“Can you bind him here?” asked Matilda.
“We shall try,” said the woman, likewise removing her robe.
They didn’t have the power to bind him. What they could do was offer a blessing on this place that would prevent him from ever coming back. And seeing as how he barely had the strength to leave in the first place, he didn’t know what would happen when they placed the wards. For the first time in generations, the Entity panicked.
Matilda, still a hundred yards away, fixed him with a threatening stare. “Do you hear that?” the girl screamed in the otherwise still tunnel. The sound reverberated from both ends. “You are going to be stuck here forever! Never again will you hurt people!”
“Calm down,” said the man. “Let’s do this and be done.” He’d already started burning a thin reed of incense while the woman dumped a straight line of some pale powder by the train.
The Entity was growing both fearful and angry because a mere child should not be addressing him in such a way! He was immortal. He’d been there in the red waters of broken ships as the Trojan War thundered against the walls of Troy. He’d watched from atop a fountain as Tacitus played knucklebones while the Great Fire of Rome sprouted behind him. And he’d been there, whispering suggestions to a young, shaky Gavrilo Princip that he shouldn’t just shoot the Archduke but also his pregnant wife. The Entity had been privy to all this and more, and now was ready to flee at the coaxing of a ten-year-old girl.
In his final, last-ditch effort he attempted to poison the man’s mind—perhaps make him turn on the woman and convince the child to run off, fleeing into the night a second time. He rushed forward, ignoring the searing light that was the girl and pushed all his malice and anger and fear into the man, but if he had even a slight chance of coaxing him toward suggestion, it was snuffed out when the girl stepped into his path, dropped her lantern on the ground, and grabbed him with both hands.
And in that awful moment, he knew he was dying.
What else could it be? His power was seeping away, like a ball of yarn chaotically unwinding in a hailstorm. The adults stared as if she’d lost her mind because no one could see the Entity but the child. Her face was contorted in a mask of rage, perhaps an underlining fear, but he’d never been troubled by a mortal’s appearance before. Now, her eyes were haunting him.
“Leave!” she screamed. “Go from this place and never return!”
Go where? the Entity asked in her mind.
“I don’t care! This world. Go back to wherever you were before you ate death.”
I don’t know where that is.
“Then just die!” She was screaming even louder, the stillness of the cave shattered. The Entity thought he would do just as she asked, for what choice did he have? It would have been better to be lulled back to sleep, but with the way she was draining his energy, he didn’t think that was possible. Anything was better than not existing. Anything was better than death. This was uncharted territory, a state of being never encountered.
But she wasn’t killing him. She was changing him and didn’t even realize it.
Something curious happened.
Perhaps the prolonged cohabitation between good and evil made it happen, like two magnets with reversed polarity forced to touch. The creature he’d been was no more. His mind, noncorporeal body, and his essence turned to the train, and in that moment he didn’t see steel and steam and wood and decay. In that moment, he saw a vessel, and its engine was a beating heart that offered him a new life.
The Entity collapsed through the girl’s fingers and somehow shucked off the old life. It washed over the train, reaching from one end to the other. He was certain the girl was dumbfounded by what just happened, but then again, so was he. But the quick return to his strength told him that it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. His mind and form were changing—not just himself but also the train.
In the span of a human heartbeat, he knew all about the train and all those inside it, in more depth than ever before. He knew about Pawel Zak in car eighteen, and how he cared more about leaving his cats behind than his two sons. He knew about Lidia Baros in car thirty-one, and how she worried about her husband’s dry cough, who may or may not have been forced onto the train. He was—and only three cars up. The Entity knew all about Otto, how his mother died in a housefire while he was spending the day with his father and sisters at the market. And he knew that deep down, a part of him enjoyed killing the children, both back in Munich and in the lair.
The Entity even knew all about the train itself—because the train had become just as substantial as those occupying it. He knew it was a 1933 steamer from the Rudnicka company and that over seventeen-thousand Jews and Poles had ridden it one-way to their end. He knew the wheel bolts were made in Romania, the cylinders in Belgium. There was a total of 117,994 rivets holding the whole thing together. But that wasn’t entirely true—the Entity was holding it together now.
And, also rebuilding it . . .
The girl screamed as the Entity filled the dead with life. Bony arms and legs shook off the cobwebs and the grime of disuse as four-thousand skeletons stood at once. The ripple sounded like dry leaves crunching across stone. They looked out through the window slats, hollow eye-sockets peering down at the only three warm bodies in the cave. In learning his new body—the train—the Entity lost interest in the mortals, and was more intrigued by what he could do. The train groaned as it changed, rust flaking off, bent metal from long trips across unforgiving rails pushing back into place. The train healed itself, but the Entity cared little for aesthetics, so the dull luster of the cars remained, shrouded by a misty, ethereal haze.
The trio of mortals were slowly backing out of the tunnel, unsure of what the bony men and women would do. Even the Entity was unsure at that point, feeling the fit of this new development like a mortal tries out a new suit. The skeletons started to plump up, gaining enough meat back on their bones to be substantial. After only a few seconds the victims looked much the same as they did before Otto crushed their heads with a wrench, although dead was still dead. They looked on with dull, lifeless eyes that saw everything but stared at nothing.
