by R. L. King
“Don’t tell Amber that. Let her figure it out for herself. You got something?”
I grabbed one of the wine bottles from the nearest table. “Hospitality. We’ve got them sitting at the right tables with wine, but we haven’t given them any!”
Connor frowned. “You want to give wine to a bunch of dummies?”
“Help me. Like you said, I don’t think we have a lot of time left.”
“But there’s no corkscrew. We gonna break the bottles? That doesn’t seem very hospitable to me.”
On a hunch, I pushed past him to the galley and tried the door again.
This time it swung open with ease.
The tiny, featureless room was completely empty, with one exception: hanging in the middle of the left-side wall was a silver corkscrew.
My heart was pounding again, but this time it was with anticipation, not frustration. With a triumphant whoop I hurried back out and began popping the corks on the wine bottles, one per table. “Pour them glasses from the right bottles,” I ordered Connor. “Hurry up!”
He grumbled, but did it anyway. “Waste of good wine, if you ask me.”
But as we made our way up the aisle, me popping corks and him pouring glasses, I felt something change. I couldn’t explain it in words if you asked me to, but it seemed like the aura of stress around the car began to lift. Also, I couldn’t be sure but it seemed like the train itself was slowing down, the constant clack-clack of the wheels becoming less urgent.
I finished popping corks and turned back to watch Connor pour the last glass of wine, a dark red for his own dummy.
“Do I get to drink this one if this crazy plan gets the door to open?” he joked.
I didn’t answer—I was too busy watching to see if I’d been right. If this didn’t work, I had no idea what to do next. I couldn’t serve the dummies a meal, since there’d been no food in the tiny galley. Even the wings were gone.
As soon as Connor filled the glass, a loud gong went off and the room plunged into darkness again.
“Wait—what’s—” I began.
“Hurry!” an urgent voice whispered from somewhere in front of us. “Come with me. It’s found us. We need to get out of here fast.”
9
It was hard to tell from the whisper, but it might have been the male bartender. “What’s found us?”
“I knew it would, if we didn’t hurry. You guys are moving too slow! It’s already gotten in. It’s in the last car. We might still have time, but we have to move.”
“What’s gotten in?” I yelled.
“Hurry!”
“Turn on the lights!”
“Can’t. It will find us. Come on—I’m serious, you don’t have much time left at all. Come to my voice.”
I looked around, but couldn’t see anything through the pitch-blackness. “Connor? You still here?”
“Yeah.” He sounded freaked out again. “Let’s do what he says. I hear something—don’t you? And I can smell it getting closer.”
I couldn’t hear a damn thing, and I sure as hell couldn’t smell anything except the wine, but I trusted Connor’s senses. “Yeah. Okay.” And louder: “Talk to me so I can find you!”
“I’m up here. By the door. Hurry!”
I stumbled forward, expecting to trip over one of the tables, but I couldn’t feel them anymore. Where there had been thick carpet under my feet, it now felt like hard floor. How could that be? I hadn’t even moved yet.
“Hurry!” the whispered voice urged again. It sounded even more stressed. I heard heavy breathing ahead of me.
I reached out a hand, flailing around, trying to touch either the source of the voice or the wall, but didn’t encounter either. Suddenly, the feeling ripped through me again that I was alone. “Connor?”
“Right behind you. Keep moving.” He touched my shoulder—or at least something did. Outside, I thought I heard a low growling, but it might just have been my mind playing tricks on me.
“This way,” whispered the voice. It seemed farther away now, like whoever it was had stepped back.
“Stay still! I’m trying to find you!”
“I’m right here. You’re doing fine. Just keep moving.”
Surely I must have reached the front of the car by now. I’d been standing about halfway back when the lights had gone out, and I was certain I’d moved at least that far, even as slowly as I was stumbling. I glanced sideways, trying to see anything out the windows, but the darkness was total.
“Keep going,” said the voice. It sounded even farther away than before.
