The Conductor's Girls

“The Outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. The window, what a lonesome friend, always consistent and stable with a sting of resignation. The window that showed what could be, or perhaps a memory of what used to be. The window, an illusion of an escape; and a mocking statement of her present reality. A reality that even four years ago she couldn’t imagine possible.” I lay my pen next to my journal. I had to be careful, knowing that everything I wrote would be read, re-read and if taken as a threat would be tattooed on my body. The most recent pass-down of the new National Religion.

The window was a constant reminder of what life occurred outside of my existence. The sound of train tracks was the constant ringing between my ears. The whistle blowing and a stop being announced over the intercom was my que, my que to smile and be presentable. This was not a life I chose, and it was not a life I was proud of but it was my role if I wanted to survive.

The irony of my current situation is that I grew up on trains, my dad always said it was the earth’s transportation. Our family of four saw the changing of colors in Maine, the Rockies, The California Coast; every summer and fall we saw the most beautiful parts of the country by way of a train. My brother, who I haven’t seen or spoken to in years, became a conductor. He had wanted to be a conductor since youth, I even helped pay his way through community college; where he could receive his certificate to be a conductor. He hadn’t spoken to me after he started working for the railroad.

As I Iooked around my room, I wondered did he have a private room like mine? The private room, with a bed and fold out couch that had seemed glamorous and adventurous in my youth. Today, the four walls and private bathroom was a vicious dichotomy of an escape and a prison.

I hadn't planned on riding the train, it became common knowledge that the train was known as the purple runner, it had turned into the main mode of transportation for the purple bands. It is rumored that two decades back, the national religion started planting train conductors across the country, knowing that this day would come. I had planned on flying back to my hometown, I had gotten word that both of my parents had died; I was requested to attend their burial. Although calling it a burial was an ironic play on words. It was a mass burial of anyone in our town who had died that month; bodies frozen until the "ceremony". As children we were allowed to stand in a line and watch as the gray uniforms shoveled dirt and laid a layer of cement, preparing for next month's layer of bodies.

A skyscraper of bodies.

Within a week of the burial announcement, all air travel was banned and I was forced to take the train to the burial and then back to college, where I was finishing my Master’s Program. They had allowed colleges to exist, for now.

I had been sitting in the train lounge, drinking a glass of wine and reminiscing. I was also intentionally disdainfully avoiding the gawking of the men all in uniform; ignoring comments of, “you’re the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen” or “A shame she’s not one of us, I bet she’s feisty in the bedroom.”

I was taken aback when a young man in civilian clothes, not a purple band, sat down across from me.

"I'm Jim. Bloody awful thing taking these trains, never knowing who will be on it. Where are you headed?"

I had looked up and saw him glare at a uniform as he approached me. I instinctively felt safe, maybe it was the ugly reality that everything around me represented death and Jim seemed like light. Whatever the cause, I found myself enjoying the conversation. We talked about what life was like a year ago, when there were no purple bands, no curfews, no fines or house arrest if we didn't "tolerate" the new national religion; a time when we could live life without fear. It felt good to talk to someone, it felt even better to be heard.

As we talked I hadn't realized that he had at some point moved across the space between us and was sitting next to me. Hand around my back, knowing I'd feel safe. When he offered to get me another drink, with my guard down I said, ”sure”. Well he was gone, I quickly threw on an extra layer of lipstick and ran my fingers through my hair.

When Jim returned, he looked smart, put together. He handed me the glass and said, “cheers to new beginnings”. As I delicately let our glasses clink, I thought just maybe Jim was the ray of hope in all the darkness. I took a sip of wine and sat back excited to continue our conversation, hoping it would lead to more.

When I awoke, I was in a room with a single light on. I sat up confused, the drink of wine was the last thing I remembered. I looked around hoping it was merely my roomette, but it wasn't; it was a full room. I tried the door and quickly realized it was locked. They had changed the locks on the doors, ensuring they could only be locked from the outside. I tried to open the window, that damn window wouldn’t budge. I found my purse and quickly realized my phone was missing. I sat down on the sofa to regroup. As I scanned the room, I saw a robe hanging and a record player with a pile of vinyls. I saw that the bed had sheets on it; not merely what the railroad supplied when I was younger. At about that time the spinning began, I realized my meal from the previous night was about to rejoin me, so I burst into the bathroom. After the toilet bowl and I became acquainted, I looked up over the toilet bowl and saw my wrist; a small train with the #24 was tattooed in purple ink”. I cleaned myself up and sat on the toilet lid. I quickly looked up and saw on the back of the door, a sign that read, “If you are in danger or you are on this train without your consent, call 800-5000-9876 or text your train room # to 67548”.

