Welcome To The Runaway Train

Welcome To The Runaway Train

“Welcome to The Runaway Train!”

Ashley had to admit that out of all the sentences that could have woken her up, she hadn’t expected that one. She tried to open her eyes but the lids refused to budge. A moment longer. If she could just rest for a moment longer, she would be ready to face the world. She didn’t think the voice would mind. It was soft, despite its exclamation, and she couldn’t help but feel reassured by the presence of its owner.

It was sure better than being awoken by her aunt’s screeches—a daily list of everything that was wrong with her. The voice that had just spoken wasn’t so critical. In fact, when it spoke again, it seemed sympathetic:

“You’ve had a long journey. We all have. When you’re ready, you can join your brother in the food car.”

“Ernie!”

The gasp shot out of her mouth, just as adrenaline shot through her body, causing her to finally open her eyes. Another girl came into view, slightly older, slightly bolder. She seemed to have thousands of freckles dotted across her dark skin, like stars shining in the night sky. Her eyes sparkled beneath neon glasses. Clouds of dark hair seemed to stretch to the top of the train. The…train?

The preteen was sprawled out on a velvet bench, the only girl in the train car, save for her mysterious greeter. It was she who said, “You’re okay, now. Your brother’s okay, too. It’s like I said, he’s in the food car. Man, can he eat.”

“How did we get here?” Confusion was melting into panic. “We don’t have tickets!”

“It’s okay,” said the other girl, holding out her hand. “My name’s Connie.”

After a moment, she reciprocated the gesture, their fingers intertwining. “Ashley.”

“Oh, I know.” Connie gave her a gap-toothed grin. “Ernie told me all about you!”

Ashley stared at their intertwined hands, marvelling at the familiar sensation. Memories began to resurface. An argument. Well, could it really be called an argument, if the shouting was one-sided, as the other side cowered? A threat. She and Ernie would be sent to separate institutions. A promise. “We are never going to be separated; it’s you and me, ‘til the end of this journey.” A plan. She recalled pushing against the old window frame, splinters digging into her palms, until it had finally budged. Okay, not so much a plan, as a heist. She had run. Through the snow, through the fields, through the night. Ernie had been on her back, a weight that had substantially slowed her down, a weight that she had been more than willing to carry. She remembered how cold she had been. She remembered her vision fading at the edges, blackness closing in, like the endings of the old movies that her parents had once watched. She remembered the light. The train had been crawling down the tracks, snowflakes clinging to its exterior. One last burst. One last push. One hand reaching from the door. Freckles. Connie.

Ashley had grabbed that hand, clinging on for dear life, for two dear lives. Ernie had screamed in her ear: “Don’t let go!” She hadn’t planned on it.

Just as the train had started to go around the bend, Connie had pulled, Ashley had jumped, and Ernie had whooped with delight.

She had stayed awake just long enough to hear Ernie say, “I’m hungry.” Then, she had fallen, onto the floor, into a void, only emerging at the greeting: “Welcome to The Runaway Train.”

“The Runaway Train,” Ashley repeated, pulling her hand back. “You said that this was The Runaway Train?”

“That’s what we call it,” Connie said, her smile stretching. “I’m the conductor. My brother, Cole, is the driver.”

“What about the adults?”

Her mouth dipped at the edges. “Well, the only adult in our lives is our old man. He doesn’t really like us and we really don’t like him. So, we stole his train.”

Ashley blinked. Then blinked again. Then said, “Makes perfect sense.”

“Glad you think so!” Connie laughed. “The others needed a bit more convincing.”

“There are others?”

“Well, sure; you think you’re the only kids who have needed to run away?”

With a jerk of her head, Connie invited the new arrival to follow her. Ashley did so, with a sense of trepidation. She tried to steady herself as they crossed from one car to another. She had only been on a train, once, long ago. Her parents had taken her to the fair. That had been before Ernie. She could barely remember such a time.

Not that she wanted to remember a life without Ernie. Her heart leapt into her throat as she spotted her brother. He was sitting among several other children, shoving a whole muffin into his mouth. The breakfast clattered to the floor as he yelled her name. More running, though this was a lot shorter, and a lot warmer. The two met halfway, tightly embracing, muffin crumbs squishing between them. In the back of Ashley’s mind, she knew that their aunt would not approve of such a mess. Nor would she approve of such a public display of love. Nor would she approve of two siblings with Down’s Syndrome, who had stuck together, in more ways than one. Tears bled into her brother’s hair as Ashley held him close.

“You did it,” Ernie said. “You saved us!”

