Train C

Darkness. That’s the first thing I remember about the train. I woke up in complete darkness. The seat was scratchy on my legs and my throat was closing in from the heat. I felt around for something to grab hold of but the space around me was empty. I tried to stand up but my legs were restrained against the seat. My palms were moist with sweat and my stomach burbled from hunger. I had no clue where I was, how I got here, or where I was going.

I waited until slowly, the cabin lit up. It wasn’t from any kind of light outside the window, but these little overhead lights that were growing brighter by the minute. After my eyes adjusted, I was able to look around. I was sitting on a bench seat with an identical one facing me and another pair of benches across a small aisle from me. This pattern repeated three more times for a total of sixteen seats. There was one person seated in each section, all of us facing the same way. Everyone else seemed only to be waking up now.

When the lights were on full brightness, the door behind me opened with a distinct hiss. A man stepped through preceded by a trolley. The man himself was tall and gaunt. His cheeks were sunken in and his eyes completely empty. He wore a bellhop uniform with a crooked little hat atop his round head. The bellhop pushed a small trolley lined with little plastic cups and bottles of water.

“Take these,” he reached out a long bony hand to give me one of the cups. Inside there were two small white pills.

I shook my head no.

“Take these,” he repeated. Again, I refused.

Very calmly, the man walked over to face me in my little cubicle. He reached out his greying hand, opened my jaw, and with his other hand forced the pills down my throat.

I gagged and coughed and choked, ultimately swallowing the pills. I felt uneasy and my stomach cramped at the small amount of sustenance it just received.

The man stepped back into the aisle, placed a water bottle on the seat next to me, and proceeded to offer the person opposite me the same cup of small pills. This person took them without hesitation and the man moved on.

“Do you–” I tried to ask but speaking felt like swallowing glass. I reached for the bottle beside me and finished its contents in one large gulp. With my throat soothed, I was able to finish my question. “Do you know where we are?” I asked the man seated across from me.

He simply shook his head no, his eyes wide and terrified. He glanced toward the bellhop and then shifted his gaze back at me.

Understood, I thought, we don’t know what could upset this man. When the bellhop finished his rounds in our section, he moved through another door onto the next. This gave me a moment to look around again. No one spoke or even made a sound, aside from the odd cough here or there or the groan of an empty stomach. I looked out the window only to realize it wasn’t really a window but a television screen. It lit up with the inside lights to show a peaceful valley slowly moving by. Something told me we weren’t in a valley and we certainly weren’t moving slowly.

I needed to get out of here, I decided. I gripped the restraint across my legs and tried to tear at it with no luck. It was a thick woven fabric, the kind you would find on an airplane seatbelt, only this one had no clasp. I picked at it with my nail until one small thread came loose. I pulled at the thread incessantly and eventually was through one layer of the belt. This would take time, but at some point the belt had to break entirely and I would be free.

Hiss.

The door opened again and the same sallow man came walking through with his trolley. This time, it contained small styrofoam bowls with a beige paste in them.

“Eat,” he offered me a bowl. I decided not to fight this time and took the bowl. I took a small bite to show I was cooperating and feigned enjoyment. The man moved on.

The bowl had some kind of disgusting pasty porridge in it, but I was so hungry I ate it all right away. And then, it was silent again.

“Do you know how we got here?” I tried my neighbour again.

“No. Please stop asking me things.”

“Really?! You have no idea?”

“No. Eat your porridge.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

“I said eat your porridge. You don’t want them coming back.”

“How long have you been here?”

No response.

Hiss.

The same man came back.

“Ticket, please,” he stated.

“I don’t have–” smack. A blinding pain stopped me from finishing that sentence. I felt at my temple: wet. My head rang from the impact and I was too stunned to speak again.

“Ticket, please,” he repeated.

I shook my head no.

“Very well.” The man struck me again and gathered the pooling blood in a small vial.

The bellhop then turned to my neighbour: “Ticket, please.” My neighbour extended their forearm and the bellhop took a small package from his pocket. Carefully and with a skilled hand, the bellhop withdrew a small amount of blood from the man before moving onto the next row.

