THE TRAIN: PART TWO
By Kate Everson
Copyright 2012 Kate Everson
The train was coming.
Stephanie could see the light on the track, getting brighter.
“Oh no,” she thought. “Not again!”
She stared down at her shoes. They said this is one way to tell if you’re having a dream or if it’s real. Your shoes will be visible if it’s reality.
Stephanie could see her pink runners with the blue shoelaces. These were the ones her mom had bought last year, thinking it would make Stephanie do more sports.
“But I hate sports!” she had told Mom.
But she wore them anyway, just to please her.
And yes, there they were, on her two feet standing on the platform of the train station. So it must be real. But for the life of her, she couldn’t remember why she was here.
“Excuse me,” she asked an elderly gentleman sitting on the bench next to the station. “Could you please tell me where the next train is going?”
He peered at her over his spectacles.
“It’s going to Raddington Station,” he said. “Don’t you have a ticket?”
Stephanie checked her purse and pockets. Sure enough, there was a ticket to Raddington.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, and started to walk away.
Why on earth was she going to Raddington? It was nothing but a dump. That’s where all the low-lives hung out, the slum-kids, people without jobs, drug dealers, prostitutes. She had never been there before. But the ticket definitely was taking her there.
She started to shiver. This was not a dream, not another nightmare like the one where Calvin turned into a monster. She was wearing the shoes her mother bought and she had a ticket. And there was no sign of Calvin.
But Raddington?
The train pulled into the station. Should she get on?
She did.
I have a ticket, she told herself, so there must be a reason for all this.
She found a seat near the window and watched as the train chugged through the outskirts of town and then into the countryside. It was several miles to the small town of Raddington and she had time to just watch the trees go by.
“This has been some adventure, my life,” she thought.
“Oh really?”
The tall man sitting next to her had spoken like he had heard her thoughts.
She looked at him.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
“Your life,” he continued, his pearly teeth flashing a disarming smile. “Has it really been all that strange?”
“I, I, didn’t know I said that out loud,” Stephanie blushed.
“Oh, you didn’t,” he replied, with that same charming smile. “But I did hear you.”
Stephanie was shocked. A mind reader! Whoa! She better watch what she thought.
The man laughed. “Oh, it’s quite all right, Stephanie,” he grinned. “I won’t read all your thoughts. I do allow a little privacy, you know.”
“What?” she whispered. “You just did it again!”
“Oh, yes, yes,” he nodded. “But don’t mind it one bit. I’m quite used to it. And it does help me get to know people better, don’t you think?”
“Um, well ... I guess so,” she replied. “But it is a bit freaky.”
He laughed again and put his arm around the back of her seat. He seemed to be leaning in towards her, as if he wanted to get close.
Stephanie drew back, pushing up against the window.
“I’m getting off soon,” she said, desperately hoping this man would leave her alone.
“Oh, I know,” he said. “So am I. Raddington Station, wasn’t it? Lovely place.”
And this time his teeth gleamed in the sunlight and a drop of moisture dripped down off his long nose.
“Oh no,” Stephanie thought. But then she stopped herself. How could she think anything without him hearing it?
The train chugged along, seemingly indifferent to her plight. The other passengers all looked normal, minding their own business. Why had he picked on her? Couldn’t he find someone more interesting to read her mind?
That woman across the aisle, for example. She looked fascinating. Long black hair, a silver brooch in the shape of an eagle, blue beads on her dress. Surely she had a much more interesting story. Stephanie was just a school girl, rather plain, she admitted. Her life really was quite dull. Most of the time anyway. If she could just stay away from trains!
But after the last vivid dream of being on a train with her friend Calvin, she had never really gotten over it. She started hearing train whistles all the time. Whenever she was in the city she would look for the train crossings. She found herself wandering down by the station, just watching. It was like an obsession.
Or a possession.
Someone wanted her here. But who? Or what?
Maybe this mind-reading stranger had some idea.
“Just who are you?” she demanded. “And why are you even talking to me? I don’t know you. And how do you know me and my business?”
Stephanie was feeling bolder now. She needed answers. This was getting to be too much.
She stared down at her blue and pink runners and wished it wasn’t real. Wished she would wake up and be at home having tea with Mom. She was just a simple girl, so why did her life all of a sudden become so crazy?
“It’s because of who you really are,” the man said, reading her mind again.
Stephanie jumped. She would never get used to her mind being an open book.
“Well, who am I, do you think?” she asked.
“You are special,” he said. “And that is why I am here.”
He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a long yellow scroll. He held it high and started pointing at a list of names until he came to hers.
“Ah there you are!” he smiled, and showed Stephanie where it was listed.
“Oh, my gosh!” she exclaimed, peering at her own name on the scroll.
“What is this a list of?”
The man did not answer because the conductor came through the car then, calling out the name of the next station. “Raddington,” he called. “Next stop, Raddington Station in five minutes.”
Stephanie quickly got her backpack and made sure her shoes were tied. She glared at the man and said, “I’m getting off now,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”
And he smiled.
“Of course,” he said.
The train pulled into the station and Stephanie got out. The man was nowhere to be seen. She quickly disappeared into the building and checked the schedule. There was a café and she went to get a pot of Earl Grey tea. She needed something to calm her nerves.
She kept looking nervously about, hoping to spot the man, so she could get away from him. He had vanished.
“Oh good,” she thought. But secretly she wondered about that scroll with her name on it. What did it mean? That man was an odd one, but he would best be forgotten. She should just get on with whatever reason she was here.
But that was difficult because Stephanie did not have a clue.
She looked around at the small station. Not much here, really. The tea was tepid and she did not dare try one of the stale biscuits that looked like they had been out way too long.
She sighed. She threw on her backpack and set out to discover Raddington.
Stephanie walked along the road into town and soon found herself in the middle of a rather unscrupulous neighourhood. Old houses emitted strange smells, and unsavoury characters lounged on the porches, smoking and drinking beer. They stared at her as she walked by. She shivered.
Suddenly, a dog ran out at her barking and nipping at her ankles. She shrieked.
“Get away!” she yelled, and k
icked at it with her soft shoes. It thought that was a great game and nipped her on the shin.
“Ouch!” she cried, and started to run. The dog came after her. Soon, another dog joined in. She ran as fast as she could and finally came to an open gate and ran through, shutting it behind her.
“Whew! That was close!” she thought.
“Yes it was,” said the tall man standing inside the gate, grinning at her. It was him.
He sauntered over to her and casually draped his arm around her shoulders.
“Do come in,” he said ever so sweetly. “You must be exhausted.”
He pulled her towards the house.
“No, I can’t,” she insisted, and tried to get away.
“Oh, come on,” he said. “I won’t hurt you. I just want to get to know you better.”
He guided her in and offered her a chair by the fire.
“Tea?” he inquired.
“Oh, yes, I suppose …” she replied, remembering not to think anything bad.
He brought her a steaming cup. Earl Grey.
“And a biscuit?” he asked, offering her a plate of freshly baked scones.
She took one and gulped it down. But the crumbs stuck in her throat.
The man was taller than she had noticed, and wore a dark brown jacket with a red handkerchief sticking out of his pocket. He looked quite dapper, really, and with his hair properly combed he might even be considered handsome.
But she knew nothing about him, or why she was here.
She preferred to say nothing, just sip her tea and wait for him to make the next move. They sat in silence for what seemed a long time. He watched as she drank. He noticed as her hand held the cup, trembling, and when a bit of tea spilled on the table he just wiped it up with his sleeve. He