The Last Line

Ruben’s eyes flickered open to a blur of lights and color. Dazzled, he screwed them shut again, head throbbing. This was by far one of the worst headaches he’d ever suffered, and the harsh metallic taste lingering on his tongue did it no favors. For a few seconds he just concentrated on breathing. In. Out. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Or did he have it backwards? Through the pounding in his ears filtered sounds of nearby revelry, and beneath that hummed a faint rushing, the exact nature of which he couldn’t quite place his finger on. Sounded very familiar though. Reluctantly he opened his eyes once more, blearily focusing on the ornate chandelier swinging gently back and forth overhead. Ruben stared at this, entranced; then a thought hit him. This was most definitely not his apartment. Then…

He lurched bolt upright, making his temple pulse dangerously in protest. He’d been lying on a seat in what looked like a train car, although it was far more upscale than anything he’d ridden in before. Everything was resplendently gilded in intricate moldings, the floors were padded by rich carpets, and even the drawn window shades looked luxurious. How had he gotten here? The haze in his mind was too thick for any recent memories to make it through. Had he wandered here while drunk, and passed out? And for that matter, where the hell was ‘here?'

A door at the far end slid open, allowing a young, ruddy-faced man to stumble through. He was dressed to match the surroundings, clad in a crisp tux and sporting a neat crop of black hair. Still, there was a slightly disheveled look to him, and even as he paused there, one hand was fidgeting with his bowtie, fruitlessly trying to straighten. A drunken grin was plastered across his face, which faded immediately upon noticing Ruben.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" He demanded.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. Where am I?"

"You don't…" He teetered in bemusement. "You don't know… Oh mate, I don't even know where…" He slumped into a seat with a huff. "What's your name then?"

"Ruben." He rubbed his head, trying to ease the relentless throbbing. "You?"

"Mort. Morty. Mortimer. Take your pick, I don't care."

"Is Mort okay?"

"Just said I don't care."

"Sorry." Ruben winced as the rocking of the chandelier cast a painful gleam of light into his eye. "God, I feel awful."

"Do you?" Mort frowned. "Well, that's not right. Not yet. Want a drink?"

"Not like I've never had hair of the dog before, but in this case, maybe not right now."

Mort stared at him a moment, processing, then guffawed. "Oh, I like you. Ruben was it? You'll fit right in."

"In where? Where am I?”

"You really don't know? Haven't you still got your ticket?"

"What ticket?" Ruben checked his pockets just in case, but they were empty.

“No ticket? That can’t be good.”

Ruben was beginning to lose patience. “Look, what is going on? What is this place?”

“The train.” Mort cracked open one of the window blinds to reveal what seemed to be a tunnel rushing past outside. “You really don’t remember the- man- explaining everything, and getting your ticket, and boarding… none of that?”

“No.” Ruben murmured, staring out the window. “No, I just woke up here. I don’t remember… I don’t know. Where are we going?”

“Hell.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Hell. The underworld. The afterlife bad ending. The man explained it all at the station…”

“You’re shitting me, right? This can’t be… I’m not even dead! And even if I was, I was a good- well, I’ve never done anything really horrible…”

“You and half the people onboard mate.” Mort laughed. “I thought the same thing too; but, well, my ticket says otherwise.” He coaxed a crumpled slip of paper from his pocket and waved halfheartedly. The bold lettering along the top did indeed say ‘Destination: Hell,’ along with a lengthy block of text. “Apparently I wasn’t very good to my ol’ wife.” Ruben explained, glancing it over with a disgruntled expression. “Among other things. You really don’t appreciate how it all piles up over your life until everything’s spelled out in one place.”

“Well, it doesn’t seem too bad here.” Ruben nodded to the door Mort had stepped through. “Sounds like quite the party.”

“That’s ‘cause we’re not there yet. This train ride is sort of a final hurrah. Booze, drugs, women… They have it all in there. Wanna come?”

“What? No! I’m not- I don’t think I’m even supposed to be here! I need to leave, I can’t-” He stammered, panic setting in. As bizarre as it sounded, something made him believe Mort.

“You do look a tad more alive than everyone else. More full.” Mort peered at him. “Oh, fine.” He sighed irritably. “Come on then, we’d better find a way to get you off of here before it arrives.”

“Really? I- Thank you!”

“I’m not happy about this, mind. I’m supposed to be living it up while I can. That’s the best party I’ve ever seen in there, but instead, where am I? Stuck saving your hide.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh, it’s alright.” He sighed. “I’ll be damned if I let some innocent person get dragged along with the rest of us. Well, I guess I’m damned either way.” He chortled at his own joke. “But you don’t have to be.”

