Ghost Train of Treblinka
Page 24
A small tendril of black swirled around, caught in the invisible wind, and then it too was gone. Edmund thought he saw little legs and wings in the mass, and remembered something Matilda had said not so long ago.
You can’t kill evil, only change it.
The ghosts lingered for only a moment, as if they were trying to steal a final view of the mortal world, and then they too, began to melt away, becoming white feathers that danced on the air and became ash before hitting the ground.
Warsaw
February 9th, 2019
Edmund remembered how, after 9/11, the United States had become more unified than any other time in its long and lofty history. People put out flags, were a little nicer to their neighbors, and became overall more patriotic. Then, a year or two later, it was as if 9/11 never happened. People forgot about the tragedy, forgot how they’d been unified. As his little sister had said in school one day, in an attempt to be funny but actually being rather accurate: The world can often have an attention deficit disorder.
That had been the case for Poland and the world at large.
The train continued to be explained away as a terrorist job—one that had claimed over two-million lives and growing. Large parts of the country had been utterly destroyed.
Addey had been especially worried that the quarantine had been due to the typhus outbreak, but that wasn’t the case. After reviewing the data on the flash drive, the Entity’s best scientists had concluded that the typhus would have been contained had it been released in Poland. It needed to be set free in New Deli, India. That was the best nexus for air and land travel, and would cover the globe in only a month. Luckily, the Entity hadn’t gained enough strength to get it there.
Brian, as it turned out, was ex-military, a sniper for British special forces, no less. His particular skillset was useless for ghosts, but he told his group of new friends that he had connections and would see that the vial of typhus go to the right people. With Polvec contained, there was no risk of it getting out. He said his goodbyes in Warsaw a week after the ghosts of Treblinka took care of the Entity, and flew out of Edmund’s life forever.
When television services returned, it was nonstop coverage of the train—something which had no shortage. A team of investigators had traveled to Polvec and found the lab. That was what the world cared about. However, those who survived the ordeal noticed other details.
For one, the train was found inside the lair, dilapidated, rusted and covered in cobwebs. All of the dead men, women, and children were aboard, right where they’d been the moment before the Entity had merged with it. Even Otto was still slumped over inside the engine.
Curiouser still, bodies were found all across Poland. These included the victims who heard the call. Wherever a person died before boarding the Ghost Train, there is where they returned. Katherine Walker, Rebekah Mazur, and Josef Wozniak were identified, returned to family, and remembered.
The Americans had no money, no possessions by the time they’d finished answering all of law enforcement’s questions. This wasn’t the main problem, as they each were able to make calls back home and have money wired to them. The problem was their passports. They couldn’t move about in most European countries, and certainly couldn’t fly home to the U.S. without one. So once their parents were over the initial shock and relief that their children were okay, they wired them enough money to expedite replacements.
They stayed at another bed and breakfast, a far cry from the grandeur of Krakus House, but cozy nonetheless. Lena accompanied them for the whole journey, opting to pay for her own room with money she didn’t even know she had stuffed into her jeans pocket. Addey also stayed with them, sleeping on the floor of Edmund’s room. It bothered Edmund that, despite being only three miles from his mom and dad’s, he chose to stay here. That relationship was taxed, and if something like this didn’t bring them closer together, nothing would.
On the day the Americans were scheduled to fly back home, Addey and Lena joined them for breakfast in a bistro that was right across the street from the airport. They wanted to get there early to make sure there weren’t any issues.
“What will you do?” Edmund asked Lena, surprised that the question hadn’t come up until now. They had all been on autopilot since that night.
She shrugged. “I can run Krakus House on my own. I did it when Babcia was sick.” Her eyes began to well with tears and she turned away to get herself under control.
“But is that what you want to do?” Edmund asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what else there is for me in this world.”
Edmund smiled and put a hand on top of hers. “There’s probably a lot more than you think.”
Bill and Sophie looked at one another, all grins.