“I told you,” Ashley remarked. “It’s you and me, ‘til the end of this journey.”

Her brother beamed before blinking. “Where is the end of this journey?”

“Wherever the train takes us,” Connie said with a shrug.

“...Okay.”

Finally prying away from his sister, Ernie proceeded to pick up the muffin and pop it back into his mouth.

“Ernie!” Ashley cried. “You can’t do that!”

“Why not?” asked the boy. “Aunt Smellen isn’t here to yell at me, anymore.”

“No, but I’m here, and I can yell at you.”

He looked indignant. “You can’t yell at me, in front of all my new friends!”

It was then that Ashley took notice of the other children, either looking on with amusement or flat-out ignoring the scene. She turned to Connie for guidance and the conductor was more than happy to help.

“This is Timmy and Tammy,” Connie said, gesturing to a pair of twins, each holding a pair of matchsticks. “They hopped on after their orphanage burned down. They may or may not have had something to do with said orphanage burning down.”

“You can’t prove that,” Timmy scoffed.

“You’re holding matches.”

“You can’t prove that,” Tammy snapped.

“Okie dokie, moving on.” Connie ushered the newbies over to another bespeckled girl, whose nose was buried in a book. “This is Gretchen. Her hobbies include reading and pretending to read so that she won’t have to meet new people.”

Gretchen cracked a smile, though she didn’t look up from her page.

“And this is Cole.” Connie paused. “Wait, Cole?”

“Hey!” Cole said.

He was easily the oldest of the group, carrying himself with an eased dignity that Ashley could only hope to have. Ernie could only hope to have his outfit. A blue cap and an equally-navy coat might have looked silly on any other teenager, but Cole seemed to make it work. He also seemed to make his sister mad.

“Cole,” Connie slowly said, “who’s driving the train?”

He waved a hand. “The track’s straight for miles; don’t worry.”

“What happens when the track is no longer straight?” screeched the conductor, only pausing when Ashley and Ernie flinched.

“See, that right there?” Cole’s lips twitched. “That’s worrying.”

“I’m not worried,” Ernie piped up. “I trust you.”

Cole gave him a high-five and a grateful: “Thanks, Little Man.” He turned to Ashley. “What about you?”

“I’d trust you a lot more if you hadn’t just abandoned the train’s controls.”

“That’s fair,” he said, “but I’m telling you, we have nothing to worry about.”

He headed back towards the driver’s compartment, almost immediately returning. Though he was still smiling, something had dulled in his eyes. “Okay, we have something to worry about.”

“Like the fact that you keep abandoning the controls?” Connie asked.

“No, we’ve established that that isn’t a concern,” he said. “What is a concern is the barricade that’s been set up on the tracks by a woman with an ugly purple hat.”

“Aunt Ellen,” Ashley and Ernie said.

“And she’s not alone.” Cole’s smile dipped. “The old man is there. And a woman who looks just like Gretchen. And a man who looks so mean that he can only be in charge of an orphanage. What a strange bunch. I guess we’re ones to talk. Anywho, wanna witness our impending doom?”

The others raced after him, leaping across the gaps between cars, crowding into the driver’s compartment. There, through the window, they could see the major obstacles in their lives.

“What do we do?” Ashley moaned.

Becoming distracted, Ernie asked, “What does this do?”

Cole glanced at the lever in question, a grin spreading across his face. “That, Little Man, makes this train go as fast as it can.”

“Do you think it’s fast enough to break through the barricade?” Connie asked.

With a shrug, the driver noncommittally said, “Only one way to find out.”

The twins spoke as one: “We trust you.”

“I trust the math,” Gretchen said, pulling a pencil from behind her ear, in order to write calculations on the back of her book. “We have a 51% chance of living.”

“I like those odds!” Cole pushed the lever.

He held on with one hand, using the other to reach for Connie. The twins became a tangle of intertwined arms. Gretchen clung onto her book. Ashley hugged Ernie.

With a terrific crash, that would reverb in their happiest dreams, the train burst through the barricade. The runaways were all knocked to the floor from the impact, though it didn’t take long for them to leap back up. Ashley and Ernie led the charge into the next car, slamming their faces against the windows. The adults were trying to chase them, knee-deep in the snow, frowns stretched across their wrinkled faces.

“They’re never going to catch us,” Connie said.

A confident Ernie summarized: “They’re never going to stop us.”

From his position by the lever, Cole called, “Nobody can stop us. This is The Runaway Train, and we have no intention of slowing down, anytime soon.”

To Be Continued