by Luna Carrol
Donnice heard the whistle of the oncoming train's wheels. Odd, no one else looked up from their papers or laptops. No one seemed to hear the train at all. Resembling statues, they seemed to patiently wait. Really weird. Usually people began bunching up closer to the automatic doors.
She looked around for Patricia. She really needed to come get her purse. Damn it, if that weirdo made her miss this train just to give her this purse...
The train's wheels were so loud as it pulled to a stop that she forgot to look for the other woman. A loud release of pressure from under the carriage of the train caused steam to billow out from underneath it. Donnice pulled back and winced. It wasn't the wheels making that whistle noise. The train had a chimney!
"What kind of train is that?” She looked down the length of the train. The passenger cars stretched too far back to count.
A conductor stood inside the door. He wore a black uniform with gold trim. She barely gave him a second glance. The glare from the window hid most of his features anyway. Turning around, she decided to wait for the right train.
"All aboard.” The conductor opened the door as he spoke. He didn't yell for all to hear. Instead, Donnice was certain he spoke directly at her.
She turned around to face him. “Excuse ... me?"
He needed some sun. His skin was white! Not albino white, but white like he hadn't seen the sun in a year. Still, he was smiling, and his dark eyes twinkled in a friendly manner. His body filled out his uniform in a damn good way, and that mustache-goatee combo suited his devilish good looks perfectly.
"Who? Me?” She pointed to herself.
"Yes. We're waiting for you."
"This isn't the blue line Metro.” She rifled through her purse. Patricia's purse tangled with hers, adding to the confusion. Finally, she pulled out her farecard. “See? I don't think this is the right train.” She looked at the locomotive once more. “In fact, I'm fairly certain you have the wrong time period."
His eyes traveled down then back up her frame. She could feel chills everywhere his eyes touched, and they certainly heated places where she hadn't even known she was cold.
"This is the right train. We'll get you where you need to be."
She looked down at her farecard once more. “I don't know. I don't have time to be taken out of my way."
"Check the other bag."
"Oh no. That's not mine."
"Look."
Something possessed her. Maybe she was just tired of talking about it. After all, she said it wasn't her train. Why couldn't ... Inside the knitted bag of a near stranger, she found a ticket. “It says Locomotive Number 13 ... Donnice Jordan."
That thing wasn't there when Patricia dumped out the contents earlier, and there was absolutely no reason for a stranger to have something with her name on it. The same old question of how Patricia knew how long she had been sitting at the bus stop came to mind again.
"That's us. All aboard.” He lowered a wooden stool to help her up and walked down to stand beside her.
"No. You don't understand. This isn't my purse. I'm holding it for someone."
He smiled that near evil, but downright sexy, smile again. That kind of smile invited taboo thoughts on the wicked side. “She'll understand."
Donnice doubted that. After she accused Patricia of trying to get money out of her, she had Patricia's purse! Great. Now, she looked like the criminal!
He offered her his hand as she stepped onto the stool and up the steps. Cold, ice cold. His eyes had been on her feet but lifted to meet hers. Those dark, hooded eyes made her miss a step.
He gripped her hand more firmly as his other hand lay gently upon her lower back. “Can't have that, can we?"
She gripped his lapel. “Oh, I'm sorry. I missed a step."
He nodded once then continued to help her aboard. Even after she was on the train, his hand stayed on her back. A strange chill made its way from his hand up to the base of her neck.
"Allow me.” He walked her to one of the dark, floral upholstered benches. The back of the bench was higher than her head after she sat down.
The train resembled a relic, a completely remodeled piece of history. It had to be. Seats on trains didn't resemble real furniture anymore, and the windows no longer had shades that passengers could lower or raise.
The train shouldn't be outside! She leaned closer to the window. She could see the Capitol Building! She shouldn't be able to see that. Where was the waffle ceiling of the underground? The people standing on the platform? Other people were boarding, right? Of course other passengers would be boarding. This car was completely empty!
She spun in her seat and looked up at the conductor. “What's going on? We're supposed to be underground."
He shrugged casually. “The line changes frequently."
She drew back in doubt. “That makes no sense.” She looked out the window then back at him. “Where are the other passengers?"
"You're the only boarder at this stop, Donnice. Try to relax."
Donnice? A bit friendly of him. “Relax? I'm going to work in Wash...” The train chose that moment to whistle. She paused and smiled apologetically to the conductor. Anyway, he read her ticket. He knew she was heading to Washington. “Would you notify me when we're close to my stop?” The quicker she got off this Disney ride the better.
His smile faded as he nodded. “You worked there, I assume?"
Worked? Weirdo. “Yes. But it's nothing glamorous. I don't work on Capitol Hill or anything like that."
He looked up and down the aisle. “Do you mind if I sit for a moment?"
He had to be tired. Conductors constantly walked, didn't they? She couldn't remember ever seeing anything different in the Hollywood movies.
"Sure. I know what it's like to need a break."
He removed his black hat with gold trim as he sat down. Oh yes, hot. If someone had told her she was going to meet Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome, and he would be in a conductor's uniform, she would have laughed, but here he is.
