by J. R. Rain
The tracks were just out of sight from where he sat in the clearing. He looked at his watch: twelve-twenty. He thought about his bike and hoped it wouldn’t be too hard to find.
He yawned mightily and rubbed his eyes. When he was done rubbing his eyes, he saw someone standing at the edge of the clearing.
Judd squeaked.
It was a man. A bum, actually. Judd squeaked again.
The man took a step forward and Judd nearly wet himself. The man said, “You here for the train, boy?”
Judd couldn’t speak.
“Answer me, boy.”
“Yes,” he finally said, although it sounded too high-pitched to be his own voice.
The man nodded and stepped forward again. “What’s your name?”
Judd bit down on his lips, stopping himself from saying his name, and wondered if that was a good idea anyway. It’s just your name, a voice inside his head said. How much harm could he do with your name?
“Judd,” he finally said.
“Nice to meet you, Judd. I’m Reggie.”
They both stared at each other some more. Judd was suddenly certain that something very, very bad was going to happen to him. Reggie stepped closer, his face still hidden mostly in shadows. Judd shifted his weight. He was ready to sprint in a heartbeat.
“Okay, Judd,” said Reggie, his voice sounding old and gravelly. “Let me guess: you’ve been hearing a train at night. Am I right?”
Judd couldn’t speak again. Indeed, he was having a hard time processing what he’d just heard.
Reggie stepped forward and spoke again: “And only at night, too?”
Judd still couldn’t speak, and so he nodded. He didn’t know if the man in shadows could see him nod or not, but he didn’t care.
Reggie continued, “And, further, you’re also the only one who can hear this train?”
More nodding. Leaves crunched as Reggie drew closer still.
“And not only do you hear it, but it sounds like it’s going to blast straight through your brain?”
Nod, nod.
The man stopped just before him. “You’re not the only one, Judd, nor will you be the last, I’m sure.”
“Then you hear it, too?”
“No, I’m afraid I can’t hear it, but others have. Come on. Let’s get into the light so we can at least see each other.”
The old bum stepped past Judd and led the way through the trees. Judd didn’t move. Not at first. His bike, he knew, wasn’t far off. And Reggie seemed really old. If worse came to worst, Judd would run for it, grab his bike, and high-tail it home.
For now, keeping some space between them, Judd followed the old man through the scrub trees. Shortly, the trees thinned and Judd found himself near the train tracks, which glowed dully in the moonlight.
What’s happening? he asked himself. What’s going on?
Reggie was heading toward an old, rundown building off to the side of the tracks. A light hung from the door. Judd stopped. There was no way he was going into that building. No way. Heck, that was the spookiest place he’d ever seen. Reggie must have sensed something was wrong because he turned and looked back at the boy.
“It’s the old train depot. This is where I spend most of my time, believe it or not.”
Judd believed it. A creepy old man hanging out in a creepy old building made sense to him. He still wasn’t going to go in.
“C’mon, Judd. This is where everyone waits for the train. You might as well wait for it here, too.”
That got him moving. Everyone? How many had come looking for the train? He didn’t know, but he soon found himself moving again, trailing behind the old, stooped man.
The train station seemed to be in a world of its own. From what Judd had gathered about upscale Orange County, it wasn’t a place that let old buildings like this exist for very long. Old buildings like this got destroyed in the name of progress.
“The way I figure it,” said Reggie, stepping onto the wooden platform that surrounded the wooden building, “is that folks in these parts pretty much forgot about Depot 77—that’s its name. It’s far enough off any road not to be an eyesore, and I can verify no funny business is going on here, certainly nothing that would attract the cops. It’s all but forgotten, which is the way I like it.”
Judd stepped onto the wooden walkway as well, which creaked loudly under his sneakers.
Reggie went on, “The windows are all busted out and most of the furniture’s gone, but it was never really much to start with. Still, it’s home to me, and in case yer wonderin’, no, these tracks haven’t been used since I moved in, seven years ago.”
