Monster Train

The gunshot was still ringing in my ears as I dragged my wife’s lifeless body across the floor of our apartment. A whirlwind of options and possibilities were in my mind as I stashed her in the closet and tucked my pistol in the pocket of my black coat. Fresh blood, a loud noise, one escape route. There would be police on me in an instant, so I hurried up packing essential items in my backpack and climbed out the window.

“I hope Wilson finds you tasty,” I told my wife in the closet. I saluted, then jumped out. I landed in the bushes from three stories up and immediately started a sprint to Jon Jon’s house five blocks down the street.

I heard that Sally Turner, a twenty-nine-year-old woman I went to high school with, her monster train came for her last week. She was partying and doing a lot of drugs and all of a sudden, it hit her. I never knew they could come that fast. Some of my friends speculated that maybe it’s because she got pregnant. I don’t know, personally. I mean, it’s plausible. That much regret could certainly lure a monster train to a person fast as if they were the next generation high-speed maglev train. I don’t know if they can be maglev trains but there’s no reason they can’t be.

Clearly, I’ve done well training myself to hide from my own monster train because for the past few weeks I’ve been robbing banks and blowing up public centres and I still have yet to see a sign of mine. I don’t know what a sign would be, maybe a sensation of the ground rumbling or some sort of demonic roar in the distance. I named mine Doug. Just because I imagine it’s going to have a monstrous dog, maybe a bulldog or kangal with a spiky collar, as its face on the locomotive, chomping up anything that gets in its path. And Doug sounds similar to dog. I don’t know why my wife named hers Wilson. Maybe an old boyfriend or her favourite character from a movie or something. Oh well, she’s dead now. And that’s why I’m running to Jon Jon’s. Maybe all the crimes I did in the past weren’t enough to lure my monster train, but killing my wife might do the trick. So I’m going to need his advice. Right now, I’m stifling any emotion to delay the regret so that Doug doesn’t sniff me out, but I know it’s probably going to catch up to me one day. So I need to talk to Jon Jon and get prepared. He’ll know what to do to. He probably has a ton of friends who killed their wives coming to him for help.

Okay, okay, I know what you’re thinking. I have a totally valid reason! I had a big argument with her, okay! And my finger just slipped. Okay, I deliberately pulled the trigger. But she wanted to move back home to Australia where we first got married and I swore I’d never return there, so here we are. Eliminating her was the easiest solution to the problem. It would have the most consequences, but hey, when you’re in the moment you just think of what’s the easiest solution. 

When I got to Jon Jon’s I climbed over a wooden fence into his backyard. I tripped over some wooden beams and bricks on the ground, spun and almost ran into a tree, and had a quick little skirmish with one of his ten cats, a calico that I interrupted the nap of. Jack was his name, I think. Jon Jon named him after some pirate, he told me. John Rackham. Jack the cat hissed and growled and was ready to pounce on me. I told him he was a good kitty, but he didn’t listen. He pounced and I yelped like a little girl and ran. I got off the grass and ran across the stone pavement to get to his window. I knocked on it. I looked through. Jon Jon was snoring on the couch with a plate of pie on his lap. I knocked harder and he screamed and woke up, the pie jumping off his lap like a grasshopper to the other side of the room. He turned around like a madman, trying to find the source of the noise. When he saw me at his window, he went to me and began unlocking it to open it. By that time I was screeching for help because Jack was scratching my leg nonstop. Man, what an awful day today. First my wife dies, and now I’m being attacked by a cat. Jesus, at least the first I couldn’t care less about, but right now I’d do anything to get the cat off me. 

When Jon Jon finally opened the window, he said, “Endre? What are you doing here?” but before he could fully finish I leaped at him through the window. He screamed as we tumbled into some furniture in the house. We knocked over glasses of water and vases of flowers on tables. Five more of his cats yowled in alarm and ran away.

