Rails of Rebirth

His eyes snapped open. It didn’t help; the darkness was oppressive. Only the sounds and motion of the world around him told him he was on a train, sat in a standard train seat, probably encrusted in filth and coated in graffiti as it clattered along merrily. As his eyes adjusted to the blackness, he patted down his pockets. He was a smoker; he should have a lighter on him. Strange, his pockets were empty. Not simply devoid of lighter and cigarettes; devoid of everything that he should have upon his person. No wallet, nor keys, nor mobile phone. In fact, upon closer inspection, he realised that whatever clothes he was wearing in the darkness had no pockets. His fingers scrabbled upon the outside of his trousers where a pocket should be. Nothing. Same with his shirt and coat. Odd that he should be wearing what felt like his usual clothing with no pockets for his absent belongings.

A door opened, revealing that he was seated in a passenger suite and that he was not alone. A young girl sat opposite him, covering her eyes as the light blinded them both. She wore what looked to be a school uniform, though it was of a style that he hadn’t before seen.

“Tickets please!” Bellowed the conductor, who had just opened the door to their cabin. The girl looked confused, locking eyes with the man sat before her questioningly before glancing at the conductor. “No ticket? No problem.” Immediately a pair of tickets appeared in his hand. One he handed to the girl, the other to the man.

He glanced down at the ticket. James Price, was that his name? Why could he not recall such a rudimentary fact? Jim. He preferred to be called Jim. That fact came to him easily enough, though he could not recall a single instance of ever having been called Jim, or James, or Jamie or any variation thereof despite favouring the simpler monosyllabic version. Oddly no price nor destination graced the ticket, only his name and point of departure. That last was marked only with a single letter ‘A’.

Smiling, the conductor stroked his greying moustache before turning around and leaving the cabin. Jim opened his mouth belatedly as the door slid shut, beginning to ask where the light switch was but the darkness did not return. There was no lightbulb, no fluorescent tubing. Nothing at all that Jim could see was responsible for the soft yellow light that suffused the cabin. He smiled at the girl across from him uncertainly.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Alice.” She leaned forward, bouncing rhythmically as the train jostled her. Extended her hand. “At least, that’s what it says on my ticket!”

“James.” He took her hand and shook it. “Call me Jim. Are you sure you’re old enough to riding this train by yourself?”

“I’m thirteen!” He could tell that she was putting every last second of that age into her voice. He grinned. He was twenty-seven, he realised. He didn’t feel it, or did he? “Besides, I don’t know that I don’t know you. All I know is that I can’t remember anything except my name and age, now.” Jim’s brow furrowed. Neither could he, he realised. “Maybe you’re my dad, I don’t know!”

“I think I’d know if I had a kid,” Jim said. “What’s your surname? Mine’s Price.”

“Morgan. Alice Morgan.” She blinked. “Okay, so maybe you aren’t my dad then. You could still be my uncle, or something. Or maybe you kidnapped me? Who knows?”

“I don’t think so. We both probably got on board this train at the same station, surely. Any clue where we’re going?” Jim asked the green-eyed impish grin seated across from him. She tugged on her ponytail as she glanced around the cabin. Her hair was a vibrant red.

“Let’s open the window and see what’s out there,” Alice stood, swaying with the motion of the train. “Whoah, this feels weird!” Jim stood and helped steady her. Together they moved to the side of the cabin and slid open the window.

It moved easily enough, revealing an inky blackness that seemed unending. Was that a light there, way off in the distance? Jim wasn’t certain… maybe it was a star?

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this dark before,” Alice said. “I think it’s darker out there than it was in here before that guy came in with the tickets. And that was dark!”

Jim turned around and tried the handle on the door that the conductor had used. It slid open easily enough. He turned to Alice.

“You coming? I’m thinking we should explore the rest of this train. Maybe we can find out where we’re going? Someone on board has to know, after all.” Jim realised that he was talking to thin air as Alice had already left the cabin as soon as the first syllable of the word ‘coming’ had left his mouth.

“Come on!” She grabbed hold of his hand. It felt bizarre. Not the texture of her skin, soft and smooth against his own, but the fact that he was being dragged along by somebody half his age. Though windows lined the corridor all that could be seen was more darkness. Jim still could not determine a source for the light. It seemed strange, but no more so than waking up in the dark in a strange locomotive cabin with some strange child in the manner that he had.

“Does that feel weird?” Alice looked up at his face. “Your beard!”

Jim rubbed his chin. Strange, he didn’t recall having facial hair. It was big, bushy. He glanced at the tattoo on his forearm. A tentacle, starting inside his elbow, wrapping around his forearm twice to terminate on the underside of his wrist. All that he could see was the very tip of the tentacle, but he could vividly recall seeing it when it was fresh. He couldn’t remember having any others, though he did remember knowing that he had other tattoos on the day he had the tentacle done.

The pair soon discovered that the train car that they were inspecting was at the very rear and that there were two other cabins than the one that they’d found themselves. One was locked, with no response to Jim’s knock. The other contained only that never-ending blackness. As Jim closed the door, he wondered whether anybody was seated inside waiting for their ticket and visibility.

The next car was similar, three cabins off of a corridor. It seemed slightly newer, perhaps less grimy. The graffiti was fresher, there was less of it. All three cabins were locked.

Then they came to the dining car. Five other people were seated around the car, a couple seated together holding hands, a small woman perhaps under five feet tall that looked to be in her forties. A young boy, looking to be no more than five. Seated at the central booth busily devouring a meal on his plate was an elderly gentleman. He raised his eyebrows as the pair arrived, then waved them over to join him with his right hand, still holding a steak knife.

