the Late Train

On a warm August night; Ustrak train number 689 bound for Sacramento leaves Union Station in Los Angeles at 9:45 p.m., suprisingly on schedule. The pasengers shuffle through the cars and settle themselves in to their seats 
with robotic grace. The train begins to grumble and slowly inch forward. In car 3, a young man with red hair makes eye contact with Liz, a pretty little hippie thing. Grinding along, the train picks up speed and the conductor anounces that the passengers are now free to move about. Liz slithers out from her seat and makes her way through the cabs to the dinning cart. Coffee and corn dog in and she cautiously walks back to her seat, only to find the red headed man now sitting in the seat next to hers. 
"Hello," the young man says with a smile. "Don't be scared, I'm not some 
crazy or something". 
"If you were, do you think you'd tell me?" Liz says as she sits down next 
to the red headed man. He seems harmless, and seeming is good enough for her. 
"My name is Randy. It's nice to meet you." He shakes her hand softly which is nice, because Liz always thinks guys shake hands too hard anyway. "So how far are you going and why?" 
Shuffing her corndog around, Liz mumbles, "San Fransisco. I just got accepted to SF State. Philosophy major. " 
"That's great!" Randy says, throwing his arms in the air. 
"Oh you're being sarcastic." 
"No really. I really respect that. I'm sure a lot of people have given 
you shit for wanting to be a philosophy major. Don't listen to them though." 
"Don't you think I know that? Besides, what about you? Where are you 
headed and why?" Liz is smiling to make it obvious she isn't getting wound. 
"I don't know." Randy says as he picks at his nails. "I just woke up 
this morning and something inside told me to be on the 8:30 p.m. to 
Sacramento. I'm really not sure why." 
"But this isn't the 8:30." 
"I know. I missed that one." 
Liz isn't sure if she still believes Randy's claim to sanity but the two of them chat anyway. They both laugh and talk and laugh some more as she nibbles her corn dog away to nothing. 
"I bet you want a smoke now." Randy says as he pulls a pack out of his 
shirt pocket. 
"How'd you know?" 
"I could just tell. So let's go." 
"Where?" 
"Shh, come on." Randy takes her to the last car on the train. There are 
only like 5 people in this car and most of them are sitting toward the 
front. Randy grabs Liz's arm and leads her to the restroom at the back of the 
car. 
"Here, no one's gonna come all the way back here to take a piss. Light 
up." And with that, Randy pops opened the small window above the toilet and lights a smoke for Liz and himself. "We gotta be quick though." 
"They make it criminal to be a smoker in California, this sucks." Liz 
takes her cigarette. 
"No, I think it's kinda fun, like smoking in the bathroom back in high 
school." Randy is careful to blow his smoke out the window. With that, there 
is a loud pounding on the door. 
"It's the conductor!" Liz wispered as they both fumble about and roll 
out of the restroom, smoke following. 
"I'm sorry there is no smoking of any kind anywhere on the train." The 
conductor says as he looks down his big poxy nose at them. "There will be 
smoke stops periodically." With that he ushers them like teenagers back to their seats. The light from the fluoresent fixtures above reflects off his name 
tag which reads: Bob. 
Bob was supposed be working the 8:30 p.m. train. Bob wasn't supposed to get piss drunk the night before either. He knows that he isn't allowed to 
just call in if he's going to be late. He is simply not allowed to be late. 
Bob can hear his supervisor's shrill voice in his head as he walks back to 
the conductor's lounge. He can see her long painted fingernails shaking 
at him, 'You know this is unacceptable, you're an Ustrak employee! You are 
just lucky John was here early.' Yadda yadda. John is one of those 
upstanding model employees; always early, never late, always willing to cover 
shifts, the anti-matter to Bob's matter. Bob doesn't care anyway. He is 
retiring next year after having worked for Ustrak the previous 28. He has it 
all figured out. He has worked hard for his piece of the American Dream and 
its just a matter of time before it will start paying off. Just a matter of time before he can be with his grandkids more. He could spend more time with his wife. Maybe even have time for himself. 
The intercom in the conductors lounge sounds. A nasal voice annnounces, "Security to car 3, security to car 3." Thanks to never ending budget cuts, security has been reduced to anyone who is able bodied and not immediatly occupied. Bob jumps up and runs throught the cabs, slamming the seperator doors open as he goes. The last set of doors open to a handful of his associates carefully restraining an old woman. 
"I can't wait anymore!" the old woman screams as she tries feebly to get 
free. "I'm ready to go now!" A young woman with flaxen hair and the same eyes pushes past Bob and runs to the old crone. She apologizes over and over for her grandmother's behavior as she helps her back into her seat. 
"I want to go now," the old woman mumbles. 
"We're almost there Nana." the young girl wispers, handing her some 
medication and a paper cup. "We're almost there." 
"No, my dear girl," the grandmother says, sipping her water. "You don't 
understand.." 

