The Club Car

My body is cold. Like ice-needles pressed into my pores. I'm being rocked. No. Shaken? Swayed. Side-to-side. I'm sitting. Slumped? In what feels to be the softness of a leather chair beneath my left hand. My right, in my lap, directly below my heavy, drooping head. Lifting it proves to be a workout I haven’t prepared for. Tight muscles and creaking bones clue me in to the fact that I may have been assaulted. A sharp breath escapes between my clenched teeth at the searing pain making its way down the back of my neck.

As the fog of my mind recedes, my surroundings start to take shape. Wet warmth flowing through my right eye, nearly swollen shut, clouds my vision, but not enough to mistake the emptiness of a luxury train car. A club car? The ghostly bar, with abandoned cocktails adorning its mahogany surface. Cool, black walls surround me. The smoke from a cigar, still rising from a crystal ashtray atop a pedestal table, tucked between 2 plush leather chairs.

I hear the music of tracks beneath the train as it glides over them effortlessly. The motion accentuating the pain in my chest with each labored breath. I attempt to rise. Thankfully, my lead legs have life in them. While standing, a little black book falls out of my lap, to the floor. I hadn't noticed it before. Stiffly, I bend forward to retrieve it. As I straighten, I catch a glimpse of myself in a round mirror hanging on the car wall. I examine my face. Someone beat the hell out of me. A small, healed scar in the shape of a crescent moon, just above the left corner of my mouth, says it's not the first time either.

Shrugging, I turn my attention back to the book. "Unassuming and simple." I think to myself as I sit back down. That simple act has taken more out of me than I anticipated. The book can't be much more than 3 inches by 5 inches. All black, except tiny gold lettering at the bottom right corner of the cover. "Live with your choices." I pause. What choices led me to this moment, bruised and alone? I'm still foggy.

I peel back the cover to an empty blank page. Why do I have this book? Why am I on a train I don't recall boarding? I flip to the second page and stop. Staring back at me is a check. A bank check for $20,000.00. No other information except the amount and a signature I can’t make out. Panic washes over me. Who would leave a check like this laying around? Is it mine? Did I write it?

I hear voices. My head shoots up and ignoring every ounce of pain in my screaming body, I jump out of the chair and tuck the book into my jacket. Quickly I duck into a dark crevasse at the rear of the train car. The voices crescendo and it becomes apparent that whoever they are, they are not happy with one another. Three people enter the car. One guy, one girl, and another I can't quite make out. The scene starts to feel eerily familiar. My body is aching and my breathing, shaky. I listen to try and gain any clues as to what’s going on.

"What the hell were you thinking? Why would you bring her with you?" The girl frantically asks, aiming her question at the third person.

"I don't know," the person says softly, their back to me.

"There's no turning back now." This time the guy speaks up. The cold steel to his voice forces a chill down my already cold spine. "We're here. A year of planning will not be going to waste just because you can't separate business from personal life." His voice makes the hair on my arms and neck stand on end.

Business from personal life? What planning? I feel dizzy. The blood is rushing to my head and blurring my vision, but I shake it off. I focus even more intently on the conversation. "We’re ten minutes from the station,” he continues. “If we stick to the plan, in five minutes, when the train has begun to slow, we jump at the breakpoint, thumb drive in-hand." The guy removes a gun from its holster. The girl does the same. The third person hesitates.

"Del!" The guy screams. "Get your damn head in the game! We don't have time for your conscience to play catch-up!"

Del? Why does that name sound so familiar? My stomach pitches. Del must've decided to cooperate because the guy's expression changes to that of a pleased one. "Atta-" he's cut off by his beeping watch. "Showtime."

The three take off, guns drawn. I finally see Del's face. My entire body seizes. Del's face...is my face! The same crescent-shaped moon scar above the left corner of the mouth. What is happening!? A scream from the next car pulls me from my shock. In a flash, I'm headed for the car door when suddenly I'm knocked backward. My eyes wild and frantic as I'm swept off my feet with sheer force. I land hard.

Slowly, I compose myself and lift my head to get a glimpse of the juggernaut who clothes-lined me. I am stunned to see a small woman who’s no more than 5' 6" and 135lbs. How could she knock me down so easily? She stands between me and the door, dressed in a black pantsuit with a red blouse. Her hair is pinned tightly in a bun at the nape of her neck. Her eyes, fiery. "Del," she says quietly, "why do you choose to do this the hard way?"

