NOTE: Concept, characters, and story are all copyrighted 1999 under US Federal Law. Said material cannot be used, reproduced, reprinted or ‘linked to’ in any way without prior written consent of the author.

"Have we begun to move already?" came a sudden, startled cry from the woman on the left-hand side of the train compartment. Her hands gripped nervously at the bottom of her seat. She wore a worried look upon her face among otherwise soft features. She had tender brown eyes and dark brown hair, which looked lighter from sporadic streaks of gray mixed in as if fashionable.

"Obviously so," the man across from her replied as if he had no care in the world. His hair was slicked back and glimmered greasily in the bright, introspective lights of the train compartment. He cast his eyes towards the window, not being able to see anything through its filmy covering of dirt and smoke.

"Oh goodness! I hope the others made it on board!"

The man, who pulled a bit at the window to pry it open, threw his head back to reply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "Did you ever consider that the trip was under-booked?"

"Oh…" she ran a soft, slender hand through her hair. "I guess… You might be right…"

"Of course I am." He muttered some words further under his breath, then swore abruptly, as he rose from his seat to tug on the window which was stubborn enough not to budge from his efforts.

Feeling a bit better to see the man frustrated, she turned her attention to the man sitting beside her, the only other person in the compartment. "Need another blanket, sweetheart?"

The husband, sallow-faced and bleary-eyed, shook his head with a few strong sniffs. His hand dove into his pocket for his handkerchief, where it stayed for some time, fumbling about with keys and change. The familiar pained expression on his face was frozen in concentration, as if to cry out exactly how sick he was. "HehChush!" he sneezed wetly into his shoulder, bringing the now produced hanky to the lower part of his face. He blew cautiously, his eyes fixed on the door, knowing it could open any time now.

"A pillow, perhaps, Terance?" She was trying her best to be a helpful wife.

Shaking his head wearily, he shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket.

The man, trying not to act too flustered at the window situation, turned his head around and put on a smile. "Have you two seen the newest improvements in pillows? I have one that will conform to your head in all the comfort you can want with a scientifically proven healthier way to sleep. It aligns your spinal col—"

"No thank you," the wife said, avoiding his eyes like she did any door-to-door salesman.

"But perhaps you are unaware that ninety-five percent of back pain is caused by misaligned vertebrae. This can easily be alleviated with a new and improved—"

"No thank you," she repeated, rolling her eyes.

The man was about to fire out another tidbit when, without any warning, the door slid open. It let in a young, redheaded woman who looked rather lost. She hovered in the doorway; the sounds of the train yard they were leaving announced her reluctant presence. "Is…" she had the voice of an angel, "this cabin C25?" She looked at the number above the door, then looked down at her ticket, then back up again.

The husband closed his eyes reluctantly, but his wife answered the young woman. "Yes, it is."

The redhead nodded a thank you and took a seat in the row across from them, by the door, as far away from them all as she could get. She went as far as to scrunch herself into the wall and cross her legs to conserve space.

The husband gave a soft moan and cuddled up in a ball beside his wife, taking up two seats in the process.

The man who had been working at the windows, and had still not managed so much as to budge them, turned his attention elsewhere. He sat down and eyed the young redhead. Finally, he made his presence known to her by exclaiming, "Heeeeeeeey! Don’t I know you?" The young woman’s cheeks grew red to match her hair, but she made no reply. "From Abernathy?"

She shook her head and looked down. "Um, no, sorry. Never been."

"Are you sure? Because I never forget a face… especially one as strikingly lovely as yours."

Her whole face burned. "I’m sure we’ve never met, Mister."

But he continued to push. "The piano played, you ordered a Shirley Temple and I laughed at it. You don’t remember this?"

She shook her head again, keeping her eyes clearly pinned to the floor of the train car. The dark red of the carpet offset her plain black shoes nicely, though it seemed somewhat out of place in the dim, drab train compartment.

And the man continued, his voice filled easily with creditability, "I only mention it because I spotted you a twenty and you promised to pay me back. How’s about repaying me now… perhaps with a kiss for interest payments?"

At this, she turned, looking him straight in the face. "I’ve never been to this place, nor have I ever even seen you before in my life. If you keep bothering me this whole trip I’ll…" she tried to think of a threat, "I’ll call the train’s police officer."

The man nodded, holding his hand out to her. "My apologies." He had a very convincing smile for a con man. "Some call me Lucient Bezel."

