Mama

I awoke to the feeling of polyester under me and utter darkness. The familiar symptoms of a panic attack set in as I realized that not only was I curled up in a small and dark unknown place, but that I was trapped. My heart began to race, my palms started sweating, and I could hear my breath becoming shallow over a familiar roaring noise that I had not yet identified. I began to focus on the noises in an attempt to ground myself, but the panic was slow to relinquish its grasp on me.

After a few moments, that felt like an eternity, my problem solving kicked in and I began to take note of the feeling of the container I was in, the movements the container made as we were clearly in motion. I had been curled in the fetal position, and although there was not much space to move, I began to stretch my left arm around the container, until I felt something that identified my containment, a zipper.

Soon, I recognized the familiar feeling of nylon underneath the hard exterior of a plastic shell, I was in some kind of luggage. I could feel that the luggage was moving back and forth unsteadily and determined that I had enough room to rock my body side to side. I wasn't sure exactly what this was going to accomplish, but I had to do something to try and escape my current predicament. I soon found out as the luggage quickly dislodged itself from where it had been at my subtle movements and had hit solid ground with such a force that I gasped for air. I lay there stunned with a sharp pain on my right shoulder and hip, but I pushed on the top of the luggage with my left arm and realized that I was free, the impact had cracked the casing enough for me to break through it. Inhaling sharply, I hit my shoulder into the shell as hard as I could until it gave way, allowing me to move my arm enough to locate the zipper and maneuver it from the inside.

As I climbed out, I took note of the stiffness of my muscles, I must have been in there for a while. I also quickly realized that I was on a train, in what must be the luggage car. It wasn't a hard deduction to make as there were suitcases and bags stacked as far as the eye can see on top of a hard, unattractive metal floor and surround by windowless metal walls. The luggage I was in had been on top of a pile of other suitcases that were almost identical to the one I had been in.

Tentatively, I stepped towards the first identical suitcase, and attempted to move it, gingerly in case it was occupied as well, but it was much too heavy for me. My petite frame not allowing such an arduous task. I held my breath as I eased the suitcase open, afraid to wake the possible occupant, but alas the occupant of this suitcase would never be woken. The woman's appearance shocked me. The same petite frame and long, light brown hair. Even our clothes were similar, both in jeans and heavy sweaters. Her skin was pale, and her lips looked blue. There were ligature marks around her neck. I checked for the pulse that I knew wasn't there, and zipped the suitcase closed.

Trying not to think too hard about what I was doing, I pulled with all the strength I could muster and ripped the suitcase off of the stack, there were three left. Half a decade as a coroner had allowed me to have a certain calmness while dealing with the situation at hand. It was more about the facts than the victim. The next three suitcases yielded similar results as the first that I had opened. Petite women, all in their late twenties to early thirties with long brown hair in jeans and a sweater with ligature marks around their necks. Other than checking the pulses, I did not disturb the bodies or the suitcases to preserve any evidence.

In all the crime scenes I had seen in the last five years, I had never been to one as odd as this, living in Burlington, Vermont didn't bring many serial killers. Even though California at this time was dealing with capturing the Hillside Stranglers and attempting to determine the identity of The Freeway Killer, Burlington had been quiet. Who were these women, better yet where were we? The most obvious question had just dawned on me. I had been so caught up in checking the suitcases and examining the women, that my self-preservation had taken a backseat to determining if there were any survivors and my morbid curiosities.

I left the cart I was in and went on to the next one, where I went pale. I knew the exact train that I was on, the Montrealer. When Amtrak had obtained the train in the early 70's my father had forced my sister and I, both college students at the time, to spend our spring break on a Canadian vacation with him. He loved the train and wanted my sister and I to enjoy it as much as he did. The dim-lighting of the "Le Pub" lounge had been inviting and relaxing on the trip, but now all the shadows seemed menacing, and I wished the lights were brighter.

