Runaway Train

Jack opened his eyes wearily. His head was fuzzy; his vision blurred. He sat still for a moment, allowing his consciousness to return. He was sitting in a train; an old-fashioned inter-city train to be precise. The carriage was empty except for an elderly gentleman sitting opposite him. The fellow was plump, with short white hair and a trimmed beard. He wore a newsboy-style hat and was reading a newspaper. It was dated February 2nd, 1981 and there was an article about a fatal car crash on the front page.

Jack inhaled deeply and brushed his face with his hand, trying to compose his thoughts. Why was he here? Where was he going? Jack had short but shaggy brown hair and was wearing a formal black suit. He patted down his pockets, feeling for his belongings.

‘No keys, wallet, or train ticket.’ He thought to himself. ‘How the hell did I get here?’

Moments passed, the carriage silent except for the rhythmic chugging of the train on its tracks.

Jack cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir.”

The older gentleman lowered his newspaper. “Oh, it’s you! I was wondering when you might wake.”

“How long was I out?” Jack asked.

“Long enough to make an old man like me worry."

Jack forced a chuckle. “Can I ask where the train is going? I’m…having trouble remembering where I was headed, or how I got on.”

“That must have been some nap you had! The train’s headed to Broken Hill. Just left Lithgow, so there's still a ways to go yet, I’m afraid.”

Jack nodded to show his understanding and gazed outside the train window. They were passing through luscious green mountains and under blue skies.

‘Broken Hill…I don’t know anybody there. I don’t even remember boarding. The last thing I remember is…’

Jack’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the carriage doors opening. He turned his head to see a frighteningly dangerous-looking man enter the carriage from down-train. He wore ripped jeans and a faded leather jacket. His hair was long and stringy, obscuring parts of his face. Behind his hair, you could see that the man had tattoos under his eyes; a combination of tears and crosses. The man approached Jack slowly and stopped in front of him.

Jack looked up to see the man staring at him. He held out his hand.

Jack cleared his throat quietly. “Can I help you?”

“You know what I want.” He grunted. “Give it to me.”

Jack felt his chest tighten. “I…I don’t have any.” He patted down his pockets again.

“Seriously, I don’t have my wallet, no cash, not even a train ticket.”

The man grasped Jack’s collar with his left hand and held a serrated pocket knife before his face with his right.

“Do you think I’m fucking playing? Nobody gets on this train without a ticket, now give it to me!”

Jack was silent. He tried to look through the mugger to see the old man behind him, but before he could, he was lifted from his seat and pushed backwards, before slamming against the other side of the carriage.

“You don’t have time to play dumb, Jackfruit!”

‘Jackfruit? Where have I heard that before?’

Jack raised his arms in submission, his heart beating so hard he thought it would jump right out of his chest.

“Look, I - I don’t have anything on me right now, but…but let’s both get off at the next stop and I’ll compensate you for your patience. Okay?”

The mugger laughed under his breath. “You and I both know that’s not gonna happen.”

Jack gasped as he felt a searing, sharp pain in his left side. He’d been stabbed.

“Wait, you don’t have to~”

There was no time to finish his sentence. Jack whimpered as he was stabbed again, this time in his midsection. Then in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, to plead, but all that emerged was a gargle and splatter of blood. He dropped to his knees and his vision blurred. Sounds became echoes, and all reality ceased to exist.

* * *

Jack gasped for air as he jolted awake, shivering. He clutched his aching chest with one hand, his side with his other. He gulped several breaths of oxygen, trying to compose himself. He was sitting in an old-fashioned inter-city train that was empty except for one other passenger - a plump, elderly fellow that was sitting opposite him, reading a newspaper. He lowered his newspaper and gave Jack a startled look.

“Oh, it’s you!” He said. “I was wondering when you might wake. Are you okay, lad?”

“I…” Jack wasn’t sure what to say.

He died. He knew he died. It sure felt like he died - his chest was still sore. And yet, here he was.

“I…just had a bad dream, I guess.” Jack looked towards the sliding carriage door where the mugger had emerged from. “I was so sure it was real.”

“Dreams are nothing to be afraid of, son. They tell us our fears and regrets. Tell us who we are. By the time you get to my age, you’ll have had plenty! Both good, and bad.”

‘Regrets…’ Jack thought to himself. ‘What did that mugger call me? Jackfruit? I haven’t been called that since…since I was a coward, in High School. I always let people walk all over me. I wanted so badly to go back to those days, to do things differently. To stand up for myself. To not be a coward. I can’t remember anything past that, though. I can’t remember why I’m even on this train.’

