- Between Cologne and Brussels -
The train barrels down the tracks, passing landscapes, the sun descending in the sky.
Then the brakes engage, the wheels squealing loudly against track.
Ardell and Penelope are fast asleep in one another's arms as the brakes squeal and the world outside the train slows. Ardell's eyes open gently and he clears his throat of sleep, then takes notice of the noise. Bloody Jewish Christ, what the fuck is that sound? He starts to sit up, and Penelope barely rouses beside him.
The conductor's voice comes across the speaker as Ardell looks out the window blearily and listens, struggling to understand German.
"Ardell?" Penelope says, her voice laced with sleep as she rubs her eyes, "What's going--"
Ardell holds up his hand to quiet her and points to the speaker as he tries to understand. "Can you tell me what he's saying?"
The conductor carries on in German, and Penelope listens. "It sounds like something's going on with the train ahead of us." Ardell turns back to her in concern. "It's delayed our train until they can--" His face drops as he launches out of the bed and quickly starts to get dressed. "Wait, Ardell, what are you--"
But he's already out the door.
Penelope lies in the bed, looking after him in confusion, listening as the conductor continues.
Ardell steps out into the bustling hallway as he buttons his shirt and looks around, taking in the direction the people are heading. He turns and follows them a few paces, and ahead of him is a train attendant, fielding questions from a couple of people. Amongst them is the woman in the red coat, looking deeply concerned, but Ardell can't understand what she's saying. Something about the police and a murderer on the train ahead. Great. Fucking Murder on the Orient Express. What's next, Death on the Nile?
Ardell pushes through the crowd a bit. "Excuse me? You speak English?"
The train attendant acknowledges him."Yes?"
Ardell quietly celebrates, then carries on. "About how long do you think the delay'll be? I've got someplace I need to be yesterday."
"We're working as quickly as possible to get the track cleared without compromising safety. Just return to your seat. We promise to get you moving again as soon as possible."
"Yeah. Right. Thanks." Ardell nods blankly and turns away from the crowd, rolling his eyes and running his hand through his hair. As if 15 hours wasn't long enough, now they've tacked on fuck knows how many more. I'm never gonna make it home. He breathes out heavily, then looks deep in thought and conflicted.
Wait a minute...
His eyes fall, and he thinks thoughts that pain him. Home. Home... Home isn't with Emma. It's not even with Jodie. Rushing there isn't going to accomplish anything at this point, so why do I give a fuck? The closest thing I've ever known to be home is-- He suddenly realizes what he's done, and raises his eyes to the door of the guest cabin.
It's standing open.
"Shit. Penelope?"
He takes off for the cabin and peers inside, but it's empty, Penelope's clothes and belongings gone.
YOU ARE READING
Sidetracked
General FictionArdell is a well-paid representative of an advertising firm, constantly traveling all over Europe to establish connections and close sales, much to the chagrin of his wife. Unhappy and unfulfilled, his life is thrown into an uproar when he receives...