Resting underneath the hanging lantern was a long wooden bench. Reggie motioned to it. “Have a seat, kid. And don’t look so nervous, I ain’t gonna hurt you.”
Famous last words, Judd thought, but he sat anyway. He suddenly felt very, very far from his home. Far from his bed. Far from his mother. It all might have been a world away.
Reggie sat, too, at the far end of the bench. There was plenty of space between them. Reggie, no doubt a devout member of the Holy Order of the Homeless in Fullerton, found a crooked cigarette in his huge Army jacket and lit it.
“You fight in Iraq?” Judd asked before he could stop and think.
Reggie exhaled a billowy plume. “Yup.”
“My dad did, too.”
Reggie squinted, although his eyes were mostly hidden in shadows. “He didn’t make it home, did he, kid?”
Judd shook his head.
“A lot of good folk didn’t.”
“Well, I never got to meet him. We don’t even have home videos of him, just photos. And my dad’s dog tags. They found ‘em near a bombed-out building and sent them to my mom. She had them silver-plated—cause I am allergic to most other metals—and she gave them to me at the MIA memorial service. She kept the flag. It’s in our living room in a triangle box with glass in the front.”
“Silver, huh?” Reggie said, cringing. “I don’t like me no silver.”
“I wasn’t offering them.” Judd clasped the dog tags through his shirt, jingling the matching silver ball chains, his talismans.
“Magic, aren’t they?” Reggie said, not unkindly.
“You keep him alive in your memory by wearing the dog tags,” Reggie said. “But silver.” He shuddered.
“Do you have anything to eat?” Judd asked, deciding to change the subject. “I accidentally dropped my sandwich in the dirt.”
Reggie laughed, his blackened teeth letting loose a stench that took Judd aback. “No, I find my own food when I’m hungry.”
“Like hunting?” Judd asked.
“Something like that. I don’t really eat. It’s more like...drinking.”
Judd’s eyebrows went up. “Like beer and stuff?”
“No, no. Reggie don’t drink beer no more. More like...blood.”
Judd’s heart nearly stopped. He fell silent, thinking hard. The crickets weren’t, though. They were loud near the old train station, filling the silence. Judd thought he heard the sound of frogs, too. There must be a pond nearby.
A slow realization took over Judd. He put his fingers over his dad’s dog tags, squeezed them hard.
“Like people’s blood?” he asked and drew the silver dog tags from inside of his shirt and held them up to Reggie, who shrank from them.
“No, small animals. Rats, rabbits, even. I certainly wouldn’t drink the blood of children. I got my standards. And I wouldn’t wish this existence on anyone. Especially not the son of a fellow soldier who died in Iraq. That’s just too much pathos.”
“What’s pathos?” Judd asked.
“Tragedy.”
Judd nodded and returned the silver-plated dog tags inside of his shirt.
“When the train comes, will you help me?” Judd asked.
“Don’t do it, kid,” Reggie said suddenly.
“Do what?” He became aware of his heart beating hard in his chest for the first time in his life.
The
old man shook his head, and the long gray whiskers of his beard fluttered about. “Don’t get on the train.”
Shadows moved in the dark spaces between the old planks that made up the floor. Or at least, Judd thought they had. If Reggie would have said a monster lived down there, Judd would have believed him.
He looked away to veil his eyes. “Why would I get on the train?”
“Because they all do.”
That was the craziest thing Judd had ever heard, and panic ripped through him.
Judd wilted back down on the bench; the wooden floor creaked and the monster stirred below. “I’m not the only one who hears this thing. I can’t be. There’s a hundred houses between here and mine. How can I be the only one?”
“You’re not, boy. There have been others, and there will be others after you, like I said.”
“My mom just doesn’t pay attention to things, you know. I’m sure she’s hears it, too.”
“Don’t kid yourself, kid. I just ask you not to step foot on that train.”
Judd turned on him. “Why? Why in God’s name would I get on this train?”
