trigger. I've dreamed of it so much. My mother would have; she was always the angry one. But father… he would have—" She sighed. "Look at me."

Jacob didn't move. He kept himself against the wall, eyes closed.

"Look at me!" she shouted.

Slowly, Jacob lifted his face and recoiled again. How could he face the accusation in her expression? But her demand was too strong; he kept his eyes locked on hers.

They sat like that for a moment. The three words Aitana finally spoke were a jumble in Jacob's mind. They were wrong, incongruent with the situation. They couldn't be right. But they eventually snapped together in his mind, and the full force of their meaning slammed onto his shoulders.

"I forgive you."

What?!

No. How? He can't be forgiven. This wasn't right. She should kill him.

Aitana stood, tucking the gun in her belt, and started picking up the empty bottles.

"No," Jacob said. His voice was hoarse and came out in a croak. "No. You can't." He moved to stand but the world span, and he flopped back to the floor, splashing in the pool of his vomit.

"Please," he shouted. "Kill me. Kill me. Kill me…"

The memory faded, and he was again in the shadow-filled car, facing the dark form turned Aitana. He fell to his knees before her. Tears streamed down his face, and he occasionally spasmed with a sob.

"I forgive you," she repeated.

Still, the words didn't fit. Aitana's eyes were so hard, so angry. How could she say that? How could she bear to even look at him? He buried his face in his hands.

"No," Jacob said through his sobs. "No, you can't… I don't…."

She reached down and lifted his face toward her. "I. Forgive. You."

Again, she faded before him, and the car transformed. The darkness disappeared, and light filtered through the curtain-covered windows. Jacob could hear the barking of dogs and the laughter of children playing in the park.

He was still on his knees; a puddle of tears soaked his pants. More empty bottles littered the otherwise pristine car. A picture of Lisandro sat on the bar, wreathed with week-old flowers.

Dread filled Jacob as a shadow filled the rear door window. A silhouette filled it, backlit by the evening sun. She opened the door and stepped through. She set down a collection of flowers and a cardboard box filled with cleaning supplies. Their gazes met for a moment. Her eyes still held that hate. But there was a softer edge to her expression, less passionate, more mature, and in control. She started filling an empty trash bag with the scattered bottles.

This had become a ritual over the past few years. Jacob came as often as he could to drink himself into oblivion. And once a week, Aitana would refresh the flowers around her father's photo and clean the car.

Jacob hated that she came. The guilt her presence pressed into him was nearly unbearable. And worse, he was reminded of her words that hung around his neck like a millstone, "I forgive you."

"How?" Jacob said. It was the first time he had said anything since that day other than to demand she kill him. "How can you forgive me?"

She looked at him, surprised.

"I don't deserve forgiveness," he continued.

Her expression regained some intensity as she said, "no, you don't."

He didn't deserve it. But her unspoken words hung in the air, "I forgive you anyway."

Jacob nodded. He stood and, for the first time, helped her clean.