Soul Arts

Chapter Two

The inside of Kalia's train car is blazing hot, dark, and suffocating. The profound atmosphere reminds her of those old horror movies she would rebelliously watch, to the disdain of her parents, where a sleeping victim would wake up locked in an unfamiliar room and was forced to mutilate themselves and others to escape. Kalia shyly shuffles up the aisle with dim red panels of overhead emergency lights barely illuminating her path. The children in front of her quickly choose their seats at random. Many of the children sit by themselves, some sit in pairs, and a few sit in groups of four at the end of the car where the last row of seats faces the opposite direction. No doubt they died together.

Next to every other seat are ridiculously small squares carved out of the walls; glassless, open windows just slightly above her eye level. One can stick his or her arm out, but the opening is simply too small for a whole body to fit through. The girl stops beside an empty row of window seats near the end of her car. The train's whistle howls. Kalia slides out of the walkway and into the seats. She wants to capture one last gaze of the eerie spirit station of death in the Earth's atmosphere that, apparently, no one standing on the ground can see. Standing on the tips of her toes she nearly squeezes her petite face into the small square. A cluster of Masked Ones are huddled together in a circle. They suddenly disperse as if to intentionally give her a clear view. Abel is sitting on the ground with his hands bound behind his back, gagged, and cloaked in a black just like the others. It's subtle, but he is still resisting and trying to free himself. Finally, the hood of his cloak replaces his brown hair and a white mask is placed over his face. Kalia cannot bear to watch any longer. She sinks into the seat next to the window and buries her palms into her eyes. This is what happens if they catch you and you're conscious! They force them to become Escorts," Kalia thinks to herself.

The ghastly train's whistle howls once more and the vessel slowly begins to chug forward.

"What in the world is this," sighs Kalia under her breath. She was perfectly calm and assured earlier. That boldness and fearlessness has long since been replaced with terror, and she is overtaken by the thought that this is only the very beginning.

Sweat is trickling down every inch of Kalia's body, thanks to the sweltering heat; open windows offer no relief. She had been wearing a sweater, scarf, and frilly cap to tolerate the late fall-early winter weather she recently departed from. Some States had already welcomed in their first snow storms of the season, and Kalia's parents always made sure she dressed appropriately. She strips down leaving on only a light pink t-shirt, black ankle leggings and brown winter boots. She tosses her clothes, plus the mask and cloak from earlier into the seat next to her on her left.

A sharp pain flares through Kalia's chest; a horrible pain. It's not only pain. It's a combination of homesickness, loneliness, and death. Kalia misses her mother, father, siblings, and grandparents. She takes a long, deep breath of this stagnant air. Her eyes swell up with tears that refuse to fall. Now, her pain has been replaced with frustration. Kalia cannot recall even the smallest, most basic detail about the people who were once her own loving family. Did I ever even have a family? She clenches her fists and vigorously rubs her eyes to force the tears out. Maybe crying can ease the guilt of forgetting her own parents.

"I know what you're trying to do," says a snarky voice next to her. "And it's not going to work." The voice is coming from under the sweaty winter clothes she just took off. She flings the clothes off the other seat and into her own lap only to discover another kid. How long was she sitting there? It's a girl with short black hair in a neat bowl cut and small eyes. She's wearing a cloak too, but her mask is strapped to her left shoulder.