Wrong Side of the Tracks

“Keep following the damn train!” Lance opened his eyes as these words faded away behind him, the sound enveloped by the unmistakable rattling of a train speeding along on tracks. He seemed to be wearing a tux but had no idea why. His head pounding and memory fuzzy, he tried to look around but his body seemed disconnected from his brain and didn’t seem to want to move.

“What the hell?” he thought, panic starting to consume the initial confusion. Before he could give it any further thought, as if pulled by a giant invisible magnet, he suddenly started moving forward. He tried to stop, but again, his body didn’t want to listen. More mystified than ever, he gave into the motion, using it as an opportunity to figure out where he was. It was a passenger train but he seemed to be the only one on it. The compartment he was in looked strangely empty, almost unfinished. Lance thought it looked...not quite real. When he passed by a seat, it seemed to glitch slightly. Lance tried to turn around for a second look but no luck; he was still being pulled forward towards what was now materializing as the door to the hallway.

He was in the dimly lit hallway now, approaching another compartment. The sun seemed to be setting outside, a soft glow filling the space and casting shadows on the walls. The train showed no signs of stopping as he approached the door, and Lance was starting to get really spooked. The door slid open of its own volition and he stepped inside; this seemed to be the dining car and to his immense relief there was someone in here. Maybe he’d have some answers now.

A woman sat at what seemed to be a bar at the far end of the small space, facing away from him. She was in a long satin gown, her hair up with a few tendrils curling down her exposed back. She seemed to be sipping on a drink. She didn’t react to his presence till he was right next to her, finally looking up and smiling. Before he could say anything, she said, “So you’re the one they’ve sent to protect me.”

Protect her? Who was she? Hell, he couldn’t even recall who he himself was, bar his name. The woman was gorgeous, but, not unlike the rest of the setting, there was something unfinished about her, like there was something missing in her face. Before he could respond or even think further though, there was a loud bang, and the glass she was holding shattered into a million fragments. She screamed and dropped to the floor, hands over her head. “What the fuck?” Lance shouted in his head, the words unable to leave his mouth. Was that a gunshot? He had barely processed this when the air tore apart with even more bullets; dozens, coming in fast from what seemed like the window, hitting the bottles behind the bar. The racket the gunfire was causing mixed with the exploding bottles was deafening, and glass was flying everywhere. The woman was still crouched on the floor and Lance was now in full panic mode; how the hell was he going to get out of this?

His body seemed to know what to do even though his mind didn’t. He threw himself behind the bar, dragging the woman with him. He left her there and approached the window. Okay, the gunfire had abated slightly, but what now? To his utter shock, he now had a gun in his hand as well. “Where the hell did this come from?” he thought. The piece had materialized out of thin air and he was aiming it out the window, where he could now see three men on motorcycles riding at a furious speed to keep up with the train. On seeing him at the window, they restarted their fire and he had to duck back and press against the wall, narrowly avoiding being hit. He took another chance and aimed again, actually managing to shoot one of them. He fell off his bike and was left behind and for a second, Lance felt triumphant. This was soon overtaken by guilt and even more panic; had he just killed someone? Fuck.

He couldn’t dwell on it too long; the other guys were still following the train and still shooting. Man, did they have unlimited ammo? Lance continued to return fire, ducking and switching positions when forced to, but he didn’t seem to be keeping up with them. The bullets were coming at him more furiously now, ricocheting off the walls in the train. The woman was still crouched behind the bar, hands over her ears, not moving. Lance was overwhelmed, and didn’t know how much longer he’d last or what his next move would be. And then it happened. One bullet hit him squarely in the chest and it was as if he was in slow motion. His left hand moved to feel the wound, the blood oozing out, wet and warm to the touch. “Keep following the damn train!” he heard one of the men yell even as the world turned dark around him, till he couldn’t see or feel anything anymore........

Lance opened his eyes, his head pounding but memory less fuzzy. He was back where he had woken up the first time. “Wait, I’m not dead?’ he thought, unable to make sense of this. There was no bullet wound or blood anywhere on his body and besides the ever-present headache, he seemed to be fine. He started moving forward again, past the glitchy seat. He tried to turn back again to have a second look and this time, he almost managed the motion, but whatever force was controlling him was too strong; he continued on, back to the dining car and the woman at the bar. “So you’re the one they’ve sent to protect me,” she said with a smile when he approached. “Did I actually die? Am I in a hell loop?” he thought, unable to actually grasp that possibility. But what else could this mean? Was it just a nightmare? “If so, now would be a fantastic time to wake the hell up Lance,” he thought, even as a bullet shattered the woman’s glass. Oh great, it was starting again. He went through all the same motions again, dragging the woman behind the bar, aiming out the window, killing one of the men. But how to NOT get shot this time? This not being able to control his movements thing was getting old. Surely a hell loop would at least give him basic motor function? He wasn’t sure what outcome he was expected to achieve while doing the exact same thing, and sure enough, he was shot in the chest again, heard one of the men yell again to keep following the train and everything went dark again.

His eyes opened a third time and he groaned. What in the Groundhog Day hell was this? The headache as consistent as his bleak surroundings, for a third time he started to move forward. As he passed the glitchy seat again, it dawned on him that the only way to maybe break this loop was to not get shot, and the only way to do that was to overpower whatever this force was that was controlling him. He tried to turn around, but his body still wasn’t obeying. He put every ounce of his focus and strength on it, his head feeling like it would split open. Screaming internally, he kept at it, ultimately failing; he was being dragged towards the dining car again. But it wasn’t a complete waste. He had managed to stand his ground at least, stopped himself from moving for a few seconds.