A bit reluctantly, but drawing from politeness, "Lilly Eveson of New Hampshire." She shook his hand briefly with a sweaty palm.

"HehhChishh!" sneezed the husband, his eyes closed, nose wiggling, face scrunched up. His wife supplied him with a tissue as the other two looked on.

"Is he alright?" asked the con man.

The wife nodded her head. "Oh yes, he’s all right. Just a little cold. Nothing to be worried about," she said with her teeth clenched and lower lip bitten in worry.

"Aw, poor thing," the young redhead said, looking at the couple. "Don’t worry, we’ll be there before you know it."

"Where is there, exactly?" said a man in the doorway, holding his ticket firmly in both hands. He wore a fine gray suit and a large, bulging knapsack hung on his back. "And how will we know that it has arrived before we pass it by on our way to somewhere else?"

They all stared at him as if he were crazy, except the husband who sneezed again and rolled over with his back to them all.

The newcomer spoke again. "What I mean to ask, is if any of you have considered the reason you are here." He took a seat between the weasel of a con man and the shy young redhead, as if sensing the combination of the two were dangerous. "Don’t any of you read?" Met with blank stares, he sighed. "’Simply horrible ways to present yourself to perfect strangers’" he quoted with a smile. "A chapter title in one the recent best-sellers by... oh, I forget his name. Column Something-or-other. I’d thought for sure everyone and his mother had read it at one point or another."

"I don’t read," said the con man. "Don’t have the time."

"Oh, Smashing!" exclaimed the newest arrival with a chuckle, his accent showing through. "I’ve heard of people like you! Never time to relax, always up and about, eh?"

The young redhead giggled. "Where are you from, Mister?"

The man turned and smiled at her. "I’ve been everywhere important but I am originally from none of them." He paused. "Heard of Whangaparaoa, New Zealand?"

She shook her head.

"Well, neither have most people."

She giggled, and took a liking to him immediately.

They heard the whistle blow and at once grew silent with expectation. But there were no announcements, and no noise at all that they could make out. And, as none of them seemed to notice, the train’s jarring, rocking, wobbling motions gave way to an abnormally soft, gentle, forward course. They all looked around to avoid eye contact. The young redhead looked back down at the floor, though seemingly a bit more at ease. The con man pulled out a handkerchief, breathed onto it, and tried to rub clean spots onto a pane of the opaque window. The newcomer gave one last look at his ticket, smiled, and slid it, unnoticed, into the young redhead’s pocket. The husband remained turned around on his side. And his wife looked down at his miserable form, trying to dream up some way to help.

With her husband’s head in her lap, the wife was unable to stand up. She inquired, "Could someone please retrieve a blanket from the overhead bins?"

"Alice (cough) I don’t need—"

"Here you go!" said the strange newcomer, handing it to her kindly.

She unfolded it and draped it over her husband who sniffled and coughed again. "Thank you," she remarked.

"He’s sick I take it?" the newcomer asked, as he had not been present for the initial answering.

As if in response, the husband sneezed again, twice, shivering and whimpering.

"Yes he is," the wife said, looking down at her husband, wishing she could do more. "Go to sleep, Terance." She rubbed his arm through the blanket, humming gently in a way that soothed almost every member of the cabin instantly.

"Not (sniff) tired," he said, rubbing at his nose clearly, though not visibly, as his bent arm shook back and forth.

Cutting her song short to reply, "Well, you soon will be. So close your eyes and try to rest, dear." He shivered again, and the wife sighed. "Men are such babies when they’re ill, don’t you think?" she asked the members of the cabin, who all seemed a little unnaturally on edge now.

"They can be that way, well or not," the newcomer said. "Don’t you think, Sir?" He turned his head to his side.

"Whatever you say," replied the con man, who had not spoken a word since he’d been insulted.

His face lit up with a smile. "Whatever I say? Ooh! That could get dangerous!"

The young redhead giggled and the con man rolled his eyes, but the silence that followed was deafening.

Finally, it was the young redhead who spoke, coming out of her shell with a lovely smile and a question. "Just out of curiosity… where is this train going, exactly?"

The con man burst out laughing. "You mean you don’t know? How absurd!"

She melted back into the seats, face blushed red, and arms crossed against her chest as if to give her an added sense of security.

"Why’d you even get on this train?" he shouted out, tears welling in his eyes from laughter. "You’re crazy!"