Jack’s attention was brought back to the present as he heard the down train carriage door slide open. His heart sunk in his chest. It was the mugger.

“Well, well, fancy seeing you here Jackfruit!”

‘I hate his voice. I fucking hate his voice. He almost reminds me of…’ Jack stared at the mugger’s face, trying to place him. ‘Adam, from High School.’

Adam approached Jack with his hand held out. “Go on then, hand it over Jackfruit!”

“No.” Jack replied instantly. His eyes were locked on Adam’s.

“No!?” Adam grasped Jack by the collar and lifted him to his feet. He began to push him towards the back of the carriage when Jack pushed back with his right leg and held his ground.

“Adam!” Jack yelled. “I promised myself that if I ever saw you again, I’d give you something other than my fucking money!”

Adam laughed, holding his serrated pocket knife. “Oh yeah? What’s that, wuss?”

Jack didn’t see the knife. His eyes were fixed on Adam’s. He drew his breath, cocked his right shoulder and swung his fist, connecting with Adam’s jaw, sending him stumbling backwards. Adam wiped his lip with his hand. He was bleeding. Unexpectedly, he titled his head back and let out a bellowing laugh.

“Not bad, Jack! Didn’t think you had it in ya!” Adam began laughing hysterically, clearly insane.

Jack stood with his fist still clenched, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He looked back towards the old man, who smiled and nodded in approval. Then, it appeared as though Adam’s figure started to blur. More so than blur, he began to grow transparent, as if he were fading away. Then, it happened again. Jack’s vision blurred and his head spun. The sound of the train on the railway tracks echoed. He lost his balance and fell to the ground. And his consciousness faded away.

* * *

Jack frowned as he woke slowly. He could hear the repetitive chugging of the train on its tracks. He opened his eyes. The elderly man was still sitting opposite him, reading his newspaper.

“Ah, welcome back.” He said, lowering his paper.

“Welcome back.” Jack repeated. “You mean to say that what just happened…happened?”

The man was silent for a moment. “Yes. From a certain point of view.” He said finally.

Jack rose to his feet. “I was stabbed. I died. I saw…somebody that I hadn’t seen in years, somebody that I’d completely forgotten about. I’m on this train, and I don’t know how I got here or where it’s going. And there doesn’t seem to be anybody on board except the two of us.” Jack laughed audibly. “I mean, what is this - the twilight zone?”

“Look outside, son.”

Jack sighed, turned and peered through the carriage window. Outside he saw snow-capped mountains, a sea of stars and a rain of snow. The track that the train travelled through was almost frozen over. Under different circumstances, it would have been a beautiful sight.

Jack turned back to the elderly man.

“Okay, so in this…twilight zone that I seem to be stuck in. What’s your role? Why are you here?”

“You could say that I’m your guide.” He replied gently.

“Okay, guide. I don’t know if you’re on my side or not, but just tell me what is going on. Tell me where I am. Tell me how I wake up, and how I get home. Not that I even remember where home is right now.”

“I’m not sure you’re ready to hear that, my boy.”

“I am ready. Look, please. If you are working for me, if you are really meant to be my guide, then please guide me. I’m ready.”

The man gave him a solemn look and nodded.

Moments later, there was a knock behind the up-train carriage door. The door slid open to reveal a train guard. He wore a thick, black buttoned jacket, a white undershirt, and a narrow felt hat with a front brim. He seemed young, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties.

“Jack Burnes?” He asked officially.

“That’s me.” Jack replied nervously.

“There’s been an incident up-train that needs your attention, sir.”

“My attention?”

“Yes, sir. It concerns you, specifically.”

Jack looked at the elderly man opposite him, his so-called guide, who once again nodded in approval. He stood up and walked towards the guard.

“What’s this about?” Jack asked when he was at the carriage door.

“I can’t say, sir.” The guard replied as he held open the door for Jack to pass through, guiding him somewhat forcefully by the shoulder.

Beyond the carriage door was a short wooden deck and a single horizontal steel bar on both sides. Beyond the deck was a metal mechanism connecting both carriages, and beyond that the deck of the next carriage. Jack took a long step and made it across to the other side. He looked back to see the guard standing where he was. Behind him, Jack heard the carriage door slid open.

‘What the hell?’

He had turned to see the face of the same guard holding the door open to the next carriage. He turned back - the previous guard was still there on the deck of the previous carriage.