“Come, join me!” The older man bellowed. His voice sounded far more powerful than should have been possible from such a frail-looking frame. “Nobody else wants to chat, hopefully the two of you do.”

Alice practically dragged Jim over to the booth and sat in front of the old man, sliding all the way over to give Jim room. Jim sat as well, offering his hand to the elderly gentleman. He gave his and Alice’s names.

“Jim and Alice. A pleasure. I am Martin. So is he,” He pointed to the five-year-old. The little woman was next. “That is Gina. And finally, we have Alexander and Andrew.” The two raised their hands, still with fingers intertwined, and waved with them. “All we know about one another is our names. Nothing else, I’m afraid.”

Little Martin wandered over shyly, seemingly fascinated by Alice’s mane of red hair.

Old Martin offered his seat to Alice. She took it with a smile for the old man.

“Eat. Please. It is time for me to go now.” Old Martin told them.

Jim glanced down before him to see a plate heaped with what looked like roast beef with mashed potato covered in a mushroom and onion gravy. The smell was heavenly. He looked up to Old Martin, who was no longer there. Andrew and Alexander were gazing into one another’s eyes adoringly, Young Martin was tugging gently on Alice’s hair and Gina was lighting up a cigarette. Old Martin’s place in the booth had been cleared for Alice, who had a plate set before her with a similar meal to the one before Jim.

“Where is he?” Jim asked.

“Where is who?” Gina wanted to know.

“The old guy, the one that was just sitting here?” Alice broke in.

“Oh, that old guy.” Gina seemed confused. “People come, then they go. Nobody knows when it’ll happen. I just tend to forget some of them sometimes.”

Jim looked around the dining carriage one more time before returning to his meal. Oddly it seemed that the contents of his plate had changed somewhat; rather than beef the meat gracing his plate was lamb. Instead of onion the gravy contained bits of bacon. The potatoes had been roasted rather than mashed. He ate.

The second food entered his mouth he went onto autopilot, not ceasing consuming until all the food was gone from his plate. He hadn’t realised just how ravenous he had been. Alice emptied her own plate bare seconds after he put down his cutlery. Then he glanced around once again, looked down at his plate. Rather, where his plate had been.

“Impressive service here,” He mused. Alice giggled. “Any of you seen the conductor? Tall, bushy grey moustache?” His question was met with blank looks from everybody. Meeting Alice’s eyes he raised an eyebrow questioningly. Had he imagined the encounter? Her shrug told him that he hadn’t, that she remembered the man as well.

“Where is he?” A voice that he hadn’t heard yet broke the silence. Silence? When had the clattering of the train ceased? Why did it still feel like they were moving? “Where’s Andrew? He was right here!” Jim looked Alexander’s way, seeing that the young man’s lover had indeed vanished. Young Martin began laughing, cackling really. A chill crept along Jim’s spine, lodging there and refusing to budge. Gina had vanished as well, it appeared.

Jim reached a hand out to Alice, who took it. Young Martin still cackled, the sort of unsettling laugh that only a small child can muster.

“Let’s keep going. We might be able to find the conductor, or maybe whoever is driving this thing.” Jim said. Alice nodded her agreement. The pair stood and moved to the far end of the dining car, moving towards the front of the train.

Once in the next carriage Jim saw that it was more or less the same as the one that he and Alice had started their journey in, the only difference being that the walls were clean and the lights slightly brighter. Checking the door behind him, Jim saw empty tracks that vanished into the darkness. Somehow they were at the rear of the train once again. He pointed this out to Alice.

“This is our room, look!” She pointed to a plaque on the wall. It read James Price/Alice Morgan. She opened the door revealing a much cleaner, less graffitied cabin than the one that the pair had found themselves in originally.

Jim moved to the other two cabins. Neither of them had plaques on the wall, nor would the doors open.

“Do you want to keep going forward, or should we rest here?” Alice asked. She still held onto Jim’s hand as if to do so meant that one of them would vanish the way Andrew, Gina and Old Martin had. Perhaps that was going to happen anyway.

“I want answers, so forward.” Jim told her decisively. Alice agreed with a nod and a grin before dragging Jim to the door that led forward.

Another set of locked cabins followed by another dining car, this one lavishly appointed. A cup of coffee stood alone and steaming on the counter, but there was no other sign of humanity. Going past this carriage the pair found themselves in their own carriage once again, again newer looking and utterly devoid of graffiti and grime. Wasting no time the pair raced through another series of carriages, each dining car more lavish than the last, each sleeper cabin more comfortable.

Eventually the pair, after running for what seemed hours through ever shinier, newer train compartments eventually came to a sign that read ‘EXIT’.

“Is this the way out, then?” Alice pointed. The train still moved along silently, wobbling from side to side slightly as it went along the unseen, unheard rails.

Jim took a deep breath, letting go of Alice’s hand momentarily to grip the door handle. He pulled on it, the door slid open.

“Ready?” He asked Alice. She didn’t reply. He glanced down to where he knew she had been just a second before. A patch of empty space stood next to him, an Alice-shaped vacancy. “Shit.” He hoped she was alright, wherever she had gone to. He opened the door labelled ‘EXIT’ and stepped through.

The baby slid out of his mother with a wet ‘plop’ and all awareness that Jim had of ever being Jim faded from the baby’s consciousness as he opened his mouth to wail.