Jon Jon’s a big guy. And by big, I don’t mean vertically. He’s practically overweight, although I don’t tell him that, of course. He loves to eat, and he could probably out-eat ten people combined. He doesn’t have a strand of hair on his shiny bald head, wears two small golden rings on his ears, lives alone, and probably showers once a week. But, ignore all that ladies, and what you have is an expert genius on monster trains. His whole personality is about it. He told me it’s because he likes saving lives, and that could be true, but I think he just really likes the idea of trains with giant monster heads eating people alive. I don’t know what his work requires, but his house is filled to the brim with potions, scrolls, candles, voodoo stuff if all I know. But he’ll get the job done, whatever you need him for. I can guarantee you that.

I think a lot of those potions, scrolls, and candles fell over as we rolled onto the floor. I heard things shattering and breaking all around us. When we came to a stop, Jon Jon was right above me. His belly was right on my chest, I couldn’t breathe. He opened his eyes after having closed them, saw my face, and grabbed my shoulders, shouting: “Endre! It’s good to see you, buddy!”

“Get off me!” I wheezed. I could feel my face turning red. Jesus, if I died tonight, right after my wife, I would beat my monster train Doug to a metal pulp with a baseball bat once I woke up in the Trainyard. I was not ready to die, especially since I had a whole life of looting, lighting things on fire, and blowing up airports to do ahead of me. Wifeless, too. No more scolding from her, ever. It was a dream come true.

“Oh, sorry!” said Jon Jon as I felt like an elephant was being lifted off my lungs when he got up. After he saw I was done gasping for air, he said, “Say, Endre, I know you’re a cynical, emotionless, heartless guy who somehow mastered the art of running away from your monster train, so that makes me wonder, what brings you here to me tonight?” He slapped his belly and smiled. “Did you just want to see an old buddy? Eh?”

“You need to get your cats in control!” I yelled, breathing hard as I used a nearby chair to prop myself up. “Listen, Jon Jon. It’s good to see you. But I don’t have much time. You said someday I’d do it. And I did.”

“What! You killed your wife? I wasn’t serious, you know!”
“Yeah, so we need to move quick. What do I need to get to the Compound?”

“Whoa, whoa, easy there. I can’t just let anyone into the Compound! What’s the hurry?”

I lifted up the right side of my pants and showed him my leg. He winced, sucking air through his teeth. Bloody streaks of red on my skin, wounds from his cat. “What do I have to do? A Sally Turner?” He knew what I meant. We all went to the same high school together, and I assumed he already heard the news about her.

“No, no! You don’t have to pull a Sally Turner. You don’t have to die at all. We can do a ritual right here, in this room. To get you there.”

“Jack did this to my leg. Plus, I probably got the cops on my tail in who knows how long. Will this be quick?”

“It’ll be like no time passed at all.”

“Good.”

Jon Jon spent five minutes setting up a small space. He put an expensive, majestic carpet on the floor of his living room, placed lit candles at each corner, and wiped all the dust off it. “Boy, you really did it this time, Endre. It usually takes years or more for the monster train to get to the bad people. But Jesus, killing your wife? Doug’s gonna be hot on your trail in a jiffy! That’ll get to anybody!”

“It won’t get to me,” I growled, as I moved to sit cross-legged on the carpet, dragging my painful leg. Droplets of blood tainted the wooden floor of Jon Jon’s house as I went.

“Nah,” said Jon Jon, “that gets to anybody. I’m telling ya. Also then, why are you here?”

“What if I didn’t love her?” I ignored his question.

“You really did, I know you did! I know you still do! Doug’s already smelling your regret, buddy!”

“I’m not going to pull a Sally Turner.”

“No. Your emotional state isn’t there yet. But it will be. I’d say, for anyone else, their monster train would already be on them now. But you’re a sociopath! Not an ounce of conscience on you! So you’re doing fine right now. But still, I’d give it two or three years tops.”

“Are you still on that same belief? What was it, uhh, that every human being has empathy, even if it’s just a tiny drop of it?”

He nodded. “Yes sir. Alright, I can get you to the Compound. You may have heard about it in stories before. But you definitely don’t know how it works. Let me explain.”

