When You're Lost, You're Between Two Places

I was on my back. There was a throbbing in my neck. My head was pounding. And my ears had this high pitch ringing in them; it was impossible to concentrate.

I opened my eyes: there was a golden ceiling above me. I could see clouds and trees and leaves out the large window panels. My vision was scrambling to focus. Everything outside was moving away. The dinner plates and cups on the tables were rattling. I was on a train, like one you'd expect from the early 20th century.

"Are you okay, sir?" A man in a red bus boy coat and a yellow cap reached his hand out to me. He wore white gloves. Other train guests stood nearby; they look concerned. There were two ladies. One lady was in an all-black number that reached all the way down to her boots. The woman wore a black hat with black feathers. The other lady wore a white nurse uniform. There was also a man who looked like Colonel Mustard.

I grabbed the hand of the train attendant. He pulled me up. The other guests stepped aside. I asked, "What happened?"

"You tripped on a stick," said the train attendant. He picked up a sizeable stick with leaves on it. It was almost large enough to call it a branch. "I have no clue how this got here," he continued. "How are you feeling?"

"My neck is throbbing, and my head hurts, but I think I'll manage."

The train attendant checked his watch. "We'll be arriving at the next stop in about an hour. Let me help you to your seat."

The train attendant and nurse escorted me down the aisle to a double seat. There was a table with a vase of red roses and a cup of water. I sat in the double seat—it had a red velvet back and gold trim. The nurse looked me in the eyes; she was studying me. She asked, "Do you mind if I take your blood pressure? I just want to make sure you're okay. It's very odd to blackout after a minor fall."

The nurse had a first aid kit with her. She sat in the double seat with me. There was a nice click sound when she opened the case.

The train attendant carried over two black bags and put them in the overhead compartment. He put my ticket on the table. "I'll see if I can get you hot towels and a blanket," he said with a smile. I watched him as he hurried down the aisle. He picked up the stick and carried it with him. He went out a door.

The nurse strapped my arm into a handheld blood pressure device. She asked, "Where do you hurt?" I replied, "Mainly my neck. It's throbbing. My head hurts too." The wristband to check my blood pressure tightened. Her machine beeped.

The nurse said, "I can't do anything for your neck now. When you get off the train, go to a clinic to make sure everything is okay. Your blood pressure is low. It's 70 over 40, indicating hypotension. You need to eat something. I have some crackers." She pulled out packets of club crackers. She placed them on the table.

"I can't remember what happened just before I fell," I said.

"You fainted and hit your head pretty hard," she said. "It might take a moment for you to recollect what happened before that." She put the blood pressure device in her kit. She did everything in a neat and elegant way. She talked with a certain intelligent cadence. "I think you need to see a doctor to get your neck and head checked. Your neck and head look perfectly fine to me, but you might have internal trauma."

"My ears were ringing loudly. . . but that has stopped."

The nurse frowned. "Does that normally happen to you? Do you have a history of hearing problems?"

"No." I took a sip of water. "I have excellent hearing."

"The ringing has stopped for sure?"

I nodded yes. She tapped her fingers in quick succession on the first aid kit. She seemed to be scanning her mind for medical knowledge. She seemed to come to the conclusion that I was okay.

I opened up a packet of crackers and ate one. It did give my blood sugar a jolt. I thanked the nurse for the crackers. She motioned with her hands that it wasn't a problem. She said, "I'm going to go back to my seat. I'm about six rows behind you. If you need anything or just want to chat, I'll be over there. My name is Jane, by the way. What's yours?"

"Edward. People usually call me Ed."

"Nice to meet you, Ed."

Nurse Jane went back to her seat. The train was noisy on its tracks. For the most part, people stayed in their seats. The trees were sailing by. Lots of green flora. It was a lovely forest. There was a misty gray haze and a hint of rain. Beautiful scenery, really. Except there was one problem: I don't have any recollection of getting on this train, I didn't buy a ticket to ride it, and I don't know why I would get on it. I don't want to come off suspicious, but I am lost as to how I got here. I don't recognize this forest, and I have no idea where I'm going.