I staggered forward, hands out in front of me, but still I didn’t touch the wall, the door, or another person. “Where the hell are we?” I yelled.
“Almost there. Just through here. Be careful and duck your head.”
I didn’t even bother asking, even though I’d seen the door leading to the next car and it wasn’t any lower than the other one. With Connor’s hand on my shoulder, I dropped into a crouch and stepped forward.
Something slammed shut behind me—it sounded like the kind of heavy metal hatch you’d find on a submarine, not the one on the train—and then something else hit it hard from the other side. I jerked upright again, but still couldn’t see anything around me.
Ahead, someone let out a loud whoosh of air. “There. Thank goodness—we made it. It was close there for a couple of minutes—I didn’t want to tell you how close it was in case you panicked. But we’re safe here.”
“Where is here?” I yelled. “Turn the damn lights on!”
“Your wish is my command,” the voice drawled—it was definitely the bartender. “Enjoy yourselves, gentlemen—don’t take too long, though, or you might never want to go back. You’ve got time for a break, but you still need to get to the engineer if you want to end your trip.”
The lights came up.
10
I blinked, looking around, once again with no idea what I expected to see. After the tentacle-monster porno wonderland and the Night of the Living Dummies, it could have been literally anything.
“Evening, Jason. Having fun?”
Holy shit!
The voice was Al’s!
“Uh…” was all I could say.
We were still in a train car—I still felt the clack-clack of the wheels and the gentle swaying—but like the others it had been transformed. I took in as much detail as I could gather with a quick glance.
It looked like a classic, old-fashioned club—the kind Sherlock Holmes might have hung out in back in Victorian England. The walls were paneled, the windows covered with heavy brocade drapes. The carpeting under my feet was a dark, rich red, as thick as it had been in the previous car, and scattered around were brown leather chairs with brass tacks. Soft jazz music played from somewhere I couldn’t see. The light came from sconces along the walls.
That was all interesting, sure, but it wasn’t what grabbed most of my attention.
Al was there, and so were Stan and Blum. All of them lounged back in their chairs, their feet up, holding snifters of brandy. And—I’m not kidding here—they all wore smoking jackets.
They weren’t alone, either. “Uh…Jason…” came Connor’s voice from behind me.
“Yeah.” I muttered back.
Women in G-strings were moving among the chairs, serving drinks and leaning down to talk to the men. From the exaggerated sway in their hips and their sensuous grins, it was easy to guess their purpose. As I watched, dumbfounded, one of them perched herself on Blum’s lap and leaned in to kiss him. He didn’t seem to be objecting.
“Jason…” Connor said again. His voice sounded strangled.
“What?”
“Look.”
I looked where he pointed, and noticed for the first time that most of the other chairs were occupied. There were six more scattered around, and I expected them to be more of my friends, but they weren’t. Not even close.
“Is that…one of those things from the porno back in the other car?”
It wasn’t Bob, unless Bob could change color, but it looked like it might have wandered in here from the same orgy. It had blue skin, a single eye, and it sat draped over the chair in a pose of complete relaxation. The woman attending him—I guess she was a woman, though I couldn’t tell for sure—was orange and had six legs. In another chair, a man who was mostly humanoid except for his light purple skin was carrying on a conversation with a naked woman covered in tawny fur.
“Come on in,” Al said, waving me toward an empty chair. “Enjoy yourself. That’s why you’re here, after all. You’re safe here, I promise.”
Behind me, Connor had gone silent. When I glanced back at him, I saw he was focused on one of the women—the human ones—as she gyrated her way around the car refilling brandy glasses. Great. No help there.
I turned back to Al. He looked exactly like himself—no cartoon head this time—except in my wildest imagination I couldn’t have pictured him wearing a quilted smoking jacket with black velvet lapels and metallic purple and gold thread. He looked like Hugh Hefner and a cheesy lounge singer got together and had a baby. “What…is going on? You were out like a light. All you guys were. And where’s everybody else?”