Part 2 

"No seriously, why don't we hit the back of the train when we jump up?" 
Randy says as he ripps at the label on his beer. 
"Because we are already moving. Or something like that. I don't know." 
Liz slaps at his hand as if to say ripping at labels is wrong. 
"Well, you should know, aren't you the college student?" 
"Yeah, but I don't know that. I mean I don't remember." She smacks at 
his hand again. "What about you? Don't you go to school?" 
"Never thought to. I guess I didn't see why." 
"But what are you going to do for a living?" Liz tilts back and finishes 
off her beer, almost slamming it on the fold down table. 
"A living?" Randy's smile dims as he looks out the window. "I never 
really think about my future." 
"Kinda like how you ended up on this train." Liz says. 
"You mean instead of the 8:30?" he asks. 
"Well. yeah that too, I just meant in general. People don't just hop on 
trains for no reason." 
"Yeah." Randy says as he slips out a nervous little laugh. "I know." 
"Well it's late. I don't know how long we've been talking for but I should 
get some sleep," Liz says as she props her pillow up and her seat down. "It 
was nice though." 
"Yes it was." Randy says as he imitates her. Soon they are both asleep. 

part 3 

No more than an hour into the new day; blanketed in the night, deep 
within the central California farmlands, the 689 grinds slowly to a stop. 
The nasal voice echoes trough the cars, "Ladies and Gentelman, I am 
sorry to announce that we will be delayed indefinatly due to a..a collision 
near Visalia." Just by the tone of her voice you can tell something is 
wrong. "It appears that an Ustrak train jumped the signal and collided head 
on with a southbound freight train. We are not certain the exact number, but 
there are casualties. Ladies and Gentlemen please remain calm, any 
information we find out will indeed be relayed to you all." 
In the lower level restroom on the 2nd car, a peeing Bob thinks of John 
and suddenly feels very, very guilty. Guilty for what though? Guilty for being a lazy jerk. Guilty for taking advantage of John's kind nature. Who was he kidding, Bob felt guilty for inadvertantly killing him, that's all. But wait, everything's fine if he's alive. "yeah," Bob pulls his cellphone from his pocket. "If he's ok then everything's cool. No stress." But what's John's number? Of course Bob doesn't have it, he doesn't like the bastard. "Ok, Ok, who do you know buddy? Who do you know who knows John?" Bob scowered his mind for faces, numbers, women. "Whose the cute filly in the dining cart..what's her name, she wanted to get me into some mess of trouble..Sally!" The phone rings. And rings. As it continues to ring, a myriad of possible scenarios flood his mind. 
Throughout the rest of the train concerned voices rumble like an errupting volcano. Soon passengers are up and wandering around, grabbing conductors, somehow trying to shake awnsers out of them, wanting sense made of this all. "It could've been us" echos over and over through the din. 
"That's so stupid," Liz says as she wraps her blanket tighter around her. 
"What is?" asks Randy. 
"All these people running around saying 'it could of been us'," she says, 
picking lint off her wrap. "I just think that's stupid. The only way it 
could've been us is if we were on that train, and were not." 
"Are you saying you don't believe in fate?" Randy's gaze is locked on 
something out the window, something south. 
"Remember my major? Hell no, I don't believe in fate." Liz rolls a ball 
of lint back and forth between her fingers. "Hey, are you alright?" 
"Uh? Oh uh yeah, Im fine." With that, Randy jumps up, slams the 
emergency release on the window and in one fluid motion pushes the glass out and hurls his skinny body through. He's off and running, into the darkness, leaving both reason and Liz behind. 