“I can’t tell you, boy. I wish I could. All I know is that the folks who come here claim to have been hearing a train just like yourself.
“And then just as I’m talking to them, as sure as I’m talking to you now, they tell me they hear it, and of course, I never do. From what I gather, it’s an old locomotive they see. They ask if I can see it, too, and I always says no, no I can’t. I wait by their side as this train supposedly comes to a stop. Then they just sort of reach out as if someone is holding a hand out to them...and then...”
“And then what?” Judd asked desperately.
Reggie shook his head. “Nothing. I’m just a crazy old man, remember?”
“You’re a crazy old something but you aren’t a man,” Judd said. “At least, I don’t think you are.”
“What do you think I am, boy?”
“I think you’re a vampire. Or, at least, you think you are.”
The old man chuckled and then, as if to prove the point, suddenly reached down through a gap in the floorboards, grabbed hold of something that squeaked in surprise, and hauled his hand out. Only his hand wasn’t empty. A little field mouse squirmed in it. Without missing a beat, he bit down on the creature’s back and promptly sucked it dry. He cast the lifeless body aside. Judd shuddered.
“Sorry. I was really hungry.” Reggie shrugged, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
Judd felt sick. He knew he should run. This whole night was turning into all sorts of crazy fast. He had decided it was time to go home, when he heard something in the far distance. Something that made his heart flutter.
A train’s whistle.
“You hear something, boy?” asked Reggie, looking at him sharply.
“The train, I think. Actually, I’m sure of it. It’s coming.”
Reggie nodded and sat forward. “Leave, boy. Leave and never look back.”
The whistle came again. Judd jumped. He looked down the train tracks, which glowed faintly in the moonlight.
“No one’s ever been as young as you before. This ain’t right. You’re only a kid.”
Judd looked at the old man curiously, then got up and moved across the creaking platform. The monster beneath shifted, and Judd thought he could just make out its shadowy shape.
He stepped off the wooden platform and gravel crunched beneath his sneakers again as he made his way over to the tracks. Cold wind flapped his tee shirt.
He heard the crunching of gravel behind him. “They tell me it’s an incredible sight to see, this train,” said Reggie. “One man said it looked like a building coming at you. Another said it looked like a great shadow.”
In the far distance, seemingly suspended in mid-air, a bright light appeared in the center of tracks.
“I’m not afraid,” Judd said.
“You should be, kid.”
The whistle came again and with it the hair on Judd’s arms stood on end. He was shivering nearly uncontrollably.
“I should have brought my ma,” he said. “I could’ve proved to her that I’m not hearing things. See, here it comes now, as plain as day. And you’re right, Reggie. It’s huge. It’s loud. It’s real.”
A heavy hand fell on his shoulder, and suddenly he felt himself being spun around as if he were playing a game of pin the tail on the donkey. Reggie’s wrinkled and filthy face was just inches from his own. His breath smelled putrid, of mouse blood and bits of mouse fur. “Listen to me, kid. You have to leave. Leave and never look back. Look at me, dammit!”
Indeed, Judd was straining to see the coming train, which now looked like a slow-moving, hulking megalith. “It’s here, Reggie.” Judd pushed the old man’s hands away. “It’s okay, Reggie. It’s meant to be.”
But Reggie didn’t let go; instead, the old man raised his voice, shouting, “Who the hell are you people? What the hell do you want with him? Leave him be, goddammit!”
“It’s okay, Reggie. He’s waiting for me. I know he is.”
“No, Judd. Please go home. Go far away from here. Please.”
Judd smiled serenely. He had never felt so at peace in his life. Why had he been so worried before? “It’s okay, Reggie. I promise.”
And with that, the boy slipped completely out of the old man’s grasp. Reggie dropped to his knees in defeat.
“No, Judd. This ain’t right. Don’t go on the train.”
