The Traveler

I felt the bouncing and swaying of motion as it chased away the last vestiges of my restless sleep. The displeasure of being roughly awoken against my will was nostalgic, it reminded me being shaken awake on school days as a child. I opened my eyes cautiously, half prepared to be blinded by the overhead light of my childhood bedroom.

But my surroundings were totally unlike those to which I had grown accustomed as a child. Indeed, the room about me was completely foreign to me. I could not identify my location based on the environment I perceived, and even with strain, I could not recollect how I had come to be there.

Let’s see, what can I surmise about this place? It’s moving for one thing. The space is longer than it is wide. It’s dim, but I can see that the trappings are sparse, old dry boards make up the walls and floor. The room is cluttered with rope and crates and other ornaments that prioritize function over form.

I considered my observations. It occurred to me I had seen a space akin to this before, when I was younger. It was reminiscent of the storage car of an old locomotive I had seen in a museum.

Am I at a museum? But surely, we’re in motion. How did I wind up on an old train?

I notice then two doors opposite each other, each sitting in the middle of one of the shorter walls that were situated between the two longer walls. I decided I would open the door to my left first. To me, it had seemed that that door was on the backside of the room, assuming there was a front and a back side to the room.

I stood up on uncertain legs.

Maybe I drank too much last night? If I somehow partied my way onto a train, it must’ve been a hell of a night.

The floorboards creaked as I stumbled towards the door. The rhythmic rumbling and sound of metal wheels bouncing along tracks started to remove any doubt that I had that I was on a train.

The doorknob was brass that was weathered and worn. I grasped it, and the rattling of the car travelled up my arm. Suddenly, I was seized with an intense feeling of dread. The thought crossed my mind that if I opened this door, I would see that which human eyes were never meant to withstand, and the terror would be so unspeakable that I’d lose my mind so that I could never recall again.

I turned the knob. The bolt stuck a bit, so I twisted the knob back and forth, and yanked the door to free it. Outside the door was a veranda of sorts, lit by a greasy, flickering lamp that hung above the door. The lamp appeared to be an antique kerosene lamp. There were small bugs buzzing about close to the lamp.

The ring of light cast by the lamp was small, it only illuminated a few feet behind the railing of the veranda, and beyond that was only the pitch black of a late night with no stars. Even the small amount of light was sufficient to confirm what I already knew: I was on a train. I watched the tracks disappear into the darkness behind the car.

I strained my eyes.

Surely, regardless of how dark it is out, I should be able to make out a bit of the geography around the train.

No matter how intently I squinted into the night I could not see any distinguishable shapes.

Movement? Is that movement?

At first, I thought I had seen the organic movement of a body behind the train’s right side, but as I stared my thoughts grew incoherent.

Is the land behind the train writhing?

The movement I had seen and isolated to a specific point in space appeared to be naught but a single tendril of a roiling mass that filled the entirety of the darkness behind the train.

I stumbled back through the portal into the car in which I had awoken. I rubbed my eyes, and it was then I realized that I didn’t have my glasses.

So, my head is messed up from a night of drinking, and my vision is blurred because I don’t have my glasses.

The disquiet I had felt subsided. I noticed then that not only were my glasses missing, but I was dressed in a plain robe.

Maybe, I’m being pranked? If so, they may be going a bit too far.

Well, I’m not getting anywhere just sitting here.

With that thought, I walked to the door in the front of the car. The brass knob was the twin of the one on the backdoor. I turned the knob, and this door opened much more smoothly. The door opened to the night air, and another train car with its own door, one large step over a coupling away.

The air is brisk, I thought. Then, no, it’s absolutely freezing out. It’s so cold.

My earlier distress started to creep back into my mind.

Don’t spook yourself! Maybe someone in this next car can help you out.

I grabbed the knob on the next car, and it occurred to me that everything had the appearance of being ornate but worn down by age. The car in front of me must’ve been rather fancy when it was new.

Holding the knob, I stepped and pulled the door open simultaneously. I stepped through the portal onto carpet, thick and red. With tables surrounded by chairs lining the windowed walls, I surmised that this was a dining car. People in 19th century garb populated the seats.

Thank goodness, people.

I approached the nearest table, surrounded by elderly, bearded gentlemen in top hats.

“Excuse me, can you tell me-,” my question trailed off. As I got closer, I saw that the men had no vibrance or life in their gaunt cheeks. They had the pallor of wax sculptures, and they were entirely unmoving and unresponsive. All the men were holding papers, books, or goblets as though they were frozen in place, in the middle of their activities. The men looked vaguely familiar to me, though I could not place their faces.

I noticed a spider web had been woven between one of the men’s faces and the back of his chair. The spider responsible for the web crawled out of the man’s beard and delicately pranced to the middle of its web. I recoiled instinctively.

