Boarding a train without a ticket isn’t uncommon, especially for those short on cash and needing to travel. For me, though, it was different, I had to skip town fast after the cops caught on. As a con man, I'm not exempt from life's rules; sometimes you take what you need. Earlier, I'd dodged the conductor and two officers searching for me. Maybe stealing the mayor's watch wasn't wise, but shiny things beckon. My life's a mix of survival and the thrill of the game. Seated in the dining car, I faced a young woman with striking green eyes over wire-rimmed glasses. She sipped her tea, then calmly asked, “Why have you been running from the police like your life depends on it?”
Leaning closer, I replied, “Rumor has it there's an axe murderer on board, said to have wiped out his entire family.”
She glanced up at me, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. "Really? Is that why you're here?"
"I'm looking for someone to hold me. I'm shaking in my shoes, you see? Look at my hands, they're trembling!"
"Perhaps one of the officers will lend you a hand."
I chuckled lightly. "You're no fun. Where are you headed?"
"I'm on a tour. Always wanted to see America's sights."
I nodded knowingly. "Ah, yes, the Statue of Liberty, the White House, and the aroma of cow manure. Very picturesque."
She closed her book, adjusting her glasses. "There's much more than that for those who seek."
"I guess I've never really looked."
"Why do you stay?" Her question startled even her. I masked my surprise with a casual smile. "What do you mean, sweetheart? I've only been in this car a few minutes."
"Forget it. It's a silly question."
"No, tell me. No question is silly."
She laughed nervously, her tone slightly forced. "Don't worry about it. We have bigger concerns."
"Tell me about it. By the way, how are you touring while I'm scraping by? I'm practically swimming in cash."
"I manage just fine," she replied, sidestepping the question entirely. "You probably think it's all trivial, prioritizing personal satisfaction over money."
"Money rules, sweetheart. You either have it and are content, or you don't and spend your days scraping by in a dead-end job."
She sighed, rubbing her temples. "That's one perspective, I suppose."
"It's the only one that matters these days."
"Quite the pessimist."
"Call it realism." I paused. "You're quite the enigma."
"How so?"
"You're stifling yourself, dear, holding back things you want to say but can't. Or won't."
Her expression of shock was palpable, though I hadn't intended to be offensive. She slapped me lightly with a manicured hand. "How dare you assume...."
"Assume what? In my line of work, if you can't see through falsehoods, you're not cut out for it. You've been deceitful from the start. You're not on a tour, but you're here seeking something personal. So, what is it? Why are you here?"
She stood abruptly. "I don't have to sit here and listen to your baseless accusations!"
"Try me, sweetheart. I'm more than just a pretty face."
She slowly sat back down, folding her hands on the table and staring at me incredulously.
"What do you know about déjà vu?"
"It's the sensation of having already experienced something, right?"
She nodded, and I raised an eyebrow. "See? I can be smart and devastatingly attractive."
"Try just devastating. Have you ever felt like this conversation has happened before, while we've been talking?"
"Never."
"You never do."
Leaning forward, I lowered my voice. "What do you mean? I've never seen you before."
She glanced around the empty dining car, then spoke in a low voice, "We've had this conversation at least ten times before, and you never remember."
"How? I'm sure I'd remember someone as lovely as you."
"When you leave, you meet your end. Sometimes by the police, other times in an accident. I've tried to prevent it, but it's inevitable."
"That's nonsense and you know it."
"You're good at detecting lies, aren't you? Tell me now, am I lying?"
I studied her intently for a good thirty seconds. Her expression remained unchanged, revealing no signs of deceit. Everyone has tells when they lie, scratching their face, avoiding eye contact. My own tell was shifting my weight to my left foot, a habit I've learned to hide well. She watched me until I was convinced she was telling the truth, then offered a sad smile when I leaned back in my chair.
"Wow," I muttered, "Didn't think it would end like this. I had plans."
"Oh? Please, do tell."
"Do you already know?"
"You've never believed me before. This is the furthest we've ever gotten."
I crossed my legs and stared at the ceiling. "I was planning to settle down somewhere, maybe Boston or New York City. Thought it might be nice to get an apartment." I paused, processing her words in a split second. "If we've never gotten this far, maybe I can change what's going to happen."
"I doubt it. As I said, I've tried everything. You're what I call an Unusual Circumstance. Clearly, you're not supposed to die, otherwise we wouldn't be stuck on this damned train, but you did die."
"You were on this train to save me." The realization hit me like a point-blank bullet. She nodded solemnly, a glum expression crossing her face. "I keep track of Unusual Circumstances. Call it my pet project. I was too late to save you, and I got dragged into this mess."
"Is that why you slapped me?"
"I slapped you because you were acting like a pompous idiot." She rubbed her forehead. "This conversation has veered so far off script, I don't know what to say."
"What if I got off the train right now? Pulled the emergency brake and just left?"
"You'd probably die."
"Seems worth a shot, doesn't it?"
She shrugged. "I suppose. Can you reach the emergency brake?"
"Of course." I stood up and walked to the corner, only to find I was just an inch too short. She chuckled at my attempt and I eventually grabbed a chair, my pride stung. The train screeched to a halt, and I peered out the window to see nothing but cornfields stretching to the horizon. She joined me, clutching her book to her chest. "You know, it's the unusual circumstances that bring us together."
"If I make it out of here alive, I'll find you. What's your name?"
"Bibiana. Bibiana John."
"I'll see you around, Bibiana. Look out for me." I climbed out of the train window just as the police burst into the dining car. One of them shouted after me, but I kept walking. The colors around me shifted to a greenish-yellow hue as I wandered through the cornfield, the sun setting by the time I emerged. A quaint farmhouse stood across the field, and I headed towards it eagerly. That turned out to be a mistake. You see, some folks don't take kindly to trespassers, and some have their own ways of dealing with them.
Bang!
Red.
Black.