“Everybody’s safe,” Stan said. His jacket was blue, and he looked as relaxed as Al did. When the stunning blonde bent to refill his glass, he leaned in and kissed her. She flashed him a broad smile and moved off.
“This is…” I couldn’t even finish. In its own way, this was even weirder than the other two cars had been. I looked around for the bartender, but didn’t see him. I also didn’t see the door leading to the engineer. “How do I get out of here?” I demanded.
“Get out?” Blum lounged back and sipped his brandy. “Why do you want to get out? Are you crazy? You’re surrounded by great booze and hot, willing ladies. This is your party. Sit down and enjoy it.”
As if they’d been waiting for his words, two of the women sidled up next to me and draped their arms over my shoulders, rubbing against me and murmuring softly. “Come on, baby…” one of them purred, taking my arm and trying to lead me to an empty chair. “Let’s get you something to drink. You’re so tense.”
I held my position and glared at Al. “I want some answers. What is this all about? Where are we? Are you behind all this?”
“Behind all of what?” He looked around. “I’m just sitting here having a good time—which is what you should be doing. Both of you. Come on—sit down.”
I still didn’t sit, despite the two women’s continued efforts. “Where’s the door to the engine? I need to get there.”
“Why do you need to do that?” Stan asked. A supermodel-gorgeous woman with long, dark-brown hair had sat on the arm of his chair and put her head on his shoulder. “Come on, Jason—lighten up. Have a little fun. I don’t remember you being this uptight.”
My brain felt like it was going in four different directions. I looked around and spotted the bartender lounging on the far side of the room, near a curtain-covered alcove. She was back to the female version, fully naked now. When she spotted me looking, she gave me a wide, lazy smile and tapped her wrist as if to say, “Time’s wasting.”
Connor had allowed one of the women to lead him to another empty spot. She’d given him a brandy and had her arms draped over the top of his chair, kneading his shoulders.
“Come on, man,” I said, frustrated. “We have to get out of here. Remember what the bartender guy said.”
“He said we were safe in here.”
“What about that thing that’s after us? What if it gets in?” Damn, but it was hard to concentrate with two beautiful, naked women rubbing against me. I tried to shake free, but they seemed to be made of rubber arms. Every time I got out of one woman’s gentle grip, the other one moved in to tighten her hold. I felt like I was being romanced by amorous octopuses.
Octopi.
Whatever.
Once again, my jeans were making their opinion known, and it was getting distracting.
“Don’t worry about it. I don’t smell it anymore. I think it went away.”
I shot him a sharp look, but he didn’t look drugged or otherwise impaired. He just looked happy and relaxed, like he didn’t want to stop what he was doing. I could hardly blame him for that, I guess.
Around us, the sconces changed, slowly pulsing through a series of colors in time with the slow jazz. One of the women untucked my shirt and slid her hand under it, rubbing it vigorously around my chest.
“Come on…” whispered the other one. “You can go in a while. Let us make you happy…”
I swallowed hard, my thoughts spinning through contradicting messages. Whatever this was, so far nothing had hurt me. If the bartender was telling the truth, all I had to do to make it all stop was to get to the engine door and tell the engineer to halt the train. Was the door behind the curtained alcove? If so, a few steps and—
The women were still tugging on my arms. They’re trying to slow you down. They’re part of the game. Don’t let them do it.
Al and Stan and Blum hardly seemed to be paying any attention to me. Another woman had draped herself across Al, and the two of them were grinding into each other so hard they looked like they might knock the chair over backward.
“Hey,” I snapped, suddenly angry. “How do you think V would feel about you doing that?”
“She wouldn’t care,” he mumbled, pulling back long enough to talk as his hands continued roaming over her back. “She’d probably want to join in.”
This isn’t real. None of this is real. They’re messing with your head. “Connor—come on. We gotta get out of here.”
He came up for air. His “friend” already had his shirt open and was playing with the hair on his chest. “Give me a few minutes, man. Can’t you see I’m a little busy here?”
