The Train Favors the Bold

I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I have woken up confused, in strange locations, and bare-ass naked too many times in my life. At this point, I’m not even shocked.

Groggily, the first thing I register is the sound— the steady rhythm of a machine whooshing past my ear and back. No. Maybe breathing.

I keep my eyes closed, pretending I’m asleep like I’ve been trained.

"Scan your surroundings and use your other senses, not your pathetic eyes, maggot!"

I take a deep breath— ah, the noise is me. I feel the mask pressed to my mouth and the rubber band taut around the back of my head.

Someone put me under. Judging by the mask, they could have delivered a halogenated anesthetic. Likely sevoflurane with nitrous oxide for a surgical level of anesthesia.

My body is no stranger to the effects of sedation from my extensive training. And injuries. The lingering effects of anesthesia will make it difficult for me to remember anything for a few minutes so I don’t force my body to try to recall how I got here.

Keeping up the charade that I’m asleep and not moving except deep breathing, I mentally scan my body. I’m shivering slightly– could be from anesthesia. Or because I’m fucking naked. My mouth is dry. Headache. Slight nausea. Nothing concerning since these are typical side effects of anesthesia being reversed.

I don’t feel any broken bones or restraints holding me down from my position flat on my back. Restraints wouldn't have held me but would have been irritating to remove. I only feel a stiff, itchy carpet pressing into my skin and… possibly another human body wedged against my lower right leg. Judging from their lack of movement and cold skin, it’s safe to bet they’re still asleep. Or dead.

Tremors from the floor vibrate through me, lightly but erratically shaking me in my place. I hear a distant, familiar, rhythmic jiggling of metal. Fighting the medication, I struggle to place the sound— I know this. A… train. Oh, joy. On a train, naked, going God-knows-where.

Sadly, not the worst situation I’ve been in.

I need a stiff drink.

Waiting 90 seconds, I listen intently to my surroundings for any other movement or sound. Nothing.

I crack my eyes slowly to adjust as fast as possible to the, thankfully, dim light. Again, not my first rodeo. In a few blinks, I’ve absorbed every detail I can.

A white, curving ceiling arches over my head in the train’s cabin. The ceiling is bare besides two, parallel lighting tubes roughly 4 inches apart —each about 3 inches thick. They seamlessly span the length of the train car ceiling, illuminating the area with a watery, neon blue light. It bathes everything inside, the only light source besides a few guide lights lining the floor every two feet with a faint white light.

Near the ceiling on both the left and right sides, open overhead storage is attached to the wall, made of shining, silver bars. It’s too clean for public transport, making this train either new or privately owned. I don’t spot a single bag.

"Details around you are vital. Everything is useful if you know how to use it. The detail you overlook could save your life."

Moving only my eyes, I glance over my body to see I’m sprawled in the center aisle with my feet pointing toward a set of double glass doors at the end of the train. I vaguely make out the body next to my leg. Female. Naked.

I would like that more in different circumstances.

The female has short, spikey hair and is laying on her back with her masked mouth farthest from me, foot pressing into my right leg. Is her hair dark blue or is that the light?

I squint. Probably blue.

In the dim lighting, I see the rough outline of at least two other bodies in the aisle far from me and near the door. Silently, I pivot my head to look back behind me. I get an eye full of a large man’s junk, which is way too close to my head, and swivel back around. Could have done without that view.

God, my body hurts. Swallowing a groan, I roll from my back onto my left side, away from the blue-haired woman to my right, and ground two hands on the floor as I push to a crouching position on the balls of my feet. I swallow down the vomit that threatens to come up.

Dizzily, I notice an IV stuck in my left arm, held in place by a strip of tape.

Ok, so not anesthetic gas— must have been intravenous sedation.

Yanking the IV loose, I press the tape to my skin to stop any bleeding. I scan for the chemicals they pumped in me but the end of the tube disappears beneath the train floor.

A private train, then.

I carefully remove the mask, which I surmise is merely delivering oxygen.

I seem to be in a common passenger car with simple white, plastic seating. The booth-like seats are arranged to fit about three on each side of the aisle, all of them facing the same direction. I see no padding or fabric at all besides the runner of black carpet beneath my feet. How… sterile.

I do a quick inventory: two sets of glass doors mirror each other on opposite sides of the train, each roughly twenty feet from me as I crouch in the middle. There are exactly 13 rows of seats and 26 windows, with one per row on the right and left, and are welded to the frame. No chance of opening those.

