The Speeding Train

Thwack Thwack Thwack….

I can hear the sound. I can feel the vibration, but I can’t seem to wake up. I put my hand to my eyes, trying to will them open. My face feels numb and is cold to the touch. My other hand is by my side, and I can feel what seems like the hard ridges of a rubbery floor. My senses start focusing … whispering to myself, “Where am I?”

I can hear a rhythmic rattling; it sounds like I am on track, maybe a train…. I slowly move my legs and arms, open my eye, slowly roll to my side, and sit up. I am in the middle of what looks like a train car. The sides are metal, clean, and sterile looking. There are high slit-like windows that are wider than they are long. I can see up to the sky but can’t see where I am, just gray overcast sky slipping by.

I whisper to myself: “Where am I?” my throat hurts with dryness. I am being jostled with the rhythm of a train shooting along tracks. My head hurts, hurts like a hangover… Yes, I was out drinking with the new team last night. Although, I don’t remember drinking that much. I take a moment to look around. I am sitting on a rubber floor in a long train car. The steel walls curve up to form a ceiling. The only breaks in them are the long slit windows—my only connection to the outside world.

There are doors on either end of the train car. I steady myself—time to figure this out. I go to the door behind where I’m sitting and rattle the handle, which is locked. I gently knock on the door. No answer. I knock louder, but still no response. Mumbling to myself: “let’s try the other door.” I weave across the swaying floor towards the other side of the train car. The sound of the tracks passing underneath seems like it is getting faster.

This other door was different. It has a small window that is frosted over, so I can’t see through it. The handle is more like a latch that slides to the side. I put my ear to the door. Maybe I can hear something on the other side, nothing. The metal of the door feels cool against my cheek. I turn my face and now rest my forehead against the cool metal. The cold is soothing for my pounding head. My mouth and throat are sore and dry. “I need water.”

I softly try the latch, and the door wizzes open. I am staring at another door of another train car. The wind is sucking at me, whipping my hair around my face. I pull back into my car. Do I jump over the gap between the cars and hope that the other door opens? Do I stay where I am? I need water, and maybe the next car has water.” I try tucking my hair behind my ears, but that doesn’t help. “1…2…3.. Jump…” and I leap across the windy gap, slamming against the other train car and cling to the door face trying to catch my balance on my tippytoes as I feel myself getting sucked back by the wind. The wind roars in my ears, and I hear the door behind me slide shut with a click. I am grabbing at the handle in front of me. This door swings out, and somehow, I roll around and forward through the doorway and sprawl on the floor.

I hear this car’s door slam shut, sending a vibration through the air, and then everything is quiet again, except for the clicking of the tracks.

This car looks similar to the other one, but the windows are slightly lower. I can see snowy tips of pine trees passing as the train rushes by them, pulling on them like we are sweeping them along with us. The only thing new is a box in the middle of the floor. It’s a metal locker box, like the ones used in camp. I go to the box and lift the lid. There are two bottles of unmarked water, a banana, a cheese sandwich, and a grey sweatshirt. It’s getting colder, so I slip on the sweatshirt and guzzle one of the bottles of water, slightly burning as it quenches my throat's dryness. I take the other items out and close the lid like a small table on the floor.

I am sitting with my legs crossed and see a tear at the knee of my pants. Did I just do that, or was that there before? I am still wearing my canvas espadrilles. They are not very white anymore, covered in grey dirt and ash. “Was there a fire?” I am now full-out talking to myself. I bend over to smell my pants. They smell a little smokie,,, I still have no idea of what is going on. I am starving. I carefully eat my meal and drink the other bottle. It’s getting dark. My mind has cleared enough for panic to start setting in.

