Ghost Train

Two

You're dead.  

"...What?"

Deneve stared at this young man before her in shock, his melancholy smile not helping in the least.  An unladylike snort escaped from the corner of her mouth.  "Look here, Mister Davis or whatever.  I can't remember what happened directly before this, but I can sure as hell tell you that I am not dead.  I just saw this giant-ass blob with about a thousand eyes and I am still scared out of my wits.  And then some random man pops up where that--that thing used to be and he expects me to believe that he's not that ugly creature, and that I'm on--you know what?  Where am I?"

Nicholas kept smiling patiently.  "The Ghost Train, Deneve."

She sighed.  This man was truly crazy.  "What is this, ah, 'Ghost Train'?"

"The Ghost Train is an entity that runs in an irregular path and time across the country, picking up recently deceased people on the way.  The thing about the Ghost Train is that the dead are only invited aboard if there was something they could not complete in their lives.  An unrequited love, an important missed appointment, even a little white lie may hinder their minds enough to have them sent here."

Deneve took a hard look at Nicholas.  He looked like a very honest, reliable young man.  "But I'm not dead.  You don't seem to understand that.  So if the"--here she inserted air quotes--"Ghost Train is only for these special cases, how did I end up here?"

Nicholas pondered for a few moments.  "I don't quite know the answer to that question.  But I have a friend who is old enough to possibly hold the response."  His cerulean eyes scanned her face, asking her for permission.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no.  I am not meeting your 'friends' until you tell me where I really am and let me know how to get out of this creepy place."  Deneve regarded him with suspicion, crossing her arms.

He sighed, tucking his hat under his arm that held his walking stick.  Deneve flinched as Nicholas inched closer.  He moved his grip on the walking stick to its tapered end, holding it like a weapon.  

What in the world--

He tapped the tip of it against Deneve's forehead lightly.  The memories all came rushing back.

Ah, yes.  Katie's wedding...the car broke down...the train...

The train.

Deneve's eyes widened.  Nicholas rested his free hand on her bare shoulder reassuringly.

Her trembling fingertips brushed her own mouth that was slightly ajar.  The blood drained from her face, sudden tears clouding her vision.  "I'm dead.  I...I'm dead."  A scoff of disbelief slipped from her mouth.  "Oh my God..."  Deneve was dead.  A salty tear fell from her eye.  Then another.  Then another.  She stood in her lilac heels that matched perfectly with the dress she wore.  The dress she would never get to attend Katie's wedding in.

Roughly Deneve wiped the tears away, crossing her arms over her chest again, letting out little huffs of anger, annoyance, and incredulity.  She hated it.  Not even twenty-one years of age and dead on a train full of ghosts.  Nicholas's hand was still on her shoulder comfortingly.

A sudden wetness began blooming on the front of her lavender dress.  She looked down to find a spot of crimson that was spreading out on the expensive fabric, like watercolor paint, only this seemed to have a set pattern.  Deneve glanced at Nicholas for an explanation through watery eyes, but he looked equally as confused as she did.

Nicholas's eyes were trained on the stained fabric for the longest time before he studied her face.  "I think...I think now would be a great time to introduce you to my dear friend Socrates."

Deneve cracked half a smile through her dam of tears on the verge of spilling over yet again.  "Does he have more than two eyes?"

The corner of his mouth quirked upward.  "No, he doesn't--wait, actually, he's got a wart on his forehead that looks rather like an eye and--"

She even managed to laugh a little.  "All right, all right, I get it.  Let's go, Mr. Davis."

Nicholas winced.  "I'd much rather you call me by my first name, Deneve."

Taking a shaky breath, Deneve took a leap of faith and decided to place her trust in this young man.  With renewed hope, she looked Nicholas in the eye, smiling a bit.  "Sure thing, Mr. Davis."

He made a face of mock irritation, then grinned back at her as they walked further into the darkness of the Ghost Train.