Leon: Did you get any of that fuzz off the East-end Shuttle last night?
Short pause
Weeble: Fuzz? You know that I only talk to you on here, right? I’m not constantly listening in the off-chance of talking to anyone else or listening to someone else’s conversation. I don’t care. I’m not even sure if this thing works on other frequencies.
Leon: A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed.
Short pause
Leon: Well, they nearly threw a guy from the train until his friend beat the ever livin’ out of about half the staff.
Weeble: Sounds about par for the course.
Leon: Yeah. Anyway, about the same time some riders found a massive break in the track about two miles ahead. They were able to divert to the A line through Harrisburg, but they lost contact with the group almost immediately after they recorded the line break.
Weeble: Weird.
Dead Air
Leon: And? What do you think happened?
Weeble: With what?
Leon: Goddammit. With the riders. Obviously something’s happening. Those guys are constantly chattering back and forth with each other on their channel. It doesn’t make sense for a line like that to go dead.
Weeble: What do you want me to do about it?
Leon: I don’t want you to…Ahh! Nevermind!
Dead Air
Weeble: I found a car engine.
Dead Air
Weeble: I think I’m gonna attach it to a wagon I have outside.
Dead Air
Weeble: Dammit, where are you? I listen to your crazy bullshit about trains and mysterious messages. It’s my turn.
Leon: Why not attach the engine to a car?
Weeble: Good question, I’ll tell you later. The damn thing’s started leaking again. Have a good one.
Leon: And you.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Chapter 45
The men carry him…
…away from the house…
…lifeless.
Click.
A sharp clicking of heels prophesied the abrupt wake-up call that burst into the small compartment aboard car number eight. Witticker opened his eyes to a door thrown open only inches from his face. The train staff moved with direct intent, seizing Marcus from his seat and pulling him out the door. Witticker jumped up from his corner only to be pushed back down by one of the many blue-suited individuals that had entered the room. As Witticker fell back he was shoved quickly to the side towards Edward by a raging Oliver who had begun the process of fighting his way out the door. Edward caught Witticker and tossed him on the floor as he leapt to follow Oliver. No sooner had Witticker hit the floor than he was alone in the tiny carriage compartment. Light bumped around the room as the lamp swung wildly above him, rocked from the recent commotion.
Witticker rose to his feet and quickly followed the herd of frustration out into the hallway. As soon as he appeared in the corridor a dark shadow ran towards him with the air of attack. A blue suit seized him by both shoulders, forcing him down the hallway towards a sudden gust of cold night air. Witticker could see both Oliver and Edward at the end of the hall being detained by several individuals each as Marcus lay curled up on the floor beneath them. The full company was in proximity of a small door being held open by several train employees.
“Him,” shouted one of the blue suits pointing at Witticker, “Toss him.”
The man holding Witticker began pushing him towards the source of cold air. The landscape rushed hurriedly by the door as Witticker moved closer. He shoved against his assailant who acted as mechanically as he had been ordered. Grabbing him by the scruff of his cloak, the drone seized Witticker and shoved him out the door, dangling him outside the moving train. The wind whipped through Witticker’s cloak turning his human figure into an abstract, churning ball of fabric.
Witticker felt the grip loosen on his collar. His mind clicked on as if it had always been in a dormant state. In an instant he saw several things, through all the insecurities and reservations he had so carefully built up throughout his life. As if a dusty mirror had been polished clean of every imperfection Witticker saw himself clearly, as if observing another person entirely. The hand released his cloak and for the shortest moments Witticker floated in the space outside the train. Body matching mind.
Not a second after he had been released was he forcibly caught and pulled back into the corridor of the train car. The force of movement sent Witticker stumbling into the corner of the hallway.
“What the hell was that?” yelled one of the train staff from down the hallway.
“That,” answered Edward softly, “was entirely inappropriate.”
Witticker gripped the wall of the train car and pulled himself up from the awkward angle of his arrival. He found Edward standing close to him at the end of the hallway, unfettered by his four captors who lay newly subdued on the floor surrounding them.
“Now,” queried Edward, “why were you trying to throw my friend from the train?”
The employee closest to him, a shorter and rounder version of the rest, spoke first.
“We heard reports of unusual activity from your room,” grumbled the short man.
“Yeah,” said another pointing at Marcus, “and when we got there we heard that one from outside the door. He was moanin’ about the price of bricks and cryin’ for his mother.”
Marcus scowled at the train officer from his place on the ground as Oliver made another surge to throw off his detainers.
“When we got in the room he was shakin’ about, so we grabbed him and took him out. That’s when the big guy came at us.”
“I see,” said Edward, “but what led you to dangle my friend outside the train?”
“Well,” said the shorter officer, “as we was draggin’ the first one down the hall he was talkin’ about seein’ stuff. Scared out of his boots and shakin’ like he’d been beat. We got him down to the end and asked him who’d done this to him. That’s when he fingered yer boy there.”
“Ah,” resolved Edward, “Well, officer, it seems there’s been only a slight misunderstanding, but nothing that we can’t forgive. I think it would be best now if we just called this a night. We’ll be back to our rooms and you can all go back to dealing with real problems.”
“Wut about my guys?” sneered the short man pointing at the four beaten officers on the floor. Edward stopped and looked at the bedraggled huddle. He stopped for a moment before turning to the short blue-suited man.
