by Barbara Taub
I stood on the train car side of the little platform and thought about life. My life to be exact. I thought about Mom and Dad, about Poppy, Rag, and great-aunt Roulette. I thought about the years I spent alone (George doesn’t count) and about Null City. And okay—I thought about Stefan and Kristin the realtor. That did it. Five seconds later, my gloves were peeled off, and I had both bare palms slapped flat against the Metro engine.
None of the rest of this post happened exactly the way I’m going to tell it. I can’t describe it exactly because the words I have aren’t what we used. But here goes.
“Hello, Spark.” The man sitting across from me had a deep voice with a strange accent like a beautiful echo around his words. It reminded me of the Conductor in the Metro ticket machine.
“My name is Lette.” My voice was shaky. “Are we really here?” We were sitting at the table in my little mountain cabin, but I only had eyes for him. The man reminded me of a statue I’d seen once of Zeus. If Zeus wore low-slung jeans rolled up at the ankles, a faded blue t-shirt, and sunglasses pushed up on his head, that is. And if Zeus was really, seriously hot. He had a full, short beard and mustache, and hair that managed to look long and curly even though it actually didn’t hang lower than the collar of his shirt. Despite his hair being marble white, he only looked about thirty.
He shook his head. “We’re here as much as we’re anywhere.” He looked down approvingly at the Birkenstock’s on his long feet. “Nice sandals. Thanks.”
I looked down and felt my cheeks get hot when I realized I was wearing the exact same outfit. “Did I imagine you?”
“No, we’re both here.” He was smiling at the Metro tattoo on his left wrist. “But you don’t have a frame of reference for me, so your mind is filling in the gaps.” He held out the other arm. “You call me Metro.” I started to take his hand, realized I didn’t have my gloves, and pulled back.
Metro laid his hand on the table between us, palm up. He smiled again. Slowly, carefully I laid my bare hand in his. His skin was cool as his hand folded around mine. He nodded.
“What am I?” My voice didn’t seem capable of more than a whisper. “What are you?”
He seemed to be thinking about that one. “We came in a group,” he said finally. “Like a family. One…sister…was smaller and was able to change faster. When we got here, she eventually changed enough to match, at least mostly, with a human family. She’s been with them ever since. At first, she split every time they did. But for some time now, she’s been trying to pull all of her parts back together. Now that your Aunt Roulette has died, most of that sister is part of you.” His other hand came to hold my hand between both of his. “It feels good to have you back with me.”
I must have made some sound because his hands went still and then fell away. “There was another who came with us. You might call him our little brother. About a hundred years ago as your dimension measures time, a special book was brought to us. With that, we could both realize our purpose. I became the engine of change, the Metro. He became the citadel of forgetting, Null City.
“And what…” I had to stop and clear my throat before I could go on. “What is my purpose?”
His smile got wider. “You’re the spark of chance.”
I stared at him. “That’s just lame. Really?”
His smile slipped.
“Do you even listen to yourself?” I snorted. “You may be a figment of my imagination, but I can assure you that I’m no spark. I’m six goddamn feet tall, and I’m crabby, and I don’t spark. Ever.”
His smile ramped back up like he knew a good joke but it was one I wouldn’t get. I hate looks like that. “Well, this is awkward.” To avoid his eyes, I walked over to the fireplace wall and stared up at the little framed photo of my parents that I’d left behind. I’d really missed that picture. As I put it into my pocket, I looked at his reflection in the mirror over the fireplace. “I left my sort-of boyfriend with a perky blonde realtor. Then I spent months on your train so I could get you to tell me how to get rid of my touch. And all you can tell me is that I’m a friggin’ spark? What’s next? Journey to the Meadows of Morning and get three wishes from an enchanted toad? Kiss a pixie beneath the light of a full moon?”
He looked at me like he had no idea what I’m talking about. I get that look a lot. Something else occurred to me. “If Null City is your Spark’s brother, why wouldn’t it take my touch and make me human?”
