SHEOL

26

We walked with an uncertain kink in our step, back through the pitch black rooms, some dirtied with the drying blood of lifeless victims. Victims of something dark and unknown. To our surprise, the rest of the cabins were in a lack of disarray; the sun shone brightly through the pale, glass windows without a care in sight. The seats were tidy and the aisles were clean and there didn't even seem to be a speck of blood on any of the remaining walls.

"This is rather peculiar." The Window Killer commented as we finally reached the last car. "When we first encountered the smiling man, the wounds to his eyes appeared to be quite fresh. Yet, one can only wonder where such torture was performed."

"Maybe whoever is behind all of this cleaned it up." I suggested.

The door to the last car was locked, as if it were only used for storage. "Do you think one of the workers has a key?"

The Window Killer shrugged bitterly. "Probably. Let's just go and assault some corpses in search of a stupid hunk of metal." He spun around and walked off, huffing. "I hate these stupid games."

Sure enough, a key ring with about six keys hung lazily from the smiling man's belt loop. 

"You get it." I said as I held my nose. "I don't want to touch him."

The Window Killer removed an ancient coin from his pocket and grinned. "Heads or tails?"

I rolled my eyes and muttered "tails", which was, of course, the side that it just so happened to land on. I angrily removed the key ring from the decomposing cadaver and trudged back over to the door of the last cabin.

I fidgeted with each of the keys, but not one of them would work. A thought then occurred to me. I reached for the key Mr. Moonshine had given me, which hung securely around my neck alongside the pendant. I pulled it from the leather strap. Oddly enough, it worked.

I turned my head to The Window Killer. "Are you ready?"

He grabbed the palaspas braided dagger from my clammy hands and replaced it with his cumbersome machete. "If the person behind this door is who I think it is, I look forward to sending him back to the Underworld."

With that being said, I unlocked the door.

The last car was a windowless kitchen. I flipped on the light switch to my left. In a folding chair in the middle of the room sat the old man from the train station. To his right lay a fat fellow, curled into a fetal position. He rocked silently against the hot linoleum floor.

The man from the train station was older, but he didn't look nearly as old as Mr. Moonshine or The Healer. He seemed to have shed his dark coat and wide brimmed hat, but the small suitcase that he had carried sat neatly to his left. He had peppered grey and brown hair and brown eyes, with a silver mustache which lined his upper lip. He wore wire rimmed rectangular glasses and a tan button up shirt, as well as mahogany dress pants. He smiled at us when we entered.

"Ah, well if it isn't The Window Killer!" He stood up to shake his hand, but The Window Killer merely backed away. 

"Warren, you bastard. I knew it was you this whole time." The Window Killer spat in his direction. "What do you want?"

Warren smiled eccentrically. "Now, don't be so sour, my boy!" His voice was much older than his appearance. "Come have a seat. We can chat about our little situation without having to resort to violence." He then pointed at the fat fellow to his right and the suitcase to the left. "However, if violence is what you wish, I won't hesitate to tickle your satisfaction."

The Window Killer scoffed. "You imbecile, you're the one who sent hoards of the living dead at us! Don't imply that you don't wish to fight!"

Warren shook his head. "Now, Window Killer, you're just sticking phrases in my mouth. You didn't have to kill the woman, or even the eyeless man. They didn't instigate anything."