Bumblephuc

I wake up with a jolt as the seat beneath me lurches to one side. Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I sit up and look around. I'm on a commuter train, a few random passengers visible from my seat. I glance out the window and quickly look away, the scenery whipping past stirring up some nausea. I must've been drugged at the end of our meeting. I reach a hand up to rub my face and something falls out of it. I lean down to pick it up off the floor and freeze, eyes wide as I stare at the item in my hand. I'm holding a gun.

Oh fuck. Working interview. I get it now.

The sound of someone approaching in the aisle cuts through my fog and I shove the gun into a pocket. I look up to see a transit worker looking down his nose at me, face expressionless. "Ticket."

I give a wan smile, reaching into a pocket I know damn well only holds a gun. I make a show of searching my coat with increasingly frantic movements before meeting his eyes again with a short embarrassed laugh. "I seem to have misplaced it."

His face doesn't change. "Ticket."

My eyes narrow. "I just said I don't have one."

He turns away at that, dismissing me. "Then you'll get off at the next stop."

Shit. I get up and follow him down the aisle. "You don't understand, I had a ticket but it must've fallen out somewhere."

"Don't care." He doesn't turn around.

"Listen, it's a long story but I actually don't even know what the next stop is. You wouldn't want to dump a girl somewhere unfamiliar, would you?"

We reach the end of the car and he slides the door open before turning to look at me. "No ticket, no ride."

I fight down the irritation, trying to keep my face pleasant. "And I can appreciate that, but can't you appreciate that I would be completely lost?"

"No."

Jesus Christ. I push him into the vestibule and slide the door shut behind me. "I'm trying to be civil here, but I will not be getting off this train and you can't make me."

He laughs and reaches for a cellphone. "How bout the cops meet you there instead?"

"Fine asshole, I tried." I pull out the gun and go to pistol whip him. I miss and only manage to clip his ear.

"Fuck!" He howls, grabbing it. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

I sigh. "Have you ever lied at an interview?"

****

We're sitting in the next car, my gun pointed at his chest. He's looking at me warily, finally some expression on that blandly handsome face. I go to scratch my eyebrow with the gun hand and jump. He flinches back.

"Sorry. Contrary to how this might look, I'm not really that familiar with guns."

He snorts. "Oh no, it absolutely looks like that."

"Shut up."

He leans forward, elbows on his knees as he stares at me. "You were saying something about an interview?"

"So...yeah I kinda lied about my experience for this job. And I think this is my test now."

He raises his eyebrows. "Learning how to use a gun is your test?"

"Oh no, sorry. Killing someone."

"What!"

"Shhhh!" I hiss at him, peering over the back of my seat. "I'm not supposed to kill you. Or at least I don't think so."

He glares at me. "Oh Jesus thanks, what a relief. You're only going to murder someone else on this train."

"Murder is such a harsh word."

"And yet incredibly accurate."

"Touché." I rest my gun hand on the seat next to me. "Can I trust you not to run?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Of the two of us, I don't think I'm the untrustworthy one."

"Double touché." I lean back against the seat. "What's your name, Mr. Trustworthy?"

"Not that." I glare at him. "It's Mark."

"Hi Mark, I'm Heather." I stick a hand out and watch his expression darken before I look down and realize it's the gun hand again. "Shit sorry." I put the gun down on the seat and reach out again. He shakes my hand, a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth.

"I think you might end up killing everyone on this train whether you want to or not."

"Hardy har har, you're real funny." I cross my arms before realizing and quickly grabbing the gun again. Mark fights back a smile.

"I don't plan to shoot you. Unlike you, I'm well aware of my limitations around guns."

"You know what, maybe I will shoot you after all."

He genuinely laughs that time. "I believe that. Just not convinced it'll be on purpose." He winks at me and my cheeks burn.

"We need to focus here, Mark. I could use your help."

"You gonna keep me at gunpoint this whole time?"

I tentatively place the gun down, barrel pointed away from us. "Better?"

"I do feel less like I'm going to get accidentally shot now so yes."

"Shut up."

Mark smirks. "You said something about needing my help?"

I take a deep breath. "Yes. Do you know of anyone important on this train?"

"Come again?"

I wave a hand in the air. "Someone famous or politically significant. You know, someone who might make a good target."

"You wildly overestimate the importance of my position."

"You're telling me you don't know each and every passenger on this train?"

Mark smiles again and shakes his head.

I blow a sigh. "Well shit. You got any ideas how I figure out who my target is supposed to be?"

"Am I interviewing or are you?"

I close my eyes before opening one to peer at him. "You still kicking me off at the next stop?"

He tilts his head to one side, staring at me thoughtfully. "Nah I don't think I will. This just made my night way more interesting."

I look out the window and quickly look away again. "When is the next stop anyway? What if the guy gets off before I find him?"

"What makes you think it's a guy?"

I shrug. "I don't know, every movie ever? Jeez I hope it's not a woman. That would be a real downer."

He frowns and sits up. "What the hell?"

"What? I'd be more bummed to kill a woman than a man. Sue me."

He gives a brief head shake. "No not that. We just passed the next stop."

I twist in my seat as we zip past, watching as a train station is left shrinking in our wake. I turn back to face Mark with wide eyes. "Umm is it just me or did this thing just pick up speed?"

He nods grimly. "I'm gonna go see what the hell is going on here."

I jump up beside him. "I'm coming too."

He rolls his eyes. "I'm not turning you in, I've got bigger fish to fry. If this train doesn't slow down soon, we'll all be dead. Gun or no."

