The Bullet Train

I.

A bullish silver bus, impact, searing pain, red lights, bright white beams, confusion, and then darkness flashed like a continuous slide show in his agitated mind. With a start, Jordan woke to rhythmic rocking, clacking metal, and stale pungent air encumbered with floating dust and funeral decay. He sneezed. A constant beep chirped in the background like a weak battery warning. Light seeped through his half-open eyelids and matched the louvered beams that raided the room in motion. The evidence collected in his muddled mind produced an answer or, better yet, a question.

“What the hell...why am I on a train? A train? A stowaway? Kidnapped? Demented?”

Boxes and trunks of many sizes, most scarred, a few shiny, were stacked against the walls. Paper tags labeled the cargo around him.

"I need fresh air," he said and coughed up elements of his environment. He stood, cleared his throat and spat muddy phlegm on the floor.

Jordan stepped to a door and peered through the glass portal. Bellows secured the passage to the train car forward, and he exited the baggage car to seek answers. Panoramic windows displayed the motion of sparse trees flying by a barren desert backdrop and threatening Nimbus clouds overhead. Lightning bolted in the distance. Multicolored game carpet lined the open floor of the train car. A boy and girl of elementary age sat on opposite sides, walled apart by toy boxes and stuffed animals stacked down the center. Both appeared familiar to Jordan, but the memory eluded him. A stalwart and inviting railway man in a gold buttoned, navy blue suit and badged conductors hat entered from the far side.

"Ah, Jordan, welcome to the Bullet train. I’ve been expecting you," the conductor said, "I am Charlie and at your service. We aim to please."

"What am I doing here?" Jordan said. "Where are we going? I don't have a ticket."

"Each one chooses their own journey Jordan," Charlie said. "The owner of the Bullet train holds his own ticket."

"I don't own this train or any train. I'm a warehouse grunt from the Southside. Tell me what's going on here before I punch it out of you," Jordan said.

Charlie's eyes crinkled, and the corners of his mouth turned upward in a smile.

"We aim to please, sir," Charlie said, tipped his hat and exited the car forward.

"Young man, could you please help me?" Jordan said to the boy on the floor but received no response, "Little girl?"

She turned her face to him, and terror filled her eyes. Jordan reacted to a flash of memory.

"Your--- you are just like my little sister, Julie, when we were young," he said.

Julie put her hand to a blackened bruise across her cheek. Tears welled in her eyes, and she scooted to the furthest corner from him. The boy turned his head towards Jordan and smirked. Jordan sensed himself in the boy. Addled, Jordan followed the conductor's path forward and left the car. The rhythmic chirping, once faint, pulsed louder.

***

Shelves lined the walls with myriads of candy enough to make any child dream. Two teen boys with matching football jerseys fingered the goods and argued. The biggest of the boys thumped the smaller one’s ears. A man of many years, the store owner, stood behind a glass counter on the far side of the car. Jordan recognized him and the boys.

"Mr. Fontaine, I am so glad you are here. Please tell me what is going on?" Jordan said.

The candy man angrily charged from behind the counter at the boys and forced them to empty their pockets. Soon, candy bars, packs of chewing gum, and suckers littered the floor.

"You are no longer welcome in my store, boys, I do not tolerate thieves. The police will be notified, and your parents can expect a visit." Mr. Fontaine pointed to the door and said, "Leave now."

Mr. Fontaine turned to Jordan, and their eyes met.

"Now!"

***

Jordan ran from the candy store toward the next car. He stopped in the bellowed passageway where Charlie waited.

"I remember that day. We tried to steal candy from Mr. Fontaine’s store. The police came to our house, and my parents had to go to court with me. The judge sentenced me to community service. The mean boy was me," Jordan said.

Charlie nodded in affirmation.

"The boy in the children's car is my younger self. I don't know why my sister irritated me, I hit her often. Julie hasn’t spoken to me since I graduated high school."

With hesitation, Charlie glanced at the floor, then up. "Yes, that is correct," he said.

"This is my life flashing before my eyes?" Jordan shouted. "Where is this train headed....am I dying?"

Charlie didn’t respond beyond a steely stare.

“I am dying! Stop the train, now!” Jordan yelled and pushed Charlie into the door, “I want to get off.”

The Bullet train lurched forward in sudden acceleration, and Jordan lost his balance and fell backward against the door. The rocking motion and realization he was trapped turned his stomach sour, and he vomited on the floor. The beeping pulse grew more intense, and Charlie calmly turned to the door with his palm up as an invitation.

