The Tangent Express

The worst part was that the last thing I remembered before waking up on The Tangent Express was wishing I was far, far away from my house. And then, I was.

Caleb decided to be a scuba diver in the dog bowl, sending a wave of backwash-tainted water across the kitchen floor. Eden failed at soothing Ava, who was having a level-10 tantrum over the color of a plate.

“Pink plate! Sketti on the pink plate!” Ava screamed as if her life depended on it.

Work continued to send pings to my cell phone, asking about assignments that had nothing to do with me, but somehow, blame came my way.

Sensory overload was an overstatement. The room was spinning into some chaotic carnival. I felt like screaming or crying or both.

“I’m going to take the trash out,” I said in a temper-fueled snap, stuffing wet, drooly rags into the kitchen trashcan.

“Don’t take forever. Bath time for these two is in ten minutes,” Eden said as she finally gave up and transferred spaghetti over from the green plate to the pink plate.

I bolted for the door with the heavy trash bag, but not before tripping over a toy Viking, nearly landing on my face.

Outside, the August sun baked our corner of suburbia like we were breadcrumbs against toaster coils. Cicadas protested out in the distance. An ice cream truck played its siren call blocks away. Even the sunflowers seemed to be tired of the sun as they fried and drooped. Still, despite the stifling heat, I breathed out a sigh of relief for some relative quiet.

What was wrong with me? All the dads in the neighborhood seemed to take these tantrums with a pro-level stride. Their kids seemed to be absolute angels compared to the hellraisers we brought into this world. Everything for everyone else just seemed, well, smoother. Clearly, I was failing at parenting, and hard.

I threw open the trashcan lid when a beyond-rancid stink assaulted my senses and I fell backward. I suppose that’s what happens when you mix leftover shrimp egg foo young with summer heat. But there was something else too. I could’ve sworn I heard someone say, “Got ya,” as I fell backward, head smacking against the grass I meant to mow.

I woke up then to a splitting headache, a flipping stomach and the sound of a frightened crowd. I realized I was, somehow, sitting in a violet, velvet recliner with my legs propped up on an ottoman. I looked down to see, in a crime against humanity, I was wearing a mint green tuxedo and bowtie from the ‘70s — wide lapels on the jacket, a frilled cream shirt, and to make matters worse, a bag of mint tea hung where a corsage would typically be.

I looked to my right, where an identical chair and ottoman stood. In that chair sat a startled gentleman in a super realistic Viking costume. He stared at me with confusion and anger while his left hand was groping for something that wasn’t there.

He asked me a question in a language I didn’t understand.

When I didn’t respond, he yelled it once more like a berserker, and all I could do was squeal.

I stood up and saw that the Viking and I were sitting in two long rows of recliners in a train's luxurious passenger car. Yet, something was wrong. Large crystal chandeliers swung in violent jerks. While they had real candles in them, the flames flickered in and out as if they were electrical. Golden valances hung above oversized burgundy curtains that covered windows throughout the car. As the curtain nearest me swayed, I saw a purple, nebulous galactic sky rushing by at a frightening speed.

Panic jabbed me in the throat. I stumbled backward until I was in the white-marbled aisle, and that’s when I got a good look at the other passengers.

Behind me stood a woman in an astronaut suit.

“What's wrong with the train?” she said through her helmet.

Beyond the astronaut, I saw a chef, a wizard, a doctor, and countless others that you’d expect at a costume party. Everyone looked panicked. All that wouldn’t necessarily be too bad — if all the passengers were just human. A ten-foot octopus flailed its tentacles in one seat, clearly outraged. A two-headed being sat there, one head being a toucan's and the other a sloth's, all perched on the body of a sailor. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to see a human-shaped nervous system with bottle cap glasses staring at me.

“Dear God!” I shouted, hyperventilating already.

“No, I’m not God,” it said with a whiny voice. “I’m Boyd. Anyway, do you know what’s happening to the train? This is an alarming speed.”

“Damn thing’s gone berserk,” a voice said behind us. “This thing better not crash. I’ve got an appointment at the Reincarnation Station.”

I turned to see a woman in a wedding gown. She gripped a bouquet of white roses like a sword.

“Well, your appointment may have to be postponed. Safety seems to be a concern at this speed,” Boyd said.

