The marshals swept through the train cars like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Fear marched ahead of them – the marshals’ boots clicking against the floor matched the rhythm of a terrified heartbeat. Curious passengers turned and saw Bowman, Ansel, and Layton glide past them, with the shorter Haley struggling to keep up with their long strides. In their wake was a soft breeze that raised goosebumps like the dead on the passengers’ arms. They didn’t understand this feeling of dread, and they didn’t want to.
When they arrived at the first-class sleeping car where the Coburns were at, every compartment door was latched close. As the marshals walked past, they could hear a faint whispering in the walls, the way a house talks to itself when no one’s there. When they arrived at the door to the Coburns’ compartment, Layton knocked his thick fist against the thin door and called out, “Mr. Coburn, are you in there?”
The whispers died. Then a voice said uncertainly, “Yes?”
“Open up the door – marshals.”
The door squeaked open, and a young man with a heavy gaze stood in the doorway. Ansel peeked past the man – the compartment was cramped, with another man and two women sitting inside. Ansel found it curious that, while the women were seated on the bed and cushioned chair, the man was sound asleep on the hardwood floor. The marshal thought this was all the more unusual because there was plenty of space to sit or lie down otherwise on the cushioned seats.
The blonde woman perched on the chair demanded, “What’s going on?”
Ansel ignored her. Instead, he asked the man, “You Mr. Coburn?”
“I am.”
“Good,” Ansel said as he motioned for Bowman and Layton to apprehend their suspect. But two marshals weren’t required. Martin didn’t resist. Instead, he took a look at his watch and muttered something about the time. The young man then stood up and let the marshals walk him out into the hallway. Selena, though, put up enough resistance for the both of them. She launched herself out of her chair and shouted, “What are you doing? Why are you taking away my husband?”
“Please…” Martin said from the hallway.
“I don’t understand! I just don’t understand!” Selina cried, hysteria infecting her voice. She leaped forward – if she lost her husband, then she would truly have nothing else left in the world to lose. Ansel, who was still standing in the doorway, put out a brick wall of an arm that stopped Selina in her tracks. He roughly pushed her back into the compartment and snapped, “Don’t make me find space for two prisoners now!”
With that said, he slammed the door shut
Everything had happened so quickly – Martin’s arrest happening in less than a minute –the inside of the compartment was as frozen as a painting. Selina was kneeling with her palms pressed against the door, Nellie wore her hands like a tragic mask, and Ian was still sleeping. Then, Selina began to pound her fists against the door, in deep hysterics. She had never felt lost until that moment. Nellie hurriedly wrapped her arms around Selina and shushed her, trying to be a comforting blanket she knew she could never be. As she comforted the crying woman, Nellie glanced back, hoping for some assistance from Ian. To her bitter disappointment, the man was still dozing.
But while his eyes were closed, Ian wasn’t sleeping. If anything, he had never been quite so awake.