“What are you doing here?”

I jumped. A skeletal man had approached me from my left, the front of the train. He had a cart and the uniform of an employee.

“What is this place? I have no idea where here even is!”

“You don’t belong here!”

“You’re telling me!”

“Follow me.”

“Can’t you tell me what’s going on? Where am I?” I looked and the thin man had a nametag that said Vincent. “Vincent, Vince, is this some sort of rolling wax museum? How’d I get here and when’s the next stop so I can get off!”

“Yes, something like that. I’m afraid we will not be making any stops any time soon. As it is, we’re behind schedule.”

“I’m sorry but that’s not going to work for me. I can’t be held captive on this creepy train.”

“Come, I’ll take you to the conductor.”

“Whoever has the authority to help me out.”

I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed Vincent smirked at that. We walked the length of the dining car, full of if its mannequins posed around empty dishes, to the door at the far side. Vincent set his cart to the side of the door, opened it, and pressed it open from the outside. Just as I was about to step out of the dimly, lamplit, dining car into the shadows beyond the door, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. It was probably my mind playing tricks on me, but for a moment, it seemed the still figures were moving about, indulging in their banquet, and in each other’s company. I hurriedly exited the car.

Vincent held the door to the next train car open. Above the door was a metal sign upon which “Do Not Enter” was engraved.

“Employees only?” I asked.

Vincent just waived me inside. The next car must have been a sleeper car, as it was darker than both the previous, though I don’t think many of the occupants were sleeping. There was a constant buzz of activity in the shadows; I was surrounded by rustling, grunting, and moaning. The train car had a very human smell, I found it pleasant at first. The aroma tickled the memory center of my mind and briefly filled me with vigor. I breathed in deeply, and immediately became sick. I am not sure how I missed it, but the car was filled with the smell of decay. I bent forward and coughed.

It was only then I noticed the sensation of hands and arms groping up and down my legs. Many distinct hands and arms clawing at and underneath my robe. The sounds I had heard that I had thought were sounds of ecstasy were actually the sounds of weeping and pleading. Instinctively, I began to kick and jump around.

“Vincent?” I cried out.

I leapt and ran in the direction in which I hoped the exit could be found. At times, I’d feel my feet sink into something warm and moist, and the sensation would often be accompanied by a despairing yelp.

“Vincent!” I surprised myself by desperately calling out for the unsettling attendant, but even his companionship seemed a comfort compared to thought of being alone in that dark car any longer.

I reached the other side of the car, and just as I grabbed the knob, Vincent lit a lamp. As the room illuminated, I was sure I would see the monstrosity my mind had created in the dark: a chimera made of countless bodies bound to each other by blood and sinew, squirming against the walls and under the chairs. Instead, it was a kitchen with a bar, and an employee lounge area. It was here where servers, like Vincent, would pick up drinks and meals for the passengers, and then take their breaks.

“As you said, ‘employees only.’ Come along.” Vincent turned and opened the door.

I had fully lost my composure. Either I had lost my mind completely, or I was trapped in some sort of horrific nightmare. Regardless, I did not expect the next train car to be any more pleasant than those prior.

This car was filled with skeletal people like Vincent, wearing matching uniforms and running back and forth with carts. They were constantly replenishing the contents of plates that were sitting before a diverse group of individuals dressed like caricatures of old-time aristocrats. I looked closely because I could not believe my eyes. The sickly servants were piling what appeared to be gold and gems on the aristocrats’ plates, and the aristocrats were gobbling the treasure before the servers could even serve the next passenger. The diners would yell and scream for more as soon as they emptied their plate.

I then noticed the bodies of the aristocrats beneath the tables. Each one was shaped like an overfilled garbage bag. The shapes of the gems and gold could be seen pressing against their flesh from the inside. Their legs and feet were hidden by their distended, deformed stomachs. Then I saw the festering bed sores on the flesh pressing into the chair and noticed the chair’s fibers fusing to their infected wounds.

I retched. The diners seemed to notice me for the first time.

“Who is he? Vincent, what is this miserable wretch doing in our car? He doesn’t belong here!”

“Of course, he doesn’t belong here, sir, I am guiding him to the engine.”

“Good, be off quickly then, he is causing me to lose my appetite.”

Vincent ushered me along. My head was spinning, and I just wanted off that train. I wanted to wake from that awful dream.

At the exit, I fell to my knees due to my dizziness. I looked back as I knelt, and I saw a man, more humongous and bloated than the rest, going chair to chair. I watched as he got close to one of the aristocrats, his jaw opened wide, then with cracking and a nauseating tearing sound, it opened wider still, until it was wide enough to fit around the distracted diner, and then I blacked out.