She brought her feet up onto the seat, knees bent in front of her, and wrapped her arms around them. She buried her face into her knees and slowly, her whole body rocked back and forth, but perhaps the motion of the train did that much—aside from the fact that the train’s ride was as smooth and as soft as a lullaby.

Feeling sorry for the young girl, the wife spoke up on the matter. "Actually," she cast a wary look down to make sure she had not awakened the now sleeping Terance. "I’d like to know what stops this train makes, too."

"You’re mad! Both of you! On a train and don’t even what stops it’s making? Why, in my line of work," beamed the con man, "train trips are my life. One after another after another. And I always know each and every stop of each and every one." He crossed his arms over his chest as if to prove his utmost authority.

Neither woman was brave enough to protest, and the wife went back to staring at her husband, as if the question were over for good.

But, in a calm tone, the newcomer asked, "Why don’t you tell us then, sir? That is, if you indeed know so much."

A hand went up, pushing a few strands of greasy black hair behind an ear. "What?"

"Tell them where the train is going," the newcomer said, as if it were the easiest request in the world.

The con man paused, looking around at expectant faces. "I um… why should I?" He suddenly grinned. A bit louder, "Why should I bother? They’re obviously mad. And you…" he pointed a finger accusingly at the newcomer, "You’re the craziest of them all!"

"But Sir, it was a simple request for some information that you clearly have." The man smiled knowingly. "After all, you seem to know everything about everything. Why don’t you—"

"Ug! What’s wrong with these windows?!" the con man groaned, and rose again to pull at the small metal indentations that served as handles. "The blasted things… won’t… open!" he panted, pulling with all that he was. But they would not budge a bit for him.

The cabin stayed silent through his struggle, and the newcomer took the opportunity to restart the discussion. "Perhaps the stops along the way may be pieced together by collecting and arranging different destinations."

The wife’s eyes lit up. "Yes! Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?" She looked down at Terance before explaining, "we’re going to visit my mother. Terance wasn’t overly thrilled, but he agreed. We’re ending the journey at Comebria. Oh, and we started off in New Heartisford."

"Oh no," the young redhead said. "I’ll be finishing there, too. At least, I think so. I’m visiting my parents who live out of town… my mother and father bought my ticket for me." Her hand went to her pocket, and a look of pure terror flooded her beautiful features. "I think I’ve lost my ticket!" She panicked, distressed, and grabbed immediately for her purse to sift through its contents with little luck. Her face slowly drained from red to pale as lines of worry creased her young brow.

The wife gave her a sympathetic look, as did the newcomer who said plainly, "be sure to check your other pocket, my Dear."

She did, and much to her surprise, withdrew a ticket. "New Heartisford to Comebria," she read, smiling in newly found security.

"Well this doesn’t help us much then," the wife said. "How about you, sir?" she asked the newcomer.

"My journey is yours. I leave when you leave." His face was perfectly calm as he turned to the con man and said. "How about you? Where do you think you’re going?"

The con man gave him a shifty look. "I don’t think I’m going somewhere, I know I’m going somewhere. But I’m not about to tell you all." He banged his hand on the windowpane. "Sitting there talking… no one does anything about anything. Damnit, help me with these windows!"

But the newcomer didn’t stand, and simply shook his head slowly. "It’s rather cold in here already, and with a sick gentleman, I don’t think an added wind would be a particularly good idea, do you?"

"Does anyone have a knife?" asked the con man, completely avoiding an answer if he had even heard the question at all. "Or something that scrapes glass?" He went back to rubbing on the dirty panes, trying in vein to see out them. "Someone get me something!" When no one did, he stopped his pursuit to grab his bag from the overhead bin. He dialed the suitcase lock combination and threw it open with a snap, and its contents overflowed the floor. A bible, an encyclopedia volume, some vacuum cleaner attachments, and pamphlets of every color and size. Several changes of clothing, shoes several sizes bigger than the ones he wore, a false nose, and an associated make up kit. It was exposed, and the eyes of every conscious member of the cabin were drawn to it. The con man hardly noticed, or seemed to care. He simply grabbed the sharpest thing he could find, a monogrammed letter opener, and set to work scraping at the glass.

The newcomer turned his back on him. The con man was clearly beyond hope by this time: fixated, obsessed, rambling, seeing no other purpose but his own. So the newcomer slid himself over, taking up the con man’s spot in order to give the young redhead a little more room.