Okay, so there was more than one problem. But it can safely be said that all those problems clump together into one problem: I don't know what's going on.

I looked at the window and could see my reflection. It was faint, but I could see a large mustache under my nose. It was a sculpted mustache with the ends of it turned up. My mustache resembled the letter "W." I was wearing a pinstripe suit in a purple-red color. A dark mauve. I had a pocket watch, polished black shoes with silver buckles, and a purple pocket square.

It was a lovely outfit. Absolutely smashing. But. . . I normally wear t-shirts and jeans. I shave my face. Why am I wearing the fashion of my great grandfather? This situation was precarious.

There is no reason to panic, at least not just yet. It would best suit me to look around the place for clues. Panicking or drawing attention to myself could make matters worse. I need to blend in with the other train riders.

I picked up the ticket that the train attendant left on the table. Surely, it would give me some clues. I studied the ticket for five minutes. But there was a serious problem. It wasn't in the Roman script.

I took off my suit jacket and rolled up the sleeve on my left arm. I took out a pen from my pocket and wrote down the ticket's information on my arm because maybe I was in some sort of Memento pocket universe.

I wrote on my arm:

понедельник, 15 марта 2027 г.

Призрачный поезд

Место: Е4

Пункт назначения: Небесные врата

Время прибытия: 19:11

I rolled my sleeve down and put on my jacket. My pocket watch was stuck at 5:15. The arrival time on the ticket must have been 7:11 PM. Something must have happened in the evening causing me to be on the train.

Then again my watch could have been pointing to 5:15 AM.

The date on the ticket was 2027. What month was it? I can't remember what month or season it was before I got on the train. Regardless, I was certain that part of the ticket was the date. "Mecmo" must mean seat, E4 was standard enough. The name of my destination was somewhere in the scramble of those Cyrillic letters.

"Hello! I found you a blanket and two hot towels," the train attendant said. He was standing right next to my seat. He held a long white blanket and two black towels. "Do you need anything else?"

"Yes, can you tell me what this ticket says?"

"Oh, I'm afraid I can't. I'm illiterate."

I paused to think how I could come off polite. "Oh, sorry to bother you then. I don't think I need any other help."

With a smile, he said, "If you need assistance, I will be in the dining car attending guests."

The attendant hurried down the aisle and disappeared out a door. I took one of the hot towels and pressed it to my face. The sensation actually did wonders for my aching head. I was far colder than I realized. I considered dozing off with the towel on my face. My energy was low, I think Nurse Jane was right about that. Then an idea hit me.

I got out of my seat. I pulled down the two bags from the overhead compartment. I unzipped one bag and found car parts: a steering wheel, a rolled-up seat belt, a rearview mirror, a brake pedal, dashboard coins, and a manual to a 2012 Honda Civic.

What the hell?

I zipped up the bag of random car parts. I opened the second bag. It had normal items inside it: a white t-shirt, blue jeans with holes around the knees, a pair of Nike running shoes, aviator sunglasses, green boxer briefs, a heavy coat, movie ticket stubs, a small bottle of Tylenol, keys, and a wallet.

I went through the wallet. Sure enough, it had my driver's license, credit cards, $10 in cash, and a punch card to a sandwich place. Hidden in a side pocket was a picture of a woman and me; it was an engagement photo with buckled corners dated 2020. Veronica? I think my wife's name is Veronica.

Shit! I have a wife. She's probably scared out of her mind that I'm missing. I mean, maybe I've only been missing for a couple of hours.

Behind the picture was another picture. It's Veronica and a toddler and a baby.

Shit, shit, shit! I'm a dad. Oh my god. I have to get off this train.

