Loco

“Ugh, my head,” I complain, as I slide my hand up my face and rub my temple. Keeping my eyes closed, I notice the bed rocking melodically. Like a baby being swayed in the back seat of a car. It’s kind of nice. I don’t want to open my eyes because my head feels like it would explode if I did.

Light behind my eyes comes and goes like the sun passing through a window, and I can hear what sounds like public transit. At least I feel warm. I can’t stay in bed, not with this pounding in my head. It feels as though my brain is on fire. I need meds.

I break open the seal on my eyelids, and the light is instantly blinding. I squint until I can hold my eyes open to get used to the brightness. Once I’m able, I sit up and peer around the room. I’m not in my bed, I’m in an empty cabin and its rocking. No, I realize as I look out the window, I’m on a train!

A train? How did I get here? My mind races, my brain aches in an attempt to recall my activity over the last 24 hours. I can’t remember anything after stuffing a piece of toast in my mouth and running out the door in the morning. Was that today? Yesterday? Last week?

My face scrunches up as I pan the room. There is no one else. I shimmy across the bench-like seat until my legs hang off the end. A piercing pain punches the back of my right eye, and it waters down my cheek. I press my fingers to my eyelid like I’m holding my orb in the socket to keep it from falling out.

Maybe there would be some painkillers in a first aid kit in the bathroom or something. I have to do something, or I’ll be ill. As I stand, I wobble. Did I get drunk last night? Did I get roofied? I take a step, and pain shoots through my calf of my left leg. It feels like I’d gotten bit by a dog. I can’t see it when I twist to look; my head hurts too bad to strain it.

I step out into the aisle and look to my right. The door to the next cabin is closed, but there is a small, smudged glass pane. I need to find the bathroom and the first aid kit. I look through the glass and try turning the doorknob. I’m relieved when it pops open.

I cross the diamond cut tread plate that separates the two cabs and enter the dining car. Still, no one around. This cab is as long as two cabs, with a section in the middle housing some stainless-steel cabinets, a mini refrigerator, microwave, coffee machine, and waffle maker. There is a small sink and a space for a hidden trash can.

I favor my left leg as I hobble my way to the cabinets in search of something to calm the pain. In the little fridge there is bottled water among other items. I grab one, twist the lid and take a small sip. Not trying to risk getting sick. I shuffle through the drawers but find nothing of value. There are snacks on the shelves, and I am hungry, but nothing sounds good, so I shut the doors.

I slip the small, bottled water into my jacket pocket and realize; I don’t have my cell phone. I don’t leave the house without my phone! Something is definitely wrong! And, as I fumble through my jacket and jeans pockets, I can’t find a train ticket either. How can I be on this train without a ticket? And why does it seem like it’s going rather fast? The rocking isn’t helping my head at all.

I decide to keep going to the next cabin. Maybe I’ll find someone else eventually. As I near the next cab, I put my hand to the handle to slide it open when I hear a rustling to my left. There’s a railing and stairs going down. I know I heard something down there.

A flash of light, my head spins. I put my hand to the railing anyway and take the steps one at a time. My leg burns against my denim pant-leg. At the bottom of the stairs is a narrow hallway. I’m a smaller guy, 5’5” at only 135 lbs., so it’s not claustrophobic for me. Trees and corn stalks rush by at break-neck speed. Why are we going so fast?

Large rectangular windows line the right side, small doors on the left for each passenger’s quarters. I use my right hand along the windows to steady myself and I jiggle each door handle. I attempt three knobs before the fourth one opens, but there is something lodged against it on the inside. I press my body into the door, but it won’t budge.

I still feel weak, but I ram my left arm into the door. It doesn’t move, but I hear something coming from within. I put my face up to the crack and try to see inside. I can see a foot. It’s small and a stuffed into a blue tennis shoe.

“Hey,” I say into the crack, “hey kid. Can you open the door?”

The foot pulls deeper into the room, and I can’t see it anymore. “Kid, can you move whatever’s in the way? I can’t open the door.”

Waiting seems like forever before I hear the voice of a little boy say, “Do you know where my daddy is?”

Huh, his dad left him all alone in there. He can’t be more than four. I look down the hallway and behind me. There’s no one anywhere.

“No, I’m sorry, I haven’t seen anyone yet.” My stomach growls. I probably should have taken some of those snacks with me.

“Kid, are you hungry? I saw some snacks upstairs.”