I don’t want to be stuck here in the dark; time to try the next door. This door is the same as the one I came into. I can’t find the hinges, so maybe this door swings outward too. I put my hand on the door's metal and feel it vibrate. The little window is also frosted but has a scratch on it, a little sliver of what’s on the other side. I can’t determine what is on the other side, but I can see a yellow orangey light. Again, I don’t want to sit here in the dark. I jiggle the handle up and down, but it doesn’t budge. I thump my head against the door in frustration. I push against the door, and with a bang, it swings outward, and I am trying to catch my balance as the wind tries to suck me out into the darkening sky. It is snowing, and the cold braces me, and I let out a loud squeal. My foot slips out of the car, and I am straddling the door's threshold, grappling to stay in the train car as I fight off the swing door as it slams into my back—I thrush my left arm out at the next car. There is a long handle next to the door that I grab. Now I am straddling the two cars. The door had swung out, and now it was coming back. It is going to crush my hand. I let go and pull myself to the other car door, and as I swing around, my back smashes into the door. The door opens with a jolt, and I am swept inwards, sliding on the floor and sprawled out.

The door slams shut, and there is silence. I skid to a halt in the middle of the car. It is light here. The whole car glows with a yellow light. I get to my feet, and everything hurts like I am on fire. I go back to the door I came through. There is a little window, and I can see out. I looked back at where I came from, and a shudder rolled through my body. The other door has beaten itself off its hinges, and I can see the snow swirling into the other car. There is no going back. I am so tired; “what is this all about? Where am I?”

I take a deep breath and walk to the front of the train car, to the other door. Should I rest here, or do I move on? I look around this car, same as the other cars, but these windows are even lower. They are at eye level, but I can’t see anything, only the night's blackness and the snow's flurries that reflect the light coming from inside the car. It is so quiet. The silence is unnerving. Do I stay here in the silent yellow light until morning, or do I move on to whatever is in the next car? How long will I be here? How do I get out? How do I go home?

Looking at the next door, I can see it is wood. The window is much larger. I can see the next car and its door clearly in the light spilling through the window. It looks older, more like the antique trains in the museums. I can’t sit still, “5,4,3,2,1..” I yank open the door, expecting the wind to whip me, but it is still.

Unlike the previous cars, these are connected by a flexible tube. I reach across, the next door opens easily, and I step into the next car, like a subway car. I scoff out loud, “well, that was too easy.” I am almost giddy. I close the door with a solid click, I jiggle it to open, but it has locked. I turn around to face the car, also lit in yellow light. It is warm and quiet. I can feel the tracks passing underneath me. Then I see a child standing in the middle of the car. It is a girl in a dress with a ribbon sash. She is facing away from me. Her white knee-high socks and white Mary-Jane shoes seem very familiar to me. Her long blond hair sways with the movement of the train. My mother used to dress me like that on Sundays for church.

I start walking towards her. “Hi.” She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even react. “Hello?” still nothing. I make my way around her to face her. I don’t want to startle her. As I make my way around, she turns, keeping her back to me. My skin starts to crawl, I get goosebumps, and I can feel my armpits prickle with panic. Without thinking, I pass her and move on to the next door. I swing it open as the panic starts to well into my throat. This door opens right into the next compartment, and I slam into the back of people in my rush. This car is full of people. Adult people are all facing the other way, facing the front. I can see the white glow of a light coming from the front of the train. What is it? What are they staring at? I start to push my way through the crowd. Everyone is silent, all shoulders and elbows. I can feel them starting to press in on me. Crowds make me uncomfortable.

As I squeeze myself through the crowd, making my way to the front. I find the next door, it is made of white glass. I place my palm on it, and it is warm. Do I open it? As I am thinking about what to do, I can

feel the crowd of people press in on me. There is a tugging on my sweatshirt. I twist around, and it is the little girl. She gives me a huge shove. As I look at the girl in the dress and socks, the door gives way behind me, and I am sucked out into a black void filled with stars; I am floating, weightless. I am looking at my face; she is me. I can see the faces of the adults. I know them.

I can feel a warm vibration starting somewhere deep in my core. My molecules seem to shift and vibrate as I expand into a dust cloud of everything I am, everything that I was. Then, just as I realize I am everything, I can feel all my molecules come back together and compress into a singular dot, a singular star. I have transcended. I am gone.