The conductor sat on the bench opposite hers and across the aisle. He leaned back against the high back of the bench. “I've been working long hours lately."
She nodded. “I'm on my way to work until closing myself."
"Did you like your job at all?"
"Did?” She laughed. “I think I may still have it. Maybe."
"I meant do.” He didn't look at her as he corrected himself.
She smiled her brightest smile for him. “I know. I'm teasing you."
His brow rose as he smiled once more.
"I like getting a paycheck, but working at the customer service desk for a discount store is not something anyone generally likes, especially with the holiday season just around the corner."
"Very stressful, I'm sure."
She rubbed the back of her neck while attempting to emphasize how stressed she really was. Maybe he would sympathize with her situation “Very."
"And your boss?"
"Became an asshole the minute I told him no if you know what I mean.” She snorted. “Course, that didn't discourage him against asking again."
He nodded. “I wouldn't imagine someone like you would say yes."
She looked straight ahead and away from the conductor.
"Did that offend you?"
"I think you meant for it to.” She lifted her chin indignantly. “But actually not as bad as I think it should have. I don't care what you think of me. Despite today's popular opinion of me, I'm fine the way I am."
"You're quite fine.” That smooth voice caused a heated sensation to creep its way from her face to an area she didn't want to think about. She readjusted herself on the seat.
"What would you change about yourself if you could?"
She snapped her head around. “Nothing. I'm fine."
He smiled. “Tell the truth."
His eyes ... there was an inner fire there. Hypnotic and compelling. His scent was pleasant. Spicy cologne mixed with man, she inhaled silently.
"Spontaneity.” She just confessed to something that she didn't even know. She shook her head to clear it.
He stood as his smile disappeared. Taking two slow steps, he placed one arm on the bench behind her and leaned in close. “How spontaneous?"
"You've got to be kidding.” She pulled back, but the thought to lean forward crossed her mind.
He chuckled and stood straight. “I believe my point has been made."
How dare he! Just because she didn't want to jump his bones didn't mean she wasn't spontaneous. Her idea of spontaneous didn't include sex with a perfect stranger.
He chuckled again as he walked down the aisle. Just before opening and closing the glass-paneled door between the two cars, he smiled a knowing smile.
Honestly. He seemed like a nice man, too. Now, he seemed too nice! Pervert. The world had too many of them nowadays. Well, there's another person to avoid in the world.
She looked out the glass window. Was it really that late? The sun was nearly set. Looking at her watch, she frowned. The minute hand spun so fast it blurred around the watch's face.
She tapped the cheap thing with her fingernail. “Great. I can't afford a new watch."
The train's whistle blew, causing her to jerk a little.
"This thing is fully restored it seems."
The slow sound of the wheels beginning to move filled her with interest. Looking out of the window, she watched the buildings of Washington blur by. The soothing chugging noise of the wheels worked against her efforts to remain alert. She leaned against the cool windowpane. The rocking motion led to the closing of her eyes. A little nap between jobs would make it just that much easier to face that pig of a boss, the nit-picking cashier, the lazy stocker, the nagging customers...
* * * *
The whistle blew loudly once more, and she blinked her eyes open. Looking around, she saw no one. The train slowed with a deep, rhythmic chug.
"My stop.” She stood and straightened her clothing.
The conductor opened the door and walked her way.
Oh great. Just one more encounter. There was always just one more thing to annoy her. One day she wouldn't put up with the shit anymore.
"This isn't your stop, Donnice."
"What? I know New York Avenue isn't that far away. Check your schedule again, buddy."
"No. This isn't New York Avenue.” He gestured to the window.
She blinked. There weren't any buildings. No houses. Nothing. She walked closer to the window.
"There's nothing but sand, scrub ... and ... Is that a cactus?"
The conductor chuckled. “Upsetting, isn't it?"
She had been kidnapped! But how? Why? Placing both hands on the glass, she looked as far as she could up and down the train tracks. The curve of the tracks prevented her from seeing the beginning or the ending of the train. All she saw were more passenger cars and a hell of a lot more sand.
Her throat tightened. She had to get off this train! She spun around in the tight space between two benches. The conductor stood before her. Her heart settled heavily in her gut. She was stuck in the desert with a pervert. It couldn't get much worse.
"Let me go! I don't know what you're doing, but let me go!” She tried to push past him, but his arms encircled her.
"Relax, Donnice. We'll get you where you need to be."
"No! No! Let me go!” She tried to kick, but he was standing too close. She managed to bring her foot down on the arch of his foot. That's what she had seen on all those self-defense shows.
He sighed and held her firmly. Damn. He had feet of iron.
Choking on her sobs, she struggled in his grasp. “Why? Please. PLEASE!"
His arms lowered from her shoulders and wrapped around hers. His feet stationed between her feet. The more she fought the tighter his arms grew.
"Look at me, Donnice.” Strange how he could have a soothing voice even while kidnapping her.
She gritted her teeth and turned her face away. Tears pooled in her eyes, blurring her vision.
"Look."
She blinked, freeing a tear to slide down her cheek. She sniffled and looked at him. Biting down on her molars, she tried desperately to still her trembling jaw.
