Runaway Train

Act I - Scene 4

All things considered, this was shaping up not so bad after all.

Peace and quiet; it was certainly what Johnny needed, and seemed to be what they all intended on getting. After that little kerfuffle last night, they'd all gone back to sleep. Sally insisted on getting her beauty rest, and the newcomer, Orla, had been snoring in no time. Even Johnny managed to finally get a wink, after some time. Right before sunrise, in fact. That is to say, he didn't get to sleep for too long.

However, it wasn't gentle sunlight shining through the windows that woke him. Oh no, it was something very different. Though there had been a quiet murmur just poking through the dark veil of sleep, like a U-boat scope peeking up through black water, it wasn't what awoke him. It was no human sound, but mechanical: a quiet but nagging squeak that drew ever closer. And as it did, it seemed to grow louder in his mind. Suddenly, it became a shriek, and then a roar. The roar of tanks driving past, of machine guns sounding, of the world knocking him down to his feet and breaking his bones. No, please!! NO!

Jumping awake from the nightmare, Johnny's eyes frantically darted around the train car, only to meet Sally's quizzical gaze across from him. "My, you seem like you've just been through an ordeal," she said. "I must say, your yelling did quite interrupt our conversation, though." His heartbeat slowed and his senses came back to him as he processed her words. He looked to Orla, where she leaned on the armrest of the seat across the aisle away from them. Her eyes hid none of her curiosity, like how you'd look at some weird bug. A crawling feeling of embarrassment made its way up Johnny's skin.

"Gosh," he murmured. "Sorry. I guess I'm just..."

As he lost his words, that squeaking sound reappeared. With renewed anxiety, he searched for the source of the sound. And then he found it; a large cart, crowned by silver cloches and utensils. It scuttled along down the aisle on squeaky little wheels, going as fast as it could to its only patrons. But just as he thought he should calm down again, he noticed what was pushing the cart. Just over the very top of it crested a small pair of horns, flitting and dark in form. As it drew ever closer, the realization that it was another one of those demons dawned on him.

With a screech, he sprang up and darted behind his seat. He cowered, fearing for his very life. After all, what if that first time Sally saved him from them was just a fluke? And if one was already here, maybe more were coming. Oh god, please not again!

A peel of laughter was all that answered his fears. What...? Shaking, Johnny peeked over the back of the seat at his companions, afraid for their lives... but found something very different from what he was expecting. First of all, the spirit certainly wasn't aggressive; rather, it handed them napkins and silverware, attentive and lively on its feet. Upon closer inspection, it wore a red uniform, complete with a spiffy hat bearing an insignia that read "RT." If Johnny didn't know any better, he'd almost say it looked to be a train attendant of some kind. Second, Sally had been the one laughing of course, still chuckling now. "Oh, Johnny, honestly!" she said. "There's no need for all that. This isn't one of those other creatures you saw before, you ought to tell that just by looking at it!" Upon quickly glancing at it again, he saw she was right; not only was it much smaller than the others, it was... pointier, with a beak of sorts, and white markings like those of a tuxedo cat, making gloves of its claws and shoes of its hooves. "I like to call them 'trolley imps.' You only see them coming around with those food trolleys. No idea what they are aside from that. Well, besides absolutely harmless."

"Oh," was all he could croak out. Gosh, he felt so stupid. I'm such a dumb coward... such a coward...

He couldn't say much before Orla interrupted. "Why do they do it?" she asked. "Give us food, I mean. What's in it for them all?" At least, that's what Johnny could discern. It was hard to hear her words around the piles of food already being stuffed in her mouth. She sure wasn't a picky eater. Or a slow one, for that matter.

"Well... I don't know all that," Sally admitted, reluctance to do so in her voice.

Stealing his nerves, Johnny squeezed past the trolley to get back to his seat. He didn't dare look at the trolley imp again; he'd probably panic again if he did, and no one wanted that. "Just how long have you been here, Sally?" he asked quietly, trying to keep his mind off the little creature going around between the seats, bringing whatever scraps Orla hadn't already eaten to Sally and himself.

"Oh, well, it must already be a couple years now," she said, glowing with pride. Seems it's easy for her to forget her embarrassment, Johnny thought. "Why, I don't think I've ever really thought about it! It really has been all too easy to manage on my own here." She inspected her fine gloves as she boasted.

Crack. Startled again, Johnny turned to Orla, where the sound had come from. "What?" the woman asked innocently, holding half of a cracked turkey leg. Now that he looked at it, it seemed like she'd eaten about a quarter of the food off the cart already. Though it was much better than seeing some disturbing new shadow thing making that sound, this wasn't exactly a good discovery. How'd she even managed to eat all that? You'd think she'd been starving... A glance at Sally told him she'd reacted with much more disgust; her face was drawn back in a disdainful grimace. The trolley imp quickly wheeled the cart away, breaking the silence with those squeaky wheels.

"I do suppose it would've been nice to share..." Johnny said softly after some time.

"Well, I suppose I'll do what I like!" Orla replied, laying back and picking at her teeth quite rudely.

Suddenly, Sally's heels clicked as she stood, an irritated sigh leaving her. "Ugh! I'm going to find a kitchen or something," she snapped. "So I can at least have a crumb of something to eat without slobber all over it." With that and little more than a flip of her hair, she turned on her heel and stormed off straight to the door.

"W-wait! Sally, come on now!" Johnny stumbled up to his feet. What was he supposed to do now? His heartbeat jumped as he glanced between the sliding door closing shut behind the singer and the apathetic, still-eating Orla. Oh gosh... look at all this mess... He had to fix this. But how? What to do? What to do? Sally or Orla... someone who'd gotten him out of a terrible jam recently, or someone who'd eaten all their food in the blink of an eye. When you put it like that, it seemed easy to decide. And yet... come on, be smart, Johnny! There's only one decision here worth making... just go! Willing his legs to move, he took off after Sally with his jolting gait, leaving the red-haired woman behind. So much for peace...