“I ain’t postponing anything. I’m still Cheryl, Miss Left-at-the-altar Cheryl. I’m scheduled to be State Representative Holly Sho, and I can’t wait. Why's this thing acting like a tornado in a tomato field?"

“Well, Cheryl, as you know, this is a sentient train, and like all living beings, erratic behavior may be a sign of infection…”

As I tried to make sense of what these two were rambling about, still comprehending what Boyd possibly could be, the loudspeaker finally crackled.

“Hello, sunshines," an overly optimistic voice said. "We apologize for the erratic behavior. Our staff’s number one priority is the safety of our loyal passengers."

I could feel the train's speed increasing and the temperature getting hotter. A dog in a three-piece suit fell onto the ground.

“What in the blue blazes?” it said in a thick, Scottish accent, his tongue panting.

“The Tangent Express is accelerating at an unsafe speed and overheating, as I’m sure you all can feel. The Great Engineer is trying to regulate this with some medication, but our poor train’s symptoms are worsening. We suspect there may be a stowaway, and the train’s system is rejecting it. We are sending security forces to each car. Please present your ticket.”

With that, the double doors at the front of the passenger car opened, and two massive white blood cells came out. I saw a man in a soldier uniform present a ticket to one. The cell nodded and went to the next chair.

I reached into my pants pockets and only found lint. Same with my jacket and shirt pockets. The smell of the bag of mint tea nauseated me. I looked over to the Viking who sat, holding a ticket, and stared at me with a judgemental stare.

“I’m sure it’s here somewhere,” I said. “I must’ve dropped it.”

He shouted something at me in his language.

“Will you shut it?” I snapped back.

His left hand continued to grab for something.

“What are you looking for anyway? Thor’s hammer?”

His jaw dropped. He stood up, approached me, and got in my face. Then, I saw lightning sizzle in his red beard.

“Oh, crap,” I said. “You’re, you’re.”

I gulped as I heard thunder rumble around him.

“Where is it?” he roared in perfect English.

“I sure don’t have it!” I said.

Thor grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and lifted me up, but I wiggled out of his grip and fell into a werewolf who screeched with a much higher-pitched cry than I expected.

I stumbled backward and saw The God of Thunder and a werewolf ready to eat me alive. If there was ever proof I died by the trashcan, it was this. What an unbelievable, albeit epic, way to go, I thought. Then, the white blood cells looked over to us and began rushing over in their slithery fashion. Well, they were the speed of sea slugs, but they sure tried.

I panicked and ran to the end of the car, passing oddity and monstrosity in every seat. I opened the doors at the end of the passenger car, which led to another car similar to mine. The two cells in the new car were on the other side, checking tickets, but I knew I didn’t have time until they cornered me.

“Sit down, quick,” someone said.

I looked at the first seat, where a woman in a green cloak smiled and gestured toward the empty recliner next to her. I listened to what she had to say. She tossed me a cloak just like hers, only pink, and, right away, I felt a ticket in the pocket.

“Thanks,” I said.

“No problem. And welcome,” the woman said.

“To the train?” I asked.

“No, silly, to the Cult of the Cloaks! Wearing that makes you our newest member. And, you have the best color. Pink's much better than green. Are you ready to sacrifice yourself to the Great Fabric when we get to the temple? It’s going to be great!”

I yelped and ripped off the cloak right when the cells from my original car opened the door. I dove deeper into the car, becoming more trapped by the second.

“Bring him to the jail,” the cells shouted to each other.

“Throw him in with that kangaroo thing,” another said. "It could use a friend!"

The idea of there being some kind of monstrous marsupial waiting for me in a jail cell wasn’t a surprise at this point.

Three skeletons tried to reach for me. I snapped the arm off one and shooed away the rest of the monsters that seemed to encroach me.

Then, to my right was a metal spiral staircase that went up to another floor. I sprinted upward, feeling dizzy from heat and panic, and found myself in an empty modern lounge with aqua hemisphere booths and glass tables. The windows were uncovered and the train seemed to be going so fast now that the galaxy outside now looked like a streak of purple paint.

“Sir,” a voice said. “You should be back in your seat. We’re in an emergency situation.”

I looked up to see a wiry, tuxedoed man over twelve-foot tall with a sunflower for a head.

