Train of Thought

Alice was startled awake by a loud popping noise. "Henry! Henry! Stop firing that toy gun right now! Do not disturb her," a scolding voice shout-whispered from across the compartment. Alice blinked several times, her eyes gaining focus on the young boy in front of her, then shifting to the woman, presumably his mother, seated next to him. She did not remember drifting off into slumber, but summer days spent chasing around Christopher and Penny always left her exhausted.

Alice smiled, reassuring the mother across from her, "It's no bother. I have a boy his age at home. Boys can be quite rambunctious, can't they?" The woman tilted her head to the side slightly and gave Alice a confused, polite smile before responding, "Yes, they certainly can." Alice took note of the strangely patterned upholstery, and the white-lit bulbs in the sconce above them and frowned. The woman noticed, and furrowed her eyebrows in an almost pitying expression.

"They must have refurbished this car recently. I think I much like the old style better. I'm Alice, by the way. Alice Archer." The little boy fired his toy pistol again, and the woman let slip an almost undetectable sigh before replying, "Penelope Wallace. And this Henry." "Oh! My daughter's name is Penelope! We call her Penny, though. She hates when we use her full name."

Realizing Penelope Wallace may take offense to the comment regarding her name, Alice changed the subject. "I'm on my way to visit my sister for a few weeks. Very excited to welcome her little bundle of joy into the world. Do you travel to Creden often?" Penelope opened her mouth to speak, but Henry interrupted, "We're not going to Creden! We're going to Brockton!" Henry turned and whispered to his mother, "Mum, she's acting really weird."

Panic flooded Alice. Had she missed her stop? No, Brockton was in the opposite direction of the route to Creden. She frantically searched for her ticket stub. Surely, she hadn't boarded the wrong train? That would explain the unfamiliar furnishings in the compartment. Scavenging through her handbag turned up no ticket. She must have dropped it outside the compartment. "I'm sorry, I--I think I've made a mistake." Alice scrambled to the sliding door, ignoring the protests from Penelope Wallace and young Henry.

Alice scurried down the narrow corridor as worry swirled throughout her mind. With her head down and eyes circling the floor, she was unable to avoid the collision with the conductor emerging from the dining car. "I'm so sorry! I didn't see you. I'm looking for my ticket--I've made a huge error," Alice began rambling. The anxiety of it all was stinging her eyes with tears as she gave her name and recounted the ordeal. The conductor took her gently by the arm, "I'm afraid you are correct. This train is headed for Brockton. Allow me to help you, ma'am. Come, have a seat in the dining car while we sort everything out." He led Alice to a booth near a curved bar and indicated for her to have a seat. Then, he exchanged a few words with the bartender before slipping out the door.

Alice was worriedly fidgeting with the cutlery in front of her when the bartender set the steaming cup of tea in front of her. "I probably need something a little stronger than tea after all this," she said as she dipped the tea bag in out of of the cup. "The conductor will be back shortly, and we will have you all settled, Mrs. Archer," the bartender assured with a warm smile. "How about I open the curtains so you can take in the scenery a bit and set your mind at ease?" As the bartender drew back the short curtain panels, Alice's jaw dropped at the sight. While she expected to see the rolling hills of the countryside, she didn't expect to see them covered in a fresh blanket of powdery snow. In the middle of summer.

Just as the dizzying panic began to once again whorl in her head, the conductor reentered the dining car. "Good news! I've located Mr. Archer," the conductor gestured toward the man who strode behind him. Alice's brow pinched together as she took in the form of 'Mr. Archer.' He was tall, with thick-rimmed eyeglasses. This was NOT her Mr. Archer at all.

Alice began panting and shook her head as she closed her eyes. Tears streamed her cheeks as she cried, "That is not Mr. Archer and--and--none of this is right!" The wrong train, the summer snow, and strange man--it was all too much. Alice made to escape, but Not Mr. Archer moved in too close for her to get past the surrounding tables. "Come, darling, you just need a lie-down," his melodic voice ushered her, as he gingerly took her elbow. Alice's heart threatened to rupture her chest.

Attempting to wrestle away from the terrifying man and the even more terrifying day, Alice pivoted on her heel and made a grab for her steaming teacup. She did not expect her knee to give out, causing her to begin a swift descent to the floor. She did not expect Not Mr. Archer to go down with her, almost as if he was genuinely concerned about her well-being. She especially didn't expect the wet crack sound as Not Mr. Archer's head split open on the edge of the dining table.

Mouths agape, the conductor and the bartender looked down at Alice, trapped beneath the imposter's lifeless body as blood pooled next to her head. As if remembering Mrs. Archer was on the ground, both men sprang into action, the bartender heaving the corpse off Alice while the conductor lifted her to her feet. Alice's face was streaked with wave after unrelenting wave of tears cutting through the drying blood on her face. She need to get off this train immediately, out of what was surely a nightmare.

The dining car door slid open, revealing Penelope Wallace and little Henry. Penelope's eyes nearly came out of their sockets as she observed blood-stained Alice in front of her before her attention turned to the cooling body on the floor. She screamed, "Oh, Mother!" before trying to shield Henry from the gruesome display--a failed attempt. Henry had caught enough of the scene and now, lip quivering, worriedly begged to know, "What did Gran do to Uncle Chris?"