Now, I am here, in a not-so-shabby train car with interesting people all around me. The autumn winds race across the glass of the large window to my right. To my left, I notice a little girl staring at my hair. I seemed to have reaped the attributes of a vagrant from the condensation on the window! The little girl giggles, but her mother politely tells her to stop. The old man glares at her. I assume his scornful protest is an attempt to make himself seem more seasoned and mature. No doubt, he was. However, I have a feeling that his facade is only covering the fact that he longs for any obscure memory or thought of his own childhood.
Hours fly by, and the time not spent sleeping was spent wishing that I was asleep. The cold air has turned into humid air, and my body feels like it could use a walk. I get up to stretch my legs. Walking in a moving train is a whole lot less difficult than what I assumed it would be. The floor beneath me is not progressing quicker than my feet could move.
The moon fell slowly in the sky, just above the tree line in the distance. The door to exit the car to the rear balcony is in reach, but the few inches between my fingers and the gilded handle is the closest I will get to it, for now.
Our train car jolts violently as I fall to the ground and all the passengers shuffle about in their seats. One man tries to stand, but is cast aside by one more sudden force; glass pierces his hand. By the time I try to stand, I notice luggage all over the floor, and a slight incline angled toward the front of the car. I now assume everyone knows what has happened, but why is another concept I have not yet grasped. The aging man raised his head above the seat he had been sitting in prior to the event to see what has happened. His eyes pour fear and his mouth sits agape. The mother that was sitting proximal to myself stood shortly after. Her hair line was dropping a menial amount of blood, but I know that anyone can have a concussion without showing any bleeding.
"Lady, please sit down!" I demand in a suggestive tone. She looks at me with a clueless expression, "I can hardly hear you," she looks around "Alice, where are you?" her look of cluelessness turns to fear. As the dust gently settles, everyone slowly ascends from the seats. The old man looks around some more, "Everyone calm down and don't panic!" all eyes on him.
"We all have to stay calm and work together." He commands as the mother looks to him and cries, "I can't find my daughter!" her voice almost cracks. "Sir, what's your name?" I ask. He turns to me after consoling the woman, "My name is Joe Jackson. I am a sheriff from Cydonia Texas," his eyes dilate in fear, "Get down and don't say anything! It's important to move quick!" we all get down, except for the woman's daughter whom I have found in the midst of this calamity. "Alice!" I yell loudly to get her attention. She turns to me and stands still as a ghost. "Alice get over here!" her mother shrieks. Alice just stands still and stares around. Could she, too, have suffered a concussion, or does she have a disability of sorts? The sun creeps slowly above the distant horizon, painting a thin line of orange light across the young girl's face.
Through the window comes a swift and powerful force. It is small and made of metal. Alice's head flails backward and her frail body falls on the ground. Her mother screams.
Sheriff Jackson leaps forward and grabs her in hopes of saving her, somehow. Alice's mother moves immediately behind him. With danger closing in quickly, the jaded mother held her dying child in her arms. The sheriff looks up to see who might have slain the innocent child. Sheriff Jackson has the sun gleaming in his eyes; a real hero. The culprits outside better watch out. The man that I thought to be an unscrupulous gent quickly became the savior of everyone on the train.
By now, everyone is in a panic. Joe Jackson steps out of the disheveled train car and keeps his hand on his gun.
I scurry over to Alice and her mother. "Lady, are you and her okay? Let me see" I wince, expecting a cold shoulder, but in desperation, the mother looks to me. Her eyes are filled with grief and hopelessness. "My name is Andy." her eyes begin to dry up as I begin to handle her limp daughter. From the gunfire outside, and the whimpering of all the other passengers, I stand up with Alice bleeding in my arms.
"Everyone shut up!" my voice projected across the land, it seems. All habitants of the train car look at me. Through one open window, an object is thrown. Immediately, I toss Alice behind me and land on top of her. Before landing, a blast spreads across the car, and dividing the little girl and myself. Everything goes black.