Eyes In The Snow

 

The wheels of the locomotive clicked against the rails, thk-thk, thk-thk, along the tracks as the popular boxcar rattled its way down the path, snowy trees hiding the horizon, making the world feel like it was but a single lane of foliage in an empty, dim-skied world.

            “That sound ain’t real, you know.”

            Rupert looked back, annoyed. “The hell ya talkin’ about now, Ernie?”

            “The clack of the rails.”

            Lauren gave them both a confused look. “How- What do you mean it isn’t real?”

            “I mean, that noise was a byproduct of rails being assembled in multiple pieces back in the day.”

            Rupert pinched the bridge of his nose. “So?”

            “So, they don’t do tha’ anymore. They use thermite n’ them to fuse the rails together. No more clickin’ an’ clackin’.”

            Rupert’s decidedly human eyes looked incredibly weary behind his box-shaped, rimless glasses. “And you found this relevant to mention, because..?”

            Ernie shrugged. “’s interestin’.”

            “It’s a curious factoid,” Lauren remarked. “But if-.. if that sound’s not necessary anymore, why are we hearing it?”

            “Old line, maybe?” Rupert supposed.

            “Could be, bu’, more likely, the train is just designed to click every little while, rhythmically.”

            Rupert swung his leg back over the edge of the open boxcar door, staring out into the treeline, utterly disinterested in this line of questioning.

            Lauren looked between him and Ernie. “You a fan of trains, then?”

            “Oh, love ‘em. Used to have toy sets when I was young. The wooden ones, of course, and the plastic ones with the electrics that make ‘em go ‘round and ‘round.”

            “Oh.. I always liked those. We had those around the tree for Christmas.”

            Ernie nodded, knowingly. “Treasures. I miss those. I miss the easy holidays, back before… well, before all hell broke loose. When travel wasn’t so restrictive, and wasn’t so…” he glanced around the cabin, especially at the speakers, “…other-worldly.”

            The speakers, as if on cue, crackled to life. “Charming. ETA sixteen minutes. Please be sure you have your passports handy.”

            Ernie winced, and opened his bag to be sure it was still on him. Lauren found it inside her jacket pocket. Rupert didn’t even flinch, continuing to eye the treeline.

            “Not the checking sort, Rue..?” Lauren asked, tilting her head to see his face.

            “I’ve checked.”

            “Oh- Apologies.”

            He didn’t even look at her, just watching the trees.

            “You ‘ave the stuff to get us inside, aye?” Ernie asked, strolling over and leaning against the boxcar wall.

            Rupert nodded. “Ready and waiting.”

            A painful silence permeated the frosty air, which even the whipping wind couldn’t cut through.

            “Right, well. Could you have a look? Just for my sanity.”

            “I have.”

            “Right, but, for my sanity.”

            Rupert took a cigarette out of his jacket and lit it, before submerging the flame in the freezing winds as it fought to stay burning. “Check it yourself if it’s so damn important.”

            Ernie shrugged, giving up on trying to communicate with the distracted man, and went over to his bag, looking through and counting the supplies.

            Lauren stood up, and went through her bag, fishing out a flask. “How long have you been aboard, Ern?”

            “Six years. You?”

            “Four.”

            “Mm, makes sense,” he leaned against the wall.

            “It does..?”

            “Yeah, I mean, you don’t strike me as green, but you still ask questions no one really asks.”

            “…Is that wrong of me?”

            “Not if Thyme don’t say it is.”

            The speakers crackled on again. “Rupert.”

            He glanced up, and pulled his legs up from the side of the boxcar. In that moment, the train entered a dilapidated tunnel, and the scream of metal against brick could be heard as the collapsing frame barely had the space remaining to fit the locomotive, and likely wouldn’t in a few days time. Soon, it passed, and he hung his feet off the edge of the side again.

            Ernie lowered his hands from his ears, uncovering them.

            “You’re a damn sight unflinchable, old codger.”

            Rupert still did not look at him.

            “How’s about y’tell us how long you’ve been here, hm?”

            “Ernie-“ Lauren began to protest.

            “Nah, leave me be, I’m askin’ a question here, a fair one too, if he’s responsible for so much of our safety.”

            Rupert stood, tossing his cigarette into the snow outside.

            “Well? Ye gonna answer me or wha--?”

            He turned to Ernie, reached up…

 

            And flicked him in the forehead.

            “Leave me alone, please and thank you.”

           

            And he disappeared through the door on the far end of the cabin. Ernie turned, angry, and reached for the handle just as it clicked closed, when the window blinked open.

            The eye was always unsettling for Ernie. It popped up at the weirdest times, and always appeared as if deeper than the windows it arrived in.

            The speakers crackled on.

            “Don’t follow him.”

            Another blink, and it was an ordinary window, Rupert closing the door to the neighboring passenger car right at that moment. Ernie tsk’d, and turned back to Lauren.

            “Twat.”

            “He didn’t seem to be in a talking mood..”

            “Yeah, no kidding, Laur. What a charmer.”

            She walked over and pulled the boxcar door shut, hesitating only to watch the lights of the aurora borealis before the door sealed.

            The train slowed, the speaker crackled on.

            “Station arriving. Gear up, prepare to disembark.”

            Ernie pulled his firearm out of his bag. “Time to kill the fat man, hm?”

            Lauren, with a tone of regret, looking at her lockpicking tools. “I.. suppose so.”