I quickly stepped out of the bathroom into the private bedroom, looking frantically for the telephone, I quickly called the number on the flier. The phone rang and rang, until a voice answered, “This is the conductor, how can I help you?” I frantically explained that I was in a room on the train and I was being held against my will. The conductor asked that I look at the phone and tell him what number was on the set, “24” I quickly stated. “Miss, hold tight, someone will be there to help you shortly”.

My naïve self forgot that I was on a train full of men with purple armbands, or that all phone communications had been taken over a week ago by the national religion. I was just relieved that someone, anyone could help me.

I heard a key in the door lock, as the door opened Jim walked in, following behind him the conductor.

“Well Jim, this little lady seems to think she is being held against her will? Is she?” the conductor said in a rather sleazy manner.

Jim calmly walked over to me, now wearing a uniform and a purple armband, and said in an even tone, “you should never let a stranger buy you a drink, they may put something in it.” As he moved his finger down my cheek he continued, “colleges are closed as of yesterday. Your parents are dead and your brother is not coming. We sent a text to your roommates informing them that you wanted to stay in your hometown a little bit longer. No one is looking for you. You will try to escape, they all do, but I am informing you that the more you try the harder your life will be. The less you try to escape, the more freedoms we will give you. You are now a Conductor’s girl.” He turned and walked out of the room, locking the door behind him leaving me with conductor #1.

I fought as hard as I could, I’m sure he left with a black eye and a broken rib; but I was left unconscious on the ground, with my clothes torn off of me. The next morning when I woke, I tried to escape, I tried to break the window. Not more than minutes after my attempt, three guards entered my room and drugged me.

Conductor #2, I tried to personally castrate the m-f-, and I paid for it heavily with a broken rib of my own and no food for two days.

Conductor #3 thought that it would be fun to put me on a leash, to which I tried to wrap around his feet, hoping he would fall and hit his head hard enough to be unconscious. Again, it was I that ended up unconscious.

By conductor #4 I quickly learned that if I wanted to have my head about me and be allowed to eat, I would have to play the part.

I learned to be submissive, to ask for new lingerie, to smile and ask what they wanted. I wanted to fight, to cover every inch of flesh on my body and to scream out, “Why?! Why God Why?!” but at this point I didn’t even know if I believed in a God.

Every time the intercom announced a stop, I was trained to wait, to wait for the next conductor to come knock on my door. If I opened the door, if they didn’t have to unlock it; I was allowed to sleep alone. If I didn’t open in and welcome the conductor in, Jim would sleep with me. Jim was mean, and thought it amusing to see life go out of my eyes.

These conductors were all the same, they assumed that they were entitled to me. They presumed it was my privilege to serve and service them. They genuinely thought that I should feel honored. Conductor #10 I saw again as #16; a little tipsy he informed me that I was his favorite. Did that mean that there were more conductor’s girls? I had little time to think about that as it didn’t matter, if I couldn’t help myself, how could I help anyone else.

And now I sit, staring out the same damn window. Waiting, the intercom has gone off and it announces a stop at my hometown; the sick cruelty. A knock comes to the door, #21 is at the door. I open it and to my surprise see a mirage picture from my youth; I can’t speak but open the door and usher the gentleman in.

Jim looks at us inquisitively, as if he thinks something is wrong, ‘Sir, what can I do for you today?” I say in a stutter, trying to regain composure. Before the gentleman can answer, Jim closes the door.

I didn’t know what to say or what to do, he just stood there in the doorway looking at me, not moving. The uniform, with the God awful purple band. I didn’t know this man, not anymore, he looked like my brother, but his eyes were cold and no smile crept over his face. He had the medallion of a commander, he was committed to the national religion.

Tears started to roll down my eyes.

“Don’t cry,” he said sternly. He walked over to the record player and thumbed through the vinyl's.

“I saw you at our parents' burial ceremony. I was one of the commanding officers behind the podium”. I remembered seeing a blur of gray and purple, nothing more.

He continued, “I did not know you were #24, your reputation precedes you among the ranks, impressive” My stomach turned, he thought he was actually paying me a compliment.

As he walked away from the vinyl and sat down; I moved to the record player and grabbed Johnny Cash; it had been our favorite growing up. I intentionally put on “Folsom Prison Blues” hoping to poke at who he had become. As I turned around I began to feel a warmth move up my body, my tears and fear were blinded by what was a rage, in a calculated voice I simply said, “how could you? How could you watch them kill our parents, bury them and then continue to follow them; LEAD them!” By now I was no longer sitting and was in my brother’s face.