“Do you know how to get back?”

“Haven’t a clue.”

Ruben rose painfully, swaying from the movements of the train. “Any guesses on where to start?”

“Um…” Mort pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, I’m too drunk for this… We should get you a disguise, right? So no one knows you’re not supposed to be here? I’d hate to imagine what would happen if the Conductor were to find you.”

“The-”

“Don’t. Ask.” Something hard in Mort’s eyes prompted Ruben to comply.

“Sounds good to me.” He agreed quickly.

“After that, maybe we can go check out the very front. Might be something up there that can help us, in the…” He frowned. “Engine room… or… something. Anyways, yes. Disguise. Back in here then.” Mort said, leading the way. “You can get anything you can dream of in here.”

“You don’t think they’d have an Ibuprofen, would they?”

“Dunno. I wouldn’t ask for one though- nothing’s supposed to hurt for us. Yet.”

“Great.” Ruben rubbed his temple. If anything, his headache was only getting worse. It certainly wasn’t helped by the wall of light and noise that slammed into him as they crossed into the next car. So much was happening all at once that it was completely overwhelming, and the opulent glamor of the carriage itself only dazzled him further. Mort had certainly been right about one thing; this was one hell of a party. Every indulgence imaginable was on display, often taken to ludicrous extremes which would have been impossible for a mortal body to partake in.

Standing beside the door was a tall and thin man, who watched the goings on with a dispassionate expression. He was wearing a red vest embellished by gold, and Ruben instinctively flinched back out of sight. “Is that the Conductor?” He hissed to Mort, who had stopped and was looking back at him questioningly.

“No, don’t be daft. Just an attendant. Excuse me!” The man glanced over, raising his eyebrows questioningly. Ruben peered around the corner, still unwilling to commit himself fully to view.

“My friend is a bit shy.” Mort explained, waving his arm vaguely backwards. “A bit freaky too. He wants one of those masquerade getups before he dives back into the fun… you think you can help us out?”

The attendant nodded, then suddenly a costume was draped over his outstretched arms. Ruben blinked. It looked like it’d simply materialized out of thin air. “Thanks mate.” Mort passed it back. “Another champagne for me too, while we’re at it.”

“Ask him how long until we arrive.” Ruben whispered.

To his surprise, the attendant looked directly at him and spoke in a drawling tone. “About another hour left on our journey sir.”

“Ah. Thank you.”

The attendant just nodded in response. While Mort got his drink, Ruben slipped the new outfit over his scruffy clothes. Perhaps unsurprisingly it fit perfectly, and was quite comfortable to boot. Still, he felt more than a little embarrassed as he stepped back into the party carriage.

“I feel ridiculous.” He muttered, adjusting his mask.

“You look ridiculous.” Mort agreed, smirking.

“Couldn’t you have gotten me something a little less extravagant?”

“Trust me mate, this’ll help you blend in far more than anything else could. Extravagant's the name of the game. Now come on, and stay close.” Turning into the crowd, he popped the cork off his bottle and took a long swig.

They plunged into the chaos. Ruben clung tight to Mort’s tail, scrunching in his shoulders to make himself as small as possible to avoid touching as much of the debauchery around him as he could. In every face, even those in throws of utmost ecstasy, was the same little shadow. The same little lurking fear, the knowledge of what was coming at the end of the line…

“You know, I never even believed this sort of thing was real.” Ruben leaned into Mort’s ear. “Hell, I mean.”

“It isn’t. Not what you’re thinking of, anyway. The man explained it to us at the station, it’s…” Mort paused and half turned, composing his thoughts. “Well, it’s not what we thought. Not what anyone on Earth thought.”

“Hell?”

“Anything. The universe. Beyond. We all got an awful lot wrong, priests and physicists alike. You’ll understand more if you ever come through here for real.”

They pressed on, fighting their way through the crowd, and had almost made it to the far side when a woman stumbled into Ruben’s path. He instinctively caught and steadied her, earning himself a sultry smile.

“Hey.” She teetered further into his arms. “How ‘bout a spin?”

“No thanks.” Ruben tried to disentangle himself, but she only gripped his sleeves tighter.

“Come on, it’d be fun. Why not, hm?” She reached up to caress his cheek, but the moment her skin touched his she froze, her eyes going wide with sudden alarmed sobriety. “You’re so warm…” She murmured, gripping his face in both hands. “You’re- You’re still alive!”

