Member-only story
The Train to Nowhere
A short story about an unexpected journey
Carlton had never felt a knife against his neck, but he instantly knew what it was. He also instinctively knew what to do. Nothing.
“Who are you?” The words belonged to a woman. Her voice was as sharp and cold as the blade against his flesh.
A chill cascaded through his body, freezing his vocal cords. He knew he had to reply but couldn’t.
Her free hand reached for the knotted rope above him. She pulled, releasing a long, loud whistle. She jumped back, grabbed Carlton’s arm, and spun him around. His gray and white striped cap flew in the opposite direction, like it had been lifted off his head by a tornado.
“Did I do that?” she asked.
Carlton allowed himself a few seconds to evaluate the intruder, a woman in her twenties, with auburn hair that flowed to her hips, one blue and one green eye, pretty, lithe, with defined muscles, barefoot, and pointing the knife at Carlton’s belly.
“Speak or I will cut out your tongue.”
“You did that. You sounded the whistle.”
“It’s the monster’s roar.”
“A whistle, like this.” Carton reached for the whistle cord, but before he could wrap his fingers around it, she closed the distance between them and pressed the blade to his stomach.
“Don’t!” Her arms tensed and Carlton thought he saw her irises swap colors. “I will do it.”
She pulled on the cord again. The whistle blared blended low and high tones that shook the forest’s trees to the east and echoed off the mountains to the west. She withdrew the knife tip from Carlton’s abdomen, but continued to aim it toward him. Keeping her eyes fixed on Carlton, she sidestepped to the open window.
“I’m going to look out now. Stay where you are. I can shove my blade into you faster than you can reach for me. Understood?”
“Yes.”
She twisted her neck to look up. After a few moments, she ducked back inside. “You make the smoke, too?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of sorcerer are you?” She lowered her knife but kept a tight grip on the handle.