‘It’s the same guy. Well, not the craziest thing that’s happened to me lately.’

“We must hurry, sir.” The closer guard said.

Jack walked through the door held open by the guard. The next carriage was completely empty, with no passengers. At the end of it, he could see another guard - the same guard - of course it was the same guard - waiting to open the door on the other side.

Jack walked through the empty carriage, feeling a sense of déjà vu.

“He’s waiting for you, sir.” The guard at the other end said as Jack approached, and slid open the door for him to walk through.

The front-most carriage on the train wasn’t a carriage so much as an open tray, presumably for cargo and other goods to be transported. Jack leapt across the connecting mechanism between carriages, using his hands to shield himself from the blizzard that was raging outside. At the end of the cargo tray, he thought he saw a figure; an outline of a boy, facing away from him, staring off into the distance.

“Hello?” Jack yelled over the wind, approaching the figure cautiously. “Why did you call for me?”

As Jack got closer to the figure, he noticed that he stood precariously on the edge of the tray, and he was so thin that it seemed as though a strong wind in the wrong direction might send him over the edge.

“What are you doing over there?” Jack called. “Come closer, it’s dangerous! With these winds, you might fall overboard!”

The figure turned to face Jack, but remained on the edge. Jack realised that it wasn’t a boy, but a small man. In fact, it was someone he used to know - he was sure of it. He had faint, blue eyes and thin, blonde, unkempt hair that came down to his neck. He was sickly thin; his cheekbones and collarbone were clearly visible. Jack felt a wave of fear and guilt come over him as he noticed a deep, red burn wound around the man’s neck. Jack knew who he was.

“Do you remember me, mate?”

“My memories are still fuzzy, but they’re there. You were my friend. But…you turned into an addict. I was working late one night, and came home to a message you’d left, asking me to visit. I ignored it. I ignored you. Reece.”

His name finally returned, as did all the feelings that Jack had long since buried, even before he’d lost his memory.

“How could you do that to us!” Jack yelled as he reached out and grabbed Reece by his shoulders, pulling him down off the ledge. “How did you think your friends would feel after you left them behind like that? How do you think it made me feel having to identify your body the next day! Fucking hell Reece! Do you know how much I hated myself for not calling you back?” Jack suddenly realised how light he was, and let go.

“I’m sorry, man.” He said, avoiding eye contact. “I had to.”

“You didn’t have to!” Jack spat back. “You said you were getting better! You were in rehab, you had so much to live for!”

“I really didn’t, Jack. I wasn’t like you. You had a wife and kid. I had nobody after my parents died.”

‘Wife and kid? …I have a wife and kid! Why don’t I remember them!’

“After they passed, I got back into dope. Nothing crazy, you know, just the stuff we all did back in the day. It made me feel better. But, after a while I wanted more, and my guy offered me something stronger. You know, the stuff you saw.” Reece met Jack’s gaze for the first time, his eyes filled with shame. “The Heroin. You and the other guys helped me get into rehab. Get my life back together. The docs said I was clinically depressed and gave me antidepressants. They were good, I really liked them. I mean, I liked them too much. I’d take one after I woke up, and another as soon as it started to wear off. I was asleep when I was awake, and that’s how I liked it.”

“Except, sometimes I did want to wake up. I couldn’t tell the docs that I’d been abusing the meds, so I went back to my guy. He gave me something he said would help me wake up, and it did in a way. I woke up and figured that there was only one way that I was getting any better. There was only one way that I was gonna get out of that mess, and it was with a rope.” Reece gestured to the burns around his neck.

Moments passed between them in silence, except for the howling of the chilling winds.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jack whispered. “Why didn’t you tell any of us this?” He said louder. “All we saw was our friend going further and further down a path of drugs, and self abuse. As you said, I had a wife and daughter to protect but if I had just known what you were going through…I could have saved you.”

“No you couldn’t, man. It was my journey, and my decision. It wasn’t your fault what happened.”

“Yes it was! If I’d just answered your fucking call…”

“It wasn’t your fault, Jack.” Reece said, placing his hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m sorry.” Jack whispered, tears in his eyes.

“I forgave you a long time ago, bro. Isn’t it time you forgave yourself?”

Jack extended his hand to touch Reece’s shoulder, but it passed straight through him like he was made of steam. He was fading away.

“I gotta go bro, but I’ll see you again soon. Hey, it wasn’t your fault. Forgive yourself.”