The entire party froze. It was so sudden it was as if someone had hit a great big pause button: all the noise, all the music, all the movement just stopped, instantly, as one. Every eye was locked robotically upon him, and only Mort seemed free from the spell.

“Oh fu-” He began, looking around frantically, but the woman cut him off.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” Her voice was slurred now, and before Ruben’s eyes her skin began to change, churning itself into a dark ash. “What do you know?” She demanded, eyes now burning like glowing coals. All throughout the carriage the same change spread over the rest of the crowd, rosy cheeks and elegant clothes replaced in an instant by sifting ash. “What do you know?” The former-woman demanded again, her voice echoed a hundred times over.

“I- I’m not-” Ruben stammered. He was struggling with all his might to get away, but her grip was too tight, he couldn’t-

Suddenly, her head exploded in a cloud of dust, as Mort’s champagne bottle sailed through. “Holy crap.” He stumbled, eyes wide with shock. “Didn’t think that’d work.”

The former woman’s body stumbled back, crumbling away. An inhuman guttural screech arose in the throats of the ash-beings around them, and they began to ooze forwards towards the two men.

“Bloody hell, now we’ve done it.”

“Let’s go!” Ruben started forwards, jolting Mort into motion.

“You don’t have to tell me twice. How are they all- God, I slept with half of them! Ugh!”

They raced for the exit, Mort taking a few more wild swings at the ash-people who slid into their path. “Here, give me!” Ruben frantically held out his hand.

“Why?”

“Because I’m sober!”

“Fair dues. Here!” Seizing the bottle, Ruben delivered some well aimed blows, dissolving their foes into clouds of dust and freeing the path forwards. Reaching the far door Mort wrenched it open, but a sudden pressure in the air made them both stop and turn.

At the far end of the car the attendant was still standing right where he’d been, eyes gleaming after them as a slight knowing smile creased his lips. The ash-people, who had been massing behind them in pursuit stopped, and rapidly began slinking away, sucking themselves through little vents in the walls. The opposite door was closed, but Ruben could still sense a… presence on the far side.

“Oh….” Mort breathed. “It’s the conductor.”

They stumbled back through their door and slammed it shut, breathing hard on the other side. “Well color me confused,” Mort gasped, “because now I don’t know what’s going on. I thought all those people were real… Am I real? Am I the only real one on the whole bloody train?”

Ruben didn’t answer. He was looking around urgently, taking stock of their new surroundings. It seemed to be another passenger car, like the one he’d woken up in, and was thankfully empty save the two of them. “Come on.” He insisted. “We need to keep going, that thing’s going to catch up to us if we don’t-”

“Hold on.” Mort peered at him with narrowed eyes. “How do I know you’re real? How do I know this isn’t some sort of trick, or trap?”

“Are you kidding? You offered to help me!”

“Even so. Hold out your hand.”

“Mort, please, it’s going to catch up-”

“This won’t take a moment. Now hold it out!”

Seeing no other option, Ruben reluctantly did as he was bid- but regretted it an instant later when Mort jabbed a corkscrew into his palm. “Ow!” He jerked his hand back angrily. “What the hell?”

“You’re bleeding.” Mort said in wonder. “You’re not just real, that’s your real body.”

“Yes, thank you for verifying.” Ruben snapped, rubbing his palm.

“I thought maybe you were having some near-death experience and things got a little mixed up, but… how on Earth did you get down here?”

“Let’s figure that out when we find a way to send me back.”

“But how do we even know what’s what anymore? I thought I did, kind of, but-”

“We know that’s bad news, right?” Ruben jerked his thumb towards the door, through which he could sense the presence slowly approaching. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I’ll take it.” They hurried to the other end of the car, but when Mort tried the door handle, it wouldn’t budge.

“Here, let me try.” Ruben wrenched on it, slamming his shoulder against the door, but couldn’t elicit more than a slight wobble. In frustration, he smashed the bottle down on the handle, breaking it with a loud snap. The door popped ever so slightly open, and they pushed their way into the next car.

“Damn.” He muttered, trying to pull it shut again. “I popped it too hard, it won’t latch again.”

“Sure, but look! Engine room!” Mort grinned. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

They squeezed inward, turning sideways to inch past the large block of machinery occupying the center. It was an ugly thing of crudely welded steel, burning with red embers and grinding out a horrible din as it hurtled them along the tracks. The windows here were uncovered by blinds, but it was so dark outside Ruben could only just see the rocky walls racing by. It was hard to tell, but there seemed to be a reddish tint to the air, one which he was certain had not been there before. He gulped. They were running out of time.