This time, it was the wife who resumed the conversation. "Even if we don’t know the stops, my question is, how do we know when our stop comes? There are no announcements are there, Lilly?"

The young redhead, eyes still turned upon the open suitcase contents as if she were working to memorize each item, made no response.

"Lilly?"

Still, she did not react to the name.

The newcomer placed his hand on her upper arm. "She was speaking to you, Lilly."

The young redhead’s eyes lit up with realization, and a finger quickly guided stray strands of orange-red behind her ear. "Oh, um, sorry! I was lost in thought. What were you saying?"

The wife shook her head. "Perhaps it’s not very important anyway. If we know where we’re going, it’s not up to us to know how we are to get there, simply to make sure we do."

"Some things are out of everyone’s hands," spoke the newcomer.

The young redhead nodded, giving a light yawn. "True. I was only curious. We don’t really need to know the stops along the way as long as we know our destinations." She fingered her train ticket, gaining a sliver of added confidence.

"It was a valiant attempt," the newcomer commented, "but we can’t always know everything."

The redhead gave the wife a sweet smile. "But thank you for trying to help."

"It’s the least I could do," replied the wife as she looked down at Terance once more.

Three pairs of eyes shot over at the con man, who rubbed at his arm sorely, staring at the windows as if they were the Great wall of China. "Harder," he mumbled to himself, as he kicked his things aside and backed up a few steps, then heaved his body against the windowpanes. He groaned like a wounded bear, clutching his arm in sheer pain. Then, as if he had no other option, backed up all the way to the compartment door for a running start.

"Oh my God," the young redhead whispered. "He’s trying to break them open."

The newcomer held his hand out, trying to calm the con man. "Don’t. You may hurt yourself."

The con man shook his head, looking at nothing but the windows. "Must see out… must get them open…"

He took off across the small compartment, which was just big enough to build up a dangerous speed. His body flew, a determined roar emanating from his mouth, and crashed against the glass in useless effort. Lucient’s body fell to the floor, heaped upon his spilled suitcase contents. The impact against the still perfectly intact window had caused his forehead to spring a leak; red streams gushed from one side of his head and blended in with the carpet.

Not startled one bit, the newcomer picked up the unconscious body and cradled it for a moment before turning and setting it down on the seat. Lucient was placed in a lounging position that took up the newcomer’s space on the seat. He used Lucient’s white handkerchief to stop the blood, holding it on his forehead with just the right amount of pressure.

Throughout the ordeal, the two women were speechless, empty mouths gaping in disbelief. Finally, the young redhead managed a soft, "Why?"

The newcomer shook his head. "For as long as there are things which cannot be seen, there will be those who insist upon seeing them." He paused and moved to lean up against the compartment’s door rather than sitting down, so as to give Lucient more room. "You look tired, my Dear."

The young redhead nodded with another yawn. "Yes… it’s been a long trip so far."

He smiled. "Then perhaps you should rest."

The wife yawned, too, struggling to keep her eyes open. Her eyelids weighted themselves down, but she pushed them back into their proper places with her will. She was there to take care of Terance. She was there to be a good daughter. She was there for the trip.

The newcomer chuckled to himself. "Perhaps you should both get some rest."

The wife rubbed at her eyes, fighting it, but the young redhead tucked her legs under herself so that she curled into a bit of a ball with her head upon the armrest. "You’ll be here?" she asked, looking up at the newcomer with trust.

The newcomer nodded. "For as long as you are."

Despite her actions, the wife’s eyes locked closed. "You’ll… let us know… when we have reached the end of our journey?" she inquired.

The compartment grew warm and the air heavy, as the sense of fatigue set in. Softly, the newcomer answered, "When you are finished here, you will know it."

Alice gave a small nod of understanding as she drifted off into wonderment.

And the young redhead, tired as she was, made a move she had been longing to make before she, too, fell to sleep. She raised her hand to gently touch the newcomer’s arm. The young redhead smiled, feeling secure and protected for the first time in her journey.

The newcomer reached down and patted her head. "Sleep well, dear Rose."

The young flower reached her arms out as if the stretch itself were a delicate ballet to the music of her yawn. Without another word, she tucked her arms to her body, and peacefully closed her eyes. In only a few seconds Rose, too, was asleep.

The newcomer, alone at last, smoothed out the few wrinkles in his suit and straightened his black tie. Then with one elegant movement, he strode to the other side of the compartment and effortlessly slid the windows open to nothingness.