Jumping Trains (Short Story)

Ch. 2

*Recap*

Just a few more seconds and the train would be here. I stood in its path, arms outstretched. Take me away.

“Five…four…three…” The light shone into my eyes and I closed them. “Two…On—”

THE END…?

*End Recap*

            Was this what heaven was like? I stared upwards at the star-flecked sky. Endless amounts of stars shone down on me. There was nothing but silence. I guess there wouldn’t be anything to hear anyway, I thought. Slowly, like I was taking my fingers out of my ears, my hearing came back. Someone was panting beside me. I turned my head, my hair crunching leaves as I looked to the side.

“Benson?” I heard myself say.

He clutched a hand to his side in pain. Tears were in his eyes. “Do you realize what almost happened?” he rasped. When I didn’t respond, he continued. “Did you even think before running out here?” His voice rose with each question. “How stupid can you be? What? Did you think killing yourself would help me live? I can’t live without you!”

I’m not dead? I thought. “Why didn’t you let the train hit me?”

“Idiot,” Benson rasped. “I love you.”

            Lifting myself off the forest floor, I brushed the dirt from my dress. It was now completely dark. I took Benson’s cell phone from his pocket and used the light to inspect his wound. It was worse than I had expected. All that running must’ve been the cause.

“We have to go.” I grabbed his hand and attempted to lift him but he wouldn’t move. “Benson, come on. This is not the time to be stubborn.” Then it dawned on me. Please don’t be dead. “Benson,” I repeated. My hands flew to his neck, feeling for a pulse. Still breathing. I wouldn’t be able to carry him myself. I pinched his cheek hard but barely got a flinch.

            My hands shook as I dialed 911. There was only one bar on his phone but it was still something. When the operator picked up I immediately spilled my guts to him and once my rant was over he asked a vital question.

“Where are you?”

I panicked as I realized the forest didn’t exactly have an address. “I don’t know,” I cried. Trees, trees, and more trees decorated the area around us. The only landmark there was were the train tracks yet it’d hardly make any sense to say we were in the forest by the train tracks. The tracks went on for miles.

“If you can keep your phone on, we can trace your call to your location.”

            I nodded my head fiercely as if he could see me. Waiting. That was the hardest thing I had to do at the moment. Keeping the phone on was nothing considering Benson’s phone was always charged. But, I could not stand still and watch my boyfriend die. It was impossible.

            Tearing the hem of my dress, I tied the strips of pink cloth around Benson’s midsection, covering the bleeding wound. I sat down beside him and stroked his face, trying to keep calm. I’m sorry. I should’ve been thinking. But I couldn’t. I can’t take any of this any longer. I don’t want to be in that house and I don’t want to lose you.

            The wail of sirens and flashes of red and blue lights carried over to me. Finally. It all passed in a blur of uniformed men and shouted instructions. I stood there awkwardly until everyone was ready to move on to the ambulance. Following closely behind, I hopped into the ambulance as well and rode to the hospital beside Benson. Apparently my father had fled the scene. No surprise. I looked down at Benson’s unconscious body. I should’ve told my father about us sooner. Not that it would change anything. Who knows? Maybe it would have.

            Before my brain could register it, we were at the hospital. It was like watching myself from afar. I could see myself getting out of the ambulance barefoot, running alongside the gurney, holding Benson’s hand. Once we reached a certain point, I wasn’t allowed past the doors. Instead, they took me to a separate room, tending to a gash on my forehead I didn’t realize I had. People were talking to me but I couldn’t concentrate on what they were saying. I only cared about Benson. The whereabouts of my flats or my father didn’t concern me.

“Ashton?”

Someone called my name.

“Ashton!”

            I finally found the source of the voice.

“Mrs. Daley?” It was Benson’s mother. I didn’t even remember calling her. “Thank God you’re here.”

“Where’s Benson?” she asked.

“Surgery, I think. I’m not sure. They wouldn’t let me in.”

She hugged me tightly. “Are you alright?”

“I think so,” I replied, hugging her back. “But it’s Benson that’s more important.”

“You’re important too,” Mrs. Daley insisted. “You saved his life.”

            No. I’m the one who almost got him killed. She released me and we waited together, occasionally whispering words of encouragement to one another. Eventually the doctor appeared. Apparently the knife missed every major artery and all Benson needed were some stitches, pain meds, and a blood transfusion to replace all the blood he lost. I hurried to his room ahead of his mom, eager to see if he was alright. Benson was asleep of course. I didn’t mind. As long as he was alive.

“I heard about your father,” Mrs. Daley suddenly said.

“Who told you?”

“I sort-of suspected for a long time but never said anything. I was keeping a watchful eye. Tonight just confirmed my suspicions.”

“He’s not a criminal,” I immediately said. “He’s a good person.”

“You don’t need to defend him Ashton.”

“With all due respect Mrs. Daley, I know my dad better than anyone else. He’s…a good person.”

            My phone rang and I excused myself. It was my dad. Speak of the devil.

“The cops are looking for you,” I whispered into the phone.

“I know.” He sighed. “Ashton, sweetheart, I need you to do me a favor.”

“I’m listening.”

“You can’t let anyone know I called you. I’m going to text you the bank account number and how much to transact from the account.”

“Why can’t you just come clean? Running away makes it look like you’re a criminal.”

“I’ll come back when everything dies down.”

“Benson is dead,” I blurted. I wanted a reaction out of him. I wanted him for once to think of someone other than himself. “You killed him.”

“Oh my God,” he breathed. “I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t trying to. I’m not a murderer!”

“Tell that to the cops. Not me.” I thought for a second. “Don’t contact me anymore. I’ll cover for you for now but don’t expect anything else out of me.”

            I hung up before he could say anything. Sorry dad. This is the way it has to be. I reentered Benson’s hospital room and took the empty seat by his bedside. His mother sat sniffling on the couch, relaying the events to her husband on the phone. He was in Europe for a business trip but apparently he was on the next flight back to the States.

            The off-white walls of the room and heavy smell of antiseptic was dizzying. I soon found myself drifting. I was in that little realm of silence where you’re not completely asleep but you’re not awake either. My head bobbed up and down before hitting the mattress of Benson’s hospital bed. Before completely zoning out, I recall feeling someone’s hand close around mine with a whispered, “I love you.”