Runaway Train

Act III - Scene 2

After all that excitement, this was kind of deja vu. Did this train go on forever?

The light glancing through the train's thick-paned windows had slowly changed from the pale, thin glow of the early morning to the bright yellow of sunrise to the strong and even daylight they were getting now. It really had been hours, and Lillian had only led them further and further all the while. Johnny'd tried to count how many cars they went through, but he just couldn't. Even with walking on only one leg, he'd gotten too tired to think about that. Poor Sally, Orla, and Curtis, too—they'd been holding him up, taking turns being his other leg, this whole time as they trudged on from car to car to car to car. He was grateful—very grateful—but perhaps not quite as apologetic as he would have been a couple days ago. He was still bashful a good deal, of course, but... not so ashamed, maybe. They were his friends now, after all, not strangers. Besides, he was as worth it as any of the rest of them. That new idea was enough to keep his spirits up, just a little, as they went along.

Suddenly, at the end of what must've been the five-hundredth or so car, Lillian came to a stop. Johnny's wide eyes darted around. Everything was as ordinary as ever. Though they'd just gone through all kinds of cars—sleeping cars, bars, casinos, dining rooms, ballrooms, libraries, anything you could think of—this one was just like any other. It made his nerves buzz with growing anxiety, slowly dawning like the sun just had. Why're we stopped?

A grave silence passed before the rabbit girl took in a breath. She turned around slowly. Gosh, did those dark voids of hers look deadly serious. The suspense didn't help keep Johnny's heart from turning cold with dread. "Folks," she began darkly. Another long pause punctuated her words. Then, finally, when the tension was at the point it seemed like the whole room was going to snap like a twig, she said, "do you think I look alright? How's my hair? Ugh, I should tuck in my shirt more."

"Ridiculous!" Curtis snapped, all fear having fallen away. "You're trying to gussy yourself up? Now?"

"Ugh, well you'd do the same if you were about to see someone you were trying to impress a bit!" Lillian said. Johnny could've sworn the inside of her velvety ears went a little more pink than they were a second ago. It'd make sense anyway; she was practically stomping in embarrassment.

Curtis rolled his eyes with a scoff. All the others seemed similarly unimpressed or perplexed. "Wait, we were trying to impress someone?" little Anne asked. "I thought we were trying to help our friend, Mr Johnny!" Johnny himself wasn't sure at this point. He was getting nervous about this, more and more so by the minute. Even though any momentary dread had been broken, his doubts about this whole thing were only doubled now. What was Lillian's game here? Gosh... I'm not sure this is gonna work out so good...

A sigh left Ed. In some sort of resolute way, he straightened up and tipped his hat down as he spoke: "Well, we ought to stop dawdling if you're all so bent on getting anywhere. Fix yourselves up, hm?" That wry smile of his twisted around till his face was lined like worn wood.

Lillian didn't seem to appreciate his humour. She huffed and crossed her arms. "Yeah? And why do you care so much to help these mortals now, anyway? What happened to hunting Death, huh? Why don't you just kill some of them already and get him to come?"

"It's none of your business, is it?" he said bluntly. "Besides, killing things in front of kids isn't generally good for them, you know." Under the grave digger's cold fog, Johnny knew what he meant by what he'd said: it was the kids after all. Keeping them safe or gratitude for their innocent idolization or... something else.

Lillian didn't care, anyway. With one of her loud groans, she turned back around to face the door. Only a couple minor tweaks to her appearance—fixing up her hair, tugging at her skirt—and a deep breath were her hesitation. Then, finally, she opened the door and stepped through. The kids and Ed followed next, leaving the four other passengers behind. They all looked between each other. Uncertainty was in all of their faces, but something else was there too: resolution. They were going to do this. For each other. For their own lives. They had to do it together. Without any more delay, they all walked in through the threshold.

Somehow, this car was the most curious Johnny had seen yet. It wasn't bizarre and impossible, like the forest or the ocean, nor unusual or ornate, like the cinema or the dining hall. No, the oddity of this car was such that it was unlike any other they'd been through yet: there were signs of life here. Someone lived in this car. The whole thing was torn up and converted into a sort of workshop; seats were flipped over and turned into workbenches or shelves, bits and pieces of all kinds of strange contraptions were scattered around everywhere—there were even drawings and plans and outlines scrawled over the walls! Now this car was bizarre, impossible, unusual, and ornate, in its own way.

Everyone else was in similar awe. "Johnny, you're from the future, aye?" Orla asked as she looked around the room. "Have you ever seen stuff like all this before?"

"Yes, have you?" Sally murmured. "It's all pretty off-beat alright." She turned her eyes to Johnny and then Curtis. "Have either of you seen something like this?"

Johnny could only shake his head no in wordless wonder. Curtis' brows were furrowed together, perplexed. "Some of the colours are sort of like what the kids are wearing back home, but... this is different," he said. "No, I've got nothing."

Though both Ed and Anne seemed in a similar way to the rest of them, Salem was in a far different state. They were running around, looking at everything they could. Their eyes seemed to flood their square glasses with how wide they were. "Guys! Look at all this cool old stuff!" they were shouting. "This is, like, what all the big kids wore when I was little! Oooh, look!" They ran around, wild with glee. Suddenly though, they came to a stop at a certain workbench. When he glanced over to peek at what'd caught their eye, Johnny saw something strange: on the surface of the makeshift table sat a pair of rollerskates, coloured a pink so bright it hurt his eyes. Overexcited as ever, Salem reached out their small hands towards the skates. Reverence made their whole face practically glow. They held their breath as their fingertips just brushed the dyed leather.

"Hey! Back off the skates, putz!" Johnny jumped at the sudden command, even though it wasn't meant for him. The voice that had ordered it was unfamiliar—harsh and energetic, with a certain twang to it. That unfamiliarity only made him more anxious. This person was surely the one who lived here. What if they were taken for intruders? Thieves even, given Salem's grabby hands? Oh gosh, this is bad! Quick as a whip, Johnny whirled around to look for the source of the voice. His eyes soon found a figure towards the other end of the car. None of them had noticed them before, and honestly, Johnny wasn't sure how they hadn't. After all, their hair was the same bright pink as those skates; it was a wonder that they'd missed them with that kind of colour on their head. They got up from where they had been sitting, their hands finding their hips as they came over. Terror crept up on Johnny with each step they took. The stranger looked angry alright, and sure, that did scare the hell out of Johnny, but that wasn't the reason for his fear. No, it wasn't even close. There was something very wrong with this person. As they came into the light, Johnny saw their greyish skin, saw the gnashes and bandages all over them. He saw their eyes, lack-lustre and almost dull, though they blazed with feeling. He saw it all. This person was a corpse. They were a walking corpse.

Johnny's heart went cold. He tried to say something, maybe to scream, but he couldn't. His mouth only hung open, his jaw trembling. Oh my God. Oh my God. They're... it's... DEAD!!

Before anyone could do anything, Lillian twirled around over to the... thing, placing her hands on its shoulders and leaning in (much to the corpse's perceived annoyance). "Hiii Babs," she said, her tone somehow more sweet than even Sally or Orla's had ever been. Over her shoulder, she turned back to the others, meeting their horrified faces. Her bone-white mask was eerily calm, given what its wearer had her arms wrapped around. "Everyone, this is BB. She's who we're here for."