My driver's license had the name Edward Jones. That can't be right. Isn't that a financial firm? My address: Syracuse, New York. The license also noted I have blue eyes, my height is 5'11", my weight is 160 lbs., and I'm an organ donor.

It also noted I'm vegan, I love riding my bike, and I miss my childhood cat.

What the hell is up with my driver's license? It does have the right picture of me. But why is it mentioning my cat? I mean, I do miss the little furball, but how is that relevant for an ID?

I zipped up the second bag. I put the wallet in my pocket. I put the bags into the overhead compartment. I picked up the train ticket.

++++

I walked over to Nurse Jane. She was reading a large book about ancient wars between Greece and Turkey. "Hey, do you have a minute?" I asked.

"What do you need?"

"Can you read this ticket for me? It's not in a language I can read."

I handed her the ticket. She scanned it. "No," she said. "I can't read Chinese."

"It's not in Chinese though. It's the Cyrillic alphabet."

Nurse Jane frowned. "No, it's not in Russian. I speak Russian, and so do you. What language do you think you're speaking in?"

"English."

"How very strange. A man who speaks Russian, but he thinks he is speaking in English. He thinks he is having a conversation with someone in English, but the person he is speaking to doesn't know English. He hands the person a ticket in what he says is the Cyrillic alphabet, but the other person says it's in Chinese. Neither person can read it."

"That about sums up the situation."

Nurse Jane flips the ticket to the back. It's blank. "I mean, this is quite the riddle. Do you want to see my ticket? It's in Chinese." She hands me her ticket. It's in the Cyrillic alphabet. The date on her ticket says 1958. Her nurse uniform looks like something someone would wear in the early 1900s, just like how my suit looks like something my great grandfather would wear.

"Jane, do you remember getting on this train?"

"That's a really strange question to ask, Ed." Perhaps she is trying to blend in with people on the train as well.

"Do driver's licenses ever have information about the kinds of food people eat, their hobbies, or pets they may miss?"

"Absolutely not. That would be ridiculous."

I badly want to show her my driver's license, but it might weird her out. For one, she might see it as fake and then would tell the train attendants. Two, she might think it looks futuristic because her train ticket has the date 1958. My driver's license is from 2025. Three, she can't read English, if it does look like English to her.

"Have you tried any of the food on the train?" This seemed like a safe question to ask.

"No, I haven't yet. I believe dinner has started in the car three cars down. Eating food might clear up your confusion. Perhaps your hunger has overwhelmed your senses."

"Do you want to get dinner with me?"

Nurse Jane sat there contemplating the invitation. "Yes. . . I'll accompany you."

++++

The dining car had several chandeliers with burning candles. There was red Victorian wallpaper. Lots of light sconces. The carpet was a dark red. I could hardly see anything outside. The mist was thick, and it was almost night.

There was an old-timey bar manned by staff in white and black outfits: black bow ties, black aprons, white button-up shirts, black slacks, and black shoes.

Nurse Jane and I sat at one of the round tables. All of the tables had white tablecloths. She ordered a glass of sherry and pasta primavera.

"Do you know what you'd like, sir?" said a tall waiter with a curly mustache. He had a pen and pad ready.

"I think I'll have the special. It sounded tasty. And a glass of red wine."

"Ah, yes the creamy butternut squash linguine with fried sage. You won't regret your choice. I'll get your orders in and bring you bread and butter," the waiter said with a smile. He left our table and went to the kitchen.

Nurse Jane tapped her fingers on the table in quick succession. She didn't wear jewelry. "Ed, what kind of work do you do?"

"I'm a financial advisor."

"Oh, I should get your advice on money then. I'm a traveling nurse, so I've seen a bit of everything. It can get confusing trading different currencies."

"Define everything."

She said, "Oh, you know. Brazil, Turkey, Norway, Canada, Pakistan, Italy, Kenya, Iceland, Turkmenistan, Mexico, Vietnam, Fiji—"

"Sorry to cut you off, but have you been to every country?"