What does she mean? Do what? My breathing finally returns to its previously labored state. She comes closer and kneels beside me. "It would appear you’ve forgotten our deal again." I can only stare. Her eyes pierce so thoroughly. Finally, I have strength enough to sit up. "What deal?" I ask.

"Where were you going, Del?" she asks.

"Didn't you hear that scream?" I shriek. "And that person! That person has my face! What is going on here? Who are you?"

"You know who I am, Del," she says, her voice cool. "Where were you going?" she asks again.

"I was going to help! Those people have guns! I-I need to get to the bottom of this!" Adrenaline coursing its way through my veins, I find the strength to stand.

Still kneeling, she stares up at me with her eyes level and succeeds at shaking me to my core.

"Now, you know that is not going to be possible, Del." She rounds on me with her hands in her pockets. Her presence is crushing. Who is she?

Hearing my thoughts, she says, "You should stop thinking so hard about who I am and start remembering who you are. Therein lies the answers to the rest of the questions plaguing you."

"I don't have time for this!" I yell and start for the door once more. Instantly, I'm off my feet and in midair again. This time I land on a leather chair and roll. My head is spinning, and my back is singing. From the floor, I catch a glimpse of her still standing in the same spot, hands in pockets. How the hell did she do that? She walks toward me, and fear rises in my throat, where it chokes me.

Once again, she kneels, but this time, it's to pick up the little black book I didn't see fly out of my jacket. She stands up to thumb through the pages. Worried about the check I bustle to my feet and try to snatch it from her. She dodges my attempt with ease. "Relax, Del," her voice still level. "I'm the one who gave this to you. Remember?" My furrowed brows must give away the deep confusion. She chuckles a bit and shakes her head. Under her breath, I hear her say, "Humans."

"Humans?" I echo. "What does that make you?" I ask and snatch the book back.

"Oh, I'm just a simple traveler," her sly smile conveying the secret she is successfully concealing.

She inches uncomfortably closer to me with each step. I hold my ground even though it’s evident that I only still have breath because she has decided so. Face-to-face now, she moves in as if she is going to kiss me and continues past my lips to my ear. She speaks one word: Faye.

I feel my entire body stiffens and my eyes grow to the size of sand dollars. At once, my mind unlocks millions of suppressed memories and I am hyper-aware. How could I have forgotten? The magic of the mind to completely block trauma. Faye. Tears well up in my eyes as her name echoes through my body and time. Faye.

This is the train. This is the day I lost her. My best friend. My little sister. She was 15 years old. I foolishly brought her on a job with me, she begged me to; and because I was so preoccupied with looking after her, I allowed an undercover cop to get the drop on me.

The entire scene plays out in front of my eyes. Tears stream uncontrollably down my cheeks as I’m locked in place. Gripped by the fear and the grief I know is coming. I remember, the cop pushed my hands up when he tried to grab my gun and it went off, shooting the conductor in the back. He slumped over the controls. The train jumped the tracks and sent everyone flying.

“I can stop it! I can change the outcome! I can get her back!” I take off running for the door and I'm thrown backward again. I hear her. "Faye!" I think my arm is broken, but I push through the pain. "Faye! I'm coming, Faye!”

I'm on my feet again and very nearly grab the door handle when the woman in black steps in my path and lifts me in the air by the throat. There's fresh, warm blood in my eye.

"Del," she says coolly, "that's not part of our deal."

I manage to push out two words as her small, deceptive hands tighten around my throat, "What deal?"

"That check in your little black book. Remember?" She smiles. "You agreed to be my little human experiment. I asked if I gave you money to revisit the worst day of your life for 7 days straight, what would your price be?"

It all dawns on me as she lowers me to the floor. I stumble backward, trying to catch my balance. I brace myself on a leather chair.

She continues, "You laughed and said, '$20,000.00.' I wrote you the check and you placed it in your little black book. I told you the only stipulation is that you cannot change anything. Observe. That is all you can and have to do. You’ve worked so hard at numbing yourself, that you didn't remember the day you lost your sister was the worst day of your life."

She walks toward me slowly as I sit in the chair again. She reaches down and picks up the little black book off my lap, flips it open, and writes something down.

"You would have remembered if you had any shred of accountability,” she says. “Instead, you drown your sorrows and close your mind to pain in any way possible. Well, Del... I'm here to help you remember. Here to help you own that accountability."

She hands the open book back to me and I see my name. Below that, I see four tick marks. My tear-filled eyes meet her unshakable stare. I hear the earth-shattering scream from my sister once again. I squeeze my eyes shut and muster all the strength I have within me to push past her. "Faye!" I don't even make it to my feet.

My body is cold.