"Whoa whoa, what do you mean dead? Is there some sort of unfinished bridge ahead?"

He glowers at me. "You really need to stop watching movies. Trains aren't meant to travel at top speed. We've got some tricky terrain ahead, this thing will derail which can also kill people. It's not all dramatic skeleton bridge collapses."

I hold my non gun hand up in surrender. "Okay okay, I get it. I'm still coming to help."

He sighs but doesn't protest further, heading towards the front of the car. "Just put the damn gun away before you shoot me in the back."

****

As soon as we enter the next car, we are accosted by a bottle blonde woman wearing a long beige coat. She grabs Mark's shoulder with a bony claw.

"You need to do something about this train. It's going way too fast and it's making my son nauseous."

We look over and see a young boy, maybe 8 years old, clutching his stomach with both hands, face pale. I shoot a side glance at Mark. "If he pukes, that's all on you partner."

He rolls his eyes. "Partner? Says the girl who just had a gun on me." The bottle blonde squawks at this and he places a soothing hand on her back. "It's an expression. Why don't you take your seat and I'll see what I can do with the conductor, alright?" He guides her back towards her son as she grumbles in protest.

I start making my way down the aisle when the lights of the train suddenly cut out. "SHIT. Mark!" I spin around to try and find him but almost fall into his arms as he appears behind me. He steadies me with two hands on my shoulders then lets go as soon as I'm upright.

"You alright?" I nod and he looks past me. "Looks like the whole interior was shut off. Guess we've got a pretty good idea who your target is now, huh."

I stare up at him wide-eyed. "The conductor? Really? Do you know him, is he sketchy?"

"He's an engineer, not a conductor. It's not 1892. And I don't know him all that well but train going too fast, lights being cut off, all that kinda points to one place. If your target isn't the engineer..." He trails off, thinking. "Your target might just be the guy who hijacked this train."

"Hijack!? You really think so?" My heart is pounding in my chest and I reach into my pocket just to feel the gun. The cold metal in my palm makes me feel a little better. At least I've got some form of control in this fucked up situation.

He sighs. "Look, I don't know. And you don't know. Until we get to the cab, everything's a guess."

"So then let's get there. Now."

****

After passing through a few more cars and Mark soothing a few more freaked out passengers, we arrive outside of the control room. The door is closed. Mark and I exchange nervous looks.

"Well it's do or die time, Heather."

"Literally." I chuckle nervously. I pull the gun out and hold it low beside my leg. I give Mark a quick nod before he swings the door open and we step inside.

The room is empty. I stare at the panels in front of me in shock before turning fast, gun up and pointing at Mark. He throws his hands up in the air reflexively. "What the fuck?"

My hands tremble on the gun but I do not lower it. "I could ask you the same question. What the fuck is going on here, Mark?"

"I don't know. There should be someone in here manning the controls. The fact that there isn't...is not a good sign. I can try to figure out what's going on if you let me look at the panels. Okay, Heather?"

I gesture towards the panels with the gun. "Go for it."

Mark steps towards the panels, pressing a few buttons on the screen before leaning back and sucking his teeth. He turns toward me with a wan smile. "So it's not good news."

The gun is steady now. "Enlighten me."

"The computer is programmed to max out the speed of the train and it's locked in."

"Meaning?"

"There is no slowing this train down."

I click the safety off. "Incorrect answer."

Mark puts his hands back up, frowning. "It's the only answer I got, Heather."

"Why do you keep saying my name like that?"

"Like what? It's your name."

I smile before drilling two bullets into the screen behind him. "No actually. It's not."

Mark looks at the ruined screen in horror from the floor where he threw himself to avoid the gunfire. "What the fuck did you do?"

"My job." I point the gun back at him, muzzle centered right between his eyes. "You see, this isn't an interview, it's a termination."

Mark pales. "I'm the target."

I laugh. "No silly, think bigger. This whole train is the target."

"What are you talking about?" He's shouting now. The panic stage is always so delicious.

"You see, I wasn't interviewing for a job. I was fired from one. The people I worked for thought they could do better." I tilt my head to one side, watching the words sink into Mark's bland handsome face. "Unfortunately for them, they can't. And neither can I."

"I don't get it. Heather or whoever, you're scaring me."

"It's good to be scared. Makes you feel alive in your final moments."

"My final...I don't want to die, Heather."

"No one ever does. Yet they all do anyway."

He starts to cry and that part I hate. "Stop it. Stop it or I'll shoot you."

He sniffles and wipes tears away. "Sorry, I've never died before."

I smile and crouch down to make eye contact. "It's not so bad. I mean yes it can be painful, and judging by what I know of train derailments, this one will probably hurt. But there's always after the pain. There's this kind of peace that comes over you, once the shock sets in I guess. When the crying stops and the fear subsides and the pain is just a dull throb in the back of your head. That part always seems kind of nice to me."

Mark is crying again so I lean in close to whisper in his ear. "Can you tell me if that part is really nice?"

He sobs and I place a bullet in his gut. I drop the gun beside me and sit across from him. I prepare for the greatest finale. I watch the breath come shorter and quicker. I watch the pain play across his face. I watch as he hits that point of peace. And in the moments right before death, he gasps out a yes.

"Good." I say softly. "I just wanted to be sure." I lean my head back against the door behind me. I feel the track curve beneath us before the train hops, following its own course.

In those moments between departure and impact, it almost feels like we're flying.