Runaway Train

Act I - Scene 7

So much for a way out.

Figuring they should get as far away from the scene of that crime as they could, the four had been and continued to be on the move. Weary of Curtis' threats, they'd taken some time to explain the basics of this place—mysterious train, occupied by demons, strange impossible train cars with forests and such in them, and (most importantly) it hasn't stopped, at least not for them—before the two ladies consigned Johnny to the job of keeping tabs on this violent stranger all alone, walking up front to talk amongst themselves. Gosh, those two are really chatting away. If I didn't know any better, I'd say Sally was almost charmed by all Orla's flirting. He would've smiled about it if he wasn't a little preoccupied with talking to the armed man trailing along silently beside him. The thought of that pistol hidden behind the cover of his jacket—the thought of the noise that burst from it, the sight of the demon dead on the floor—it gnawed at the back of his mind like termites chewing up an already shaky house. He almost couldn't bear the anxiety anymore. What if Curtis was getting fed up with only getting the sparse information they'd given him? What if he was getting angry? What if he'd uphold that threat of his about getting answers or else?

Johnny stammered, scrambling for something to say. "This train's strange," he murmured. "I mean, for more reasons than the demons and the like." Curtis scoffed. That only discouraged him. "W-what I mean to say," he tried to continue, stuttering, "is- well, let me ask this: what year is it?"

Curtis's dark eyes flicked to him for just a second, then back away. "1957, since January," he muttered dryly. His gaze shifted back to meet him again. "Why?" he added suspiciously.

He took a breath. "Sally says it's 1932. It's 1943 for me, and well... anyone can tell Orla's not got anything to do with the 20th century." He spoke everything quietly, his eyes wandering shyly away from Curtis', afraid too enthusiastic a delivery would make him look positively loony. It seemed he was right to worry too, since the way the man was looking back at him certainly suggested he thought he was crazy. "I don't know for sure what's going on, none of us do! B-But if everyone's telling the truth—which I think we all are—I mean, I am at least!—then I can only guess this place is somehow taking people from all sorts of points in time and putting them here. I don't have a clue how, but-" Curtis' expression got more and more skeptical, even mistrustful. The words died on Johnny's tongue, and then sunk down and buried themselves in his throat.

To his surprise and relief, though, Curtis just sighed. "No. I don't believe any of that for a second. This is probably all just a dream anyways, it doesn't matter."

Johnny tried desperately to rouse his tongue to say something, anything. Luckily, he didn't have to; Orla interrupted from up ahead, wondering "Well! What's this place?" aloud as she and Sally stepped into the next car over. Eager for any sort of distraction from Curtis, Johnny peered curiously up ahead. On entering, he knew exactly what it was supposed to be. His eyes lit up and his anxieties melted away when he realized it was—

"A movie theater, of sorts," Sally answered Orla's question. "I must say, I've never come across one of these before, and I've seen quite a bit of this old train."

"Oh! And what's a movie theater?"

"A big room where they show moving pictures," Johnny breathed. A wave of wistful nostalgia had come over him. "Films and cartoons. Feature length and shorts, though those are less impressive now; we'd spend weeks just to get a minute of frames finished—you can't imagine how long it took at first to finally get out an animated feature film." He was more than absorbed in the past; he was swimming in it.

"Moving pictures? I want to see them!" Orla declared, skipping over to one of the seats and making herself comfortable. With a sigh, Sally followed. Behind Johnny, the door to the car slid closed as Curtis stalked inside. He glanced shiftily around, and took up a spot leaning against the wall behind the rows of chairs. The last to take his place, Johnny sat himself down as well.