Addey was going to be starting college in the spring semester, and Edmund did all he could to convince him to come back to America. As much as he didn’t get along with his parents, he still felt a loyalty.
“My dad is sick, mom is probably sicker, although she doesn’t tell us those things. I think right now I’d better stick close to Warsaw.”
A little while later, Edmund was coming out of the bathroom just as Bill was walking in. He pushed him back near the stalls and said, “I still have it, Ed. I still have it!”
“What? What are you talking about?”
Bill showed him his jeans pocket where a perfect cube pushed through the material. It was the ring box.
“What do you think, bud?”
“Do you still want to go to Romania?” Edmund asked.
“God, I don’t know. Is this stupid? Should we just go home?”
“It’s not stupid. Do you want to go to Romania, Bill?”
“Yes! God, yes! We’ve been through hell. Let’s not go home with something so horrible as our final memory of Europe.”
“Okay, let’s do it then.”
Back outside, the other three were talking quietly. There was a somberness in the air because in just an hour, they were due inside the airport, and Addey would float away until he decided to come visit and Lena . . . well, Lena would probably go away forever. What ties did he have with the girl, other than the mutual understanding and shared awfulness of the Ghost Train?
“Change of plans,” said Bill. “Who wants to go to Romania?”
“I’ve never been,” said Lena, sprouting up at the mention.
“Neither have I,” said Addey.
“Then that settles it,” Bill said.
“We have a plane to catch,” said Sophie.
Bill just laughed and slapped Edmund across the chest. “Ed just told me he wants a little quality time with the girl, is all.”
Edmund thought his heart would drop to the floor, but Lena was looking at the airport terminal, smiling and biting her bottom lip.
They started off, away from the airport and Bill pulled out his new cellphone to call a cab since they would never be allowed to rent another car in Europe. As they waited, Lena crept close to Edmund, put a hand across his back so she could whisper in his ear.
“Don’t you have a girlfriend back home?” It was playful, yet stern. Her true feelings on the subject were lost to her accent.
“Technically. . . yes,” he answered.
“Gonna be at least twenty minutes for the cab,” said Bill, pressing END CALL on his phone.
Lena giggled, then took Edmund’s hand. He first thought it was a sign of affection, but she was merely pulling it up so she could slap her own cell in his open palm.
“We have time. I guess you’d better tell her it’s over.”
Edmund Riley’s fourth rule of travel: Always listen to Polish women.
Author’s Note: Part 2
This book, like the Ghost Train, evolved several times over its life. In the beginning, it was much simpler because it was only meant to be a short-story. A group of teenage ghost hunters search for an elusive train filled with spirits. Nothing fancy. Then, it evolved into a novella—indeed, the front page carried the ti
tle: Ghost Train of Treblinka: A Novella, for many months. Finally, I knew I couldn’t do this story justice without being a full-length novel. There was so much to tell, both about the characters and the setting.
I took many liberties while writing about the Polish. I have the upmost respect for them, and I never through I’d fall in love with Warsaw as much as I did while doing my research. I had plenty of help along the way, but if there are any inconsistences, they are completely my fault.
Most of what I wrote about Treblinka is true. I did not need to embellish how awful it was in ‘43 and ‘44. Many of the places such as Poniatowo and Wyszków are real. Places like Ozelki and Krakus House are not.
Finally, I leave you with this. As with all my books, I hope it spurs you to read more often. In this case, I would like for you to read something about the Treblinka death camp. I think it’s important that we understand history, and learning about this particularly dreadful place is a good place to start. I recommend the books Last Jew of Treblinka: A Memoir by Chil Rajchman and A Year in Treblinka by Jankiel Wiernik.
Books are our last line of defense against history repeating itself. The storytellers have all gone away. As I said in my first author’s note, as of 2016, all those associated with Treblinka and its horrors have died. It’s up to us to remember their sacrifices.
Hubert L. Mullins
9/29/19