Having omnipotence all across the train was helpful but the Entity chose the head of Otto to settle. The dead eyes flicked open and found the trio of mortals attempting to escape. With stiff joints, Otto leaped from the engine, dragging the alligator wrench with him. It was the first time in his whole existence that the Entity knew his sense of touch. The cool metal of the wrench, the cold air coming in from the tunnel behind. He could get drunk on these human experiences but he chose to funnel his rage into the three who dared make him weak.
Or should he thank them?
The man, having abandoned the lantern, ran blindly toward Otto and was met with a swing so hard that it nearly ripped the top of his head off. The light from the tunnel behind caught little sparkling shapes after the swing, and the Entity realized this was the man’s teeth flying free of his jaw.
The woman was leading the child out, and neither saw the man until they were standing over his corpse, still spurting blood across the gravel. She made half a scream before Otto brought the bloodied wrench down hard against her mouth, hooking her jaw with such ferocity that he ripped it clean from her face. As she collapsed, dangling tongue flapping in the wind, he buried the wrench so deep into her skull that he had to put his foot against her shoulder to pry it back out.
Now, the child.
He raised the wrench, blood dripping atop Otto’s bald head, but his arm wouldn’t come down. The Entity gave a guttural cry that was both anger and anguish. Still, the child had power over him. Still, he could not touch her. If this girl was going to be killed, he would have to find another way.
She scrambled to her feet and stood before him, slowly realizing that he still couldn’t harm her.
“What happened? You . . . possessed the train?” All of the silent, sunken faces were watching her from the windows.
“I will kill you child,�
� said the Entity through Otto’s lips. “One day.” He tossed the wrench onto the engine and then hopped up.
The whistle blew in the confines of the tunnel and the child dropped to her knees, holding her ears. The Entity had work to do. And now, he wasn’t so limited. If anything, the chance meeting with the girl had improved his situation. He had a new set of rules.
But he couldn’t bury the hatred he had for her, and he knew he’d never be able to rest until she was dead. When the smoke cleared, she was still standing there, more curious than afraid.
There was no track past the mouth of the cave, nor was the opening large enough now for the train to pass. But that didn’t stop the engine from screaming, wheels turning, barreling out of the tunnel will all forty-nine cars. It disappeared into the Polish countryside.
Ozelki – Krakus House
January 12th, 2019
There was so much information to digest that Edmund wasn’t quite sure where to begin. With all hauntings, the origin story was usually brief and tied to a single incident. But the Ghost Train had a rich past, sprinkled with Nazis, girls with power, and secret orders. The only thing he kept in his mind was how awful it had been for Addey to be caught up in something so big. The guy only wanted his grandparents and a chance meeting with the train had landed him in a coma.
After the old woman—Matilda rather—had finished her story, the group simply sat around, as if unsure of what to say. History painted an awful picture of the war, but she had fought another battle, one that waged alongside the one most talked about in the books. How could anyone’s spirit remain intact after so long?
“So you were there,” Edmund said. “You were on the train, headed for Treblinka.” She’d said a lot of things, but this was the piece to which he kept returning. Matilda was a holocaust survivor.
She just nodded.
Bill said, “God, what a nightmare.”
“You have no idea, boy,” said the woman, eyes growing cold and distant.
“I just think about you, a little girl, no shoes, cold, wandering.” Sophie shook her head, almost fighting back tears.
Matilda held up a hand. “It was an awful night, from start to finish. Otto put me out of the cave because the Entity didn’t know what else to do with me. He was scared of me, as he still is. But I was lucky. Or maybe it was just God.
“I wandered out of the cave, having an equal chance of running into bad people as good, but fortune shined on me. My parents found me—not my real parents mind you—my tata and matka, the ones who would raise me. The Germans had burned everything. And then the Soviets did the same thing. I moved around Europe a lot. But when I was nine, the Order of Opeikun found me, and helped me to learn more about myself, and the Entity.
“I learned that I wasn’t alone, there were others like me, although rare. I also learned that there were other Entities in the world, although they are even rarer. This place where we’re sitting? This has been in my adoptive family for generations. And it goes back the Legend of Krakus and the defeat of the dragon. Which some might think is mythology. And others think was the Entity long ago, simply in another form.”
Edmund remembered the relief over the door to Krakus House—the man with the sword held high, as if to slay an awful beast.
“Krakus killed the dragon of Wawel,” Edmund said. “I remember Addey telling this story. The dragon killed lots of people and livestock and King Krakus tricked it by feeding it a lamb stuffed with sulfur.”
“Correct,” said the old woman. “But Opeikunites know it was the Entity, and so it grew weak and lingered for a while, and then, with all the death surrounding the Treblinka camp, it stirred. It gained strength, and it woke up, ready to devour the world. I made it weak again.”
“But that didn’t last,” said Sophie. “By going into that cave all those years ago, you set it free.”
“They wanted to contain it,” said Lena. “The Opeikunites, I mean. But they made it stronger.”