I sat there intently, ready to listen.

“First, a little backstory. You already know how there are some people that are able to run away or hide from their monster trains even while doing bad things. Sociopaths, like you. However, one day, there was this buddhist monk. Forgot his name, yada yada, let’s move on. He somehow figured out how to walk away from his monster train. As you know, the Compound is the birthplace, the source, where monster trains come from. There’s one in each person’s Trainyard. It looks like a typical military compound. Lots of concrete, a big wall around the whole thing, barbed wire, gates, watchtowers, guards, jeeps, floodlights, you get the idea. Then there’s a circular track around the whole place where the monster train eternally goes around until it’s ready to come find you and eat you. So, one day, the buddhist monk entered his Trainyard and found his Compound. Somehow, when he walked towards it, he was let in without any resistance. The guards didn’t put their invisible suits on, his monster train never came.”

“How?”

“No one truly knows. There are many stories, none are confirmed. But the prevailing theory is that he lived his life with no regrets.”

“Don’t I do that now?”

“No. You’re still like everyone else. Attached to things in this material world and all. Which is why you will eventually have regrets. Something about his life was different, as if there wasn’t any room for regret in his life, as if he designed it so that he would never make mistakes in the first place. When he was let in the Compound, whatever he found there allowed him to be free of his monster train forever. As far as I know, this is the only way to survive your monster train when it’s coming for you.”

“So, I have to somehow get in that Compound. Like, sneak past the guards? And then find whatever it is inside that frees me from Doug?”

“Yeah.”

I moved my chest back, opened my eyes wide and blinked. “Escaping your monster train…” I said. “That’s unheard of.”

“Very unheard of.”

“So? What do I have to do to get there?”

“I can take you directly to the Compound. All you have to do is close your eyes and meditate on the floor, where you are right now. Remember, Doug is guarding the Compound. Avoid him at all costs. Get to the Compound, whatever it takes.” 

“Okay, let’s do it.”

Jon Jon scrambled around to find a book on his shelf. Things clanked and thumped as he moved things and pushed things with his fingers until he finally found it. When he returned to me I closed my eyes and went into a meditating pose, with even the fingers and all. Jon Jon began humming, and then chanting some song from his book. I felt wind blow around me and the flame of the candles burning brighter as I was lifted off the floor. Jon Jon chanted louder and louder until everything felt numb and silent. It was the strangest sensation ever. Like falling asleep and having someone push your forehead as you fall backwards off a cliff while wading through water all at the same time.

When I woke up, I was lying on reddish soil with tall weedy plants around me. I was in an industrial trainyard, just like how I’d imagined it would look like. At once, I got up, located the Compound ahead of me, about fifty metres away, and tried to sprint there. But I immediately felt a sharp pain in my right leg. I opened up my pant leg and cursed. No way! Wounds like this carried over into the Trainyard? Even the pain? Maybe it wasn’t completely physical. Maybe it counted as a regret, the regret of going into Jon Jon’s backyard recklessly and not finding a way around Jack. All regrets came with you to the Trainyard.

Still, I kept running. I saw the Compound ahead of me, the glaring floodlights, the guards. It was elevated on a hill I had to run up first. At the bottom of the hill was the circular train track. I didn’t see Doug anywhere, so he must be on the other side. That was perfect. Somehow, I had to make it into that building. 

My leg was killing me. Stupid cat of Jon Jon’s was sabotaging my whole plan. It was slowing me down. I’d never make it in time, or be fast enough to sneak past any guards.

But it didn’t matter, I failed immediately. One of the guards spotted me from a distance. He yelled at the others and aimed his rifle at me. I went into a panic. I slowed down my sprint and put my hands up. “Don’t shoot!” But then that didn’t matter either. The worst thing happened next. I saw the guards freeze for a moment, as if they all heard something at the same time. Then they vanished, one by one, pressing their belts and activating their invisibility coats. It was a precaution all guards of the Compound had, to hide from the monster train whenever it came around to their side of the hill. I don’t even know why it matters, since they’re way up at the top of the hill and nowhere near the tracks at the bottom, so there’s no way the monster train could even reach them to eat them, but no one questions the layout of the Trainyard. Everyone has one, and they’re all the same, but no one questions it. Except maybe Jon Jon, who’s still researching about this mysterious place. But anyway, them going invisible meant Doug was coming around the corner. That was not good.