No emergency roof escape.

I squint, trying to figure out what is happening outside the window but it’s too dark and the train is moving too fast to see any landmarks.

There are four others besides myself– the rhinoceros of a man with a bald head behind me, the blueberry woman next to me, and what looks like two medium-sized men closer to the glass doors.

I instantly notice how fit we all are. Hard not to with all the nudity.

Right before I start to rise, Blueberry starts to stir and opens her eyes to the ceiling, blinking twice. Her eyes snap to me. Green. Intelligent.

She winces as she pushes herself into a seating position and angrily rips off her mask. Swaying slightly, she quickly scans the room while keeping her body aimed at me as she blindly pulls out the IV. I note that she keeps the needle. From the way she holds herself, I can tell she’s trained too.

I begin to stand and her head whips back to me, needle raised like a knife in her hand.

Pausing, I flip my hands up with palms to her. If I was her, I wouldn’t want to wake up naked in a strange place— to four naked men— either.

“Easy, Blueberry” I murmur, “I just woke, too.”

Confused, her brows pinch together to form a tiny line as she shifts and stands. I mimic her. I gauge she’s 5’11 to my 6’4. Lean but packed with muscle and a jaw that could cut me. Her choppy pixie hairstyle fits her face well. I can’t tell if she cuts it herself or if it’s the kind that costs a fortune.

Completely at ease in her nudity, she glares at me under her thick black eyelashes, sizing me up. Her hair looks like dark blue ink, highlighted by the tube lighting.

She finishes her scan, unimpressed like they all are. Except for my height, everything about me is average. Brown hair in a military cut, medium tan skin, ripped but not in a scary way. Until I move. An averagely handsome face. Forgettable. I worked hard over the years to learn the art of blending in.

As she scans the train car, I look around and spot a neat stack of clothes on the seat closest to each person. I pull and shake out the clothes closest to me. A black tee with a small, neon blue symbol on the left breast.

The symbol looks familiar and I force my brain to remember my studies, still slightly off from being under. The symbol looks like a capital A with a curving line slicing through the middle and ending with an arrow.

The overweight, balding instructor turns around from the board as he wipes his glasses with a handkerchief. Who even carries those around anymore?

“To macerate, or maceration, was a process used in the ancient and mysterious practice of Alchemy.” He pauses, already out of breath. “Depicted by Alchemists as this swooping “A” symbol, maceration is the soaking of a material in a menstruum, or solvent, for the purpose of dissolving said material or extracting the desired elements from it.”

I slip it on.

The black cargo pants are a familiar army tactical style with utility pockets, likely made of stretch cotton of some sort. No underwear. No belt. No boots.

Blue finishes pulling on her shirt right as Rhinoceros starts bellowing. He roars as he rips the mask from his face and jumps to a standing position. He grips the two train seats on either side of the aisle and his roars turn into moans as he turns a sickly color under the blue light.

“Idiot,” Blueberry mutters to herself as she watches Rhino try to stay standing.

“WHERE AM I?!” Rhino roars into my face, waking the other two men who start to groan and shift, getting their bearings. I wipe the spittle off my cheek with contempt.

I look at Blue, to see if she wants to take this. She’s leaning her hip against a seat with a really annoying smirk plastered on her face. I glower and her eyes glow with mirth. Guess that’s me then.

I glance at Rhino, who’s drooling. Jesus.

“Clothes,” I nod my chin at the pile that was laid out for him. He gives me a crazy look like he might jump me before he bothers with the clothes. Not today, bud. My mind goes quiet as I wait for the strike.

Rhino’s eyes widen ever so slightly as he swallows and heads for his clothes.

I fix my features to be non-threatening before I turn back to Blue, seeing her head tilted slightly as she analyzes my face. Take a good look, sweetheart. My poker face is ironclad.

“What’s going on here?” a deep voice breaks our stare down. I lock eyes with passenger number 4 as he pulls on the cargo pants. Around my height, he’s model-handsome with cropped sandy blonde hair, tan skin, and perfect teeth. His brown eyes are intelligent but I’m not intimidated.

I don’t respond as I glance behind Brad Pitt at the last man. Unlike the rest of us who seem to be around their late 20s, this man is older. Something about him instantly has me on guard.

I scan his 5’10 frame for the threat I feel in my bones. Salt and pepper hair, with thick scars on his torso. He stopped getting dressed after the pants and is currently ripping his shirt into strips, neatly wrapping his fists with the material. Yeah— nope.

