Now or Later

“This isn’t real. Please tell me I’m dreaming.” Jessamine put her face in her hands and rubbed her eyes in disbelief. She had been sleeping, but the rattle of the boxcar had woken her. When she opened her eyes, the scene was the same: a loaded boxcar full of other people huddled together, with only one way out as the train sped along the tracks. “Where am I?”

A lady nearby clutched her young son and shook her head. “Somewhere horrible. More horrible than the concentration camp we left.”

“Concentration camp? What is this, World War II?” The lady nodded. “This can’t be real. I don’t belong here.”

“None of us do. A few have jumped out, to their deaths, I think,” the lady explained. “The train is going too fast to jump safely.”

“What do we do?”

“Wait til the train stops,” the lady suggested.

“And if it doesn’t?” Jessamine asked. She got up and peered out the crack in the sliding door. The train was moving too fast. She turned her head, with some difficulty, towards the front of the train. It showed no signs of stopping. Who was driving this thing? She pulled her head back inside and returned to the lady and boy. “Any idea where exactly we are going?”

The people around her shook their heads. “I heard,” the lady began, speaking lowly, “that they mean to drive the train off a cliff and kill us all.”

“How?” What about the conductor? Surely, we’re meant to get off somewhere.” Jessamine flattened her skirt, before getting back up and going back to the door.She tried to move it, one way then the other, but it wouldn’t budge. The train was going uphill, wasn’t it? And still it did not slow down. Knowing she would likely break a leg if she jumped, she looked back at the people in the car. They were watching her. Suddenly the train swung to the left, nearly throwing Jessamine from the car. She clung to the door for dear life as the train straightened out again.

Jessamine tried to swing back inside, but the speed of the train wouldn’t allow it. She didn’t want to die. Just as she let go, a hand caught her wrist and pulled her back in. Jessamine fell into the arms of her savior, hyperventilating.

Gently, she was cradled and shushed. She was too young to die. “How old are you, girl?” It was a man’s voice.

“Seventeen,” she answered shakily. “Thank you.”

“I presume you didn’t jump,” came the man’s voice again from near her ear. “You’re all right now.” He backed away.

“For now,” the lady whispered. Jessamine nodded, sighing in relief. The boxcar rattled around another bend, picking up speed. “What goes up, must come down,” the lady muttered cryptically.

“We have to get off this thing,” Jessamine said, thankful her words came out braver than she was.

The lady stopped her mumbling. “Take my Ishmael with you,” she said, pushing her son towards the girl. “Get out while you can. Hurry.”

“Momma—”

“Go. Save yourself. I’ll be just behind you.” Sniffling, Ishmael went over to Jessamine and took her hand. “Take care of my boy. You get somewhere safe, and hide. Don’t let them find you.”

“Yes, ma’am,’ Jessamine responded. “You ready, Ishmael?” The boy shook his head and clung to his mother. She pushed him away, and Jessamine tried again. “Momma will come for us when it’s safe, all right?” Ishmael looked at his mother. The woman nodded, silent tears rolling down her face. Jessamine took a deep breath, and led the boy to the car door.

“On three. Ready?” Ishmael nodded. “One, two… three, JUMP!”

Moments later, the train tracks ended and the train went over a cliff, hurtling toward it’s destruction.