You're waiting on a train

"You're waiting on a train."

A man awakens. Blind to why he awoke where he did. Groggy actually. This man rubs his eyes and groans from the tired biting at his heels. Laughter calls out from beyond.

As the man rubs his eyes clear, he finds himself in a booth. The smell of cologne and cigarette smoke meets his senses, and he feels the slow chill of cold coming from the window to his left. Before him on the table, his hat and a book. The man rubs his hands together and scoots down his side of the booth, looking about the aisle.

An attendant is walking it, checking on the other patrons. He's asking for a ticket. The man checks his belongings and finds no such paper on himself. A slight panic erupting. He looks down the other way of the aisle and sees a short woman walking with a tray of drinks. The man tries to get her attention.

She passes by.

The attendant finally gets to him.

"Ticket, Sir."

The man grins sheepishly. "Uh, I apologize. I can't say that I have my ticket." He pats himself down again for good measure.

The attendant shrugs, and continues down the aisle.

"W-wait!" The man tries to get their attention but they continue on. He sighs in frustration.

"My my my." A voice calls out from the booth in front of him. A lady appears, smiling wildly. A beautiful woman with a cigarette holder poking from her mouth, and a small trail of smoke spiraling from its end.

"You poor thing." She leaned over the side of the booth, the man looked her up and down.

"I didn't know a woman as beautiful as you was aboard this train." He said with a grin.

She scoffed and pulled herself off the edge of the booth. The lady slinked around the side and sidled across from the man. She blew smoke his way and extended her arm.

"Lady Beth." She said.

He shook it gratefully, "Montrose. Montrose Jones."

Lady Beth eyed him curiously.

"I wonder why you don't have a ticket." She said, propping her elbow up onto the booth.

Montrose shrugged. "To be honest. I'm not sure how I ended up here."

She tapped the window. A cold silence settled between the two, and Montrose could hear the blizzard outside. Almost deafened by the engines of the train, the snow whistled and slammed against the window. The dark of night held much of the spectacle at bay. But Montrose could still see the flakes of snow falling against the side.

"Maybe." He said, breaking the silence. "In one of my many, many nights of debauchery. I found myself on this train." He smiled again.

She raised an eyebrow. "Are we one for debauchery? Montrose." Lady Beth asked.

"I could say-" Lady Beth snapped at the short woman as she passed. Her tray empty she looked startled at the interruption.

"Vodka martini, chilllllled to the bone please." Lady Beth looked at Montrose.

"Oh right, whiskey. On ice please, make it something nice." He nodded at Lady Beth and looked back at the server.

She nodded back at the duo and hurried away.

"You have to be direct Montrose. Get their attention and run with it." She took another puff from her cigarette.

Montrose gestured towards her. "Is that what you do? Be direct?"

She waved a hand. "I used to be. Especially my last night out. I'm sure that was the end of me though." She sighed.

Montrose watched her quizzically. The short woman was back already, drinks placed neatly in front of the two.

"Cheers!" Lady Beth said.

The duo got drunk.

Other Patrons joined them. A preacher from the middle east. A journalist in Russia. A whistleblower from America. Writers and creatives and journeyman were in and out of the booth. Shots were taken, drinks ordered and Montrose vision became a blur.

Oddly enough, the attendant continued to ask Montrose for his ticket. Which others provided theirs, but he continued to inform the attendant he did not have his ticket. Lady Beth kept giving him a look when he did. A look that was hard for him to place.

Montrose was unsure of how he ended up on this train. But, at this point he had not a care in the world.

Montrose finally realized he had not been to the bathroom in awhile, and set out to find one. A trip that caused him to fall in the aisle and black out.

He awoke, again, in the train. Montrose groaned, slapping himself awake. The train was slowing, a thought that excited him. He set out to find Lady Beth.

Unfortunately, all he found was the train never ending.

Rows and rows of booths met him, and as he crossed carts through the nipping cold he only saw more of the same. Montrose began to panic, once again and hurried cart to cart. The train had come to a stop during his travel. He could hear voices.

Montrose threw open a door, crossing into the next cart. He saw the group. Those he could recognize were stepping off onto the platform. Lady Beth was last in line. Montrose ran towards her.

"Lady Beth!" He waved.

She looked back at him, mournfully, and turned away. Montrose faltered in step and found the attendant reach out to help him steady. Montrose thanked him, but found the attendant holding him still.

"I'm good man, thanks." He said. Montrose could feel the chill of the blizzard rush through the open doors. In an odd way, all he wanted was to run through them. Yet, the attendant held him in place.

"Sir, I'm sorry but you cannot leave with them."

Montrose started to push against him. He yelled out to Lady Beth, but she walked out into the blizzard. He struggled against the attendant but to no avail. Eventually, the doors closed and the train started again. Only then did the attendant let go.

"Why? Why didn't you let me leave?" Montrose asked. He ran his hands over his head and paced back and forth.

The attendant sighed. "No ticket sir, it was not your time."

"No, no I'm not supposed to be here!" Montrose said. He grabbed the attendants collar, holding him close to his face.

"Stop the train please! Let me out, I need to be with her." He pointed towards the doors.

The attendant shook his head. "Not yet, sir. You still have much to do."

Montrose could hear the train increase in speed. He let go of the attendant and stepped away.

"What do you mean?" Montrose asked.

The attendant held his head low, but said nothing. Keeping his hands crossed in front of himself.

Montrose looked out the nearby window. Snow was flying by, almost making straight lines with how quick the train was moving.

The horn blared. The train chugged along and the wind howled even louder.

Montrose could feel the fear set in, and noticed tears forming in his eyes.

"I was ready. I don't want to go back, please I was ready." He said, finally realizing.

The attendant looked up, tears of his own forming in his eyes.

"Sir I'm sorry. It just isn't your time."

Montrose sat down in a nearby booth. He sobbed quietly. The train sped forward, the horn called out. And the last thing Montrose heard, was the thunderous sound of the crashing train.