He opened his mouth and then closed it again as his cheeks turned a dull red.
I turned around to look at him directly. Silence. I waited.
He didn’t meet my eyes, but finally spoke. “I get energy from the changes each passenger pays as fare. My brother gets it from the special gifts each resident of Null City forgets. It feels…good.” His cheeks got even redder. “Very, very good.”
“Ewww.” I thought for a moment. “So if Null City is Spark’s brother…”
The wood grain of the table held his full attention, but even the tips of his ears were red as he muttered, “Our brother could not do that with our sister.”
“What about the fare you took from me?”
His face was still red as he set a small jar onto the coffee table, but his hand softly caressed the lid before he shook his head and pulled back. The late afternoon sun coming through the windows lit the diamond rings inside into a blaze of fire.
Well damn. I had more questions, but the cabin was starting to get fuzzy around the edges.
Next thing I knew, I was waking up in my bed, sicker than I can remember ever being. But here’s the thing. On the table next to my bed, I found the photo of my parents.
•●•
Metro Rider, Part 14
LiveJournal, Day 137 by LetteS
Last night I let Rag read my journal entry about touching the Metro. Of course he had a million questions about things I hadn’t even considered. We stayed up late, drinking too much coffee and chewing over each other’s theories about the Metro and what happened when I touched the engine. Or whether anything actually happened. As we talked, George rubbed against Rag’s legs, so he automatically lifted him into his lap. George purred extravagantly and looked at me out of smugly slitted eyes. Why am I the only one who gets that George is an adorable tail attached to eight pounds of fur-covered mean?
Finally, Rag seemed to notice the time, and he ordered me to go to bed. Yeah, he actually did. So we fought about that for a while, until we got distracted by Rag pulling his NOTES book out and reading me some of his research about human sleep. We tossed those theories around until the sun was coming up, and somehow Rag was carrying all six huge feet of me like I didn’t weigh a thing. He put me into my bed. “Good night.” His hand came up and brushed my hair away from my face. “Spark.”
“Lette,” I grumbled. I think that low grunt might have been his laugh, but I was already asleep.
He was gone when I woke up, but he left a note.
“You’re still complaining about being called Spark, aren’t you? I’m going to collect some instruments to measure and record the energy levels on the Metro. I’ll be back the next time it calls at Fallen Court, but there’s no telling how long that will be in Metro-perceived time. Meanwhile, do not try to touch the Metro again until I’m there with you. If I’m right, your Spark has become too tied to your human side, and it might destroy both of you if she tries to stay with the Metro.”
“Hey, George, can you believe this guy? He thinks he can tell me what to do.” I turned over the note and kept reading.
“You’re probably complaining to George right now. Once you’ve got that out of your system, you can agree that I’m right.
I’ll see you soon. —Rag”
“Fine,” I told George. “But he’d better not take too long.” I wasn’t sure if cats could snort, but I was pretty sure George was giving it his best efforts.
•●•
Metro Rider, Part 15
LiveJournal, Day 141 by LetteS
George and I are hiding in the kitchen, and my heart is pounding. Why, today of all days, when I really need it to be lethal, is my touch dryer sheet smell? The trial coffee beans on my bedside table all smell April-fresh, but I don’t think that will particularly impress the eight blond Krampus cousins who just got on at the Seattle stop.
Maybe it’s just a coincidence. Maybe they don’t know about me, or don’t care. And maybe the weather report today called for cloudy with a chance of cute little airborne pink piglets. The only thing I can think of is to ask Metro for help. But to do that, I have to sneak past the train car with all the cousins.
Here goes.
Chapter Seven
He Knows if You’ve been Bad or Good
LiveJournal, December 23, 2012 by LetteS
I didn’t think I would see this journal again. It feels like a lot more than two months have passed. But I promised Rag I’d add the rest of the story, so here goes. I only wish he could have read it.