Part 4 

Wrapped snugly in the starry darkness of central California's night, the passengers of the 689 sleep soundly. California is known for it's temprant weather and despite the tragedy ahead; this night is exactly like any other. Throughout the cars the passengers are sleepingly comfortably. No need to bundle up, only young lovers cuddle but not for warmth. 
Farther north; a thick, cold, sight unseen fog inches south. As this clear fog rolls through the farmlands it leaves frosty deposits on sleeping crops. Like a Nature Channel documentary, ice formations crystalize on blades of grass, stalks of corn and fields of lettuce. With morbid determination, the fog crawls along. In a slow motion full-throttle, it moves down the tracks until the railings on the 689's caboose were burnished with frost. Inside the train passengers shift in their sleep. Like dominos; row by row, the sleeping people wrap their blankets tighter and hold their lovers closer. Here and there among the cars passengers jerk up out of thier sleep, like dolphins breaking through the waves. Babies snap from sound sleep into caterwauling. The intercom crackles and clicks as if an annoucement is going to be made, but then it falls silent. 
In car 3 Liz is still awake, still wondering why Randy just took off. As she is sitting there thinking about how trippy this trip has been already, her attention is directed to something else. "Why is my breath icy?" Before Liz could analyze further, the old woman jumps up out of sound sleep. 
"Yes!" the old woman shouts hoarsly, throwing her leathered arms in the air. "I've been waiting long enough ya bugger!" she is standing somewhat hunched, bracing herself and waiting. 
"What are you looking at Nana?" the young girl's face shows a clamy glow as she tugs on her grandmother's sleeve. "Nana talk to me.." 
"Come on! Do you think you can avoid me forever?" The old woman whips round on her feet. "Don't do this to me! You've already taken everything that ever mattered." the old woman just stands there, fozen in her place with breath to match. "You bastard! Don't do this to me!" The old woman now reaching for her seat, crying. 
"Nana what's wrong?" the flaxen haired girl asks as she helps her to her seat. "I don't understand." 
"I'm a sorry old soul.." the old woman says as her shaking hand reaches up to wipe tears from her eyes, "A sorry old soul indeed." 


Back in the conductor's lounge, Bob can't stop thinking about John as he tries to enjoy his late late dinner of salmon. Maybe for once his selfishness has gone too far? No way. No one said John had to be such a kiss ass, that was his choice. "I only feel bad because he is such a kiss ass." Bob thinks to himself as he reaches behind him for his coat on the back of the chair, not noticing his breath has form. Not noticing the ice collecting on the outside of his wine glass. Or the overlooked bone; ever so small, hiding in his supper. 

Part 5 

As the sun breaks out through the clouds and hills, the nasaly voice breaks out over the intercom system. "Ladies and Gentlemen," the nasaly voice sounds so very tired. "If you look out the right side of the train, you will see that an Ustrak bus fleet is hear to redirect you." Passengers stir from their sleep like cats, and from train to bus like cattle. A weary Liz stops short of her bus and stares off into the hills. 
"This was weird." Liz thinks as she stares at the sunlit hills. "I wonder where Randy is, man that was hella weird. Why'd he do that?" Liz shuffles onto the bus and plops down in a seat. "He was cute." 


Somewhere deep in the Golden state hillside, a frightened Randy is running. Randy has been running all night. The sun peeks over the hills and slithers between the clouds to hit Randy with a blast of warm. A panting, gasping Randy drops to his knees. Basked in the sun's glory with sweat pouring off him, Randy is smiling. In a flash everything makes sense; his childhood, his teenage years, his relationships, everything. Randy begins to laugh hysterically. As he hugs himself over and over again, his gasping pants take frosty shape. The sweat on his back runs cold and in frozen clutches, grabs onto his hairs. 
"Why were you running?" a chilling voice rings in the back of Randy's head. 
"I don't know." Randy's utters, the glow in his face turning blue. "I was scared." 
"Don't be," the voice stabs at Randy's mind like an ice hook. "Consider yourself lucky. Look.." Randy looks up at the beautiful lanscape; staring in awe, emersed in nature's beauty as a cold hand presses firmly down on his shoulder.