“Think we can shut this down maybe?” He shouted over the din.

“Couldn’t tell you where to start mate. I’m not half bad with an engine, but I don’t know what I’m looking at here.”

“Keep moving then? What’s up next, the driver’s car? Think we’ll get any help there?”

“Better than going back, I can tell you that much.”

“Maybe they’ll have some sort of emergency brake we could pull.”

“An emergency brake? On the train to hell?”

“You never know. What if someone’s here by mistake, and they have to do a recall?”

Mort started at him incredulously, then burst out laughing. “You’re quite the optimist. I like that. Yeah who knows, maybe there is. Maybe I’ll get recalled! Could be hope for me yet!”

Judging from how long the list of charges on Mort’s ticket was, Ruen found that idea unlikely, but he didn’t try to argue. “I hope doing all this doesn’t make them angrier at you.” He said as he squeezed past a particularly obtrusive piece of machinery. “I’d hate to think I got you in more trouble.”

“Eh.” Mort half-shrugged. “Given where I’m headed, I don’t think there’s much more that can get tacked on to my sentence. Not like I ever cared much for consequences as it was.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Sure. Like, I never really thought the ‘missus would ever catch me with another woman. Just sort of assumed everything would all work out.”

“And it didn’t?”

“Oh no. Big fiasco. You know the worst part?”

“What?”

“They told me it wasn’t even the adultery that was the problem. It was how it had hurt her. Figures, right? If I’d been just a little more careful…”

“Or maybe that would’ve just delayed the inevitable, and made it even worse when she did find out.” Ruben pointed out. “Or better yet-”

“If you say ‘I shouldn’t have done it at all,’ I am going to slap you. Not like you’ve lived a blameless life.”

“I-” Ruben faltered. Mort was right: he had hurt plenty of people, in his own little ways. Never intentionally, or at least almost never, but still; he’d broken hearts… dropped expectations… screwed people over… “Maybe this is why I’m here.” He muttered. “Wake up call. Don’t know why I’d get one though, I wouldn’t say I deserve it.”

Mort flashed him an odd look. “Hard to say. About any of this. What I gather is that life is just a sort of test, a precursor to something else. Unless you fail, then…” He trailed off, motioning sadly around.

“Test for what? By who?”

“I don’t know. Failed, didn’t I? Brought too much unhappiness into the world.”

“Maybe there’ll be redemption.” Ruben offered. “A chance to learn from your mistakes.”

“Is it still learning from your mistakes if you only do it because you got punished for them?”

“Is there any other way to learn from them?”

“Fair dues. Hey look, I think we’re almost to the end.” Indeed they were. Ruben just had to clamber over one last set of pipes, then another door was before them.

“Near as I reckon, through here is the foremost car.” Mort mused. “I just hope there’s-” He broke off abruptly.

Ruben felt it too. That curious pressure, at the far end of the engine room. They both turned, to see the door slowly begin to creak open. As if in response, Ruben’s temple throbbed particularly badly.

"At least he moves slowly." Ruben murmured, clutching his head. “We still have time.”

"I don't think he needs to move fast.."

With those reassuring words Ruben tried the handle, his silent prayer that it'd be unlocked answered as it sprung open. They tumbled into the next car, eyes averted from the creeping horror inching into the engine room behind. But what Ruben saw made him stop dead, heart thudding to a hopeless standstill.

This was indeed the final car. Out the front window he could see the tunnel stretching ahead, reaching towards a distant speck of red light which was slowly but surely getting bigger. But more pressingly was the fact that there was no driver, no controls… nothing but an empty room, and a view of their approaching doom.

"Well… Bollux." Mort said, matter-of-factly.

"That can't be it!" Ruben frantically began searching the walls, the floor, the ceiling, looking for any sign of some way out.

"'Fraid so." Mort sat down cross-legged in the middle of the floor, gazing nonchalantly out the window ahead.

"You can't just give up!"

"Give up? Mate, I lost the moment they handed me my ticket. I was hoping I could help you, but-" He shrugged. "End of the line."

"So what, you want to just sit here and wait for the conductor to get us."

"Pretty much. Not like we got much else to do, is there?" He added, seeing Rubens dismal expression. "Half of life is knowing when to quit. Er- afterlife." He chuckled. "Got any booze left in there?" He nodded to the champagne bottle still clutched in Rubens hand.

"A little. Just a few drops."

"Eh, you have it then. You'll probably need it more than I do."

Hesitantly, Ruben sat beside him, raising the bottle to his lips. Gratefully he downed the last dregs. It was far too little to soothe his nerves, but at least it help wash away that awful lingering metallic taste.

"You know, I really should've treated her better." Mort said quietly after a few moments. "Not just because I'm getting punished. She was a sweet girl. Deserved someone kinder."

“Yeah.” Ruben murmured. "This really takes the fun out of nihilism, doesn't it? Learning that some things do actually matter." Mort looked over at him wordlessly, and Ruben plowed on. "I always thought it was comforting, that nothing really mattered in the end. That eventually you die, then the planet dies, then the universe dies… The opposite sounded terrifying. That every choice mattered, that at every juncture you could make a new mistake, which could alter a hundred different things… And now you're telling me all this about tests, and punishments, and purpose… Well, I'm rambling, but I just miss my uncaring universe, is all."

"Sounds like you're taking your first steps into a wider world." Mort's tone was curious. He almost sounded pleased.

"Yeah, for all the good it'll do." Ruben could feel the pressure again, building on the other side of the door. His head was throbbing harder than ever, and he felt as if he might be sick.

"Any last little sips left? My throat’s gone a bit dry."

"Here." Ruben passed him the bottle. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. "Well," he sighed, "I'll be damned if I die sitting on the floor. Well, I guess I'm damned either way." They shared a weak chuckle, and Ruben rose to meet the door. It slowly creaked open, and he could feel rather than see the presence on the other side.

"Well?" Ruben demanded of it, sounding far more confident than he felt. "No ticket. Whatcha gonna do?" No answer came from the darkness beyond the door, but he could feel a sense of building rage. "You could always send me home." He offered quickly. "At the very least, let Mort here off the hook. If anything, he should be rewarded for trying to help me. That's a good deed, isn't it?"

The darkness broiled, as if unsure of what to make of this. "Holy shit." Ruben whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "It might actually be considering it."

"Maybe." Mort agreed. "Either way, damn decent thing for you to do. Cheers mate." With that he smashed the bottle into the back of Rubens head, jarring him with an immense blinding pain. Not even able to manage a cry, he pitched forwards, and-

Ruben came to his senses with a yelp. Still gripped by fear he sat bolt upright, then almost toppled back to the ground as an immense wave of dizziness and pain washed through his head. With a moan he felt the back of his scalp, feeling a lurch of sickness when his fingers encountered wetness. He looked blearily around for something to stop the bleeding with, only then realizing his surroundings with a jolt of cold dread in his heart. He was still on the train! This time in some sort of sleeper car, but it was certainly-

A hazy thought swam to the front of his mind. What was his suitcase doing here? And his jacket? Crawling to the window, he peeked under the blind, afraid at what he might see. But instead of cavern walls, it was rolling fields and patches of trees, blanketed under night. That’s right. He was traveling to see his family. He’d had a late night at the bar, and…

He looked back again, seeing where he’d lost his balance, where he’d hit his head on the edge of the bed frame, where the little pool of blood still marked where he’d laid. Was that really it? Had it all just been a hallucination, brought on by the twin serpents of alcohol and blunt head trauma?

Shakily he rose, grabbing both a hand towel and the miraculously unbroken bottle of vodka, and sat on the edge of his bed. Ruben soaked a corner of the cloth in the alcohol, intending to wipe his wound clean; but in doing so, he felt a sharp pain in his hand. With a grimace he pulled it away, and investigated his palm. Right there in the middle was a red dot, only barely scabbed from when Mort had stabbed him.

Ruben’s blood ran cold. How had- Where- What-

Almost unbidden, his other hand drifted to his pocket, where his fingers brushed against a scrap of paper. No. No, it couldn’t be. He pulled it out with trembling fingers, and stared down at the neatly scrawled message.

Not bad mate. You showed some fine colors there. Really wasn’t sure if I could trust you, but you pulled through like a champ. Now, let’s see how you handle Round Two. There’s a monster on board this one, and I’d highly recommend finding it before it finds you. Sorry I can’t join you for this one, but assuming you keep going for the gold, I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.

-Your pal, Mort

A sudden bile rose in Ruben’s throat, and his temples began to throb with a renewed vengeance. Visiting family… What family? His parents were dead. He hadn't talked to his brother in years. What was he- No, it didn’t matter. For now, asking questions was futile. All that mattered was surviving; surviving and pressing onwards. Ruben grabbed the bottle, rising and swaying with the rocking of the carriage, eyes towards the door. The train rolled on into the night.