Even more shocking was the lounge was empty and the train was moving at a rapid speed as trees whizzed past the windows. Another panic attack began as I started rushing through the train cars trying to find any hint of life. There were no passengers on the train and the conductor, nor the engineer were opening the locked cabin door. I pounded on the heavy metal door until my hands were black and blue, but there was no response, the train was too loud for my efforts to be heard. Catching my distorted reflection in the door I noticed ligature marks on my own neck. I gingerly touched my trembling fingers to the marks and was taken aback at how tender they were beneath my light touch.

Trying to catch my now erratic breath, I collapsed on a seat, my head in my hands as I tried to think of a way to get help, to get off of the train. Nothing was coming to me, then I remembered the rest of the luggage in the back of the train. Who did all that belong to if there were no passengers? I worked my way back to the train slowly trying to piece together how I had ended up in a suitcase on a train in the first place.

The last moment I could recall was leaving my sister's house. While I had gone the route of medical school and a steady job, my sister had fallen in head over heels with the summer of love and flower power. Although there were stark differences between us, we had always maintained a close relationship. She had a dingy little apartment in downtown Burlington, near the college, which doubled as her art studio. I had been there having a few glasses of wine while she complained about money, clearly hinting at needing another loan from me. I remember the wine making me slightly nauseous and my head feeling heavy, so I decided to walk the three miles to my own apartment, and the last thing I remember is pulling on my sweater as I stepped out of the warm apartment building and out into the cold late November air.

I reached the luggage car again and started checking all the suitcases and bags and was shocked to find that some of them contained my clothes and other belongings from my home. The other luggage contained similar items, money, identification, personal photos, clothing, shoes, other home necessities. Then I noticed a large suitcase similar to the ones that the other women and myself had been in, and it was emitting a foul odor. I held my breath as I unzipped the bag, and immediately screamed and dropped the lid after seeing the contents.

A beagle, a boxer, and a small white kitten were in the suitcase with their throats slashed, the bodies full of maggots. Whoever had done this had clearly killed the pets long before they were placed in the suitcases or on the train. Did the killer take the pets first causing these women to wonder what happened to their beloved companions? Was it a way to intimidate them and let them know that something nefarious was afoot? The state of decomposition on the animals was worse than on the women themselves.

Curiously, I went back over to examine my belongings that had been taken, and I realized that a lot of the clothing that had been taken were things that I had been missing for months. The t-shirt I had accused my sister of taking, the jacket I thought I had left on a trip to New York two weeks prior, a pair of novelty socks I hadn't seen since July. I felt violated, this person had been in my home, and more than once. They had been going into my home for at least four months.

A light bulb went off in my head. They were making it look like we were all runaways. Like we had just picked up and left. And I realized with horror, whoever did this, could get away with it. People picked up and left all the time. Just hitch hiked to California or Florida never to be seen again. My own sister had talked about doing it on more than one occasion. I tried to remain calm, my sister knows I wouldn't leave like that, she'll come looking for me. But on the flip side, how would she know where to look? I was on an empty train, with no one, besides dead women and animals, and possibly an engineer and conductor who had no plans on coming out.

Were the engineer and conductor in on it or maybe they were being held hostage by the murderer. Maybe they were already dead. At some point this train would have to stop, but it only seemed to be increasing in speed. I racked my brain thinking of all the train information my father had prattled on about on our trip. Then I remembered with a chill what was at the end of a train track, buffer stops. But they're meant for a train that's slowing down, not one going full speed. The catastrophe caused from hitting a buffer at this speed would be unimaginable.

I started searching throughout the train trying to find something I could use to try to pry open the door of the engineer's car. The only possibly useful thing I could find was a screwdriver, but as I approached the locked door, I realized my efforts would be fruitless. I tried nonetheless, jamming the screwdriver in the small space between the wall and the door, but it didn't budge. After twenty minutes, I sank to the floor, sobbing into the sleeves of my pink wool sweater. I thought of my sister, wondering why I wasn't picking up the phone, my father planning my birthday dinner for the beginning of December like he always did.

Getting off my feet I headed to the bar car and poured myself a whiskey, straight up, before laying on a couch in the lounge with my feet up, pressing my face against the familiar red velvet fabric and attempting to clear my mind of any negativity. As I lie there, accepting my fate, all of a sudden there's faint slamming noise I can hear that came from the front of the train.