“There, there. The freezing night air will bring your wits back.” Vincent was gently patting my cheeks as I leaned against the outside of a train car door. I wearily looked up into Vincent’s eyes. He could probably read on my face that I had a question, probably even knew what it was, so he waited patiently for my query. I didn’t ask. The truth was, if I asked if what I had been seeing was real, I was afraid what he might answer.

I stood up.

“Are you ready to proceed?”

I nodded. I felt an inexorable power drawing me forward. Also, I remembered when I first looked outside from the back of the train, what I had thought I’d seen, and I was more afraid of what lie in the bitter cold of the outer darkness than what awaited me on the train.

The next car was once again very dim. The walkway was framed on both sides by a metal cage. I started to stroke the rusted chain links absentmindedly.

“It would be prudent to keep your fingers outside of the cage.” Vincent scolded me.

At that moment, a large animal slammed against the fence. I fell back against the cage on the other side and immediately felt the burning sensation of a deep gash on my lower back. The slash had even managed to tear my robe and I felt the warm, sticky blood saturating the cloth around the wound.

“People bring pets on this train?” I asked, rhetorically.

Vincent raised an eyebrow in response. He reached into an interior pocket of his vest. In his hand he had a book of matches. He lit a match and held it out in front of the fence where I had received my wound.

Should I really look? I wondered.

I bent down, and the first thing I noticed were beady, reflective eyes. Then a twisted, humanoid form lunged forward. The muzzled, boney creature was dressed in rags, fresh blood adorning its fingertips. It hissed and snarled. Others poured from the shadows, drawn by the light. When they brushed against one another, they started violently fighting and tearing at each other’s flesh, like rabid dogs. The car was quickly filled with screeching and howling, and then the smell of blood, and a sickening gargling sound.

I turned and hurriedly made for the exit as I heard more bodies crashing against the fences. I heard creaking as the metal started to give, and the sound of screws pulling from splintering wood.

I turned the knob and hopped through the door quickly. Vincent exited calmly right behind me. I panted, in the freezing air. Then I noticed the insectoid sound of buzzing and clicking, layered over a loud groaning noise, all about the train. I considered asking for the match book, and Vincent must have predicted this, because he already had the matches in the palm of an outstretched hand, a humorless smirk on his face.

A sight that would drive a man to madness. Something unspeakable and unfathomable that the human mind could not comprehend.

No, don’t look.

I quickly turned and stepped over the coupler to the next door. I opened the door and stepped inside. This car was dark and almost entirely empty. The only thing I could see within was a strange, ghostly light in the middle of the car. I walked forward and then I noticed the shadows dancing about in the blueish glow.

I heard them uttering things beneath their breath. If they were speaking a language, it was one I had never heard before. They swayed side to side and moaned, cloaked in their dark robes. I walked into the light and looked into their faces, but the darkness was too thick for my eyes to penetrate. The figures seemed indifferent to my presence. I looked behind me for Vincent, but I couldn't see him either.

I walked past the light, for the next door. As I reached for it, my hand brushed something soft. It was then that I saw two more cloaked figures framing the doorway. They were taller than any person I had ever seen. Their height seemed to break my ability to reason, as they seemed far too large for the train, and they weren’t even hunched. I must’ve stared longer than I’d realized, as one of the figures pressed the door before me open, with a far too large hand.

I stepped out once more into the bitter cold and darkness. No moon and not a solitary star in the sky. Wait, that wasn’t right, there were stars all around, just at what should have been ground level.

Maybe those are more reflective, hungry eyes. I shuddered.

Before me was the coal car. So, this really was an old-fashioned locomotive.

I heard rattling from within the coal car.

Curiosity killed the cat.

I carefully shuffled around the edge of the coal car, until the engine was in sight. Within the cabin was the glowing figure of a human. I couldn’t bare to look at it. It was brighter than the sun. It was no wonder that everything else looked pitch black in comparison to this figure. Perhaps, the light it cast was such that my eyes could never dilate enough to adjust to any degree of darkness ever again, after even a glimpse of it.

Even squinting, I could only look to the side of this figure. It was shoveling coal into a furnace. I looked at the shovel as its contents were tossed in the inferno.

The coal. It’s squirming.

The being scooped more coal, and I watched the shovel.

That coal has hands.

The hands were clawing at the blackened shovel.

Weeping faces, the coal is screaming.

My head was spinning once again. I stared into the furnace.

I see. That’s where I am. I am inside that furnace. We’re all inside that furnace. I get it now.

Blackness overtook my vision from the edges.

I felt the bouncing and swaying of motion as it chased away the last vestiges of my restless sleep. The displeasure of being roughly awoken against my will was nostalgic, it reminded me being shaken awake on school days as a child. I opened my eyes cautiously, half prepared to be blinded by the overhead light of my childhood bedroom.