If you died in the Trainyard, you’d die in real life too. At this point I knew I wasn’t going to make it. Maybe things would’ve been different if Jack hadn’t scratched my leg. Maybe I’d be able to move faster and hide in bushes better to not be caught by the guards. My leg was in serious pain, and I wouldn’t be fast enough to make it past the tracks. A monster train could temporarily crawl off them to eat anyone close to the tracks, so it’s not like I could just stand back and not go near them. I had to make it up the hill. When monster trains crawl off the track, they sprout these massive black spider legs underneath them. They’re not strong enough to make them climb to higher ground, which was why the hill was safe. But they’re fast enough to outrun you, in any and all situations.

The distance was closing between me and the hill, but I still wasn’t fast enough. Then I saw the monster train. It came around the corner, blowing its train whistle and chomping its jaws with a clang, clang, the sound of heavy metal plates slamming against each other. I looked at it in horror, then awe, then with great disappointment. He didn’t have the face of a dog. He had a reptilian face, like an alligator or dinosaur, but more monstrous. He had yellow eyes with red slits for pupils at the sides of his face, and massive daggers, rows and rows of them, for teeth. His jaws looked so powerful, they could probably crush cars. He was an older train model. A smokebox on top of a main frame, buffers at the front, a boiler, steam exhausts, a cowcatcher, visible moving pistons at the side, sand pipes, coupling rods, valve gears, a steam chimney, the whole thing. The only difference being, well, the giant monster face in front of the smokebox door. The cowcatcher looked like the goatee of his lower jaw, and because of it he looked like he had a serious underbite. 

Doug was coming fast, closing in on me on the track, with each of his powerful chomps a loud, banging metal sound. He was rambunctious, snaking up and down turbulently on the tracks, as if he was starving to eat me. Thirty seconds away. Twenty-five seconds away. Twenty. I knew this was it for me. With my leg, I wasn’t going to make it past him. So I began confessing all my regrets. I figured I’d lay them out on the table for him just to make it easier for him. I listed them one by one like a prayer. I didn’t know if he could hear me, but I continued on. I stood there, right on the tracks, and I talked and talked as he came closer and closer. I was ready to accept my death. 

But then I regretted it. When he was about to run me over, I yelled, “Wait! Stop!” and put my hands up, closing my eyes and looking away.

Death didn’t come. Instead, a voice spoke.

“Well! I can’t just eat you now. Your one last regret to not die, it was very inspiring. And I heard all the things you were saying about what you did in your life. Very inspiring too. Do you want to talk about them?”

I opened my eyes to see that Doug had stopped a couple of inches away from my face, his jaws right in front of me. I looked up to see his eyes staring at me.

“Wait what?” I said. “You can talk?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be able to?”

“I don’t know.”

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew all around us as things manifested themselves in the air, dropping down to us. A small, round table for two landed in between us first, then its white tablecloth. A chair touched down on my side. Two plates, spoons, and teacups swirled down from above. A teapot filled with hot tea flew around the air and filled them up before placing itself on the table as well. A tea stand full of mini sandwiches and desserts slammed down in the centre of the table. The sandwiches looked good. The desserts too. There were scones, biscuits, strawberries, bagels, cupcakes, chocolates, baked rolls, and small pies. A porcelain container full of sugar cubes came down, along with small tongs. Then another tall one that was full of milk. Everything was set for a perfect little tea party. At this point I was blown away and very confused.

“Please have a seat,” said Doug, seeing the surprise on my face. Good, I could use some food right now. I didn’t want to question anything. I grabbed the chair, sat down, and dug in. “Let’s talk about everything you mentioned,” he said.