Nurse Jane slid her hair behind her ear. "Yes, everywhere. There are sick people everywhere, so I go everywhere."

I leaned into the table. "What's your favorite place?"

"It all seems like the same place to me."

I honestly didn't know how to respond to that. Nurse Jane is compelling, but she leaves me dumbfounded. I also still don't know how I got on this train, and that is troubling me.

"I think this is a dinner and show," Jane said. "Makes me wonder what the show will be."

"It'll probably be cheesy, considering how train entertainment tends to go," I said, halfheartedly interested in the conversation because I noticed someone in a corner booth. It was the other woman I saw when I first woke up: the woman in the long black dress, black shoes, and black hat. She was by herself. She was cutting very long strings in half. There was a gold string that wouldn't cut.

"I like when the shows have songs," said Jane.

"Yeah, that's always. . . nice." I couldn't take my eyes off the woman in black.

"So, you like musicals?"

"Musicals are groovy," I said without thinking about what words were coming out of my mouth.

"Do you have a favorite musical?"

"The one with the dancing hippo and costume changes, you know. . ."

Then Jane got really rambly about shows, trains, and dancing.

"Excuse me for a moment," I said. I got up and went over to the woman in the black dress. She still hadn't cut the gold string.

"Hello, ma'am," I said. "Are you a seamstress? What are you doing there?"

The woman scowled at me. In a bitter and biting voice, she said, "What does it look like? I'm trying to cut this stubborn string. And no, I'm not a seamstress."

"What do you do for work then?" I inquired.

She continued to scowl at me. "That's none of your business."

"I'm sorry I bothered you. I'll go back to my seat."

She sighed, indicating irritation. She put the scissors on the table. She motioned with her hand to come closer. "I'll tell you a secret about this train, but I have to whisper it to you."

She was fiercely intimidating, but I was happy to oblige because I was desperate for answers. I lowered so she could whisper into my ear.

"The train is between places," she whispered. "It appears out of necessity. It doesn't fully understand things, so it will fill in gaps with random information."

"I'm sorry, the train is between places? Isn't a moving train always between places?"

"I can't tell you anything more, or I'll be in trouble." She picked up the scissors and tried cutting the gold string. It wouldn't cut.

Nurse Jane tapped my shoulder. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, I don't know."

Jane studied my face. She said, "Are you still hurting?"

"My neck still hurts."

"The waiter brought our food out. Let's go eat."

The lady in the black dress, while still trying to cut the gold string, said, "You need to watch your back tonight, Jane Doe."

Jane Doe? How could her name be Jane Doe?

Jane grabbed my hand. "Ignore her, Ed. Let's go eat."

++++

The creamy butternut squash linguine with fried sage was cooked to perfection. I'm rather fond of twirling my noodles around a fork. Nurse Jane would eat her pasta one noodle strand at a time. After about ten bites, she would take a sip of sherry. She would ever so gently tap her mouth with a napkin.

"So, Nurse Jane, do you know the lady in the black dress?" I said while buttering a piece of bread.

"We've crossed paths before," said Jane after taking a sip of sherry. "We're both travelers and go on exotic train rides. We don't really see eye to eye on life philosophies or politics, so we generally don't interact."

"Does she normally sit by herself and cut strings?"

Jane nodded her head and then she swished her sherry in her glass. "If you talk to her long enough. . . she'll go on about string theory and the boundaries between realms and that some strings get too long and start going into other realms."

"What?"

"She thinks it's bad if strings get too long, that they'll suffer a kind of—"

At that moment, the lights flickered. The train whistled, and it was long and loud.

"Either the show is beginning, or something isn't right," said Jane as she looked around the room. Waitstaff clinked glasses. Dinner guests stopped eating. Some people got up to look out the windows: it was nothing but darkness.

The train crawled to a stop. The power went out. Everything was eerily quiet. No one in the dining car made a peep.

Jane and I stared at each other. Our pasta dishes half eaten.

