The Endalaus

The back of Axel’s head hit something with a heavy thud. His eyes flew open and he jerked upright, clutching his occiput. He massaged it with his fingers.

No blood.

But it was definitely going to bruise. He could feel a small lump already beginning to form and swell underneath his thick black hair. His vision was blurred as he looked up, trying to make out exactly where he was. The room was poorly lit and everything seemed to move, his body rocking back and forth as though he were in a sail boat on choppy seas. Slowly his eyes began to adjust to the dim lighting. There were rows of brown padded seats in front of him and more to his left with a narrow aisle in between. He glanced down - he was sitting on a padded chair too, its back against a wall.

A strong, noxious scent wafted into his nostrils. It was a familiar smell - something he knew too well. He’d smelt it back home, in his father’s mechanic shop. It wasn’t oil or petrol even. No. It was…

Diesel.

That’s it. It was unmistakably diesel. But why did the air smell like diesel? His chest begin to tighten as he looked around, desperate for some explanation of where he was or how he’d gotten there. He anxiously combed his memory, trying to figure out the last thing he could recall.

Coffee…

He’d been drinking coffee. That was the last thing he remembered doing. Axel had been sitting at the kitchen counter, drinking out of his favourite blue mug, wearing the stained maroon polo shirt his Mother constantly begged him to throw away.

“It looks so unkempt,” she’d say “So… sloppy. You’ll be eighteen soon: a young man. You should dress nicely.”

He still refused to part with it. The shirt was worn to perfection - comfortable and stretched in all the right places.

Places…

Where was he? All he could remember was sipping his coffee and then…nothing. He couldn’t remember a single thing after that. His entire memory went blank.

The whole room jerked, sending his head, once again, slamming into the wall behind him. He cried out in pain, clutching the rapidly swelling lump.

“You’re awake.” The gentle voice startled Axel and he jumped. He looked up to see a short, slender women in a navy suit grasping the handles of a drink cart.

“There’s no need to be alarmed,” she said, giving him a smile. “I’m your attendant. You must be thirsty. Here, drink this.”

She produced a small metal cup from the cart and offered it to Axel.

“Where am I?”

“Here, drink this,” she repeated. Her smile seemed to grow, but her eyes remained wide and void of any actual expression.

“Not until you tell me where I am”

“Here, drink this,” she repeated again.

Anger surged through Axel. He shot up from his chair and knocked the cup from her hand. The violet coloured liquid went flying all over the floor and the cup clattered to the ground, before rolling beneath a chair.

He stared at the mess and then back at her. She seemed completely unphased - her arm remained outstretched as though she was still holding the cup. Her smile didn’t dissipate.

“No matter. I’ll get you another.” She spoke so calmly.

“I don’t want another drink!” Axel yelled, taking a step toward her. “I want to know where I am.”

Suddenly, she began to laugh. It was an exaggerated sound, even as her body remained rigid. She withdrew her hand and rested it on the wooden cart.

“Why didn’t you just say so? You’re on The Endalaus”

“The what?”

“The Endalaus”

“I don’t know what that is”

She smiled, her head tilting to one side, ‘You know - the train’

Train…

Suddenly, everything made sense - the constant rocking motion, the smell of diesel, the rows and rows of leather seats. Of course! He was on a train.

A windowless train.

“How did I get here?”

She stared at him, her blonde lashes fluttering. Her smile dimmed slightly.

“It’s not important how you got here. What’s important is that you’re here and we’re so happy to have you.”

Every word she spoke was almost robotic. It was as though she were reading a script and couldn’t waver from the words she’d been given. There was hardly any emotional intonation to her speech.

We’re?

“Who’s we’re…I-I mean we?”

“Why me, the rest of the crew and The Conductor of course”

“You’re not making any sense!” Axel croaked, his fists tightly clenched against either side of his body.

“We’re so happy to have you,” she said once again.

Axel was already angry, but this sent another wave of rage coursing through his body. He kicked the drink cart, sending crockery and jugs rattling. More liquid sloshed onto the floorboards.

The woman took a small step back but her grin remained firmly painted across her face.

“I want to get off,” he growled.

“I don’t understand.”

“I said, I want to get off this train. Now. I don’t know how I got here but I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to get off this train and I want to go home.”

“You wish to leave?”

“Yes,” Axel replied, rolling his eyes. It was like talking to a brick wall.

“Of course you can leave. You can leave whenever you like,” she chirped.

He nodded slowly. “Well, good,” he responded, his fury dissolving somewhat.

That was easier than expected.

“Will the train be stopping any time soon? Is there someone I can speak to? The Conductor?”