I press against the door again and he whimpers.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

He’s silent. My head pounds and my patience wanes. I open my mouth to offer my name but for a moment I can’t remember. That’s strange. Suddenly, Jack! “Kid, my name is Jack. What’s yours?”

After a long pause, “Daniel.”

“Daniel, please move the blockage and come out. We’ll go upstairs and get something to snack on while we look for your dad. Okay?”

Finally, what sounds like a metal bar scrapes the width of the door and the gap loosens. He appears to be Asian, with black hair that’s cut longer on top and shaved up his neck. He’s wearing blue dress pants, a white button-down shirt, and blue sneakers.

As he peeks through the doorway up at me, the fear in his eyes catches me off-guard. Being lost from your father is scary for a child, but this put literal chills up my back. I put my hand out and he reaches out to take it. I lead him back upstairs and let him pick out a bag of chips and a bottle of water. I also grab a bag of chips, but when I try to eat one I almost gag. I need real food, I guess.

My head isn’t showing any signs of healing on its own. My leg still burns. As I rub my temple, I think I might even have a slight fever. I touch my inner wrist to my forehead, warmer than I want to admit.

“Daniel, does your dad carry any painkiller in his luggage?” I ask, sitting across the table from him.

He looks away and back at me again and says, “I think so. He gets micranes all the time.”

I smile, “Migraines?”

“Yeah,” he says as he tries to fit a triangular chip into his small mouth.

“In your passenger quarters?” I ask.

He nods.

“I’m going to go back to your quarters and look for some medication. I have a pretty ugly migraine right now,” I say as I push myself up.

Daniel jumps from his seat and lets his chips hit the floor, “Don’t leave me alone!” He grabs my arm.

I put my hand on his to comfort him and say, “Okay, you can come with me and show me where he keeps it, yeah?”

He looks relieved.

He stays behind me as I seem to have a harder time getting back down the steps than I did the first time. Maybe it’s the fever. Maybe my leg is getting infected. Maybe that’s why food is repulsive. We get back to his quarters. As I push the door open, I can tell there’s been some sort of struggle here.

“Daniel, what happened here? When is the last time you saw your dad?”

He looks up at me, still holding my hand. “My dad and I were in here napping when someone came to the door. My dad opened the door, but the man outside started hurting my daddy. My daddy fought him off, but then he wouldn’t come back inside.”

Daniel is getting visibly upset. “I begged him to come back inside, but he just told me to stay in and not to open the door. He gave me the ax from the wall and told me to put it against the door and wait until the train stops or I hear someone talk to me directly.”

Those are strange instructions. I find a small black grooming bag and open it. Normal toiletries mostly, but then, “Yes!” a small packet of painkillers, 1000 mg. I pop both of them in my mouth and take a swig from the water bottle in my pocket.

The incoming tidbits remind my stomach that it’s empty. I hope taking those without food won’t make me sick. I’m already feeling a little queasy. Maybe it’s the motion of the train. It’s flying so fast I’m surprised it hasn’t derailed already.

Just then, I hear a flump sound nearby. Daniel whimpers and shuffles, rear end first, under the bed and holds onto his stuffed bear. I feel that’s an overreaction, honestly.

I get up, fall back down on the seat, and try again. I make my way into the hallway and look both ways. Nothing toward the stairs we came down. The door to the next car is closed.

I try to look through the small window, but the glass is smeared on the other side. I put my hand on the handle and get the strangest feeling of foreboding. But, because I never paid any attention to horror movies, I turn the lever and open the door.

In this car, the whole left side of the wall is glass. The setting sun is tipping its western hat to the approaching night. The last of its reds and oranges can be seen through the tops of the trees as we rush around a curve with reckless abandon.

It’s actually quite pretty, I reflect. I just want to sit down. But then I hear it. Have you ever made meatloaf? Put the ground beef in a bowl, crack open some eggs, crush crackers, and then use your bare hands to squeeze and mush it all together? That sound of meat being pounded and squished through your fingers?

It’s a sticky sound.

Then I hear grunting. I stand from my near-sitting position, and creep over about four seats away. Expecting to see an animal, a dog or something, eating a gazelle. Like National Geographic type of footage.

Instead, I see legs jutting out from the booth. A skirt torn and bloody sitting above her knees, shoes that were kicked across the aisle. I can’t see the rest of her because there is a small man in a grey business suit hovering over her lifeless body. I assume he’s trying to revive her, so I begin to walk toward him.