"Time is short," he said, "We aim to please."

***

Jordan wiped the foul remnants from his mouth on his sleeve and stepped into a more modern car than the last. Dark walnut-trimmed walls, and four tables, presented the car as a pub. A bartender stood behind a short counter in front of a wall lined with bottles of whiskey, gin, assorted wines, and beer taps.

"This is O'Malley's Pub," Jordan said. "Why are we here?"

Charlie pointed to a newspaper laid on a table.

Jordan picked up the paper, and his father's photo on the front page with the headline glared at him,

Local Man Murdered By Notorious Loan Shark

The mental impact knocked the breath from his lungs, and Jordan collapsed to his knees when he read,

The county sheriff has arrested a local loan shark for the murder of Jeremy Sayo. A confidential source has leaked. Roman Sartori, long suspected of many crimes, shot Mr. Sayo in a parking lot as an example to his son, Jordan, for a gambling debt not paid. Mr. Sayo had come to the aid of his son after an argument ensued inside O'Malley's Pub.

"I asked him not to come when he discovered I was in trouble. He tried to reason with Sartori. Oh! My God! I killed my dad," Jordan said.

Charlie took Jordan's elbow and lifted the young man to stand.

Through blurred vision, Jordan turned to the window as the train swayed ever wider like the pendulum of a clock. A thick gray fog enveloped the train's windows and squeezed light from the room. Visibility of the passing landscape diminished to zero as rain whipped in torrents and golf ball-sized hail smashed spider cracks in the glass. The chirps rose in volume and thumped Jordan's brain with shocks of pain.

"Time is short," Charlie said, "We aim to please," and led him to the next car.

***

Plants and flowers in full bloom filled the car, and a garden bench sat in the center. A long stem yellow rose lay on the bench atop an envelope. Handwritten on its white sleeve was Jordan in elegant cursive.

Charlie pointed to the card. Reluctant from a renewed clarity of mind, Jordan retrieved the missive, sat on the bench, broke the seal, and read.

Dear Jordan,

My heart breaks to write you what I must. We were to meet tonight as we have for many nights in secret, but I cannot face you with this final truth. I have always loved you since we first met in high school. The reality is that love and desire are not enough to overcome the obstacles of our relationship. My father will never accept you into our family. As a boy, you and your friends tried to rob his store. More recently, the murder of your father because of your gambling choices has made what was repairable forever impossible. We have to end this fantasy here. I wish you a blessed life, and nothing would make me happier than you find your way. My family relationships are critical to me as my father and invalid mother need me. The man I pledge my life to must be included in my family or not at all.

With a broken heart,

Peggy Fontaine

Jordan brought the card to his face and inhaled the fragrance of the perfume-laced paper.

"Oh, Peggy, what have I done? I've ruined everything," he said.

He lifted the rose, and a thorn pricked his thumb. Blood welled from the stab, and a scarlet droplet stained the pure white paper as he laid the missive gently on the bench.

"Time is short," Charlie said, "We aim to please.

***

Jordan, led by Charlie, entered the most forward car on the train. His nostrils reacted and dilated from the medicinal air. A hint of decayed flesh warned his gag reflex. Red, green, and yellow lights dotted multiple electronic monitors surrounding a hospital bed. The green light illuminated and dimmed in sequence with the beeps that pounded inside his head. Jordan and the intubated man in the bed, like doppelgangers, were the same person.

A nurse sat by the bed and spoke on the phone.

"Yes, we have a DNR order not to resuscitate...”

“No, his recovery chances are poor..... We don't expect him to live through the night... I guess he will get his wish... uh huh…”

“The coroner will rule his death a suicide... No one jumps out in front of a bus without a reason...”

“According to the news, his father was murdered two days ago?...”

“No, no one has visited... We've called, but I guess no one cares...”

“I understand. Our court order allows us to pull the plug in the morning............”

“Yes, I'm confident the bed will be available tomorrow afternoon...... Okay, bye."

Jordan gasped in shock, and his hands covered his face.

"I am dying. Oh! My God! I don't want to die and if I do, I don't want to die alone," he said. "Where is my mom, my sister, my friends? Anyone?"

The machines continued to beep as the Bullet rocketed forward. Tears flooded down Jordan's face in defeat. Charlie's firm hand rested on the broken man's shoulder as he absorbed the realization of two things. He was alone and would die that way.

