Horace Maxim

My head ached. A fullness clogged my ears as a motorized hum and steady clack clack clack filled the air. My body swayed gently with the movement of the seat.

I opened my tired eyes. Outside the window, the sunny green countryside was nothing but a blur. I yawned, sitting up and glancing around.

I was in the same train I took to and from the university where I studied English and writing. On the seat beside me was my black satchel, but the rest of the car felt empty. The royal green seats looked freshly cleaned and the usual musty smell was replaced with the light scent of cleaner. Even the dusty, downtrodden wooden floor shone with a new coat of wax.

With narrowed eyes, I looked at the luggage holders above the seats. They were bare of their normal load, without even a lone umbrella or forgotten case.

That's odd. What time is it? I grabbed my smart phone from the front pocket of my satchel and clicked the side button. Black screen. I held the button down in case it was off. A red empty battery symbol flashed on the screen before it turned black again. I shoved the device back into my satchel.

Damn it. I moved my satchel into my lap and put the strap over my shoulder and head. There's no plugs on this train. Where am I going? Home? The train home is never this empty. Looks like it's late morning or early afternoon. The train is normally packed at this time. What day is it?

Using the seat to steady myself, I got to my feet. My steps were rocky as I moved to the middle aisle and checked the seats. They were empty. I planted myself in the seat by the door.

“What in the world,” I muttered, digging in my pockets. Didn’t I buy coffee this morning? I swear I put the receipt in my pocket. Shouldn’t I have a ticket for the train, too?

But, my pockets were empty except for a stray paper clip. I put the paper clip on my satchel strap and stood.

Maybe there’s someone in the next car over. If the ticket master can change cars, then so can I.

The door of the car opened easily. The sound of the train roared and wind rushed around me as I stepped out onto the narrow metal platform. I gripped the handrail, taking a moment to examine the scenery. Where am I? I can’t even remember getting on this blasted train. What was I doing last? Sitting in lecture?

With care to stay as safe as possible, I stretched my long leg over the hinge that joined the two cars and stepped onto the other platform. I grabbed the other handrail as I shifted my weight over. Turning to the new car, I opened the door and stepped inside.

A shiver went down my back as the door clicked close. I stayed still, my gaze traveling around the car. Not a soul in sight. A hum of dissatisfaction escaped my throat. This is like a dream. Am I asleep? I pinched my arm.

“Awake,” I said to myself. I sat in the nearest seat and opened my satchel. “I don’t even know if this is charged.”

I pulled out my laptop and pulled up the screen. A piece of lined paper rested on the keyboard. I set my laptop on the seat next to me and picked up the paper.

The faint blue lines were smudged like they had gotten wet. A black powder was dusted on the page. In the middle was a large, crudely drawn clock. Though the hands were in the 3:00 position, the twelve was replaced with a twenty-five. The rest of the numbers were strange, muddy symbols, except for the six. In place of the six was a sheep.

“What?” I perused the page, trying to get as much information from it as possible.

Then in the top right-hand corner, I saw my own name, student number, and a smudged-out date. I held the page close to my face and attempted to read the numbers, but only the year was legible. At least it’s still the same year, but why is this labeled like a homework assignment? This isn’t even my handwriting!

I attempted to turn on my laptop, but it had no charge like my phone. Frustrated, I put the paper back on the keyboard and closed my laptop. I put it back in my bag. Squeezing my eyes tight, I tried to collect my memories.

I woke up at seven. Showered, dressed, grabbed my bag… Somehow, I managed to catch the eight thirty train. I walked to university, barely making it to the ten o’clock lecture. What was she talking about? Oh, Dr. Conch wasn’t there. We had a substitute, Mr. Smith. He had us do a writing exercise. Name, student number, date, title. What was the prompt? I can’t remember.

I rifled through my bag, looking at snippets of essays and graded assignments, but the dates were either blacked-out or torn off each one.

“Who did this?” I yelled in the empty cabin. “Someone’s messing with me. There has to be some trick to this. Who could orchestrate this?”

The papers crinkled as I slammed them against the outside of my satchel. I laid them across the seat next to me and tried to smooth them out again. Damn it! My headache grew as I put them away. There has to be at least one other person on this train. I’m going to find them.

I double checked that my items were secure then moved to the next car over. That car was the exact same as the last two. Determined to find the head of the train, I continued to the next car and the one after that. They were also devoid of life. Is this train nothing but empty cars? I pinched myself again in the faint hope of waking up in the lecture hall, being stared down by an angry substitute. But, no. I stayed on the train.

With a deep breath, I went to the next car. Same thing. Maybe I should do something different. I took a seat near the middle of the car, by a window. This is ridiculous. Eventually, someone has to come by or maybe we’ll stop.

Even as the thought rolled through my mind, doubt settled. I was lying to myself. No one is coming. I stood and tried to pry the window open. It didn’t budge. The latch didn’t move a single centimeter.

I sat down again, feeling defeated. The sunny countryside rolled by endlessly. I leaned close to the window. Where’s the sun? Unable to spot it, I went to the other side of the car and searched out those windows. I’ll have to go outside to find it.

In between the cars, I paused at the handrail and stared at the sky. There wasn’t a cloud or sign of the sun. The clear blue sky went on and on, unbroken like the countryside. That’s not possible. None of this is possible. How can I wake up from this nightmare? I squinted at the next car. Somehow, it looked different. I crossed over the hinge and went inside.

The conductor’s car!

The car was shorter than the others. The seats were missing, replaced by hanging beds on the walls. A massive window made up the front of the car. Two royal green seats were at the front, facing forward.

A person wearing a massive black veil sat in the seat to the right. I went to the left seat and sat next to them.

“Uh, hello,” I said as I pulled my satchel into my lap. The person stayed still, staring out the window at the racing landscape. The many layers of veil completely obscured their body.

“Hello, Horace,” the person spoke in a calm, feminine tone. “You are Horace Devon Maxim, aren’t you? Student number 718-913, correct?”

“Yes ma’am.” I gripped my satchel strap. “Are you the one who tore the dates off my work?”

“No, you did that yourself.”

I shook my head. “Why would I do that?”

“You haven’t yet, but in that car, you had.”

Confused, I slumped in my seat. “Why can’t I wake up?”

She clicked her tongue. “You already know that you are not asleep, Horace.”

“Well, I’m not awake,” I scoffed.

“You aren’t,” she agreed. “So, what are you?”

I froze. My heart pounded in my chest and sweat beaded over my body. White lights flashed across my vision as my headache flared. I doubled over, burying my face in my hands.

“Oh,” I groaned.

“Say it.”

“I…am I dead?”

She hummed to confirm. “You have indeed passed from the mortal world.”

“Oh my God!” I yelled as I gripped my curly hair. “I can’t have died. I was in class. I was in lecture.”

“And then Horace Devon Maxim died.”

“So, what is this place? Hell? Purgatory?” I asked. “How did I die?”

“This,” she spoke softly. “This is your last assignment. Before you can move on to the station, you must figure out how you arrived here. How did you get on the train?”

I sat back, the lights in my vision dimming. “I woke up here.”

“How did you fall asleep?”

I paused, thinking about her question. I don’t know.

“The answers are here. Go, learn how to fall asleep. When you know how you came to join me on this last, long train ride, come and tell me. I’ll be here.”

I grimaced as my headache flared again.

“Let that be your first clue. Go,” she commanded. “Learn how to fall asleep.”