“Sir,” I start, “is everything okay? Do you need help?”

He ignores me. I get two seats closer, “Sir, can I help?”

He grunts. That’s odd. I step a little closer. Behind me I hear a tiny voice say, “Jack, don’t go.”

It’s quiet, but urgent. I turn to look behind me. It’s Daniel. He’s in the doorway gripping his bear tight enough for its head to pop off. He looks terrified.

“Jack, come back,” he pleads.

I put up one finger to tell Daniel to wait a minute, then I turn my attention back to the man on the floor. The grunting man stops his treatment on the lady and his back straightens. His head turns left, then right.

“Jack,” Daniel is nearly crying now.

I can’t look away. The man tips his head back and sticks his nose in the air. He jerks his face around in my direction and screams! Blood drips from his chin and flesh falls from his teeth. He hisses, screams again and scrambles to his feet.

Daniel screams and runs back to his quarters and under the bed. I, on the other hand, fall over the seat. The man is Asian like Daniel. I assume it’s his missing dad, but I can't be sure. He slips on blood and gets back up. He’s coming fast!

Pain be damned! I shoot to my feet and rush for Daniel’s quarters. If there had been room, I’d have cowered under the bed with him, but instead I opt for the ax that was still lying on the floor from Daniel propping his door closed earlier.

That guy is fast, but I’m faster. I make it to the door, to the room, to the ax, and I swing it around into the hallway just in time to lodge it into the man’s throat. It nearly decapitates his head from his shoulders. Thankfully, the rest of his body stops twitching and slumps to the bloody carpet runner.

Daniel is sobbing into his stuffed animal. I take a blanket off the cot and cover the body. I can’t get my knees to bend so I fall to the cot and press my fingertips into both temples. Why aren’t the painkillers working yet?! What was that?! Was that a freaking zombie?!

I need to get Daniel and myself to the front of the train and figure out how to stop it or get off. A frightening thought comes to me: What if all the passengers on this train are either dead or reanimated? I got lucky that I only had to go against one, and I had an ax. Part of me thinks about putting the ax back against the door and waiting for help. But I know deep down that no one is going to slow this train from the outside in. It’s up to me. Daniel is counting on me.

I take Daniel by the hand, and we slowly make our way back upstairs. Thankfully, I’m the only one tall enough to see through the window into the next car because there are three slack-jawed mangle-men meandering around in there. Last thing I want to do is go back down those stairs, but I’m not lumber-jacking my way through those guys.

It is nice knowing that when the push came to shove, I didn’t scream and faint. I took that ax and swung for the hit, baby! Reflecting on the blade through bone must’ve gotten me, because I ran for the kitchen sink and tossed what little I had in my growling stomach. How could I be sick and starving at the same time?

“Ugh,” I rinse my mouth and the rest down the drain.

Daniel is looking at me with concern.

“I’m sorry, little man,” I say weakly. “I just got grossed-out there. I’m okay now.”

I hope that I didn’t just lose my painkillers. Even though they don’t seem to be helping. My burning leg itches as well. No time to sit. We’ll have to go back downstairs.

We side-step the body that I had covered. I lead Daniel past the lady as well. Looking into the next car, I don’t see any immediate wall-bumping killers. The hallway rounds a corner though, so I can’t be sure. There aren’t any windows in this hallway, just the eerie green glow of letters on signs and amber illumination with all the brightness of a sewer.

I carry the ax in my right hand. I close the door behind us once I feel we’re alone in this corridor. I strain to hear anything up ahead, but it’s silent. We quietly make our way to the corner. There is no one there. A dimly lit sign at the end of the hall lets us know that we’re approaching the baggage section of the train.

I know I said I closed the door behind us earlier, but maybe I didn’t get it closed all the way, because the sound of grunting in unison with other grunting can be heard from where we’d just come. I pause to open someone’s suitcase to look for anything useful when I realize more than one gnarly teeth-snapper is clawing their way to our position.

I swing Daniel behind me, not knowing if the path we’re on is clear or not. I can hear them hissing, sniffing, screeching. I can smell them, rotting flesh, metallic, and… that meatloaf comparison once again.

As they round the corner, they are coming faster. As they fight each other, they fall over one another, slamming into walls and getting back up. I reach up to the overhead compartment and flip the latch. The hatch raises, and bags of all shapes and sizes tumble out and fill the hall like a cave-in. I flip all the latches and block the hallway with Samsonite, Kenneth Cole, Louis Vuitton, Protégé, American Tourister, and other over-stuffed luggage.

