A few days into the holdout, Marcus was eating soup, spoon fed by Lena. He was sitting up, his lungs sounding as though they needed drained with a hose. His brow was sweaty, but it was one of the few times he was alert enough to have a conversation.
“Look after Lil for me, will ya, Brian?” he said.
Brain just shook his head. “You’re going to look after her yourself, mate. We’re getting you out of here soon. You’ll see.”
“Bullocks. Whether the train uncoils or not, I’m done for. You know this. You saw this kind of trauma in the war.”
Brian said nothing.
“I just need you to take care of me baby girl when I’m gone. Her mum won’t know what to do without me.”
“I will always be there for Lily and Jean. You know that.”
This answer seemed to satisfy Marcus, whose body went limp. He didn’t wake much after that night.
On their eighth day, Marcus started to decline again, his skin staying an oily yellowish hue. His states of consciousness were fleeting, and he spent more time yelling out in fevered nightmares than talking in wakeful conversation. Even though Brian didn’t say it, he was both worried and devastated over his friend. He kept a cold washcloth on the man’s brow. Cold water was something of which they had plenty.
On their tenth day of interment, Margo started to unravel. This was brought on by the train’s suddenly close proximity to Krakus House. Edmund thought that it was getting bolder, that Otto was steering it closer and closer with each pass, but that wasn’t entirely true.
He noticed when standing on the second floor of Krakus House, he could now see the tops of the train cars as they passed. When the group ventured out to the porch, they learned the reason—after the train had made so many rounds, it had begun to cut a deep trench in the earth. The windows were nearly level with the dirt and mud surrounding the house. What made this more terrifying is that when the train was still, the car on the backside of the house leaned inward, and the dead inside could scrape their fingers against the windows of Krakus House.
Margo and Gerta disappeared upstairs, preferring their cold room to the eyes of the group. Edmund couldn’t be sure, but he thought they came from money, and the thought of camping in the common room with the rest was beneath them, despite the current predicament. Still, the situation was making Margo seem a bit like a loose cannon.
“Good news,” said Bill, sitting down on the rug between Addey and Edmund. He pointed out the backside window, to the stalled train and the throng of ghosts who were pawing at the windows. “If the train keeps cutting a trench like it has been, we’ll be able to walk right over top of it and leave.”
“Wishful thinking,” Addey said. “It is lower, though. Do you think we could pull a car up to it? Climb onto the roof and jump over?”
“I don’t want to think of doing that again,” said Brian. “That bit of ingenuity’s what landed me on that thing’s bad side.”
And as if in response to his friend’s voice, Marcus sat up, vomited a greenish bile down his chest and fell back against his pillow. He was muttering incoherently and blowing snot bubbles from his nose. Brian sprang into action to clean him up.
Edmund said, “If only we could direct its attention to somewhere else. Give us a break in the trainset.”
“Not going to happen, I’m afraid,” said Addey. “I’d just be interested to see what’s happening in the rest of the world. The rest of Poland, even.”
Lena got down on her knees and helped sponge Marcus’s bare chest with a cloth. Brian fell back on his haunches and thought for a minute, then stood up and said, “We have to get him out of here! He needs a hospital.”
“The antibiotics will help a little,” Matilda said from her rocking chair.
“It’s sepsis,” said Brian. “He’s going to die if we don’t have something stronger to fight this infection. I was just trying to help.” His voice broke down and he aimed his hand out the door, toward his parked SUV. “I just wanted to stem the bleeding is all.”
“And you did. If not, he’d be dead already,” said Matilda.
“If only we could signal someone, reach a helo or something!” said Brian. Then, a thought struck him and he bolted out the door.
Addey and Edmund exchanged glances. It was raining out, the cold air that rushed in found Edmund by the fireplace and made him shiver. They could see Brian opening the back door of the SUV. He pulled out a black briefcase and then came back in.
“Gents, lady, follow me, if you will.” Edmund, Addey, and Lena trailed him up the steps and then around to the third floor where Brian opened a door, as if knowing exactly where he was going. They passed through the old woman’s bedroom and out a pair of double-doors that led to a balcony. From here, they could see the train, winding down the mountain like a colossal snake.
“Let’s hope this thing still has battery left,” said Brian. He knelt down and opened the case, then handed Edmund what looked like a cellphone, or at least a tablet with a large screen. Brian stood up, holding a tiny black drone in his hands. He powered it on and the little blades began to whirl around. “Got a signal?”
Edmund switched on the tablet, a little blue and gold logo popped up and was quickly replaced by a shot of their shoes. Brian took the tablet from Edmund, then tossed the drone up into the air where it hovered steadily. He assumed the controls and the rest gathered around him so they could watch the screen.
It looked like a trainyard from up high. The Entity had killed so many people, had lured so many unsuspecting victims that there were now so many cars that it couldn’t properly maneuver. Edmund wondered if there was a ghostly formula to it—did every hundred deaths equate to a new car added?