Edmund had expressed the same thing to Brian and Marcus just a while ago. It seems as if the Entity, Ghost Train, whatever it was, continued to gain strength throughout the years.
“It makes no sense,” said Edmund. He thought he knew ghosts, and knew that they were static—hardly ever changing, the legend of them remaining virtually untouched as they were passed down.
“It makes perfect sense,” Matilda said. “Supernatural beings still adhere to the laws of nature, as ridiculous as it sounds. They still make evolutionary strides. Just as panda bears no longer have claws because they have become herbivore, the Entity is no longer limited to areas of mass death.”
Bill shook his head and leaned back in his chair, as if the whole conversation was absurd. “You’re saying it evolved.”
“Yes. Survival of the fittest, even in the spirit world. It was faced with death or change.”
“But now it continues to change,” said Lena. “It feeds and it gets stronger.”
“But how do you know?” asked Edmund.
Matilda cut off Lena before the girl could answer. “We just know. This is what we do. We try to be as vigilant as we can, but there will come a time when this Entity will win. My people, the Opeikunites, are spread too thin, and there’s no one left like me.” She said this last bit with a mixture of trepidation and relief.
“Like you?” Edmund asked.
The old woman nodded, her tight demeanor gave way to the hint of a smile, and for the first time she didn’t seem to be taking herself seriously. “I’m the Font of Good, God’s Hand, Krakow’s Sword. I’ve had many names. The Entity cannot harm me. There’s been a few like me over the years, but they are rare. And when I’m gone . . .”
“The Ghost Train will rule this land,” Lena finished.
Sophie looked to both women, as if that answer couldn’t be further from the truth. “You’re not serious. What about the other Opeikunites? I know they’re rare, but they can’t let something like that happen, right?”
Matilda considered her words for a moment before a sardonic grin crept across her face. “I imagine some would come here to fight, but there’s not much they can do. I’m the only one immune to the train’s call. And as my granddaughter said, it’s getting stronger.”
At that finality, Bill stood up, his chair noisily screeching across the floor. “I’m sorry that this is all happening to you. Really I am.” He came around and sat in the empty chair next to Edmund, his eyes pleading. “Ed, we have to go. Don’t you see that now? You have answers about Addey. They aren’t the best answers, but the mystery is gone. What do you say, pal? Buy you a beer at Dracula’s Castle?” Edmund stole a glance at Sophie just long enough to see her eyes light up by the prospect.
Before he could answer, Lena added, “Listen to your friends. This really is the best idea.”
He considered their words and understood that everyone was right. There was no reason to linger here anymore. He’d been chasing a ghost all along, and it wasn’t the train—it was his friend, Addey. It was madness that he even let his friends stay this long.
“Can we do something first?” he asked.
“Sure, buddy,” said Bill. Now that he saw the tug-of-war was finally won, his tone lightened.
“I dropped Addey’s phone when I ran off. I want to go back and get it before we leave.”
Bill and Sophie both turned to Matilda, as if she were the divorce lawyer moderating a squabbling couple. Her good eye turned to the clock over the fireplace mantle, the one sitting next to a doll stuffed in a polka-dotted dress. She nodded.
“You’ll be fine as long as you’re away from there before the sun goes down.”
Bill stood, an urgency in his body language. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
Both his friends put a reassuring hand on his back as they stood to dismiss this odd meeting. The old woman and Lena didn’t seem to approve of the impromptu trip but everyone was on the same page at least—except for Edmund. Despite the old lady’s words, he didn’t think he’d ever feel c
losure, not with Addey unable to communicate.
But as Edmund had agreed, they took a last shower, ate a final meal, turned in their keys (including the one Addey had in his pocket), and then packed up all their belongings into the Fiat.
As they were headed out the door, the old woman appeared from the kitchen, pulling on a pair of gloves. Her mop of white locks was stuffed into a toboggan and she gripped the counter as she limped out into the common room. Edmund noticed how she just seemed to appear, like some sort of messiah when needed. But as they watched her hobble about, it was clear just how old and frail she truly was.
“Going somewhere?” Edmund asked, adjusting his bag.
“I am, indeed. With you.” When Edmund and Sophie looked at each other and shook their heads, not understanding, Matilda clarified. “I want to see the train’s destruction for myself, now that daylight will help an old woman’s eyes. Come along, Americans.” She turned without even waiting on the assured hesitation.
Edmund looked to Lena for support. “You have to come by here anyway, if you’re going to Warsaw. Just drop her off at the front door.”
He nodded. “I guess this is goodbye, Pole.” It sounded silly in his head and he wasn’t sure why he’d even said it.
“I guess so, Yank.” She gave a toothy grin. For some reason, he thought he would miss the girl.
As he settled into the backseat next to Matilda, he pulled up his phone, dismissed the strange number that had called a second time, and found the spot on EarthTrotter where he thought he’d dropped Addey’s phone. His mind raced back to the Ghost Train, crashing through the forest with the might of a dozen excavators. It would be a miracle to find the device, especially if the snow had continued overnight.
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