I make my way past Rhino, in the opposite direction of Crazy Eyes over there, and push on the door sensor, even though I know it won’t open.

I turn back around to see Mr. Brad Pitt had done the same with no luck.

Brad Pitt marches into the middle of the car, “We should—”

An intercom crackles to life around us and everyone goes unnaturally still despite the shaking train threatening to push us over.

A feminine voice begins to speak, with an almost robotic hint to her voice, “Welcome to the Training Ground.”

Blue rolls her eyes, “Clever.”

“Each of you has been individually selected based on your history and performance in your respective branches of the government. Our assessors believe your skills could prove to be imperative to your nation’s safety in espionage and world matters. Your mission is to stop the train by whatever means necessary.”

I discreetly roll my neck and loosen my muscles.

Crazy Eyes is staring down Brad Pitt like he’s dinner.

“There are no objectives besides completing the mission in the shortest time possible. No aid will come to you until you stop the train. The simulation begins now.”

Before we can even blink, every light goes out and the others begin shouting at the “accessors” who will not come.

I snap my eyes closed to focus, since I can’t see anyway, and use my memory of the space to silently sneak over the seats, past the Rhino, and back to where I woke up. If a fight breaks out, I don't want to be in the same location they last saw me.

A rushing sound fills the air, different from the noise of the train.

“Something’s coming,” I hear Blue mutter among the protests from Brad and Rhino.

The noise gets louder. Is that…

As fast as I can, I drop to the floor, hands spread, and find the oxygen mask I woke up in. I barely get a grip on it, with my other hand wrapped around the bar at the bottom of the seat, when ice-cold water beats down on us from the ceiling. Like standing under an endless waterfall, there’s no respite. No air.

Fighting the strength of the water beating onto my head and the quickly rising water I’m kneeling in, I use one hand to strap the oxygen back onto my face and take grateful gulps around the bit of water that got in the mask.

A few breaths later, the water rises to my ribs.

I won’t be able to get anywhere with the strength of the water pounding my head. The water continues rising below, reaching my collarbone. I duck under the surface with the mask.

All I hear is the churning of the water pounding into the surface. A calm washes over me. I thrive in the chaos.

Knowing how these assholes operate, I force myself to stop moving and hyperventilate, taking in as much oxygen as I can. Within fifteen seconds, the oxygen is cut off and the mask is useless. I tear it from my face.

Using the bars that attach the seats to the floor, I blindly pull myself under the seats, away from Crazy Eyes, attempting to avoid the other passengers and use minimal energy to save my oxygen.

My skin starts to prickle and itch from the cold. Why’s the water always gotta be cold?

Focus, Hunter. Fucking focus.

I woke up next to row eight of thirteen, and I just passed Rhino’s start at row seven.

Six. Four.

Two.

I stop under the first seat, which I know is right before the glass doors. Before I can move, the doors open and the water crashes into me, rushing me into the next train car like white water rapids. I lose my bearings in the dark as the water flips me over and over.

My shoulder rams into something solid but the water keeps pushing me forward. I’m thankful for the cold water numbing my body and reducing the amount of pain.

My back breaks my fall as I tumble to a stop against the far door of the train car, hacking and coughing, trying to dislodge the water from my lungs.

I open my eyes to see this train car has the tiny floor guide lights still on, giving me at least some visuals.

Each moment you waste is another man dead, maggot. Report inventory!

This car has the same specs as the last, but without all the seats or windows. Only two small, metal tables sit on the right and left, centered in the middle of the car. I think I see Blue wrapped around the table to my right. Not moving.

The floor is a grated metal floor with small 3-inch squares, explaining where all the water went. The water from the last car still trickles out, slower but steady, and splashes somewhere close below the grate. My brain tries to calculate the depth since we are still on a high-speed train but I can’t think right as I catch my breath. The walls look like they’re crying as the water drips down.

I shiver as the cold air hits my soaked clothes and bare feet.

Crazy Eyes coughs and sputters as he stumbles into the room from the first car. He lost the t-shirt strips around his left hand and his knuckles are running pink as his bloody knuckles mix with the water dripping down him.

He catches me staring at his knuckles and gives me a feral grin. Too much teeth.

I look past him but can’t see far with only the small guide lights dotting this car. No one else comes out.