“Oh, no,” she said, letting out another shrill laugh “This train never stops. It’s called The Endalaus for a reason. It never stops, the train line never ends.”

“Then how am I supposed to get off?”

“Find your ticket”

“Ticket?”

“Yes, your ticket.” The dimples on her cheeks seemed to deepen. How had she remained smiling for this long?

“I don’t have a ticket - at least I don’t think I do.” He padded his body down realising for the first time that he was no longer in his own clothes. His maroon polo was gone. Instead he wore a dark grey, long sleeved jumpsuit. Two small letters were embroidered into the front pocket, followed by a series of numbers.

AA 1 000 000

“A-A” he whispered.

“Your initials”

His initials, of course. AA for Axel Anderson.

“And the number?”

It certainly wasn’t his age - he wasn’t one million years old. And it wasn’t the code for anything he knew of.

“Oh, look at that! How exciting! You’re the one millionth person to have ever ridden The Endalaus.”


“There are one million people on this train?”

“No, silly. One million people have ridden this train, but there are only one hundred aboard at any time.”

“One hundred people are on this train? I don’t see anyone.”

“That’s because they’re in the other carriages. This is the Caboose. The very last carriage. There are twenty in total. Now I'll show you the Dining Car and the Sleeper,” she offered, motioning to a set of doors behind him.

He swore there hadn’t been doors there before.

Her eyelids closed and reopened quickly. Axel was sure that was the first time he’d seen her blink in their entire interaction.

“You were the last person to wake. Everyone else has moved on to the next carriages. Shall we?” She said, pushing her cart toward the doors.

“Look, I really just want to get off this train. I don’t want to see any of the other carriages.”

“Find your ticket. Then you can disembark.”

“I told you, I don’t have a ticket.”

“I know,” she acknowledged. “No one has a ticket when they get on The Endalaus. What a silly thing to say.”

His throbbing head was growing more confused by the minute. This didn’t make sense. He had ridden enough trains in his lifetime to know that you needed a ticket to board a train. You didn’t find your ticket once you were aboard.

“Any train I’ve ever boarded - I’ve done so with a ticket.”

“Ah, but those trains are not like The Endalaus. You need a ticket to get off this train”

“Off?”

“Yes, off. Now if you follow me to the next carriage, we can get you ready to find your ticket.”

Get me ready? Ready for what?

She pushed the cart forward and two mahogany coloured doors opened automatically. She disappeared through them. Axel considered protesting and staying where he was but that seemed pointless. Those doors were the only exit. There were no windows or hatches he could escape through. He was stuck in one rickety, moving wooden box and there was no where to go but forward.

Literally. Forward like the motion of the train.

With a sigh, Axel crossed to the doors, his black boots thumping on the ligneous floor as he went. Both doors slid open again and he stepped onto the gangway connection. The ceiling was low and the room was dark. A single bulb drifted above his head, rocking gently with the motion of the train. He paused before stepping toward the next set of doors. Standing there, he took a deep breath, allowing his body to move with the shifting of the locomotive.

He didn’t understand what was going on and he still wasn’t any clearer on how he’d gotten on the train in the first place. The only thing that was clear to him was that getting off this train wasn’t going to be easy. If you needed a ticket to leave and you didn’t have one, that meant you had to get a ticket or find one somehow…

He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat as he fought to calm himself. Anxiety had crippled Axel since he was little. Bile was always the first sign he was about to have an attack. He remembered the very first time he’d ever had one. He was six, at one of his friend’s birthday party. They’d been playing a game of musical chairs. He still remembered the exact song that had been playing when the attack had begun.

Here Comes the Sun by The Beatles was now a song he avoided at all costs.

There was one last chair and it was down to him and one other child, Charlie Gunnarsson - the scraggly red-headed boy from his neighbourhood. Suddenly, the fear of missing that chair mixed with the fear of not knowing when the music would stop or being able to control when it would stop, became too strong. He remembered standing there, looking at the chair and then tasting bile. Shortly after, he was on the floor with his both hands crossed over his chest. It was the strangest sensation - it was like a heavy weight had suddenly been dropped onto his lungs and he couldn’t remove it. The lyrics “It’s alright” had taunted him as he lay there on the floor. It wasn’t alright. Nothing about feeling this way was alright.

How could such an innocent game in his childhood trigger such an avalanche of emotional hell?

“You’re okay, Axel. You’re okay,” he whispered repeatedly, trying to self-sooth.