The door between the dining car and the passenger car opened. 60 people with white sheets over their bodies came into the car. Music played from somewhere; it sounded like 1920s speakeasy music. The people in the white sheets danced with each other, old-fashioned dances like the jitterbug, Charleston, and lindy hop. East coast swing was the flavor of the night.

The train attendant with the bellhop uniform tapped my shoulder. He said, "Do you still have the white blanket I gave you?"

"I left it in my seat with my luggage."

"Do you want me to go get it, so you can participate?" said the train attendant. He looked like he'd screwed something up.

"Participate?" I said. "No, I don't think I want to do that. I'll just watch the people."

"Just let me know if you need anything." The bellhop went down the aisle in the opposite direction of the dancers. He went out a door into darkness.

I looked back at the table and Nurse Jane was gone. The lady in the black dress was gone too. Were they part of the white sheet crowd?

I got up from my chair and started searching for Jane. I called out her name several times. "Jane! Jane where are you?"

There was no response. I stepped into the dance area and avoided people as best I could.

"Jane! Has anyone seen Jane? Is she okay?" A terrible thought invaded my mind: What if the lady in the black dress attacked the nurse? What if the lady in the black dress stabbed Jane with her scissors?

The whole train car seemed to spin around me. It was dark; there was only the glow of the chandelier candles.

A peculiar thing happened then. I saw a woman making her way through the crowd of dancers. She wasn't wearing a white sheet, and she wasn't holding one either. The little woman was limping. She had gray hair that came to her shoulders. Her eyes were blue. Her face looked like mine.

My heart was pounding.

"Mom!" I moved people away from me. I got whacked by white sheets from the dancers; my vision was obscured by their floating sheets. My mom was making her way to the door—the one the bellhop train attendant went out.

"Mom!" I ran to her. My heart was about to leap out of my throat. I put my hands on her shoulders. "Mom, why are you here?"

My mom looked into my eyes. She was fatigued. She said, "I love you, Ed. I'm not holding anything against you. I'm proud of you. Always remember that I love you."

"I don't understand. Why are we on this train?"

My mom wrapped her arms around me and gave me a hug. "I love you. that's what you need to know," she said.

My mom stepped away; she started walking toward the door at the end of the car. I was so confused, I didn't know what to think. But then I was overcome with dread.

"Don't go toward that door, mom!" I tried to step forward, but Jane was holding me back. She was clutching my shirt.

"Mom!" I screamed. "Don't go through that door!"

From behind, Jane wrapped her arms around my chest. She said, "It wasn't your fault."

The lady in the black dress appeared out of the shadows. She linked arms with my mom. She guided her to the door, acting as a crutch as my mom limped. But my mom doesn't limp, why is she limping? The lady in the black dress opened the door and the pair walked into the darkness and disappeared.

I wept. I turned and faced Jane. I rested my head against her shoulder. She pat my back as I cried.

The white sheets dropped to the ground. There weren't people under them anymore.

++++

A sweet voice from far away spoke to me, "I know you're sad, but your mom was in a lot of pain. She needed to go to the other side."

I pulled away from Jane. She must have held me for minutes or hours or days. Had I fallen asleep on her shoulder?

I looked to the bar, and there was this woman. She was glowing an ethereal blue-green color. She had blonde curly hair at chin length. She wore a long blue dress, like something Alice in Wonderland would wear. The woman's eyes and face were like mine.

I walked toward this woman, half concerned she might be a fairy siren. She could be Titania from Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream.

The woman said, "Don't be afraid. Soon things will get back to normal." She paused to smile. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Ed."

"Who are you?"

"Isn't it obvious? My face is like yours, and I'm wearing this bracelet. You know, the one your mom gave you." She held up her arm; the bracelet was glowing.

I tried really hard to remember something, like the name of a song you haven't heard in ages. "The turquoise bracelet. . ."