Crazy Eyes begins scanning the room, staying on his side while I stay on mine.

The temperature is dropping. I need to move to the next car before the accessors freeze us and I catch hypothermia.

I move toward Blue and check her pulse. Alive but knocked out. I don’t hesitate as I move on. The only way to help her is to stop the train and I can’t do that dragging anyone with me.

A loud clank rings through the metal room as I look over to see Crazy climbing on top of the table on the other side, reaching for an emergency roof escape I didn’t see before.

How did I miss that?

Crazy Eyes grabs the emergency lever and pops it open. Immediately brisk, cold air from outside swirls around the cabin and sends another violent shiver through my body.

He shoots me one more feral grin before easily pulling himself up and out of the hatch, slamming the door home after him. Asshole.

I don’t follow. That was too easy— too obvious. They must want us to go that way so they can push us through the next hellish task.

Think.

The Delta Force instructor– or just the Witch, as we call her– crosses her arms as she half sits on her empty desk in the spotless classroom. Her shrewd gaze pans the room and lands on me.

“Mr. Grey, let’s say you are trapped in an undisclosed and unfamiliar location. You are given a single, direct exit. What do you do?”

“Assess obstacles, possible traps, and motivations. Scan the space for alternate escape routes, ma’am,” I recite.

“And if it is the only way?”

“It’s not, ma’am.”

“How do you know?”

“There’s always another way, ma’am.”

Testing the table legs, I grunt as I rip a metal leg from the table opposite Blue, which was held together by the smallest of screws. I march to the left corner of the room, closest to the first train car. I wedge the metal table leg in one of the squares in the grate, pressing down on it at an angle.

The metal groans.

Breathing heavily, I push again on the lever and a 4ft square of grate pops up from the rest of the floor. I grab onto the popped square and chuck it away, but keep the table leg.

Squinting into the darkness below, I sit down at the edge of the square hole I just made and almost yelp at the feeling of my feet touching ice-cold water. My feet start to float with the fast current, pulling them towards the next train car. I bring my hand under the grate and feel only two inches between the water and the grate floor. Not great but will give me some air if I can swim hard enough to breach the surface.

I sigh to myself, shaking my head. I need to get out of the Army.

I take a few hyperventilating breaths before jumping down into the dark waters below, taking the table leg with me.

STAY CALM.

I force my body not to panic as the current rips me through the space faster than I expected. I still cannot see but the water bounces me off the walls like a ragdoll, giving me the sense that the area could not be more than two feet tall from the bottom of the train to the grated floor.

My jaw aches as I force my tired muscles to keep the air in my lungs.

I reach out to grip the grated floor above me – wherever that is – but all I feel are smooth walls surrounding me. I’m below other train cars now.

The ice-cold water and fatigue make the experience seem like forever, ripping away my sense of time. I need air now but I force my heart rate to slow down. I claw at the walls as they whip past me, searching for something to grip onto to find air.

My mind grows fuzzy as I run out of oxygen.

Damn. Should have taken my chances on the roof with Crazy.

My toes painfully slam into a wall, followed by my body as the current relentlessly pushes me into the object. I almost lose all my air and the table leg in the collision.

Blindly groping in the black waters, I feel the wall is solid metal but the space above and below me is grated like before. Assuming all this water is traveling out the bottom of the train, I take a chance on going through the top grate.

Planting my feet flat against the solid wall and shoving my head towards the current of water I just came from, I grip the grate above my face with my left hand as I try to press my face through a hole for air.

I gasp as my lips graze the air above, and almost hack up a lung as I take in more water than oxygen. Still better than nothing.

Keeping my left arm gripping the grate for balance, I use my right arm to wedge the table leg into a hole above my face. Careful not to slip, I grip the table leg with both hands and yank down violently towards my feet. I can’t hear, but I feel something budge.

I rotate so my bare feet are pressing into the bottom grate with my shoulders pressing into the top grate, and push a quick squat upwards.

The grate square and metal leg fly upwards and away as I stand in the dark current of water, soaking wet and shaking. I suck down sweet, sweet air in big gasps. After a few breaths, I rub my burning eyes with my hands and adjust to the room.

A faint red exit light above the door is the only light that bathes the room but it stings my eyes from being in the dark for so long.

Using the last of my energy, I press myself up out of the hole I made and onto the grated floor of the… locomotive. I made it to the train driver’s car but there is no one driving the train. I try to look out the front window but the only thing I make out in the train's headlights is a small strip of tracks and snow flurries whipping past.