“In the future tell your men of the dangers in assaulting a group of strangers based on a hunch. Goodnight, sir.”
At this Edward helped both Witticker and Marcus up from the floor as the guards released Oliver from his place on the wall. Oliver dusted himself off and huffed back into the room followed immediately by Marcus, as if the two were connected by an invisible string. Witticker stood in the hallway feeling out his new position as the train staff slowly dispersed. Edward moved to the open door and looked out over the land skipping by.
“That was very close,” said Edward in a very somber tone, “and at such an inopportune time.”
“Yeah?” whispered Witticker, his first words since they had boarded the train, “and what time is that?”
“Time for something extraordinary to happen,” said Edward as he pulled the door shut, “don’t you think?”
…away from the house…
…lifeless.
Click.
A sharp clicking of heels prophesied the abrupt wake-up call that burst into the small compartment aboard car number eight. Witticker opened his eyes to a door thrown open only inches from his face. The train staff moved with direct intent, seizing Marcus from his seat and pulling him out the door. Witticker jumped up from his corner only to be pushed back down by one of the many blue-suited individuals that had entered the room. As Witticker fell back he was shoved quickly to the side towards Edward by a raging Oliver who had begun the process of fighting his way out the door. Edward caught Witticker and tossed him on the floor as he leapt to follow Oliver. No sooner had Witticker hit the floor than he was alone in the tiny carriage compartment. Light bumped around the room as the lamp swung wildly above him, rocked from the recent commotion.
Witticker rose to his feet and quickly followed the herd of frustration out into the hallway. As soon as he appeared in the corridor a dark shadow ran towards him with the air of attack. A blue suit seized him by both shoulders, forcing him down the hallway towards a sudden gust of cold night air. Witticker could see both Oliver and Edward at the end of the hall being detained by several individuals each as Marcus lay curled up on the floor beneath them. The full company was in proximity of a small door being held open by several train employees.
“Him,” shouted one of the blue suits pointing at Witticker, “Toss him.”
The man holding Witticker began pushing him towards the source of cold air. The landscape rushed hurriedly by the door as Witticker moved closer. He shoved against his assailant who acted as mechanically as he had been ordered. Grabbing him by the scruff of his cloak, the drone seized Witticker and shoved him out the door, dangling him outside the moving train. The wind whipped through Witticker’s cloak turning his human figure into an abstract, churning ball of fabric.
Witticker felt the grip loosen on his collar. His mind clicked on as if it had always been in a dormant state. In an instant he saw several things, through all the insecurities and reservations he had so carefully built up throughout his life. As if a dusty mirror had been polished clean of every imperfection Witticker saw himself clearly, as if observing another person entirely. The hand released his cloak and for the shortest moments Witticker floated in the space outside the train. Body matching mind.
Not a second after he had been released was he forcibly caught and pulled back into the corridor of the train car. The force of movement sent Witticker stumbling into the corner of the hallway.
“What the hell was that?” yelled one of the train staff from down the hallway.
“That,” answered Edward softly, “was entirely inappropriate.”
Witticker gripped the wall of the train car and pulled himself up from the awkward angle of his arrival. He found Edward standing close to him at the end of the hallway, unfettered by his four captors who lay newly subdued on the floor surrounding them.
“Now,” queried Edward, “why were you trying to throw my friend from the train?”
The employee closest to him, a shorter and rounder version of the rest, spoke first.
“We heard reports of unusual activity from your room,” grumbled the short man.
“Yeah,” said another pointing at Marcus, “and when we got there we heard that one from outside the door. He was moanin’ about the price of bricks and cryin’ for his mother.”
Marcus scowled at the train officer from his place on the ground as Oliver made another surge to throw off his detainers.
“When we got in the room he was shakin’ about, so we grabbed him and took him out. That’s when the big guy came at us.”
“I see,” said Edward, “but what led you to dangle my friend outside the train?”
“Well,” said the shorter officer, “as we was draggin’ the first one down the hall he was talkin’ about seein’ stuff. Scared out of his boots and shakin’ like he’d been beat. We got him down to the end and asked him who’d done this to him. That’s when he fingered yer boy there.”
“Ah,” resolved Edward, “Well, officer, it seems there’s been only a slight misunderstanding, but nothing that we can’t forgive. I think it would be best now if we just called this a night. We’ll be back to our rooms and you can all go back to dealing with real problems.”
“Wut about my guys?” sneered the short man pointing at the four beaten officers on the floor. Edward stopped and looked at the bedraggled huddle. He stopped for a moment before turning to the short blue-suited man.
“In the future tell your men of the dangers in assaulting a group of strangers based on a hunch. Goodnight, sir.”
At this Edward helped both Witticker and Marcus up from the floor as the guards released Oliver from his place on the wall. Oliver dusted himself off and huffed back into the room followed immediately by Marcus, as if the two were connected by an invisible string. Witticker stood in the hallway feeling out his new position as the train staff slowly dispersed. Edward moved to the open door and looked out over the land skipping by.
“That was very close,” said Edward in a very somber tone, “and at such an inopportune time.”
“Yeah?” whispered Witticker, his first words since they had boarded the train, “and what time is that?”
“Time for something extraordinary to happen,” said Edward as he pulled the door shut, “don’t you think?”
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