He’d been doing so well - it had been months since he’d had an attack. But this…the train, the not knowing where he was or how he got there, the not being able to control the situation, was like trigger after trigger. It was a like a gun firing round after round and the impact of each bullet against his sternum was too much.

“Axel?” The voice of the attendant startled him from his anxious stupor. She stood in the gangway right in front of him. He’d been so focused on trying to pacify himself he hadn’t heard the doors open or her come in.

He nodded, unable to form words to reply. For the first time since he’d seen her, her smile was gone and he swore he saw a flicker of concern flash across her face. However, if there had been any concern, it quickly disappeared and her blank doe-eyed expression was back with a perfect grin.

“This way, silly. You don’t travel in the gangway.” She motioned to the door behind her and waited for Axel to stumble toward it. She followed behind him. As he walked, he took deep breaths, somewhat grateful the attendant had startled him out of his mental spiral.

The next carriage was strewn with tables on either side of the walkway. There were people eating and drinking, but no chatter. The only sound that could be heard was the sputtering of the train engine.

“This is the dining car,” the attendant said rather loudly. As confused as Axel was, even he could admit this carriage was beautiful. It was like something out of an old film. The carriage was longer than a normal train carriage - he couldn’t even see the end of it. The floors were carpeted with green and gold flowers, and there were rows and rows of tables set with fine china and white ruffled table cloths. Stranger still were the ivy pleated curtains that hung on the walls: there were no windows for them to frame. The roof was a beautiful shiny treated rosewood, and delicate golden light fittings lined the roof.

“This is where you eat. If you’re hungry you c-”

“I’m not hungry,” he interjected loudly. He looked around, expecting people to be staring - but no one seemed to care. They all looked tired and lifeless. Some were shovelling food down as if it were going to be taken away at any moment, while others simply sat there, staring at the plate in front of them.

“I just want to get off this damn train.” He spoke at a lower volume this time.

“So you want to get started then?”

“Yes.” Though didn't really understand what ‘getting started’ meant, he assumed it meant he would begin looking for his ticket.

“This way,” she said, leading him through the carriage aisle. Axel accidentally bumped a table with his leg. The girl seated there glanced up at him briefly before looking back down at her stew.

It felt like the carriage went on and on as he passed table after table. Some were empty whilst others had people seated at them.

“Who are these people?” Axel asked.

“The passengers - like yourself”

Passengers…

“Wait. Didn’t you say there were a hundred people on this train at one time? It doesn’t look like there are a hundred people here.”

“Well, that’s because there aren’t. Some are in the other carriages.”

They continued shuffling through the aisle until they finally reached the next set of doors. He remained silent as they crossed the gangway.

This carriage was completely different. It was darker, more sterile. The aisle was lined with compartments. The doors were all sealed shut. Long fluorescent bulbs flickered overhead. Instead of adding light, they seemed to make the space feel even darker, casting shadows along the already dark walls.

“Here we are. Your compartment.”

His name and number glowed on a small screen attached the slate coloured door.

AA 1 000 000

Is this what he had been reduced to? His initials and a number. His name was Axel Anderson.

He wondered what her name was. The attendant. Or was she just a number too?

“You never told me your name.”

“Oh, we don’t have names. You can just call me Attendant 606”

Of course she didn’t have a name.

“You mean you don’t have a name - a name people call you by when you’re not working?”

“I’m always working,” she said.

“So you’ve never had a name before?”

“You can just call me Attendant 606,” she repeated in a sing-song voice. Axel nodded, realising he wasn’t going to get anywhere with his line of questioning.

“Place your hand on the touch pad. Only you have access to your compartment. It’s touch activated.”

Axel did so, placing his palm against the door. As he did, it unlatched, sliding open rather quickly to reveal a small room just large enough for a couchette and a small desk and chair sitting flush against a wall.

“This is where you’ll rest until you're ready.”

Ready for what?

Axel was getting tired of all these cryptic messages. He wanted a clear explanation as to why he was here and how he could leave.

“Please, just tell me why I’m here and what I have to do to leave. How do I find my ticket?”

“But don’t you want to rest first?”

“No!” Axel bellowed. “I don’t want to eat and I don’t want to sleep. I just woke up! Just tell me what I need to do. Please.”

He sunk into the chair beside the desk, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand. The Attendant stepped inside his compartment and the door closed behind her.

She walked to the opposite wall and touched it. A small screen appeared, displaying a diagram of what had to be the train.