“What was that all about?”

“You pay in blood.”

“Or else?”

“You don’t eat.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“I don’t recommend it.”

The bellhop left and didn’t return for hours. My stomach gnawed at itself and my bladder screamed at the pressure building inside. Finally, with the clear chime of a bell, our seatbelts were released.

“Bathroom break, five minutes,” announced a voice from overhead.

“Bathroom break? What if we go somewhere else?”

“There’s nowhere to go. You’ll see.”

I followed the small line of people to the front of my car where the bathroom seemed to be located, only instead of using it I continued into the next compartment. It was the same as the last. I moved on to the next, and the next, each the same as the one I came from. Each with screens for windows and a small line of people waiting to use the washroom.

Ding.

“Please return to your seats,” the voice announced again.

“No way,” I needed to know what else was out there, beyond my seat. I kept walking forward, but was greeted by the bellhop at the next door. This man seemed to be everywhere I went.

Without a word the bellhop passed me and turned around to face my back. I was beginning to develop a healthy fear of this man so I didn’t turn around.

Smack.

I was down on my knees. The man’s long nails clawed into my head as he grabbed me by the hair.

“Return to your seat, please,” The man stated. I didn’t have a choice in the matter though: he dragged me by my hair back to my assigned seat.

“Next time, you will return to your seat on your own.” He plopped me down on the cushion and the seatbelt automatically re-engaged.

“You have got to stop messing around,” my neighbour whispered across the aisle.

“Why? What’ll happen?”

“I have no clue, but the last guy that was sitting there tried to pull things like this and he’s gone now.”

“What happened to him?”

“I said I don’t know. I just suggest you behave.”

Hiss.

The bellhop came through again with a series of pills and water.

“Take these.”

“What are they?”

Smack.

“Take these.”

I obediently took the pills. I could feel my blood running hot down my cheek but forced myself not to wipe at it. The bellhop stared at me, placed the water on my seat, and carried on with his duties.

When he left the car, the lights went out and the screens turned off.

It must be nighttime, I thought to myself. Now’s the perfect time to work on loosening this belt and getting out of here.

I searched for where I started to fray the belt in vain. They must have repaired it during the bathroom break somehow because it simply wasn’t there.

Okay, I’ll just think of my escape plan instead. Only I didn’t have much time before the last set of meds kicked in and I fell asleep.

The next day repeated much the same as the first, only this time I truly did need to use the washroom during my bathroom break. Each day was the same: pills, porridge, payment, washroom, pills. I tried to talk to my neighbour but he wouldn’t respond anymore. Instead, I focused my efforts on my plan.

After a few days and some careful planning, I was able to comfortably skip my bathroom break every other day. I used this time to run. I ran as far as I could through the cars. Each day I ran, I made it one car further, careful to return before a bellhop forced me to. One day, I made it to the front.

I was surprised to learn this thing even had an end, but not as surprised as I was to see a real window. It was idyllic. The front window was large and curved, showing off a view of the ocean. I could actually see the world outside for the first time in days. The sun was setting on the water and everything was lit up a gorgeous sherbet medley of colours. As beautiful as it was, the water was a problem: it went on forever, as far as I could see. The train itself was suspended many stories above and gliding smoothly across a bridge with no end in sight. There was no way off and even if the train stopped somehow, I would be stranded in the ocean.

I examined the cabin and its many widgets. One clear label above my head answered many questions and more. It read: Train C: Deprivation Experiment.

Right then, the door whipped open and I was dragged by my scalp all thirteen cars back to my seat.

“This is your final warning. Next time you will return to your seat on your own.”

My scalp burned but I didn’t care. What I had learned was too important. “Train C.” Was there a “Train A”? And a “Train B”?

And “Deprivation Experiment.” Is that why we were only given porridge and not allowed to talk? And why we couldn’t see the outside world but instead were forced to look at the same screen every day? Or were we being deprived of something greater?

