Mystery
The Swap
Consciousness. It had eluded Leslie for longer than she had realized. The train. How I got from the safehouse to the train, I don't recall, but I'm here now. She sighed. She turned her head side to side to try and find her bearings. No one was in the seats adjacent to her, there usually wasn't. Her back was stiff in the seat. The train car she sat in never had reclining seats, but no one ever minded if she would lay down across two seats; she never did though. The train went on and on. It's the express again. It will be at least an hour before it stops. Leslie got up from the hard seat, tilting back to see her trunk in the reserve space above her seat. She looked side to side again. She could see the tops of hats and hair of a few people scattered about the train car and no conductor in sight. She stepped up onto the seat and popped open her trunk, it wasn't even locked. Inside the trunk: a couple hundred dollars, coins she knew to be counterfeit, and a wig, this one was an up-do. The usual. It will be 'The Ship Swap.' Again. Her partner was creative, for sure, but not always original. Under her seat, a small briefcase. Her partner always gave her the same brown briefcase. It was probably more discrete for her to hand off the briefcase to a man than a purse. She opened it up to reconfirm what was in it: supplies and another hundred-dollar bill. She took out the bill, closed the case, and tried to discretely hold it in her hand - her small but deft hand. She sat back in the seat on the aisle side, setting and sticking herself in place. She didn't need to move; she didn't want to move. She wanted to enjoy these last few minutes of peace and quiet before everything started.
By Tinka Boudit She/Her4 years ago in Fiction
Katherine
McKinley was jolted awake by the sharp movement of the train. She looked around and tried to make sense of things. Kinley had never been on a train in her life. Unless you counted the trains at theme parks she had visited with her family as a kid. This looked like a passenger train of some type, it was packed with people. There was a man, maybe early 30s, sitting next to her, reading a paperback book. Kinley sat very still, only moving her eyes around the train. Taking in the people she could see, she didn't recognize anyone here. She straightened up a little bit in the seat, slowly, she didn't want to alarm the man next to her. She had an unsettling feeling that she shouldn't be there. Where was she? How the hell did she get on a train? Why would she buy a train ticket anyways? The ticket! That would tell her where she was headed. She reached down for her bag and touched nothing but the floor of the train. She looked up, where she assumed the train might have a rack for the passenger's bags or suitcases, but nothing. Just the side of the train. A feeling of panic begins to take over McKinley because she NEVER left the house without her bag, her car keys, and her cell phone. WHERE WAS HER PHONE? She began feeling every pocket in her jeans and came up empty again. In desperation, she taps the shoulder of the man next to her, he had been completely ignoring her until now,
By Sasha Austin4 years ago in Fiction
Destination Where?
The train was moving faster than the speed of light! Nance wakes up in a cold sweat terrified at how fast he was moving! Seated in a pitch black cab all alone, no one else in sight! He looked out the window trying to get his barings, suffering from memory loss and not remembering anything at the present time, drawing a total blank.....until flashes began to rush back into his mind, but not present memories, the first one that came to mind was that of his childhood, an early age, around 8 years old! He could see clear as day, a young version of himself as he watched a man raise a gun firing three times into another man's chest. He remembers watching this from a distance, before fleeing the scene without being noticed....His next flash of memory was that at the age of 13...He remembers an older teenager bringing him along on a crime spree and how much money he was making along the way! He remembers getting addicted to the life and the money that came along with it! He then remembers graduating from High School and then College with Honors! Although he was a genius by most people's definition, he had become addicted to his life of crime...
By More Than Words4 years ago in Fiction
Derailed
A gentle rocking motion coupled with the rhythmic clickity-clack sound that filled the air made it difficult for me to wake from what I presumed was a deep sleep. One would assume that returning from my near catatonic state, I would be well-rested and full of energy, but that was not the case. I felt groggy and listless and my head pounded with a dull pain. Summoning all my energy, I forced my eyes open to take in the surroundings. None of it looked familiar.
By Mark Gagnon4 years ago in Fiction