“Sit DOWN!” he commanded. I did so more out of exhaustion than fear; I had nothing left to lose. “I believe in the new national religion. I think it finally created the Utopian society we all longed for. No more wondering what is acceptable, simply knowing what is acceptable, tolerable and having consequences for not wanting to be part of the greater community. That is a world I want to be a part of, and sacrifices must be made. I guess I should thank you, without you helping pay my way through community college I wouldn’t have been recruited by the national religion. Maybe somewhere deep down you wanted to support the national religion.”

I just stared at him in disbelief. Utter shock started to wash over my body. After convincing myself that what he was saying was not true; because it honestly sounded logical I realized that If he believed in the new national religion what was he going to do with me? Now terrified stuttered through “If you want to thank me, drop me off at the next stop”.

He gave a chuckle with an unnerving smile. He shuffled his hair, ruffled his clothing and went to the door. As he opened it, without thinking I started singing “I fell into a burning ring of fire, I went down down down and the flames went higher and it burns burns burns the ring of fire.” He stopped, didn’t turn around, and said, “goodbye”.

The door closed and I heard Jim ask, “Did she meet your needs sir?”

My brother simply responded, “She is tired, she needs rest tonight”

How sad, that in the past five years, those were the nicest words I had heard our of my baby brother's mouth.

I let Johnny Cash sing me to sleep, I was not hungry and welcomed the four walls of the room reminding me how alone I truly was. I was woken up in the middle of the night. This was not an uncommon practice, there were some night trains with eager conductor’s not caring how “prepared” I was. I rolled over, ready to simply be submissive. Instead of a body crawling into bed with me, I heard my brother, “I do not like being in debt to anyone. It was made clear to me earlier that I owe you a debt, for putting me through community college. I cannot claim who I am in it’s entirety until I do not owe you anything. I want to be true to the new religion. Thus I am releasing you of your debt. God will you sit up while I’m talking to you.”

I sat up, not understanding what was happening, where was Jim? Did he know about this meeting.

“Get dressed and follow me.” My brother gave the command, clearly no choice.

I got dressed and began to follow my brother. I saw Jim sleeping in a chair, “No need to worry, he had a little something extra in his drink. I have to ensure I owe you nothing.”

We passed through the lounge, the dining car and the business class car. It was only now that I began to realize the train was stopped. If a gray uniform looked twice, my brother just smiled and said, “I have personal plans for #24” this was met by a wink, a punch to the shoulder, a hoop or a holler. I wanted to castrate all of these assholes.

When we got to the door of the train, my brother opened the door, “please leave”.

I knew that if Jim woke up and didn’t see me, he would hunt me down; he had said so many times.

Seeming to read my train of thought my brother stated, “I will tell Jim that I came back for round two. When I found him asleep, I helped myself to your room. Unfortunately, things got out of hand and I had to teach you a lesson. Jim won’t think twice about this, as it has happened before when a Conductor’s girl forgot what an honor it is to be with the Conductor’s.” How could he say this all so matter of factly and so calmly? “Now please leave, I will not ask again”.

I stepped off the train, into the snow; disbelief washing over me. I started to walk away, which turned to a jog and then an all out run. I didn’t see the branch buried under the snow and fell, just outside the train station. I felt an arm on me and frantically started hitting, “Jim woke up and realized it was a lie!” was all I could think. “Child hush” her sleeve fell back and I saw a train with the #7 on her wrist.

“You must come with me quickly”. I knew this could be a trick, like Jim but what did I have to lose?

She led me to an apartment complex and opened the door to apartment #35. When I walked in, I saw two other young women. I started sobbing, uncontrollably. They all had the same tattoo’s with different numbers on them. The apartment had two bedrooms each with two twin beds in them. They led me to an open bed and made sure I knew I was safe.

After a few days of crying and sleeping, I resurfaced to hear how all three of the women were on a train together, some rebels had broken the rails in one area. When the train that they were on hit the broken rails they derailed and their car toppled overall of their windows breaking. They showed me the scars on their arms, back and chest from the broken glass. They had been able to escape and found safety with one of their cousins, who owned this apartment complex. They all managed the complex for rent and had started a community farm on the back 5 acres, for the residents; who like them were victims of the gray and purple. They informed me that they would go down once a day to the train station, in disguise, to see if any other Conductor’s girls were able to get out. I just happened to be running, the same time they had come to check.

Every day when weather permits, every window in our apartment is open, and there is only one lock on the door, from the inside.