II.

Jordan's shoulders drooped in defeat as he stared at the mangled man in the bed. He turned to Charlie.

"There must be something I can do. Help me, please," he said.

Charlie pointed forward to the next door forward.

"Time is short," he said, "We aim to please."

Jordan stepped through the door and into the pilot's chamber atop the train's electric engines. Two unoccupied engineer seats faced a console of analog and digital instruments arrayed under a wraparound windshield. The bullet-shaped nose of the machine split the air, and contrails streamed in its wake. The train sped down the tracks in a long slow curve. Objects visible on each side blurred as the machine bumped, lurched, and fought the rails from excess speed.

Jordan dropped into the engineer's seat and scanned the horizon. The high-speed locomotive entered a downgrade and dove toward a vast canyon in the distance. Red, green, and yellow warning lights erupted on the console like a Christmas tree. He jerked in surprise when a klaxon blared like an air raid alarm. A woman's voice broadcast from an overhead speaker and continuously repeated,

"Warning! Warning! Warning! The bridge ahead is out! Take evasive action now."

The pulse of the heart monitors increased in volume and pierced through the recording. Behind him, in the hospital room, the nurse screamed.

"Code Blue, Code Blue, Crash team stat, observation only."

Jordan frantically pushed buttons and pulled levers to no avail. The train, his life of failure, barreled down the path towards its self-manifested destruction. All aboard, a passenger of one, was soon to be lost for want of a brake on the runaway train.

***

"Charlie, help me? What do I do?" Jordan yelled.

The conductor responded stoically from the tandem seat. "What baggage do you carry?"

"Baggage? We are about to die, and you want to talk about baggage?" Jordan said.

"Time is short," Charlie said, "We aim to please."

"You keep repeating that stupid motto. It grows old," Jordan said.

Charlie rested his hand on Jordan's arm, and their eyes met. Amid the runaway train's racket, the blaring alarm, the warning voice barking, and the heart monitor screaming, Jordan had an epiphany.

"The baggage car. The boxes and trunks reeked like something rotten. They are mine. Is that the answer?" He said, "It has to be."

***

Jordan jumped from the engineer's seat, ran through the hospital car, and tripped on the bench in the garden. He recovered, sped through the pub, and entered the candy store. Winded, he stopped momentarily and caught his breath until Mr. Fontaine yelled.

"Leave, now!"

He negotiated his way past the wall in the children's car and entered the baggage car. The train oscillated wildly, and the beeping of the heart monitor slowed. The klaxon continued to blare.

"Warning! Warning! Warning! The bridge ahead is out! Take evasive action now."

Dank and foul odors emanated from the baggage of boxes, trunks, and crates. Jordan gagged.

"Why are these foul boxes here?" he said as he read the labels on each box. The first one, a banded trunk, was marked HATE. A metal crate was labeled JEALOUSY. A redwood crate tag read ANGER.

"This is who I am? I am a hideous human being. How do I rid myself of this vile baggage?" he screamed.

Charlie had followed him to the cargo car and pointed to the side door. A sign read.

Unwanted baggage to be disposed of here as authorized by the train's owner.

"I own this train," Jordan said, and Charlie nodded in affirmation.

Jordan pulled the latch on the sliding door, which slid open easily. The Bullet lurched, and Jordan fell forward out the door. A gully covered with jagged rocks parallel to the tracks flew by in a blur. Wind, rain, and hail pummeled his head and arms as his hand snagged a handrail to stop himself from falling from the train. His thoughts raged in a battle with voices from the baggage.

All you have to do is let go, and this misery will end.

The knuckles on his hand turned white as his grip on the handhold slipped.

No more painful memories of your failed life and those you've disappointed. Julie won't hate you anymore, and the devastating guilt of your father's death will stop. Do it, coward! End it! Let go!

"No! I want to live," he screamed into the biting wind. "I will not die this way."

Desperate to overcome his past, thoughts of love for his family and Peggy overwhelmed him. A surge of newly discovered character empowered him, and he pulled himself into the car.

The purge required his total concentration as he dragged the trunk of Hate to the door. The box screamed in rage at its demise and shattered on the rocks.

The crate labeled Jealousy resisted by spreading tentacles across the floor. Jordan found a crowbar in the corner and broke their grip. The metal box bounced at the edge of the door, resolute to return when a massive branch from a passing oak tree smacked it like a Hank Aaron home run into the void.