“I’m getting motion sickness,” I said, trying not to scream at the sheer surrealness of the sunflower man. “I need a drink.”

The sunflower looked at me with obvious suspicion, but then shrugged.

“Eh, whatever. I don’t get paid enough to catch stowaways. Come on, man,” and beckoned me to a booth in the back.

“What’s your name? Stowaway Steve?” the sunflower said.

“No,” I said, trying to think of a name to create. “It’s Mint.”

“Mint?” the sunflower man said.

“Mint.”

“That’s a very odd name,” the sunflower man said.

“What’s your name? Sunny?” I said.

“Wow, okay,” the sunflower man said as he placed a napkin on the table. “Thanks for being an assumptive jerk.”

“Well, sorry. But what is it?” I said.

“I mean, it is Sunny, but you didn’t have to just guess it.”

I stared at him, taking a step back and realized I was being pithy with a giant talking sunflower.

“You know what? You’re right. Sorry I assumed,” I said

“It’s fine,” he said, sighing. “So, what’ll you have? Stowaway Stout? An Intruder IPA? A Lord-help-me-there-are-giant-blood-cells-after-me Lager?”

“Water will do,” I said.

Sunny nodded and walked away.

I buried my head in my hands. How could I possibly wake up from this nightmare? I was on a runaway train that was boiling itself to oust, well, me, while the results of a bad acid trip surrounded me.

“So,” said a raspy, older voice. “When did you first realize you weren’t at a costume party? Was it the octopus? The werewolf? The talking nervous system?”

I jerked my head up to see an older gentleman sitting next to me, sipping a martini. He wore a gray, modern suit with an open collar and no necktie. His hair and beard were salt and pepper and he looked tanned and rested. He chuckled when he looked at my haggard self.

“Who are you?” I said.

“Well, that’s a complicated question. I have many names,” he said.

“Great Engineer, sir!” Sunny said, now back with his water.

“Okay, thank you, Sunny, for that deflating moment. Yes, I’m the Great Engineer,” the man said. “Give the man his water, please. And don’t let the cells come up just yet.”

“Yes, sir,” Sunny said and ran away.

“You’re the engineer of the train? Didn’t they say you were trying to fix it?”

He leaned back and swatted the air.“Nah. I know how to fix it. I put the problem there. Once I tell it to, it’ll settle. But I had to set up a scene that would land you in that jail. Part of the plan, you know?"

“Wait,” I said. “You brought me here?”

“Of course. How else would I get here?” he said, chuckling.

That’s when I first noticed. He had the same scar near his eyelash as I did when my cousin bashed my head into the refrigerator corner when I was three. The same discolored spot on his canine tooth as mine. The same nose that was just little too big for his face.

“What the hell?” I said, jolting upward.

He broke out in a deep, deep laughter, smacking the glass table, tears cresting from his, I mean, our, eyes.

“God, that was funnier seeing it from this side of the conversation,” he said.

“Who are you?” I said.

“Dude, we just figured this out,” he said. “I’m you.”

“From the future?”

“Well, I mean, kind of. But time doesn’t work like that out here. But you were taken from that awful suburban hellscape on a very hot summer day by an older version of yourself. Then you fall in love with the fun, sometimes legendary, characters that wind up riding this train. Then, you decide to stay, and through some great heroics, you’ll earn the title of the Great Engineer. And man, you won’t believe what’s waiting for you out here. All the fun you could want. Or, all the peace and quiet. It’s whatever you could possibly want! But first, you have to go to the jail. It's just how the sequence of events work out. So, you, know, stop running from the cells. They're too slow for this, man."

I sat there in silence for a second, struggling to process this person was saying.

“So, you just left Ava? And Caleb and Eden?” I said.

He frowned for a second, but it wasn’t out of anger. I could tell that he had no clue who I was talking about,

“Your wife and children?” I said.

“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” he said, as if I told him the name of a movie from the ‘80s he couldn’t quite place. “I’m sure they had a good life.”

I stood up and stepped back from him.

“Oh, come on, now. You mean to tell me that you actually miss them while you’re out here?” the Great Engineer said.

“Of course I do! How could you forget their names?”

“Do you have any idea how many people we meet? You’ve met movie stars and queens and Leviathan kings and gods and monsters. How could I possibly remember three people from what feels like millenia ago?” he says.