Most of the drooling sets of teeth topple over and my barrier is effective, however, there’s always an ambitious few that find a way around. More to the point, over. This younger muncher is about mid-teens. He must’ve been in great shape when he was alive. He launches over the others, smashes into the falling luggage, and rolls to rest at my feet.

I shriek! Then, we run. Teen-Teeth, as I call him, gets to his feet and comes blasting down the hallway behind us, slamming into the wall as we turn, all the while snarling and spitting like a rabid Doberman.

Four-year-olds are surprisingly fast. Daniel keeps up with me, or maybe I just drag him with me. Luckily, Teen-Teeth takes time to get up after hitting the corner wall, because as Daniel and I round the last turn, we about run right into one of the viral vermin.

I think quick though, and I plunge my ax down onto the top of its skull. Unfortunately, I can't get the ax out of its head and have to leave it behind. We fly out of the cabin door, slam it shut and sigh in relief. As we hold our arms out and keep the door shut, Daniel looks at a nametag on my jacket that I hadn’t noticed, and says, “Conductor?”

I look down at him and ask, “What?”

He looks at my tag again and says, “You’re the conductor?”

It all hits me at once. The reason I don’t have a ticket for the train. The reason the train is careening out of control with no one at the helm. I’m the conductor! I’m supposed to be driving this speeding locomotive! Me! And I remember an important fact, we’re only two cars from the driver’s seat! We just have to get there, lock the door, and hit the emergency brake.

As we turn, we face a new car. Six snarling, lip-torn, scowling slayers all standing in the way of our next escape. I don’t think Daniel can run fast enough this time. Each of the Snapping-Six stand between the seats, not in the aisle. I pick Daniel up on my back and take off as fast as possible. It isn’t fast enough though, thanks to my itchy burning calf.

I buckle, and Daniel flies forward, sliding right out into the middle of the aisle, into the middle of the flesh eaters! He doesn’t hesitate. That’s the great thing about kids, they are pretty resilient. They recover better than most adults.

Daniel scrambles across the room to the door, picking up his bear along the way. I can tell we’ll get separated here. Those monsters are going for him and I’m not going to make it! It’s all slowing me down. The pounding in my head, the itching and burning pain in my leg, the fatigue, the fever, the hunger. Oh, the hunger is the worst!

I have to try though! I get to my feet.

Daniel scoops up his ever-important stuffed bear, makes it through the door to the next car, which is empty, thank God! But he can’t get the door closed. Something is in the way! One by one, the zombies flee for the door. I rush through the center of them.

I know I’m giving my life for this sweet child. I will get in front of the mob, open my arms and welcome my consumption. I will become the menu and Daniel will escape. Daniel is on the other side of the final door before the locomotive front car, pushing against it to no avail.

I barge through them, stand in front of them to sacrifice myself, but they charge right past me! They don’t even pause for one bite! They only want Daniel! I plough through them once again, only this time I get to the door, pull the handle as he pushes, and get the door closed.

I step back as they beat and thrash against the solid metal frame. They aren’t getting in. Daniel is safe…for now. I look at the red lettering on the wall, Emergency Brake. I open the cover, push the red button. The alarm is loud but only mildly irritating.

The most irritating thing is this hunger. I sit down on one of the train seats, raise my pant-leg and inspect the red necrotic bite on my calf.

“Whatta ya know?’ I say to myself.

I scratch around the infected area and the dead flesh falls off. For the first time since I woke on this train, my head stops pounding. My leg doesn’t hurt anymore. But the hunger… the hunger is all I can think of. And I can smell something tasty.

The scent is overwhelming! It’s coming from the other side of that door! I must see it! I must get through that door and devour it!

I get up, shove my way through the mindless morons and look through the glass window. There’s the source of the tasty smell! He’s small, holding a bear, going into that control room. He’s closing the door!

The rocking comes to a stop. I no longer feel the motion under my feet. I still hear that awful noise, but the train has stopped. I look again through the windowpane. My tasty little treat is being taken away, off the train, away from me! Bring him back! I want to eat him!

Wait, the control room door is opening! More mobile meals are coming this way. They’re wearing funny uniforms. They’re carrying pieces of metal. Oh, good, they’re opening the door!