We talked about my regrets for a very long time. The people I never said sorry to, the promises I didn’t keep, the places I wished I hadn’t gone. The topic of guilt was a huge portion of our talk. It was quite embarrassing saying all the things I said, more so was the fact I was telling it all to a monster train. He was quite the good listener, though, I have to give him that. He always let me finish what I had to say before he chimed in with his own thoughts and sometimes, advice. We ate the mini sandwiches on our table and drank our tea. It was all very relaxing. Doug’s teacup flew to his mouth whenever he wanted to drink. It was a silly sight to see it pour the liquid into his gigantic jaw full of rows and rows of metal cones. When we got to the heavy topics of my regrets, he was patient, calm, and non-judgemental, like a priest would be at a church confessional. We discussed the terrorist work I did, all the people I killed through assassination or upfront explosives, all the people I lied to, cheated, threatened, stole from, all of that sort that I never felt any regret for. Until now, I suppose. I talked about how it all came crashing down like a domino effect once I killed my wife. Once I did that, the guilt from everything else I began to feel, too, and I didn’t know why. As if she had an effect on me I didn’t know. Doug was very helpful with his wisdom when we got to the topic of my wife. We talked about how she was somehow crazy enough to marry a sociopath with full knowledge of all the foul things I did just for kicks. I was very lucky to find her, I won’t lie. I loved her a lot. It might be hard to see, but I did. So I talked with Doug if he could spare me a gruesome death because I loved my wife a lot, and he took a lot of time to think about it. We talked about it some more, but eventually I think he was convinced I did love her because he concluded that he would allow me to live. In fact, he said that because I had been willing to talk to him, he’d leave me forever. “No more suicidal urges for the rest of your days,” he said. “Meaning I’ll be gone. Do what you want with your life, Endre Goodman.” He said he would transport me back home at once. There were no heartfelt goodbyes, no niceties, no taking home of the uneaten desserts on the table. I just saw him leave on the circular track backwards from the way he came, chugga-chugga-choo-chooing along around the corner of the Compound’s hill as his face got smaller, leaving my sight. We weren’t exactly buddies since preschool, but I still found it sad that our fleeting relationship was to end this way. Maybe it was for the better, considering what a monster train actually is.

When I awoke back in the real world, I was standing up in Jon Jon’s kitchen, him between me and the counter. He was gripping my wrists as if we had been in a struggle, as if I had been trying to get past him and he had put his huge belly between it and me. Shock was on his face, then relief when he saw I was back.

“What did I do?” I asked.

“You were walking towards the kitchen, trying to grab a knife to stab yourself! So that’s when I knew Doug was coming for you! But then, for some reason, I don’t know, you stopped! You collapsed to the floor and stopped moving! You didn’t kill yourself!”

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t pull a Sally Turner, I guess.”

“For sure! Did you find what’s in the Compound? Will Doug leave you alone forever?”

“Yes, but I didn’t make it to the Compound. I just talked with Doug. We discussed how I could live with myself after all my regrets.”

He stroked his chin, eyes wide. “Unbelievable.”

“Yeah.”

“So you just talked with Doug, like a regular person, and he listened?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” He laughed. “I guess we’ll never know what’s in the Compound that the buddhist monk found.”

“I think,” I said, “I think talking with your monster train is what’s in the Compound.”

Jon Jon wandered around the room aimlessly, not saying a word as he looked around at the mess we made earlier. He drifted from one corner to the next, dusting a shelf here, picking up a book there. He was in deep thought the whole time. He walked over to the corner where the pie from his lap had ended up earlier. It was upside-down, with the pie underneath, sticking to the floor. A trail of ants were already picking at it, one at the front, the rest following behind, each carrying their sugary cargo and looking suspiciously like the cars of a certain connected vehicle that relied on railroad tracks. “Well, that’s one heck of a way to escape your monster train,” he said, putting the pie back on the plate and continuing to eat it where he left off.

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