As a sneaker, I suck. But those Krampus cousins are damn good at it. George and I had barely cleared the kitchen door when we ran into a wall of pastel polo shirts. Each had the collar popped at the back of his neck. And every last one had a horned shadow twisting around his feet.
Before I could do anything, something hit my head. Things got blurry, and I barely noticed when two cousins pulled my gloved hands behind me and cuffed them together with one of those plastic strips. Another held up George. “If you don’t want us to have to hurt your cat, you’ll calm down and do what you’re told.” I could see George weighing the chances that I’d protect him. He looked worried. I hate it when I agree with George. Even if my hands weren’t covered by the gloves, the worst thing I’d be able to manage today would be to make the cousins smell April-fresh. And, since they were each wearing lots of cologne already—and can I say, ewww!—that probably wouldn’t exactly have them wetting their khakis.
They shoved me onto a bench seat and left two cousins to guard me. The rest moved down to the other end of the car and started pulling food from the trolley. I could hear them bitching about the weird assortment of stuff, but that didn’t stop them from stuffing their blond heads while all those stupid popped collars moved with each chew. I guess beating up a girl and a cat is hungry work. George rubbed against the legs of one of my guards until he picked him up and started petting him. I briefly wondered if there was any chance I could get George to sneak behind me and bite through the plastic ties. Then I realized that hit to the head must have been harder than I thought. I was pretty sure George would understand me, but there was no way he would go near my hands, gloved or not.
The Metro announced in that beautiful bells-voice that the next stop was Between Station. My guards sat close on either side of me and warned me not to do anything or they would hurt my cat. There was a scream of feline fury followed by a louder scream from the cousin holding him. Next thing I knew, George was gone, and both cousins’ cheeks had matching slash marks dripping blood onto their polo shirts. The rest of the cousins went looking for George, telling each other that he had to be there somewhere. Maybe that’s true, but he’s a cat. They weren’t going to find him until he was good and ready to be found.
The train stopped, and another hissed threat and raised fist warned me to be perfectly still. Some imps got on and looked curiously at the cousins before moving on to the next car without paying any attention to me. My head hurt, and I felt sick. I slumped back and closed my eyes, not even pretending I wasn’t terrified. I could tell they all really liked that as they drifted closer. My eyes flew open as the cousin nearest to me leaned in and sniffed. He saw my face and grinned. “It doesn’t taste as pure as a child’s fear, but it makes a nice snack.” I found myself hoping the next stop would be a time gap so I could barf all over him.
I focused on getting my breathing—and my fear—under control. As I calmed down, the cousins seemed to forget about me and started talking. “Did you send the message to Stefan?” one cousin asked. Another, who had stepped off the train briefly at the Between Station, was smirking at his cellphone. “We have your girlfriend and her cat,” he read. “We know it’s your Amnesty Day. Meet us at Metro Station if you don’t want her to get hurt.” They laughed.
They knew about Amnesty Day, the annual anniversary of the day a person arrives in Null City, when they get to decide whether to leave the City or stay for another year. It hadn’t been a full year for me, but the Metro doesn’t go through time in a straight line. As I listened to them, something else took over. Sure I was still scared, but that was shoved out of the way by a strange feeling that roiled in my stomach and pushed outward, hot and pulsing. Anger. I wasn’t just pissed off. This was a scarlet fury that had every cell on alert. I wanted to hurt all of them. I needed to. The Krampus cousins acted like they smelled something bad, moving to the bench across from me.
I twisted around until I could see one cousin’s watch. Damn. It wasn’t even four o’clock in the afternoon. Another touch wouldn’t come until midnight, and I had no idea if it would be useful. The run from Between to Null City didn’t usually take more than a few hours, and all I had to protect Stefan with was dryer sheet smell. Way too soon, the announcement came about the Null City stop, and I could see the cousins getting ready. My two guards pulled me to the door and waited as the train pulled into the station. One of them showed me a gun he pulled from the back of his waistband. “Stefan is the next Krampus,” he hissed. “He gets on this train and comes with us, or we kill him so Grandfather can choose another heir. Your choice.”