Startled, I jumped, dropping the whiskey glass on the carpet. Luckily it didn't smash, just spilled, and I quickly picked the glass up and went to crouch behind the bar. I tried to breathe quietly and slowly as I heard a man thumping towards me. As he approached the bar, I chanced a look at him. The man was about a foot taller than me, around 6'3 and had a massive, muscular build. He had ghostly white skin and greasy jet-black hair down to his shoulders with an equally as long scruffy black beard. The man was dressed in a sweat-stained white t-shirt and dark denim jeans with a few tears and patches in them. He wore well-worn tan work boots that had mud caked on the bottom, and now that I was up close and personal with the carpet, I noticed the boot prints.

A chill came over me as I realized the suitcase that I had been placed into was open on the floor of the luggage car. Suddenly, I heard loud cussing in a deep, gravelly voice coming from the luggage car. I crawled to the corner of the bar nearest the wall trying to make myself as small as possible, afraid to even breathe. The heavy clomping of his boots was quickly approaching my hiding place and my vision was beginning to blur in terror. The man was cursing quietly, and I could hear the sound of his heavy breathing when the clomping stopped. I looked up tentatively and saw his meaty, scarred hand coming towards me, as I opened my mouth to scream, I realized that he was reaching into the well near my head to grab a bottle of vodka.

I let out the smallest sigh of relief and the hand dropped the bottle back into the well with a loud clank and the other monstrous hand joined its brother in gripping the edge of the bar as the man thrust his head over the bar, hair dangling over his face casting a menacing shadow. He twisted his thick fingers through my hair, yanking my up and over the bar, like I was nothing but a doll, while I screamed in agony. Every nerve in my scalp felt like it was on fire.

"Why are you doing this?!" I shrieked at him as he threw me to the ground pressed his massive boot on my chest.

"You look like Ma." He replied in his gravelly voice as he began to press in on my chest cavity, "Ma left. You won't leave me; you won't leave me."

"You're right I won't leave you," I gasped, "I'll stay I'll take care of you if you let me, I can be your Ma." The man lifted his foot off of me and I rolled into the fetal position coughing and sputtering for air.

The man reminded me of a twisted version of Lenny from Of Mice and Men, one that new exactly what he was doing to those poor rabbits. But this level of intellect I could work with. Carefully I took the man's hand that had just ripped me by my hair and led him to a booth seat with a table. He sat down immediately pulling me down with him, wrapped his arms around me, and began to weep. He smelled terrible, like urine and cigarettes, and his breath smelled of rotten fruit, decay with a sour tinge of sweetness.

I heard the noise of the front car door open and close again and suddenly, the sobbing man froze for only a moment before shoving me by the head below the table and whispering, "Sh, be quiet Ma, Davey won't be happy 'bout this."

I guess every Lenny needs a George. I hunkered down beneath the booth holding my breath, terrified. This Lenny-like man I could have manipulated, but I had a sinking suspicion that Davey was a different story.

"What are you still doin' back here Jarreth, this train ain't slowin' down nor's it stoppin' and I ain't tryin' to get caught by no Mounties." Davey said, with a voice only slightly less deep than Jarreth's.

"I just needed to have me a quick sit-down Davey, I thought you could make the train stop. I ain't know nothin' about stopping no train Davey, really I ain't know nothin' at all."

"Yeah, we all know that you ain't know nothin'." Davey said, clearly exasperated, before walking away.

I felt no relief as Davey walked away. They didn't know how to stop the train. They stole a train, and they didn't know how to stop it. A wave of irritation overcame the fear the had taken hold of me. Poking my head up out from under the table, I looked up at Jarreth who was getting up from the booth. He tilted his head towards the luggage car, his almond shaped brown eyes boring into mine. Getting the hint, I waited to hear the slam of the front car door, letting me know that Davey was back in the front car, and I crept back to the luggage car.

Closing the door, I realized that Jarreth had opened the rest of the suitcases that contained the other bodies, and those bodies were beginning to smell heavily of decomposition. As I stepped towards the suitcases to close them, all of a sudden, I heard a loud crunch like a bad car accident, and I was airborne. All the open suitcases with their contents began flying towards me. I felt my head slam against the wall, and I was out.