I could see a hazy memory in my mind: rocking chairs, comic books, a deck, and a lake. My mom pouring water into a vase of red roses.

"My mom gave that to me when I was little. We were on vacation."

"And you often talked to it growing up. Crying into it. Praying with it. And I always listened to you, Ed. But it's a little early for you to be making this train journey. It's not your time yet; you're not supposed to meet your ancestors just yet."

"I do know you. You're my great grandmother," I said as memories flooded my mind. "You're the one my mom would talk about. The one in the pictures—the dancer who traveled the world on trains. You're. . . the one they locked up because you had visions of dead people. They said you were mad. You're mad Edith."

I stepped close to her. I could see all the unique details of her face from the freckles to the triangular nostrils. "Why can't I see my mom now?"

"She needs to rest. She'll visit you one day, but you'll likely forget all this. And you likely won't recognize her. The demands of life will take precedence. Even still, there will always be part of you that has memories of this train, and you'll be prepared when it's your time." Edith paused and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for the guilt you'll feel. It really wasn't your fault."

Blood instantaneously gushed out of my mouth. My head was pounding. My ears were ringing.

Edith held my hand. "It's going to hurt a lot, the recovery. Just know you are loved and supported by many."

++++

A sudden freak ice storm caused a 60-car pileup on I-80 in Syracuse, New York. Semis overturned, cars smashed to smithereens, and cargo rolling around the interstate.

In an effort to dodge a crashed semi, a 2012 Honda Civic swerved and went off the road. The driver lost control and ran into a tree.

It was challenging for first responders to get to the car since it was surrounded by ice and debris. The car was at the bottom of a hill.

Paramedics opened the driver's door. The man in the driver's seat had turquoise beads all over his lap. Half of the bracelet's chain was hanging on the rearview mirror with a handful of beads still attached.

The man had cuts and bruises all over his head and neck. He rested his head on the deployed airbag. Blood was coming out of his mouth. His t-shirt was bloodstained. His heart was pounding. There was glass in his skin. His eyes were wide open.

The man said to the paramedics, "I. . . need. . . wa. . . ter."

The woman in the front passenger seat had a tree branch going through her right leg. Her head was split open. A great deal of glass had penetrated her skin. She was still breathing but unresponsive. Her heart was beating on the wrong side of her chest, the right side. Paramedics were concerned that the impact had moved her heart.

A paramedic called highway patrol. "We have an older woman, she's in her 60s or 70s. She is in critical condition. A younger man, 30s to 40s is in serious condition."

First responders removed both people from the car. They strapped the injured persons to gurneys. They put white blankets on top of them. They lifted them into ambulances.

Police went through a wallet and found ID and insurance cards. A cell phone was in a cup holder. An officer called the first listed emergency contact: Victoria Kyle.

"Hello, ma'am? Is this Victoria Kyle?"

"Hi, yes. Who is this?"

The officer paused to collect his words. "Hi, Victoria. I'm Officer Chalif Mustang. Are you married to Edward Kyle?"

"Yes, is he okay?"

"No, ma'am. I'm sorry to say your husband was in an accident on I-80."

"Oh my god!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am. He's in serious to critical condition. The older woman he was with is in critical condition, and we really don't think she's going to make it. Both of them are getting taken to St. Joseph's."

Victoria audibly cries on the phone.

"We're going to send an officer to your house to pick you up and take you to the hospital, okay? You don't need to be out driving. Not in this weather, and not when you're anxious, okay?"

"Okay. . . okay."

The officer lowered to look at the floorboard of the driver's seat. There were more beads. "I can chat with you until someone gets there if you like."

Sirens blared. Snow kept falling. The highway smelt of death. It was a freak blizzard in March.

While talking to Victoria, the officer noticed the beads glowed. He found a Ziploc bag in his squad car. He put the remnants of the bracelet in the bag. He felt he needed to save the jewelry. He had a weird, hard-to-explain feeling about it. He wanted to make sure it got back to Edward Kyle.