The Polish countryside looked like a scene from one of those post-apocalypse shows Edmund loved to watch on television. A nuke hadn’t gone off, but he couldn’t imagine it would be much different than what he was seeing further out, on the drone’s camera. There were no more forests. All of the trees had fallen, pushed aside by the train and its fury. This had caused wildfires, and now everywhere they looked were small piles of smoldering wood.
Even the towns were gone—Poniatowo was reduced to stone foundations. Brian moved the drone as far as the range would allow, until he was hovering over Polvec. If not for a pair of bloodied bodies against the fence, Edmund would have never seen the artfully painted buildings hiding on the mountainside.
If Brian had hoped there’d be life out there, a Med-Evac or a field hospital, it was dashed when the drone headed up the 627, now empty save for a few cars that were as dead as the trees in the forests. Krakus House was still standing, and it made him wonder if that was why no one had come to fight the train.
“The world has to be watching us,” said Edmund.
“You think so, mate?” said Brian, sounding like he either believed that or just didn’t care.
“Why else aren’t they using deadly force? Maybe they know people are alive here. You can see this place for miles away, especially now that the trees are gone.”
“You might be right,” said Brian. He was bringing the drone back. “My granddaddy always told me that the Luftwaffe let St. Paul’s Cathedral stand because it was an excellent navigation landmark. Maybe that’s the case now.”
Lena said, “The Opeikunites have influence in Europe. They could have arranged for the powers-that-be to hold off on attacking their main Polish headquarters.”
“The Opei-what?” Brian asked. The drone landed on his hand.
“The ones who fight Entities,” said Edmund.
“Entities? Bloody hell, there’s more of ‘em out there?”
Lena nodded. “There is. And let us pray they stay far, far away from Poland.”
Ozelki – Krakus House
January 27th, 2019
Sometime late that night, Edmund woke to a loud crash. He sat up and looked around, and judging by the strength of the fireplaces, it was a few hours past midnight. No one else was awake, making him wonder if the
noise had been a dream. But when he found Marcus sitting up and peering around the room, he thought that maybe it hadn’t been imagined after all. Marcus flopped back down, his snores returning almost immediately.
Edmund threw off the covers and stood, feeling the chill in the air creep into his bones. The train was idling outside the windows, the ghosts walking around inside the cars as if they were billiard balls winding down after the break. The engine was there, but he couldn’t see Otto, only the other conductor, propped up like Norman Bates’s mommy.
His instinct told him that the sound had come from outside. Without Otto there on the engine, he was probably on the prowl. Edmund thought for a moment, searching his own brain—was he being lured? He didn’t think so, because he thought he could just as easily sit back down and go right back to sleep. Against his better judgement, he pulled the door open and stepped out onto the porch, shutting it behind him.
The night air was cold and rainy, and somewhere far off was the smell of fire. Even the train had a scent—like rust and oil. Edmund saw nothing outside that was unusual, unless he counted the ever-present unusual train. The ghosts inside were starting to stir as they caught movement at Krakus House.
Edmund walked the wraparound porch, first heading to the right, to where the train cars slumped, almost touching the house, and then backtracking around to the left—where he saw a body with rain pelting down on top of it.
Immediately he recognized the mess of blond hair. Her feet were bare and bent awkwardly at the knees, toes painted pink. Whether this was Margo or Gerta, he couldn’t tell because she’d landed on the rocks to the east side of Krakus House. He was thankful she was facedown. Her body had simply exploded upon impact, yellowish bones poking through all along her back, arms and thighs.
And then, before he could even look up, to see from what point she’d jumped, another sound rocketed just next to him, startling him so badly that he fell and started to crawl backwards beneath the overhang of Krakus House’s lowest roof.
And now both the girls were dead.
The second one to follow—had it been Gerta or Margo?—landed with similar force, hitting the edge of the first girl’s target and then bouncing off. She rolled down the hill and into the weeds, but Edmund caught a half-second look at her face—and it was caved in so badly that it looked like a bowl.
“Bring them to me,” said a voice behind Edmund. He whirled around to see the little girl who had addressed the group on the first night of internment. “I’ll give them a good home.” She was keeping her distance, at least twenty feet from the SUV parked by the front door.
“Go to hell,” said Edmund, walking back around to the front door. “Did you make them do that?”
She shook her head, little pieces of her flesh flopping back and forth. “I could have, but I didn’t. I’ll have you all soon enough anyway.”
“Then I suppose we’ll see you then.”
“The old woman is going to die soon, you know that right?” The little girl turned around and said, “Ezra, stand up, please.”
Edmund followed the child’s gaze to the third train car where an older man, his neck slashed horribly, held up a wobbly hand and waved.
“That’s Matilda’s oncologist. Seems the old lady has stage four lung cancer. He’s surprised she’s made it even this long. I bet this cold house isn’t kind to her lungs. I imagine it’ll be worse when the wood is gone.”
“I’m leaving,” said Edmund, feeling his blood boil, but also feeling the unease sweep beneath him. He didn’t know if the Entity’s words were true or not, but he reminded himself that deception was a tool it had used through the countless ages of its existence.