I started to wake up and immediately wanted to go back into whatever black silence I had been in. My head was pounding, and my ears were ringing continuously at a high, uncomfortable decibel. Opening my eyes fully and the events of that day rushing back to me I realized that yet again, I was trapped. But this time it wasn't a suitcase I was trapped in, I was trapped under a pile of clothes, empty suitcases, and dead bodies. Looking around me there was smashed glass from photo frames, clothing and shoes everywhere, and body parts protruding from various parts of the pile and dangling from the corpses at unnatural angles. Stifling a scream, I began to push all of the debris off of me, trying not to think too hard about what I was touching.

Finally, I had cleared a path the door, I could smell smoke seeping in from the other side, but the metal handle was cool to the touch. Not knowing what to expect, I opened the door just a crack at first, then I let it swing open in awe. We had crashed in the middle of the Canadian wilderness. I wasn't sure where exactly we were or how the crash occurred, but the train was in pieces. The luggage car, the lounge, the bar car, and one passenger car were still upright, and the passenger car had been ripped open at the end where the front half of the train had derailed and flipped. The end of the front half was on fire and the smoke billowed high into the air.

Weighing my options, I decided that it was best to stay put, there was no way that someone wouldn't notice all of the smoke pouring from the train. There was no way that Davey and Jarreth had survived a wreck of that magnitude, so I felt relatively safe. It was starting to get dark though, and my avid fear of bears led me to go back into the luggage car. Although the smell of decomposition and the position of the women was sickening, being a coroner, I could deal with it for one night. I took some of the warmer clothes and made a makeshift bed as far away from the bodies as I could managed and laid my head down.

Right before I closed my eyes, I heard muffled voices from outside of the luggage car, I ran to the door and swung it open for my rescuers, to be toe to toe with who must've been Davey.

Davey was slightly shorter and slightly slimmer than Jarreth but had the same greasy long black hair and beard, although his eyes were bright blue, huge, and they made him look deranged. Davey had a large gash on his left cheek causing blood to pour in a cascade from his chin. Not even bother to wipe the blood, he cocked his head to the side and smiled a wide grin, showing his prematurely yellowed, jagged teeth. He could've been no older than twenty-five.

"Well, well, well what do we have here?" Davey said in a creepy sing-song voice.

I didn't respond, but instead turned back into the luggage car and dropped to my hands and knees desperately moving things as Davey begun to descend upon me. I started to kick out at him, and he bellowed as I landed blows to his shins and knees. Finding what I was looking for I got up and began slashing at him with a jagged piece of glass and backed him out of the train car. He had his hands up but was smiling that psychotic grin of his as he backed up. I kept advancing until we had reached the opening in the train, at this point it was pitch black outside and I couldn't see a foot in front of my face.

Slowly, I pivoted Davey and I around, pointing the glass shard at him, until I was the one closer to the edge of the train. I climbed down backwards, not taking my eyes off of him and retreated into the darkness. Once I felt that I was far enough away and couldn't hear anything that sounded like he was following me, I turned around and broke into a sprint down the train tracks knowing that they must lead to some civilization.

A couple minutes into running down the tracks I heard not one, but two voices whooping and yelling, and they didn't sound too far behind me. I got off of the tracks and dashed into the woods, pausing to catch my breath and hearing what the voices were saying. It was Davey and Jarreth, and they were yelling, "Come here Ma, we're not gonna hurt ya too bad." while they laughed and cheered loudly.

I began crashing through the woods, twigs snapping loudly around me and the crunch of leaves giving away my position as I heard the two men come crashing into the woods after me. I ran as fast as I could manage, the exhaustion of the day beginning to wear on me, but my adrenaline keeping me moving. I could hear Davey and Jarreth encroaching upon me but didn't dare to turn around.

A large tree branch that came seemingly out of nowhere smacked me in the face and I fell with a heavy thud to the ground below. Before I could even sit up, there was a heavy boot on my chest, that felt all too familiar. Jarreth leaned down, hot breath on my face, and said, "You shouldn't have left me Mama."