The rest of the scene replayed exactly as it had before, Lance too exhausted to try and fight it. He let it happen, waiting to get shot so he could try again. He went through the whole loop four more times, each time gaining a little more control over his movements. Few more tries and he was going to do it, just keep pushing Lance.....

..............................................................

“Bro, this mission is impossible to pass!” exclaimed Mike, ripping off his headphones and throwing them on his bed.

“Hey don’t hate on the mission just because you can’t shoot straight,” teased Trevor, pulling off his own headphones and running his fingers through his hair.

“You got lucky, you’re playing Franklin and not Lance,” grumbled Mike. “It’s a lot easier to shoot at the train than it is to shoot from it, and I also have more people to kill.”

“Excuses! I have Candy to kill too, after your ass gets shot every time.”

Mike rolled his eyes at his best friend. “Yes, because killing an unarmed woman after you’ve already shot her bodyguard in the chest is soooo hard.”

“Hey man, I gotta wait till my crew stops the train, jump in through the window and then shoot her. It’s a whole process, one I’m tired of going through just because you have terrible aim.”

Mike threw a pillow at him, groaning. He was so done with this mission! There was so much more to explore in the game if only he managed to protect Candy and move on to the next stage. But there was a new problem the last few tries; his controls were off and his character didn't seem to be going exactly where he wanted him to. There was considerable lag a couple times, and the last time he could have sworn Lance turned around in the opposite direction for a few seconds when he tried to make him walk forward. When he said this to Trevor, his friend just laughed and accused him of making excuses again, but Mike was really puzzled. The game and his console were new and shouldn’t be giving him trouble already.

“Okay, let’s go again. I need to figure this out,” he said to Trevor, determination on his face.

“Last try, I want to play FIFA next,” responded Trevor, putting his headphones back on. Mike nodded as he slipped his on as well, pressing play.

…...........................

Lance opened his eyes again. The headache surprisingly felt a little better. He started moving forward once more, but when he reached the seat, he used all of his strength and managed to stop. Instead of passing by, he went closer to it, reaching out to touch it. Wait, had this actually worked? Could he finally control his movements? "Yesssssss," he exclaimed internally, walking to the door. He was fully prepared to run through the hallway and avoid the dining car completely, so he could hopefully figure out a way to get off this train. But wait, that woman. He couldn’t just leave her there. “Fuck,” he groaned, making his way back to the dining car. But this time, it would have to be different. He was definitely not waiting around to be shot in the chest again.

He approached the woman and not waiting around for her to look up and say her line, he pulled her by the arm, and started taking her towards the door. She didn’t seem to resist, instead just smiling at him. Behind him, the first bullet pierced through the silence and he tried to hurry, but his legs wouldn’t move any faster. “Here we go,” he said, as the hail of bullets started again. He focused more on his escape, willing his feet to move faster, he needed to run, and run now...

...........…...................

“Yo Mike, what the hell are you doing?” yelled Trevor, shooting furiously. “Why are you moving away from the window?”

“I’m not doing shit!” Mike yelled back, aggressively punching the buttons on his controller. It wasn’t working, he had lost control over Lance completely. He tried to hit pause but it wouldn’t work either.

Cursing, he disconnected his controller and went to reboot it. “Stop!” said Trevor, grabbing his hand. “Lance is still moving, how is this possible?”

They both looked up; Trevor’s shooting had stopped but since the bikes were controlled by NPCs, they were still following the train. Lance however, was nowhere near the window; he was almost at a run and at the door of the car, opening it and disappearing into the hallway.

“He has Candy too!” exclaimed Trevor, starting to shoot again.

“What, are we not stopping this?”

“And miss a chance to figure out what’s going on? No way. I’m going through with the mission. Once my crew stops the train, I’m gonna get on it as usual and run after Lance.”

Sure enough, the train was screeching to a halt now. Trevor made Franklin jump off the bike and clamber into the shot-up train window. He ran through the door Lance had just disappeared out of, turning both ways to try and spot him.

“There!” yelled Mike, pointing to the left. They could see Lance running to the end of the train, pulling Candy behind him. The sun that had fully set a few minutes ago was starting to rise again and the boys could see that the train had stopped on a bridge on top of a river. Trevor made Franklin run after the duo, resuming his shooting but missing. On and on they went, until they saw an open door to the right.

“They’re gonna jump into the river!” Trevor exclaimed. “Come on Franklin, run faster! We HAVE to catch up!”

But just as Franklin was finally catching up, Lance jumped, taking Candy with him. Franklin shot a few rounds in their direction but missed and they landed with a splash, causing the river to ripple.

“Jump in after them!” said Mike, shaking Trevor. But try as he might, Trevor couldn’t make Franklin do that. This mission was designed to be on the train; the surroundings hadn’t been coded to let players access them.

Deciding to reboot and see if Lance shows up, Mike bent forward to switch the game off.

“What the-?” he jumped back. “That thing just shocked me!”

Before they could examine it further, the console started to vibrate uncontrollably, setting off sparks. “No, fuck, it’s new,” yelped Mike, but Trevor held him back and good thing too, because the next minute it completely fell apart in a small explosion that sent a few parts of the hardware flying through the room.

“What the actual fuck,” said Trevor in disbelief, as Mike tried not to burst into tears in front of his friend.

“What is all the commotion upstairs boys?” Mike’s dad called out from downstairs, in response to the bang. “I’m trying to watch the evening news here, it’s really intriguing!”

Shaking his head, Trevor put a comforting hand on Mike’s shoulder and called out, “Sorry Mr. Phillips, all good, what’s on the news?”

“Well, they fished out a man and a woman from the river, not ten minutes ago. Dressed to the nines they are, tux and evening gown. Just appeared out of nowhere, no memory of how it happened. Strange, right?”