The redwood cube, tagged Anger, grew hot and singed his hands when lifted. The blistering box exploded like dynamite when it smashed into the ground and scorched the surrounding earth black.

"What else is here?" Jordan yelled. "What other disgusting character traits have destroyed my life?"

Charlie pointed to three small black boxes hidden in the dark shadows of a corner. Their tags read Lies, Greed, and Lust.

Jordan attempted to pick them up, but they transformed into slippery eels, bit his arms, and evaded his grip. The dark forms slithered back to their hiding place and re-formed into their deceptive squared state. He ripped his shirt off, trapped them with the clothing, and tied the long sleeves together. The snakes jerked and bounced in the trap to escape their expulsion until he slung them through the door. They hit the rocks, broke free, and slithered after the train but were soon left behind.

The remaining baggage tags read love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and gentleness. Exhausted, he dropped to the floor as Charlie slid the door shut.

Chirp, Chirp, Chirp....... the ever-present pulse seemed to increase, and the train slowed. The klaxon and recorded warning ceased.

***

Sweat dripped off Jordan's face, and he stood to move forward. On humbled legs, he stumbled into the children's car to find the wall of toys removed. The black storm clouds that had dominated the panoramic windows dissipated. Julie and his adolescent version laughed and played paddy cake.

Mr. Fontaine smiled and waved as he passed the candy store to the pub car, where a newspaper lay on the table in its center. Apprehensive, Jordan lifted the news journal and read.

Local Son Saves Father from Runaway Bus

Jordan dropped to his knees and wept in relief as the significant burden of guilt evaporated from the core of his existence. The Bullet continued to slow, and the once persistent rain stopped beating on the train's exterior panels. Charlie helped him stand and motioned him forward.

In the garden car, an unstained white envelope lay on the bench with a single long stem red rose. He unsealed the card and read.

Dear Jordan,

Our plan was to meet tonight to be alone, but I am changing the plan. It is a women's prerogative. Remember that. Please come to my house, so we can break the news of our engagement to my parents. They respect and love you almost as much as I do. Hurry! I can't wait to celebrate with you.

Peggy, XOXO

The pulse of Jordan's heart deepened and beat in sync with the persistent tones of the monitors. Charlie touched his shoulder and pointed forward to the final car, the hospital.

"I don't want to die Charlie but at least I have a peace now because the fetid baggage of my life is gone, thank you," he said and stepped into the hospital car.

The red, green, and yellow lights continued to monitor his comatose twin. Julie, his sister, sat on one side of the bed and held his hand, his mother the other. His father stood by the wall with his head bowed. Peggy sat in the corner by the window with a baby in her lap. Sweet fragrances emanated from a dozen chromatic flower arrangements that adorned the room.

A nurse stood at the foot of the bed with a chart.

"Yes, Mr. Sayo, we almost lost him last night, it was a close call. It’s a miracle he’s still alive," she said. "You must be a proud dad. The CCTV footage of Jordan pushing you away from the runaway bus is running on all the news channels and social media. Your son is a hero.”

***

Jordan, overcome with emotion, stepped into the pilot car and dropped into the engineer's seat to await the approaching canyon. His death.

“Charlie, whatever comes, comes,” he said, “I am loved,” as the train consumed the tracks and sped towards his final destination, the canyon.

The Bullet bumped a rail switch, and the train curved onto a new track. The new path rose to a higher elevation as the sun burned through the gray clouds and left a residual blue sky. The old track to the left grew distant, and the canyon of doom loomed in its path a short distance away. Jordan had no idea where the new route would lead or how long he would live. The overwhelming peace he felt would be enough, wherever the Bullet train took him.

Cotton candy clouds splashed across the dome of the earth, and the train ambled on. The Bullet's tracks carried him into an evergreen forest and crossed a crystal blue stream. A flock of geese passed overhead, and a doe with her fawn glanced up from a patch of green grass by the tracks. Jordan took a deep breath, sighed, and surrendered to the rhythm of the machine's well-oiled wheels on the railway tracks of his life.

Julie, his sister, yelled from the hospital room behind him.

"His eyes are fluttering. He's waking up."

Jordan turned to Charlie, his conductor, who sat beside him.

"Thank you, Charlie. Thank you. I am forever grateful," Jordan said, "But I think I’ve got to go."

Charlie smiled and placed his hand on Jordan's arm, and said,

"We aim to please."