The train slowed to a stop, and the doors opened. I noticed the imps climbing down from the next car. Without looking back, they moved toward the Latte’s Inferno coffee shop in the station. But I only had eyes for Stefan, standing alone on the platform.
“Hello cousin,” the Krampus holding my arm jeered.
“Let. Her. Go.” Stefan’s voice was steady, but his fists were clenched. “She isn’t part of this.”
“No, she stays with us. If you want to make sure she doesn’t accidentally fall off a moving train, you’ll come with us now.”
Poppy came running onto the platform and skidded to a halt next to Stefan. “The imps say Lette is in trouble.” She stood very still when she saw the two Krampus cousins with their guns held to my head. Stefan closed his good eye briefly, and I could see that the fairytale prince was about to do something brave and undoubtedly stupid. “Stay away, Stefan! I can take care of myself.” One of the cousins slapped me, and I felt blood trickling from my lip.
“He can’t go without a ticket,” Poppy called to the waiting cousins.
One of the them mockingly waved a ticket. “No problem.”
Stefan turned to Poppy. “It’s my Amnesty Day. I’ll be leaving. Please tell Kristin… Well, tell her I said goodbye.” Without looking at Poppy, he walked stiffly over to the train and climbed aboard. The doors closed, and the train began to move.
Stefan came up to me, ignoring the cousins with their guns. He put an arm around me and led me to the first bench seat. When he saw my hands tied behind me, his lips pressed into a line, and he turned to look at the cousins. Without a word, one of them cut the plastic ties. Stefan put both arms around me and turned me toward the window. “I’m so sorry, Lette.”
I could barely hear his words. “I know. It will be okay. “ I wanted to tell him we just needed to wait for midnight, but I wasn’t sure how the Amnesty Day worked. Maybe it would take him another day to remember about my touch. I tried a smile for him. From the look on his face, it was not a success.
One of the cousins was telling the others that the timetable at the Null City station listed two more stops before Seattle. By my calculations, there were almost six hours to go until midnight, and of course there was no guarantee the next day’s touch would be any more useful. I still had no idea how I was supposed to get to the engine, and I had no guarantee that Metro would help me if I did, but that seemed to be our only chance.
Stefa
n filled a cup from the water bottle on my food trolley, and came back with a wet napkin to gently dab at my swollen, cut lip. I leaned against him and closed my eyes. After a few minutes, and without opening my eyes, I whispered, “How have you been?”
“Fine,” he whispered back. “What about you?”
“Good.” To my surprise, it was true. I’d enjoyed my time on the Metro.
“I missed you.”
“I…thought about you too.” Well, actually, I realized that I hadn’t missed him in a long time. And even at the beginning, what I missed most was the relationship we never actually managed to have. It was more the idea of him—the hope for a normal future that might include a family—that I grieved. “Stefan, why did you do it? Why leave Null City?”
“I came to rescue you.” His smile was a bit lopsided. “Does this mean you’ll try to kill me again?”
“Thinking about it.”
His arms tightened slightly. “Lette…”
“I know.” I gently kissed him. “Later.” He started to ask a question, but I put a gloved finger over his lips and breathed, “No time to explain, but right now we have to figure out a way for me to get up to the engine.”
That beautiful chin went up, and his shoulders went back. Crap. He was going noble again. I sighed and tightened my arms around him, holding him to the seat. “This is no time to be a hero,” I whispered. “Don’t make me go for the cat food cans.”
He looked a bit sheepish. “Well, I’m no good at planning. What do we do?”
I caught sight of a tail under the next bench and pretended to slump down next to Stefan until my mouth was just above the seat. “George!” My whisper was very soft, but I could tell by the way the tail froze that he heard. “If they kill me, you’ll freeze up again for good.” The tail twitched. “So I’m going to need a distraction while I try to get to the engine.” The tail waved slowly, and then disappeared.