Rage bubbled inside me with such fervor that I saw red.

“How do I get back?” I snapped.

“No,” he said, straightening up and getting serious. His voice deepened, and his eyes darkened. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to let the cells take you to the jail. There, you’re going to meet a wisecracking sidekick named Syke, and you’re going to go on an adventure on this train. There will be knight battles, squid wrestling, and countless beautiful people that you’ll meet. And they’ll love you. Hell, even Sunny will be there. You’ll raise that idiot from a seed. The passengers will even call you the chosen one. You’re going to save the train from hitting terminal velocity, saving everyone here. You’re the hero. You’re not going back to freaking Earth.”

I refused to believe this script that the Great Engineer spat. There was this whole thing, this untold epic that waited for me. I would be lying if I didn’t think it sounded amazing. But, there was another adventure waiting. And right about now, that adventure must be thinking I got lost on the way to the trash can.

"Get back in the sequence of events," he said to me.

I ran to the other side of the lounge and through the double doors and fled. Somehow, I knew where I was going, despite never having been here before. I assumed that since the Great Engineer knew where the engine was, I did, too.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I heard the Great Engineer’s voice scream from the lounge as I found myself in a billiards room. The only person in the room was a sleeping walrus in a rocking chair, who leaned against a pool stick. Above a fireplace I saw a painting of the Great Engineer holding up a jeweled sword alongside a kangaroo-wallaby-like creature. Syke. There was an ever-joking, yet loyal and lovable best friend that I was going to try my damndest not to meet. The two stood on top of the train with the galaxy in the background. As I gazed at the sight of another life, the doors flew open, and a group of cells and the Great Engineer stood there.

“Catch him! Put him with the young Syke!” he said, voice morphing into a deep growl.

I ran to another car, where more passengers waited. In this car, pulsing techno music blasted, and waves of strobing light filled the car. I bumped into countless people and monsters and things as I struggled to get to the other side.

Then, I ended up in an aquarium car, where water-dependent passengers gawked as I ran through the aisle, marveling at whale-sized goldfish and goldfish-sized whales and mermaid queens and tentacles so long and spiraling that I couldn’t tell to whom they belonged. Sure enough, the Great Engineer and the cells reached me.

Then I found a car where the heat was so hot that I could barely breathe. Lizard people smoked hookah while flaming business people reviewed charts. Once again, the Great Engineer and the cells found me.

A car with trees so tall and wide that it looked like I was on another planet. not a train. A car of traveling, miniaturized moons. A car of boar-like livestock and farmers sipped tea straight out of the kettle. A car of creepy clowns and mirror monsters. A car of marshmallow-sized panda bears that almost killed me from cuteness. A car of computers that debated the meaning of life.

I had traveled through seventy-seven cars. Finally, there was only one left. The engine. I opened the door, and I saw where there would normally be a burning inferno of coal, there were bright glowing, purple noodles. I shook as I reached for them.

“You might want to wear gloves. Sketti can be quite hot,” a dry, raspy voice said behind me. A wizened Syke approached me, hobbling toward me with a cane. He looked like he hopped one too many times, and his fur was fading from cheesy orange to ashy gray.

“Stay away from me, Syke,” I said, trembling in fear.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” he said.

“Yeah, I know. We’re best friends, right? Well, I have a family to get back to,” I said.

“We're not best friends,” he said. “We were, once. But you had to get all power-hungry and turn into something so twisted that I hate the sight of you.”

He opened the furnace and pulled out a clump of the glowing noodles. The whole train lurched and shook.

He threw it against the windshield, and with a loud splat, a portal opened.

“No!” the Great Engineer said, appearing out of nowhere and diving at me.

Syke whacked him with his cane once, twice, and a third time, until he quickly became a bloody mess.

“Mint,” he said. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

The train roared and swayed. It continued to speed, but now it felt like it was going to derail itself any second.

“You do know Mint isn't our real name, right?” I said to the Great Engineer.

All he could do was scream. Then, the train flipped, and before flames rose from the furnace.

I jumped through the portal.

My head bled just a bit onto the overgrown grass. The August heat pounded me awake. A spider was crawling up my chest. I jolted upward, wincing at the sunlight, and gasped at the sight of home.

I ran into the house, shouting for my family.