The two women pushed me gently into a chair and pressed a glass of brandy into my hand. “Relax,” one of them said. She had sparkling blue eyes and looked like she was enjoying herself. Like with Connor, I couldn’t spot any of the telltale signs of drugs, intoxication, or mental impairment. As far as I could tell, she was happy to be here doing what she was doing.
I stopped fighting and settled back, my body responding to them but my thoughts still rattling around like a mistuned engine. From where I was sitting, I could see Al, Blum, and Stan, all of them thoroughly involved with their partners. Beyond them, the purple man and the tentacle monster were likewise occupied. Even Connor seemed finally to have fallen for the spell of this place and decided to let his small head take control.
Where were the rest of the guys? Were they in a different car? Were they in danger? Had that thing—whatever the bartender had said was after us—gotten them? Were they somewhere else entirely?
“You’re making a big mistake.”
I jumped, startling the two women. It was the bartender’s voice—the male one now—but it came from behind me. I jerked up my head and realized he wasn’t standing by the curtained alcove anymore—but I hadn’t seen him move. Or her. I couldn’t keep them straight anymore.
“What?” Rolling my head backward, I could barely see his face above the chair.
He cut his gaze sideways toward the door. “You’ve got to go. You’re almost there. Don’t let them stall you. If you don’t get out of here soon, you never will!” His normal confident drawl had an edge of urgency now.
Why was he in such a hurry? He’d said we were safe. I didn’t hear anything pounding on the outside of the train now, or trying to force its way in through the door. In fact, I didn’t even see a door leading to the previous car anymore. The wall there was solid, with nothing but a large, old-fashioned painting of a hunting scene in an elaborate frame.
What was he worried about?
Not for the first time tonight, something poked at the back of my head. It was one of the reasons I was a good PI: I didn’t always get to the answer to a problem fast, but if I let it stew long enough, eventually it would grind
its way through my subconscious and hand over the answer. It wasn’t like Al, who veered wildly between methodical research and the kind of leaps of logic that made normal people’s heads hurt, but in its own way it worked every bit as well and I’d come to trust it.
Something had been bothering me, just below the surface, ever since we arrived in the first car.
It wasn’t easy to focus on the questions while two hot, naked, and cheerful women were trying to get my shirt off, but I tried my best.
Al was here now. Was he behind this whole thing? He was the strongest mage I personally knew (well, except for Trevor Harrison, but I could not imagine Mr. ‘I Wouldn’t Tell a Joke if You Put a Gun to My Head’ in the middle of something like this), but there was no way he could have pulled off this level of detail on his own. Not unless he was hiding a hell of a lot more of his ability than he was admitting to. Even Verity, who should know more than I do about what he could and couldn’t do, had never mentioned something like this.
If he wasn’t, then who was? Somebody trying to get back at him? If so, why was he here? Was this really him, or was it another fake?
Why are only Al, Blum, and Stan here?
That thought came out of nowhere, which usually meant it was important. My subconscious and I had a pretty good working relationship, and it didn’t often bother me with irrelevant details.
One of the women’s hands strayed south from my chest, making it even tougher to concentrate. I gently pushed it back up. She made a little pouty noise and snuggled her head into my shoulder, while her friend kept working on my chest.
I tried to drag the threads of my thoughts back together. Why were only Al, Blum, and Stan here? There was room for more people, even if you took the tentacle monster and the purple dude into account. Why not bring in Dave, or Chris, or Ty? Why not any of the rest of them?
I studied my three friends again as they continued going at it hot and heavy with their companions. Al had given up on his drink and surrendered himself to the woman’s ministrations, making me irrationally angry again. He was right, though—even if I didn’t completely approve, Al and V had the kind of relationship that allowed for extracurricular activity, and V probably would have wanted to join in. Blum had stretched back in his chair with his partner on his lap, her arms around his neck. Stan still looked a little more together than the other two, but even he had melted into the cushions, his right hand dangling over the chair arm, holding his brandy glass. They all looked content and didn’t appear to care that I was in the room.
