139 Years to the End of the World

The Winter Train, Part Three

The Cryo-Tube sat silently in solitude in the otherwise empty train carriage. Maybe not completely alone, as I was there as well. But the two of us had been together for so long, the machine felt more like an extension of my body than anything. I listened to the clicks and clacks of the train and the hum of the engine from the opposite of the line. The sound was hypnotising, letting me get lost in my thoughts.

The carriage door slid opened, letting in broken rays of light separated by the elongated shadow of my daughter. "Dad?" she asked. I did not turn to her. "Are you coming in?"

"Maybe later," I replied blankly.

For a minute after, I sat in silence, staring at the dim outline of the machine in front of me, Leila's shadow stretching out over me, unmoving from where she stood.

I asked her, "How did your mom die?"

From the corner of my eyes, I watched as her shade shifted, crossing the threshold that separated the cabins and closing the door behind her, once again cutting off light from the room.

Her faint form took a seat beside me. Even in the darkness, I could see she wore a brown hooded jacket and long jeans. I guessed my eyes had adjusted itself for pitch black after having slept for as long as I did.

She began, "A few days after you left, she just fell asleep and never woke up. Doctor Parker said she died of old age long before the poisoning could cause her too much pain. Graceful death, he said. As she deserved."

I nodded, satisfied and glad that Joan had passed in peace, and not screaming unceremoniously to the end. It was a suitable way to remember her. "And Leah and G?"

She was quick to reply, as if she had been preparing the story to tell me from the moment I woke. Maybe even earlier. "The professor was found beside the Cryo-Tube last year. Just slumped against the machine, with a smile on her face. I think she worked on you till the very end."

"What was she working on?"

"Don't know. She didn't leave a note or anything. We couldn't find any modification to the machine either. Sad to say, I don't think she managed to finish whatever it was she wanted to do." She paused a moment, thinking of something to add. "But she looked young as hell though."

"Heh," I chuckled, remembering her telling me that I too might be youthful for life. Though with a robot arm and legs as a difference. "What about G?"

Leila didn't reply. She just sat silently, her breathing the only sound that was produced. I realized how insensitive a topic it must have been. G had been her father after all. More so than I had been.

"Sorry," I added awkwardly. "I didn't mean to, you know, make you sad about it or anything."

She reacted with a surprisingly defensive tone, "I'm not sad."

"It's okay. I know he's your father, and that he's cared for you all your life. It's normal to feel sad."

I couldn't feel it, but I saw the outline of the Cryo-Tube moved slightly as she wrapped her arms around my shoulder, pulling me in close so she could lean into me, lying into my arms as her mother once did.

Tenderly, she replied, "You're my dad too."

Though I was slightly reluctant to return her hug as I was afraid my artificial arm might do it too tightly, I made the effort to do so anyway. And for the first time in a long, long week, I felt like a father again. Or maybe, a little more like the son in a family. Being comforted by my own daughter made me realized just how much an adult she was now. In terms of life experience, she had a decade more than I did. Yet, I felt old, as if the age I've spent asleep translated to an experience in wisdom that came with the elders.

We rocked back and forth, finding comfort in the rhythm of each others' heartbeat and the sound of the train on tracks.

She then said, "He was killed. G I mean. There was a riot one day, and a bunch looters took the opportunity to try and rob some of the stores at gun point. He was there, just trying to talk everyone out of it. He managed to stop the gunmen. All of them. But he got shot. Lost his life."

I had not expected such a story. It was a shocking reminder of his partner, Agent Matthews. They both died for a good deed. "Lei, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she sternly replied, though not with reprimand, but a tune of pride. "He was a hero. Saved a lot of lives. Something we seem to be doing a lot. You know, this family of ours."

I laughed, recalling what I told the agent once about us only accepting people into our family after stopping a falling plane. "It's in our blood." I continued to stare at the Cryo-Tube. Then, a solemn question hit me. Without considering, I asked, "Do you regret it? Me doing this."

Without pause, she said, "Wait." Looking at her watch, the glow of the needles point the time as slightly past noon, she said, "I want to show you something."

"What is it? I asked.

"Look to the right," she instructed.

I did as I was told and found that she had gotten to her feet. She moved to the carriage door and pulled it apart. The chug of the train blasted through the now opened container, the tunnels' brown wall flying by us in a dark blur. Wind rustled my hair and hers flailed wildly.

"Careful!" I shouted with worry that she would accidentally fall out of the train. "What are you doing?"

"They call this The Winter Train," she explained with raised voice over the rush of the wind, ignoring my cries. "Because it travels through a tunnel that leads out into a mountain basin. The only one of its kind in the whole word."

Just as I began to wonder how a there could be only one basin in the world – since as a geography teacher, I knew otherwise – a glow formed against the tunnel walls, shining in from the front of the train. Slowly, it grew brighter and brighter, until I could see the shade of nature. Green moss, weeds and vines grew along it. The first sight of natural plants I had seen in a long, long time. Suddenly, the tunnel ended, and I immediately got to my feet at the sight that followed the blazing brightness of white.

Before me, blocked out by a glass tunnel, was a snowing plain, with rock walls in the distant as high as the tallest of skyscrapers I had ever seen, backgrounded by mountains shrouded in purple Mist. Pine trees with their cone leafs littered the landscape, with hats of white that they wore over like giant ice creams on a stick. The wind outside was gentle, the trees seemingly dancing in the breeze. Snow continued to fall all around, a glistening lake the centre masterpiece of it all.

Leila started explaining, "It's basically a hole in the mountain. The height of the surrounding landscape blocks out the Mist, and cycling winds around the perimeter prevents them from passing by a certain point of the hills beyond. It's the only place we know of in the world that is still free from Mist. Sadly, the soil's not good for crops and it snows year round so no one has been able to settle here."

Subconsciously, I said, "It's beautiful."

"It's hope," Leila said and turned to look at me. "Hope that the world would return to its once peaceful landscape."

"You still haven't answered me though." I somewhat insensitively redirected the conversation back on track. "Do you regret me doing all this?"

"Dad," Leila knelt down beside me, holding hand in hers. Her hazel eyes locked onto mine, and despite not having any similar DNA within, she reminded me of Joan. "You're like this plain of snow. A small part of the world that's still going strong, and will continue to do so for a long, long time. Just like you dad. You're not regret. You're like this place. Hope."

Author's Note: Hi everyone. Thank you for reading 139 Years to the End of the World. The story here is a re-upload of the original serial that ran on JukePop Serials in 2015. If you like what you've read so far, you can help me by liking, sharing, reviewing, and commenting on the story. If you want to help further, you can check out my Website to buy the self-published edition of 139 Years, which includes a bonus short story and edits not found here. Or, if you really like what I'm doing, check out my Patreon.

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