As Reece faded away, Jack couldn’t stop hearing those words repeating in his head.

It wasn’t your fault. Forgive yourself.

It wasn’t your fault. Forgive yourself.

It wasn’t your fault. Forgive yourself.

His head started spinning, and just as Reece had moments ago, his consciousness faded away.

* * *

“It wasn’t my fault.” Jack said unintentionally as he woke, back in his carriage.

“How does that feel?” The old man opposite him asked.

“A big relief.” He said with a sigh, trying to gather his thoughts. “...but why? Why was it so important that I see that? I mean, am I dreaming, or - what is all this?”

The old man looked saddened. “My boy. You haven’t realised.”

“Realised what?” Jack asked, shaking his head slightly.

“Jack…I’m afraid you’re dying.”

Jack was dumbfounded. “What? What do you mean?”

The old man closed his newspaper and held up the front page.

“A car crash.” Jack began. “I was in it. Oh my god.” The reality of the situation suddenly dawned on him. He got to his feet, his heart beating faster with each passing moment.

“So what do I do? How - how do I get back? How do I stop it from happening? Isn’t that why we’re here?”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, son. All you can do now is to forgive yourself, let go of your regrets, and accept it.”

Jack felt tears well up in his eyes, and he began to sob. “I…I wasn’t ready!” He thought of his wife and daughter, and never being able to spend another moment with them. That thought was unbearable.

“Daddy, play with me!” A young girl’s voice said.

“Not now sweetheart.” Jack said instinctively, his face buried in his hand. “Daddy’s busy.”

The moment the words left his lips, he knew what he’d done, and what he had to do. Those were the words he always said. He stopped feeling sorry for himself, mourning himself and looked around for his daughter. He saw a glimpse of her pink dress through the closing carriage door, and bolted after her.

Jack swung the carriage door open and gave chase.

“Nancy!” He called. “Nancy, wait for Daddy!”

She stopped in the middle of the carriage and turned around, tearful. Jack crouched down and held her, closing his eyes tight.

“Nancy, Daddy’s sorry. I’m sorry I never had time for you.”

“So you’ll play with me?” She pleaded.

“Yes, sweetheart. I’m never too busy for you and mummy. You’re both…the best things in my life.”

“I love you, Daddy.” She said.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Jack said, crying not for his own lost life, but not having cherished the time he had with his family.

Suddenly, he felt the arms around him grow light, and his own arms passed through Nancy until he was holding himself. She was fading away, just like Reece had done before. Jack opened his eyes to see that the train was pitch black. It was more than that. It had stopped.

The familiar chugging of the train on its tracks had vanished, leaving behind a giant void. The silence was terrifying. The air inside the carriage grew cold, and Jack began to shiver. Faintly, the very fabric of the carriage could be seen freezing, breaking away and floating into the air like dust. This was the end of the line.

A spectral breath carried a chilling wind through the carriage that sent fear up Jack’s spine. It was a deep, primal, ancient fear that existed at the core of all living things. Death.

Jack rose to his feet slowly and turned around. He took panicked, broken breaths as he saw it. Blended in spectral shadow, Death stood before him; seven feet tall, skeletal, wreathed in a dark cloak and wielding its scythe.

“Ticket.” It said in a ghostly whisper that echoed throughout the train.

Jack froze. He had no ticket.

“I…I don’t have one!” He shouted.

“Only those bearing a ticket may be aboard this train. Only those bearing a ticket may reach their destination.”

Jack was shaking. What would happen to him if he couldn’t leave?

Death extended its hand and pointed at Jack’s chest. He reached inside his jacket pocket and felt something; a piece of paper. He pulled it out, and his shaking stopped. It was a picture of himself, his wife Diane, and his daughter Nancy. It was his family. He faced Death, and showed it the picture.

“Here.” He said, smiling. “It’s my ticket.”

Death let out another spectral breath sending chilling winds throughout the train, and stepped aside, fading back into the shadows. Jack approached the doors between the carriage and the platform, and slid them open slowly. Beyond the carriage was a pure, bright light.

Jack turned around, looking back inside the carriage before leaving it behind. Death was gone. In its place stood his wife and daughter. His wife had a bittersweet expression on her face; not wanting him to go, but knowing that he must.

“Bye, Daddy.” Nancy said, waving her father goodbye.

“Bye, sweetheart.”

Holding onto this image of his family, Jack turned towards the platform and walked into the light, closing the door behind him.