Judd, however, never looked back. Instead, he reached out for the shadowy hand that was reaching down for his, and took it. Judd ran alongside the slowing train, faster than he had ever run in his whole short life, the silver dog tags jingling inside his shirt like so much heart music. He looked up into the eyes that looked so much like his own, the cheek that looked like his, the chin that looked like his, even the crooked cleft. He held on for dear life to the desert camouflage-jacketed arm.
“Dad!” Judd screamed. “Dad!”
“Don’t get on the train with him!” Reggie screamed and was suddenly at Judd’s side, trying to pull Judd’s arm away from his father’s. “You get on that train and you ain’t never coming back, kid.”
But Judd wasn’t listening. “Do you see it, Reggie? Do you see it?”
The old vampire was keeping pace with him, looking both distraught and oddly curious. He was shaking his great head. “No, dammit. Now get back here, kid. Let go of whatever it is you’re holding.”
“Dad?” asked Judd, still running to keep up. “Dad, is it really you?”
“It ain’t your dad, kid. It’s Death. And it’s come for you.”
“No. It’s my pops.”
Still holding the camouflaged hand, the old man next to him did something unexpected and terrifying. He grabbed Judd’s arm. Grabbed it hard and pulled. He also did something else, he reached forward, grabbing what Judd was holding...his father’s hand.
“Show yourself, goddammit!” yelled Reggie.
And with a final heave, Judd found himself rolling, tumbling head over ass over the gravel. Next to him, Reggie thudded as well. And next to Reggie...was someone else.
Judd didn’t even realize how loud he was screaming until the train screeched to a halt and the man in the camo jacket wrapped his big arms around him and wept as if his heart was breaking. Only it was being unshattered, moment by moment.
* * *
Reggie stood and dusted himself off. He was quite certain that someone, or something, had appeared out of nowhere. He had just spotted the full-grown man in desert fatigues lying on the ground when he spotted something else. Something that no one could miss.
Rising above, spewing steam high into the air, as big as iron mountain, was an old-time locomotive.
Reggie had lived a long, long time, and there wasn’t much that surprised him these days. Which is why his jaw dropped, which is why he gazed in wonder.
“Son-of-a-bitch.”
* * *
“It’s you, Judd. My boy!” the man cried joyfu
lly, then looked around as if realizing where he was for the first time. “But I don’t know who I am, or where I am.” He looked back at Judd, and his confused frown turned into a smile. “But I know who you are, dammit. I have your baby picture...and nothing else to my name.”
“Dad,” said Judd, crawling forward, ignoring the many cuts and nicks from his tumble over the gravel. “I know who you are. And Mom knows who you are, too.”
“Where do I live?” the man said.
“With us, Dad. With us.” He didn’t let go of the man’s hand. He thought his heart would burst with faith, with love, with joy.
A conductor with glowing eyes came to the open vestibule of the shimmering train, looked at them and said authoritatively, “At every stop, there must be one boarding passenger. One of you must board. All aboard!” he called out.
“No!” Judd shouted. “No!” He looked anxiously at his father who gave him a sad smile.
* * *
Reggie didn’t know why he could suddenly see the steaming locomotive, but he knew what he had to do. He’d lived long enough in this godforsaken shack. He’d lived long enough on mice and rats and other filthy critters.
But he knew what was right and what was wrong. The man with his boy was right. The boy hugging his pops and weeping into his shoulders was right.
“All aboard!”
Reggie stepped forward and raised his hand in a silent salute. The soldier on the ground saluted him back. Reggie nodded once at the boy, and stepped on board the night train.
The End
~~~~~~~~~
Dracula’s Guest
by Bram Stoker
When we started for our drive the sun was shining brightly on Munich, and the air was full of the joyousness of early summer. Just as we were about to depart, Herr Delbrück (the maître d’hôtel of the Quatre Saisons, where I was staying) came down, bareheaded, to the carriage and, after wishing me a pleasant drive, said to the coachman, still holding his hand on the handle of the carriage door: