The Engineer

She was on a train. The girl knew that much without opening her eyes. She could hear the clickety-clack of the wheels turning on the tracks, could feel the gentle sway of the train cars. The girl burrowed down into her hoodie. Wherever she was on this train, it was cold.

“Wake up, Carrie.” A soft voice reached her ears.

“Five more minutes, Mom.” The girl muttered. She would rather be dreaming of being on a cold train than having to wake up for school on a Monday morning.

“No, Carrie. Wake up now.”

As if on command, Carrie’s eyes flew open. Instinctively rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she looked around.

She was still on a train.

Carrie blinked in surprise. “Wha-?” She was slumped over in an unfamiliar seat in an unfamiliar train car. It was daytime and the car was filled with light. How did she get here? Did she fall asleep on a field trip or something? Carrie whipped her head to the left towards the window. Her eyes widened.

The train was moving so fast that the forest outside was a blur of green. She could barely make out individual trees. Pressing her nose to the window, Carrie tried to identify a familiar landmark or a sign. Anything to tell her where she was.

How did I get here? She thought. Carrie tried to push the post-sleep fog out of her brain. Her mind was blank. She couldn’t remember anything. Okay. What’s the last thing I remember doing?

Carrie’s heart started to race. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps as she realized that she couldn’t remember anything. Before she woke up a few minutes ago, there was nothing. Only her name. She couldn’t remember how she got on this train.

What’s happening to me? Have I been kidnapped?

If she had been kidnapped, wouldn’t she have remembered being taken? Where were the kidnappers? Did they drug her? With her mind full of more questions and no answers to satisfy them, Carrie pulled herself out of her seat.

Once she processed what she saw next, Carrie stifled a scream. The train car was full of strangers.

Sleeping strangers.

Carrie started to shake. How had she not realized the car was full? Had these people been kidnapped as well? Maybe they knew what was going on.

She moved to the seat behind hers. The old man who occupied it had a serene expression on his face with his hands folded neatly in his lap. Carrie shook his shoulder gently. “Sir?”

He didn’t stir. Carrie shook him a little harder. “Sir?” She tried again. No movement whatsoever.

Getting frantic, she shook the old man so hard she thought she might break him. “Sir?!” Her voice was shrill with fear.

Still nothing. Carrie’s heart skipped a beat as she realized something.

Was the old man dead?

She placed her ear on his chest. Carrie could hear a soft heartbeat and could feel a rhythmic breath from his wide nostrils, ruffling her hair. She sighed with relief. He was just asleep.

Moving from passenger to passenger throughout the train car, Carrie found that each person was asleep, but for some reason, she couldn’t wake them up, no matter how hard she shook them, no matter how loud she screamed in their ears.

Carrie had never felt so alone in her life.

Suddenly, she realized something important. What about the engineer? Someone had to be at the front, right? Comfort flooded her body. The engineer would definitely try to help her.

Unless they were the kidnapper.

Shaking that last thought from her brain, Carrie decided that trying to find the engineer was her best bet. She tore through the train car and threw open the door leading to the next car. As she flew through, she saw a large number one to her right. She was entering the first car. Carrie was filled with a wild energy. She was closer to the front of the train than she thought. The first train car was full of sleeping strangers. Ignoring them, she ran down the aisle as fast as she could.

Carrie slammed open the door to the engine. “Hi! My name is Carrie, and I was just wondering—" She broke off abruptly, her jaw dropping in utter disbelief.

The front of the train was empty.

She stepped into the engine room. It was like nothing she had ever seen. Windows were on each side, but they were much smaller than the ones on the train cars, making the room darker. Against one wall was a large pile of coal with a shovel lying haphazardly next to it. The engine room was filled with a soft orange glow that reminded Carrie of an oven of some sort. Glancing inside, Carrie saw a hearty blaze, feasting on coal. Above the oven was a dashboard, full of controls. She assumed that these were for steering, braking, and so on. Next to the controls was something she didn’t expect.

A small note was taped to the dashboard. Carrie tore it off and squinted in the dim light. The handwriting was sloppy and barely legible.

“Don’t let the fire die.”

Carrie was puzzled. Wasn’t the engineer supposed to know that? Maybe he had stepped away? She shook her head. That was stupid. Train engineers didn’t just step away. That note had to be for someone else.

Was it for her?

That was stupid too. Why would someone leave her a cryptic note like that? That was weird. But there was nobody in the engine room and the passengers were all asleep. That was also weird.

Carrie noticed that the room had gotten a little dimmer since she had first stepped in. Maybe if she added coal to the fire, she could see her surroundings better. A couple of shovel-fulls of coal wouldn’t hurt, right? Maybe it would put her in good grace with whoever was behind this whole thing.

Her hands were shaking so much she could barely hold the shovel, but somehow Carrie was able to accomplish her task. After dumping a few loads of coal into the flames, the engine room was quite a bit brighter. However, even with the new light, the nooks and crannies of the engine room revealed nothing. No secrets in sight. Carrie was still very much alone.

Feeling defeated, Carrie dusted her hands off on her jeans and forced herself back through into the first passenger car. That note was the only clue she had found that had given her any idea of why she was here. Carrie wrapped her arms around herself. Unlike the engine room’s warmth, the passenger car was very cold.

Then Carrie saw something she hadn’t noticed before. Seat number one was empty. In that seat sat another note. Carrie snatched it up. This one read:

“Search the pockets of the first passenger.”

What did that mean? Was she just supposed to steal whatever was in there? Carrie was starting to suspect this wasn’t an ordinary kidnapping, if this was even a kidnapping at all.

The first passenger was a little girl. Her hands were curled under her chin and she had a small smile on her face. Carrie hoped she was having nice dreams. Feeling intrusive, but not knowing what else to do, she took a deep breath and plunged her hand into the girl’s pocket. Her fingers immediately closed around a little piece of paper. Another note?

Carrie examined the piece of paper. It looked a little like a train ticket. This made sense. She was on a train, after all. But what didn’t make sense was what it said. The only thing printed on that ticket was a name. Samantha Jenkins.

She looked back at the girl. Was this supposed to be Samantha? Nothing suggested that she was, but nothing suggested that she wasn’t, either. A brief thought occurred to Carrie. She reached across the seat and gently shook the little girl’s shoulder.

“Samantha? Samantha Jenkins?”

Nothing happened. Carrie looked back at the ticket. Was she missing something? She flipped the ticket over. Scrawled across the back was another note. “You have to punch a hole in the ticket.”

Carrie was getting fed up by the constant mystery and lack of answers. “Says who?” She snapped out loud. Of course, there was no answer.

Huffing grumpily, Carrie searched the seats for something to punch the ticket. She looked between the seats, on top of the seats, under the seats, and by the window. She even searched Samantha’s pockets again. Carrie wanted to scream again, this time in frustration. Why was everything so difficult?

Also, why was it so cold in here? She rubbed her chilly hands together to try to produce some warmth, then shoved them into the pocket in the front of her hoodie. Carrie gasped. There was something in there. She removed her hands. Sitting in the palm of her right hand was a little golden hole punch.

She immediately punched the little girl’s ticket. “Hello?” For the first time since waking up, Carrie heard another voice. She looked up.

The girl was looking at her, eyes wide.

“Samantha?”

The girl smiled. “Yes, that’s me. What’s your name?”

“C-Carrie.” Carrie suddenly found herself struggling to speak. “I, um. Uh. Hi.”

Samantha’s hands smoothed down the ruffles on her purple skirt. Carrie stared in silence. “Where are we?” Samantha asked.

“On a train.”

“I love trains!” Samantha squealed in excitement, bouncing in her seat. “Where are we going?”

“I-I don’t know.” Carrie frowned. Did this kid not realize how wrong this whole situation was? She was little, but didn’t she have at least an idea?

“Can I have my ticket back? I want to show Mommy that I rode a train all by myself today.”

Carrie almost dropped the ticket. Mom. She suddenly remembered the soft voice that had first woken her up. That was still one important mystery she needed to solve. “Sure, Samantha. Here you go!” Carrie tried to smile and handed the girl back her ticket.

“Thank you!” Samantha grinned and turned to look out the window, kicking her dangling feet happily and leaving Carrie once more in silence.

What now? She was more confused than before. Samantha had woken up only after Carrie had punched her ticket. Maybe someone on this train had an answer. That had to be it.

Carrie moved across the aisle to the next passenger. This time it was a businessman in a sharp suit. She reached into his pocket and pulled out his ticket, punching it quickly. His eyes fluttered open and he gave her a small nod. Carrie checked the name. “Um. Harold Roberts?”

The businessman frowned at her. “That’s Dr. Roberts to you, miss.”

“Uh. Sorry.”

He reached toward her and politely asked for his ticket. Carrie noticed that he was wearing a classy gold watch. She looked more closely. The time said 2:30. That was okay. Then Carrie noticed the second hand of the watch. It wasn’t moving. She felt ice water pour down her spine. Another mystery.

This was only getting weirder.

Carrie handed the man his ticket, her stomach feeling like it was tying itself in knots. She staggered across the aisle to the next passenger, trying to calm her racing heart. She repeated this process with the next passenger, then the next, then the next, each motion of taking and punching tickets becoming more comfortable than the last. Before she realized it, Carrie had returned the ticket of the last passenger in the car.

She looked around. Some passengers were silently murmuring to their seat neighbors, some were silently looking out the window. Carrie wouldn’t call the train car lively, but it was much better than before.

Am I supposed to do this for the whole train? She wondered. That would take a while. Why was this suddenly her job? Maybe I should go look for more of those notes?

Suddenly, the movement of the train seemed different to Carrie and she felt herself losing her balance a little. She raced to a window and her heart leaped into her throat. Finally, the train seemed to be slowing down. But why?

Then Carrie remembered her first task: The coal. Was the fire starting to die? Had she made a mistake?

She quickly walked to the front of the car, trying not to disturb the occupants, and once again entered the engine of the train. The room didn’t seem any dimmer. She checked on the coal. There seemed to be enough to keep the fire going for now. So why was the train slowing down?

Carrie leaned out the window. The breeze felt cool and refreshing against her skin and she closed her eyes for a moment, but only for just a moment because it was then that the train was coming to a stop. She opened her eyes and gasped.

The train had stopped at a station. How had she missed seeing this before?

The station wasn’t impressive. In fact, it was quite run down. The platform was dusty and cracked, the signs were peeling off the bulletin boards and the name of the station itself was completely gone from the sign. The most surprising thing of all was that there was no one on the platform waiting for the train.

It wasn’t until Carrie leaned further out the window that she saw him. A lone passenger was entering the train, several cars down. He had no luggage. No one seemed to be welcoming him or helping him aboard. She couldn’t see a ticket, but she was fairly certain that it was in his pocket.

After the man had boarded, the train began to move again, slowly gaining speed. However, Carrie had left the engine. She tore through car after car of sleeping passengers, desperate to find this man, to talk to him before he found his seat and, she assumed, fell asleep to wait for her to punch his ticket. She was desperate for answers. Carrie doubted this man had much to offer, but she wasn’t picky about information at this point.

Carrie found her newest passenger, but when she did, she fell to her knees in despair. He was slumped over two seats, arms dangling to the floor, fast asleep as if he had simply collapsed there in exhaustion.

It was then that Carrie finally allowed herself to cry. Once the tears began to flow, it seemed like they couldn’t stop. She cried in loneliness and frustration, her shoulders shaking with each new breath of sorrow. Carrie threw back her head and wailed, wishing for just one passenger to wake up. Someone to acknowledge her in some way. Someone to let her know she was not alone.

Anyone.

But nobody answered. Nobody came to her side.

Carrie cried and cried until she had no tears left. Then, with a few shuddering breaths, she shifted her position until she could reach into the man’s pocket for his ticket. She didn’t know what else to do.

Carrie could barely see the ticket through her remaining tears. She wiped her eyes and pulled the ticket closer to her face. There, on the front below the name, was a final note:

“Come to the caboose. I have your answers.”

She dropped the ticket as if it had burned her fingers and scrambled to her feet as fast as she could. She didn’t know if there was a time limit on this note, but by the way Carrie threw open doors and dashed up aisles, anyone could have assumed that there was.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door to the caboose was in front of her. She didn’t hesitate to slam it open. The caboose was an empty space, but Carrie marched straight through without looking around. She saw a shadow through the window of the door on the other side of the car. She knew, deep within her soul, that this shadow had her answers.

This time, she hesitated before gingerly opening the door, her heart pounding wildly. The first thing she noticed was the hoodie the figure wore. Black and bulky, just like hers. They were wearing jeans, too. But next to them was something that Carrie didn’t have. A scythe, taller than she was, leaned up against the railing of the caboose, its curved blade bright in the sunlight. The figure turned and confirmed her immediate suspicions.

The face had hollow eyes and sunken cheeks, skin stretched taut across the features. The face of a dead man.

Carrie’s heart felt like it was about to stop. This had to be the grim reaper.

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. No greetings, no sarcastic quips that reflected her frustration of following notes around a mysterious train without a guide.

“Well, it looks like one of us has to go home and change.” The voice was deeper than she expected. Deep, but hard. Like the wicked blade of the scythe.