“You are on The Endalaus. It’s a train that never stops. Once you’re on it, there’s only one way off. You have to find a ticket. There are twenty carriages in total,” she explained, pointing to the rectangles that made up diagram. She used her fingers to pinch the screen and zoom in. “You’ve already seen three of them - the Caboose, Dining Car and the Sleeper. There’s also the Cab which is at the very front of the train. That’s where the train driver resides. Now, between the Sleeper and the Cab - there are sixteen other carriages. You have to make your way from carriages one to sixteen to find your ticket.”

So Axel had to walk through sixteen carriages to find a ticket - how hard could that be?

“The ticket will be in carriage sixteen - The Conductor’s carriage. That’s where the ticket is hidden, in The Conductor’s carriage. If you make it to carriage sixteen, you’ll have to find it.”

“What do you mean, if I make it? Don’t I just have to walk from one carriage to the next?”

“That is correct”

“And the train will stop once I find this ticket in The Conductor’s carriage?”

“No,” the attendant said. “The train never stops, but once you find the ticket, you will be allowed to safely depart the train.”

That didn’t make sense, but Axel was beyond caring. He just wanted off the train. “Okay, then. Let’s do this.” Axel stood up, turning to leave his compartment.

“It’s not that simple. Each carriage isn’t exactly a carriage.”

He paused, hand near the door. “What do you mean?”

“Well, they’re all different, and finding the gangway between each is the challenge. The door isn’t obvious, it could be anywhere. You have to find it.”

Axel still didn’t understand. How could the doorways be hard to find? Carriages had beginnings and ends. They could only be so big.

He shook his head. “I’m ready. Take me to the first carriage.” He’d figure her cryptic words out later.

“But there’s more I need to tell you.”

“I don’t care. I just want to get off this train as quickly as I can.”

“Very well.” The attendant nodded. “This way”

Axel followed her out of the room and up the hall.

How hard could it be? He had to get from carriage one to sixteen and search for a ticket. It was probably hidden in a cupboard or something. He’d be off this train in no time and back to sipping coffee from his favourite blue mug.

Why?

That was the one question that still plagued him - why was he here and how had he ended up on the train? He thought about asking her again but didn’t want to waste time, knowing she’d probably just answer with some scripted phrase. The quicker he got through this, the quicker he could go home. And who knew? Maybe he’d find some answers along the way.

As he walked down the aisle, for the first time since this whole ordeal had begun, he remembered his parents - he wondered if they were worried about him - or if they’d even noticed his absence yet. He really had no idea how long he’d been on this train for. He could just see his mother sick with worry and his father ringing the police and asking every neighbour to help scour the town for him. They cared about him. He was lucky like that. Not everybody had parents like his.

The quicker you get off this train, the quicker you can get back to them…

Finally, they reached a black doorway with the number one painted in large white print. The number was so bright it almost seemed to glow.

“This is your survival pack.”

The Attendant handed him a large backpack with grey and ebony straps.

“The bag has everything you need to survive. Just use the items sparingly.”

Survive?

What was she talking about? She made it sound like he was entering into a life threatening situation. He was just going to walk through a few train carriages.

“Remember, you only get three chances, if you fail you’ll return back here and rest until you’re ready to try again. Most people fail on their first try anyway.”

Fail?

The door slid open and she ushered Axel onto the gangway. Fail - what did she mean ‘if you fail?’ Why did you only have three chances? What happened if you ran out of chances?

“Wait… Fail? What do you mean ‘fail’?”

“Good luck, AA 1 000 000. You’re going to need it”

“Wait!” But before Axel could get another word in, the door shut and he was alone in the gangway.

Trains would be ruined for him forever after this experience. Axel would live the rest of his life hating one single Beatles song and would never want to ride a train again.

He swung the backpack onto this shoulders, clinging to the straps.

“It’s a train. I just have to find a ticket. How hard can it be?” he whispered, trying to remain calm and ignore the gnawing feeling that he was walking into something he didn’t fully comprehend.

He stepped forward toward the door way - another bright, white number one covering it. The door opened. Drawing a steadying breath, Axel entered carriage One.

It was as if his heart stopped. A large chunk of bile rose in his throat once again.

He was in carriage One. Only, it wasn’t a carriage. He was standing in the middle of a giant city. All around him were cars, bustling people and skyscrapers that stretched towards a dark glistening sky. Noise roared in his ears.

The streets were strewn with blue and pink neon signs and everything glistened, covered in rain drops. This was carriage One. This. How was he supposed to find the gangway to the next carriage in a city? It could be anywhere!

Was this what the attendant had meant when she said “each carriage isn’t exactly a carriage,” and that finding the next gangway would be a challenge?

Why did he rush her? He should’ve listened more carefully and let her speak.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the loud cityscape.

“Welcome, Axel Anderson. It’s time to begin.”