"You're where you're supposed to be for now, Donnice."
"No.” She barely heard herself.
He nodded. “I'll get you where you need to be. Trust me."
"You've kidnapped me.” Her hand touched Patricia's knitted purse. “Patricia ... She was in on it!"
"Patricia knew to hand you the purse. Yes. But you're safe here. No one is going to hurt you on this train. I'm here to make sure of it."
Uh-huh. The pervert is going to keep her safe. She would have laughed if she wasn't terrified. Who would he protect her from?
"Relax, Donnice. I feel your heartbeat. You're too frightened. Too stressed."
"Please, please let me go."
His brow creased. After a long moment, he released her and stepped aside with a sigh. He looked down his straight and narrow nose at her. The bill of his replaced hat shadowed his eyes.
It took a moment for his release to register. He released her! She pushed past him and ran. With only one brief look behind her to make sure he wasn't following, she flew down the steps and opened the door leading off the side of the passenger car. She entered another passenger car.
Wait. She spun in a tight circle. Another train car? No. In her panic she made a turn, she must have. A strange man in a cowboy hat stared at her from a bench several feet away.
She pulled the door open and stepped through.
She stared around the train car again. The conductor touched the glossy bill of his hat with the tip of his fingers.
"We'll be pulling away soon, Donnice. Better take your seat."
Her breathing came in short bursts. The trembling of her knees caused her to grab the bench before her. Never in her life had she been so frightened. She had heard the term paralyzed with fear before, but now she understood it. Helpless, she could do nothing to escape the situation.
"What's going on?” Something about his defeated stance told her she could talk to him now.
"What is the last thing you remember before boarding this train?” His eyes looked almost sad.
"Meeting that strange woman, Patricia. I knew I should have steered clear of her type. Why I never listen to myself, I'll never know."
"Before that.” He walked to her.
"I don't know. Wondering where my bus was, I suppose.” She gave him a stern look. “What does that have to do with anything?"
"Do you remember seeing your co-workers?"
No. They were at work. Everyone she knew at work ... had been there. She had seen them! The “know-it-all” cashier, the pig of a boss, the punk kid, who wouldn't handle his misplaced items. All of them, but they weren't at the train station.
She sat down.
"They were all there. At work. All of them just stared at me."
He sat down beside her quietly.
"I was finally in charge. They all listened to me.” She looked at him. “And I got to say everything I had been dying to say."
His eyebrows shot up. “Why were they listening to you this time?"
"I was able cause...” She looked at her hands. “Oh God."
She felt that painful tight catch in the back of her throat again that always meant she was going to cry. “Oh God. What did I do?"
He sighed “You have to tell me. You see, I know who is to board, but I don't know the details."
Her hands were empty. They had never hurt anyone before. Simple, small hands. The gun didn't need strong hands.
"They always criticized me. If anything was going to be wrong in the store, it would be my fault. Nothing I ever did was good enough for them, but everything they did was perfect.” She looked at him for understanding. No emotions registered on his face. “Don't you see? They hated me. I either didn't dress right, or I couldn't do something right. It didn't matter how hard I tried. Someone knew the
boss better and got promoted quicker or wanted a day off and could find someone to cover for them. But if I needed anything or deserved a pat on the back, I never got it.” He would understand now. “So I ... I killed them. I shot them.” Her words ended in sobs. Surely he would see how sorry she was.
He made no move to comfort her. She felt his presence and his detached demeanor as well. A sense of “talk but keep it clinical” resonated from him. No tenderness at all.
"I don't know why. I've never hurt anyone before. I ... I was just so tired of it. I tried to make ends meet. I swear I did."
Gripping the bench before her, she tried to focus on the wall ahead. “I hated them! Oh God, how I hated them. I knew if one more person criticized me or even looked at me in a wrong way, I would snap!"
She looked at the conductor. “I tried to tell them. I tried so nicely to ask them to leave me alone, but they wouldn't listen. Do you understand?"
"It's been a long time since I felt that way, but yes. I felt similar once.” He looked forward. “Once."
"You did?"
"I was a prisoner of war. I killed my captors the first chance I had. I just couldn't take it anymore."
"They drove you to murder."
"Odd thing that. Murder.” He stood. “No holy book says it's okay to kill just because you're insane at the time."
"Insane?” No. That couldn't be her. She lived by the word of practicality. Insane people were irrational. She thought things through. Paid her bills. Worked two jobs to pay them! No. She didn't have time to be loony.
He shrugged. “Sounds to me like you were a little crazy, and I know my captors made me a little crazy."
"So ... I'm confused. Is this train taking me to prison?"
He stood and looked down at her. “You'll know when we've reached your stop."
"You could at least tell me that much!” She gritted her teeth.
His brow arched in a warning. “You're not going to prison. Souls aren't housed in such conventional ways."
"Souls?” she repeated softly.
He ignored her question. “I guess you're more spontaneous than you realized."
"That's not what I meant."
He smiled. “That's twice you've told me I don't understand spontaneity. I think you need to use a dictionary."