“W-what?” Carrie squeaked.

The grim reaper sighed. “Just a joke. Really, Carrie, I’m just trying to make this easier for both of us.”

Carrie blinked. “Um.” She tried to speak.

Another sigh, “Just spit it out already.”

“I don’t understand.” She said softly, her voice shaking with both fear and anticipation of what was to come.

“Join me at the rail, Carrie.” The grim reaper turned away and leaned against the railing of the caboose. She silently moved to stand beside them, gripping the railing until her knuckles turned white. Her hair whipped in the wind. What seemed like a nice day now felt cold and unfeeling. The sun shone down, but without warmth. The trees were silent as the train sped through them, continuing its journey.

The reaper spoke. “Do you know anything about Greek myths?”

Carrie was not expecting that. “I-I think I learned about them at school?”

“At school?” The reaper sounded surprised. “Not at home?”

“Why would I learn about myths at home?”

“Because, you were chosen a long, long time ago. By some sick twist of fate, your name even sounds like your new role.”

My name?

“Not Zeus, not Athena, not Hermes…” Carrie listed aloud.

“Try again, Carrie.”

Carrie.

Carrie.

“Oh no. Oh no no no no,” she murmured, her voice began to rise in panic.

Charon.

The ferryman to the underworld.

“Charon?” her voice was pitched in horror. “I’m like Charon?”

“My dear,” the grim reaper looked at her, almost in sympathy. “You are Charon.”

Carrie’s vision began to blur with tears again as her hands shook violently despite how hard she gripped the caboose railing.

She whirled toward the reaper. “But why?” she cried. “Why is this happening? Why me?”

“Listen,” the grim reaper began. “It’s your family. I don’t know why it’s your family of all families. You are nothing special.”

Carrie scowled at the grim reaper, wiping her tears. Before she could bite back with a retort, however, they continued.

“Every time a Ferryman, or Engineer nowadays, dies, a new one is chosen from your lineage. The moment your predecessor died; the role was handed off to you.”

“But why me?” Carrie breathed.

“It’s random, I think.” The grim reaper tapped their chin. “I wasn’t given the details.”

“So, what you’re saying is that,” Carrie began to piece everything together in her mind, “I guide these souls to the underworld, or whatever, forever?”

“Not forever. Just until you die.”

Carrie scowled again. “But what if I don’t. What if I just say no.”

“You can’t say no.” The reaper’s voice hardened, though their face showed no expression. “Then the train will stop. All the souls on the train and all the souls who arrive at the stations will be trapped in limbo, unable to pass on to the afterlife. Their families will forget about them and eventually, they will cease to exist. Do you really want to be responsible for so much sorrow, Carrie?”

“No.” she replied softly. “But what about my sorrow? I’ll be trapped on this train, alone, going from car to car punching tickets until I somehow die and go to the afterlife myself.”

“Yep.” The reaper’s voice was even and unfeeling. Carrie was sure that he didn’t really care. “I never said that any of this would be fair. That’s just the way things are and you can’t do a thing about it to change it.”

“Says who?” Carrie shot back with her last bit of spark. She wasn’t scared anymore. The new Engineer suddenly felt so, so tired. Tired of mystery, tired of the grim reaper, and already tired of the loneliness ahead of her.

“Look, Carrie. I only came to give you your passenger list, not to have a long conversation. It’s a list of everyone scheduled to board the train. Passengers will appear when they board and disappear when they leave at the end of the line. If you’re bored, just talk to one of the souls or something." The reaper wrenched Carrie’s hands from the railing and shoved the list into them.

Carrie’s fingers curled around the list, her eyes staring into space but seeing nothing. Her heartbeat was even and she had stopped shaking. She felt hollow inside, as if ev erything within her had been scooped out and she had nothing left. She couldn't defy fate, could she?

“Goodbye and good luck, I guess.” The reaper picked up their scythe, gave a two-fingered salute, and turned away, preparing to leave.

“Um, hey. Last question.” Carrie had one more thought. “When did you write my notes?”

The grim reaper paused for a moment, “What notes?”

Carrie’s eyes widened, “Wait—”

But the reaper had disappeared into thin air without stopping to listen. Carrie was left in silence again.

She stood very still for a while, feeling the tears threaten to fall again.

But this time, she wouldn’t let them. She had coal to shovel and the souls to tend to.

It was time to get to work.

Author's Note: I originally meant to submit this for the Runaway Train contest, but I ran out of time (oops). Thank you so much for reading!