We are going faster than before. I’ve never driven a train before but doing quick calculations, the estimated speed does not seem stable for a train this size.

I quickly glance around the dark, cramped room and look over the hundreds of buttons, knobs, and switches.

Unfortunately, there is no big red button that says, “STOP.” Damn.

Just as I move to take the train driver’s seat, the outside door is wrenched open, and cold air rushes into the space, causing my teeth to chatter. I crouch into a fighting stance.

Blue, whose hair I can now see is only black and not blue, comes bursting through the door and slams it shut behind her. Leaning heavily against the door, she’s breathing hard and shivering violently with tiny icicles hanging from her clothes and hair as her wide eyes take me in. No more needle in her hand.

It’s quiet besides the train noises, her breathing, and my… dripping.

She pushes away from the door saying, “That creep from the first car almost killed me on the roof but he fell off a few cars back. Loser.”

I take in her posture and body language as I listen. Something’s off. I can feel it.

She continues, “I’m surprised you even survived that water below. You could have been trapped down there and drowned. Pure luck that you didn’t.” She rubs her hands along her body, trying to muster some warmth.

Blue glances at me again with a glare, realizing I haven’t spoken.

I give her a shrug.

Blue rolls her eyes, “Whatever. Let’s stop this train so I can go home.” She shoves past me towards the control seat.

In three quick moves, I hit her pressure points, knock out her knees, and place her into an unbreakable headlock. She struggles to escape, gasping but I’m not letting go.

Slowly bringing my mouth to her ear as she struggles, I mutter, “Shut the train down.”

“Psycho!” she gasps, clawing at my hands, “I was trying to do that.”

I quickly step and press her body into the side of the train car so she can’t break away.

“Shut it down.”

“I wa–” she protests.

“I know you’re part of the sim. Shut it down,” I repeat calmly.

She goes still for a moment and then begins to laugh.

“I didn’t think you’d make it through. I was rooting for the handsome one,” she chuckles as she presses a series of buttons in front of her and the train stops shaking as lights flood on.

I blink quickly trying to adjust as my eyes burn.

“You can let me go now,” Blue says.

The door opens as I keep Blue in the headlock and pivot us to the people entering. One beautiful woman with long, fire-red hair struts into the room with a state-of-the-art tablet. She’s not in typical military attire– dressed in a pristine, white jumpsuit and white heels. She stops before the grated floor begins. She’s not even looking at us as she taps away on her tablet.

Behind her is a typical army drill sergeant. With mean eyes and a harsh jaw, the army man has to be in his fifties with silver hair in a buzzcut and white, weathered skin. His attire is the same black get-up as mine, but he has a belt and boots. Probably underwear too. Lucky.

Jessica Rabbit finishes her tapping and looks up at us with a fake smile.

“Congratulations Major Hunter Grey. You have successfully completed the simulation. Plus, you broke the Training Ground record time. Very impressive.”

Blue wiggles again but I squeeze harder in warning, keeping my eyes locked on Jessica Rabbit and Silver Fox over there.

Jessica continues, “Actually we have been watching your military achievements for quite some time now. Graduating top of your class at West Point and selected for the U.S. Army’s elite Special Forces Group– aka the Green Berets– which you also graduated from at the top of your class. You even received the highest score possible on the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery. Following that, you were selected to train as a Delta Force operative and have just completed your training with flying colors. Have I missed anything of note?”

Her thick eyelashes fly up as she looks at me over her tablet, hand poised to write anything I say.

I blink, not bothering to respond.

Not bothered in the least by my silence, she continues.

“Fantastic. You have been selected to join the United States government in fighting foreign terrors by using your talents and training in the art of espionage. You will be more than adequately compensated for your service and will receive a brief training following this to fill you in on the gaps. Do you accept?”

I blink again. Glancing at Silver Fox, I see in his eyes that I do not have a choice.

Shrugging, I speak clearly, “I accept.”

“Beautiful. Follow me, please.” She pivots and both she and Silver Fox walk out of the train car.

“Can I go now, you big oaf?” Blue asks.

I let go and glance out the train window. With the lights on, I can see we are in a cavernous warehouse on a simulation track. I chuckle as I realize the train wasn’t even real, but quickly sober up as a shiver wracks my body.

“Hurry up,” Blue throws over her shoulder as she steps out of the train, “and welcome to Macerate.”