One detail struck me as the most odd, though: there was no conductor. If this was a train, shouldn’t there be someone driving it?

I needed more answers. That night, I didn’t take my second dose of pills. I clawed at my seatbelt until my fingers were raw. I finally broke through at what I decided was halfway through the night. I ran, in my freedom, to the front of the train once more.

Upon second inspection, it really was just the conductor’s cabin of a train. It appeared to be on auto-pilot, which must be simple enough considering it had one path to follow. The label and the lack of conductor were the most interesting parts. I tried pushing buttons and moving levers to see if anything would happen, but the train trudged on ahead.

I pushed one button and suddenly everything went dark. A red light illuminated my face. I heard the shuffling of feet and the hiss of the door, and then I was on the floor. I could feel the boots in my back and the fists on my head. I crouched and covered my head, but it was no use. Eventually I passed out.

When I woke up, I was here. In this small, dark room. I have no clue how long I’ve been here for. They took my clothes and I haven’t seen a bellhop in a few days. I can feel myself withering away and don’t think I have much time left. There’s no window here and no television screen. This must be what happened to whoever had my seat before.

Hiss.

My door opens and a long arm reaches in to place a bowl of porridge on the floor. I try to resist, ready to accept my fate, but my stomach twists inside out at the smell. I lunge forward and start scarfing down the paste. I’m in here because I’m being punished, I know I am. I wonder how long they’ll keep me here. They can’t keep me here forever and I don’t think there’s anywhere else to go on this train. Someday soon, they’ll put me back in my chair and I can try to learn more about where I am.

Days go by before the arm comes back again. Same thing, one small bowl of porridge and that’s it. They don’t even say anything like they did when I was seated outside. Maybe this isn’t so bad afterall. I get time to myself to think and they give me just enough food to keep me going. A toilet would be nice, but I’ve dedicated the far corner to that activity instead.

I spend my time thinking about my escape plan. I know there’s nowhere to go when I get off the train, so I’ll have to be prepared to swim. That is, if I do find a way off this train. None of the windows open and even the conductor’s cabin didn’t seem to have a way in or out. I need to leave, though. This train with its porridge and its odd bellhops. The porridge isn’t actually that bad, I decide, not after I’ve eaten it so many times. It has an appealing gloopy quality to it. And I could really use those meds to help me sleep right now. Not to mention the bathroom breaks, wow were those nice. What I wouldn’t give to just be allowed to return to my seat right now.

I sleep a few times before more porridge comes and I think, yes, this is the place for me. I actually quite enjoy it here. And not just here in this room, but here on this train. I’m not the person who tried to escape all those days ago. I’m not even sure what that person was thinking, running away like that. Who would want to leave a situation as good as this one?

The days move slowly from inside this room, but I don’t mind. I love it here. The gentle hum of the train on the tracks lulls me to sleep when I’m tired and lets me know time is passing when I’m awake. This train is all I’ve ever known and I can’t see how I could want for a life outside of this.

The next time the door opens I holler a loud “Thank you!” to whoever is keeping me alive in here. This is the perfect life.

I feel my face to try and note the passing of time. I simply can’t wait to get back to my seat and eat my porridge, I hope they let me out of here soon. The hollows of my cheeks are highly pronounced and my hair has all but fallen out from the lack of nutrients. No matter, it will grow back someday. Weeks pass in between porridge times now and my nails grow long and full of dirt. In fact I can hardly move when,

Hiss.

“Wear this.”

My eyes are so accustomed to the dark that I can’t see what they handed me. I put it on anyway. It’s a uniform with tassels and a hat. This must mean I get to leave soon, maybe I’ll get to go back to my seat.

“Push this.” Someone stands me up and places my hands against a cold metal rail.

I take a few steps forward.

“Take these,” I hear a voice not quite my own say.

I walk forward a few more steps.

“Take these,” it’s been so long since I’ve spoken, I forget what I’m supposed to sound like.

I walk again.

“Take these,” I say, to the terrified man whose face I think I recognize.

No matter, I move forward.

“Take these.”