“Save them all the trouble. Kill her for me. You can do it humanely.” The train moved a little, bringing one of the more distant cars to the forefront. A woman inside tossed something out, which struck the gravel near the SUV. It was a black case that, upon impact, sprang open, revealing an assortment of tiny syringes. “Just shoot her in the neck with that and she’ll go right to sleep.”
“I’m not doing anything of the sort.”
“No? A more violent way then?”
Again, the train taxied, bringing another car to the front where a group of men and women stood by the windows, like bank tellers waiting the next customer. They began to reach into their cart and throw something out—many somethings that made them look like they were dumping buckets of water from their shoddy boat.
Edmund couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but they were tossing out guns—more than he’d ever seen assembled at once. The firearms transcended all timelines—there were muskets, MP40s, Colt .45s, shotguns, rifles, bazookas, even a Gatling gun that looked like something straight from a war movie. When the ghosts were finished, there was a pile of guns, both new and old, almost four feet high. Edmund looked on with unimpressed eyes.
The little girl shrugged, and now Otto was walking up behind her. He couldn’t address Edmund, apparently the Entity still needed a translator. But the look he gave was easy to interpret. Both ghosts turned around and walked off, the Entity fuming at the mortal’s lack of reasoning. Edmund had no doubt that when the old woman drew her last breath, he would be the first to follow her to the grave.
***
He found a shovel in the basement and had every intention of burying the girls before the rest of the group woke up when the sun came back. But the only spot he could find was too far out, and he didn’t want to venture so close to the train. Other than that, the ground was rocky and he couldn’t turn the shovel enough to make a hole. So in the end, he settled for wrapping the first girl in a sheet. It was a grisly job because she was stuck against the rocks, but he managed to roll her up and place her on the east-facing porch. The other girl was gone, simply vanished, but Edmund knew she’d rolled far enough away from the house for the Ghost Train to collect her.
Addey was the first one awake that morning. Edmund hadn’t gone to sleep after the unpleasantness of the night before, so he brewed a pot of coffee using the last of Matilda’s propane-powered hotplate. He was sitting on the first step of Krakus House when his friend came down and sat next to him.
“Coffee?” asked Edmund, then handed Addey his own cup to drink.
“Did you sleep?” he asked.
Edmund shook his head. “No. It was a bad night.” His friend just looked at him, eyes narrowing beneath his bushy eyebrows.
He told him the story of what had happened and then Addey surprised him by wanting to see the body.
“You don’t know which one it is? Geez, Ed, we need to know at least that much.”
Edmund couldn’t watch as Addey rolled the girl onto her side, trying to determine identity. It’s not like she jumped with her purse and her passport. But Addey lifted her wrist, and through the splatter of blood, showed Edmund the infinity symbol tattoo.
“I’m pretty sure this one is Margo.”
Edmund just nodded. As if it even mattered.
“Woah,” said Addey, rejoining his friend on the steps. He’d seen the pile of guns, so Edmund filled in all the blanks of what had happened.
“That old lady really has cancer, huh?” Addey said.
“I don’t know. Maybe. But we have to protect her. The Entity is getting pushy. Maybe it’s scared.”
“Or just getting bored.”
“Could be,” said Edmund, nursing the black, tasteless coffee. “I think Brian is the one we have to worry about now.”
“Brian? No way. He’s a good guy.”
“Yeah, he is, and I wouldn’t put it past him to shoot the old lady if it meant getting Marcus to the hospital.”
Addey didn’t have much to stay about that, but Edmund could tell that he agreed with him.
They spent the morning tossing what guns they could over the train. The bigger ones, the bazookas and Gatling gun, they rolled down the hill where it crashed somewhere far below, sweeping the dew off the dead bushes. Half an hour later, the train made another circle, and when Ed
mund looked out the window, he saw them once again throwing the guns back onto the pile.
Ozelki – Krakus House
January 31st, 2019
On the last day of the month, the last day for a lot of things, Matilda came into the common room and announced that they had, at best, another two days’ worth of food, four or five if they could ration it. This consisted only of cans of vegetables and one loaf of bread that had fallen behind the shelf and was so hard that it barely constituted food. When they became angry at such news, she assured them they would have already run out if not for the deaths of the two girls to make it last longer.
Sophie continued in a coma, for that was the word that Bill had been avoiding but knew it was true just the same. It had now passed the two-week mark and she showed no signs of waking up. Her face was gaunt, cheeks all sunken as Addey’s had been after not eating solid food for so long. Her skin was always so dry and so cold, but that could be said for everyone’s skin this deep into the holdout.
No one worried about Sophie, at least not like they did for Marcus. His health was so sporadic that it would have been just as expected for him to get up and walk around as to fall over and die. He’d found enough strength to sit up, once, but that expended all his energy and he was back down the day after. The violent cries and screams still bled from his lips, and everyone knew the infection and the fever were slowly eating away at his brain.
Brian even floated the idea that they put him out of his misery.
“We have those guns out there. Just put it on the base of the ole boy’s neck and pop!” He said it with more exuberance than Edmund would have liked.
“And then what?” Bill asked. “Do my Sophie next?”
Ghost Train of Treblinka Page 22