Terror on the Tracks (Pt.5, Collab)
Terror on the Tracks (Pt.5, Collab) fiction stories

snakequeenCommunity member
Autoplay OFF  •  9 days ago
Michael Hayes, Lenard Bailey, Ann Powell, Tristan Wade, Walter.
Plot: As Michael Hayes meets his fellow passengers, he realizes that some of them might be hiding deadly secrets.

Terror on the Tracks (Pt.5, Collab)

Michael Hayes-

It was lunchtime, but the train showed no sign of stopping. Time to head to the dining room, I guessed, since everyone else was leaving.

When I arrived in the dining room, pretty much everyone was seated already. Each table only had four spots.

There was a group of two men and a woman over by the window, the doctor and her patient at the table next to that, a group of three people who looked distant, and a table with a four women.

A counter with ten seats was located in the corner, next to the kitchen. Since I knew nobody on this train, I decided to sit at the end of the room.

“Excuse me, are all of these seats taken?” I asked one of the two men.

“It’s free.” replied the one with short, spiky, black hair. He gave a long yawn.

“I didn’t get any sleep last night. Or the night before. I rushed here because I promised my mother that I’d be there to cheer her on when she ran the marathon.”

I blinked. He himself looked in his early thirties. Assuming his mother was at least twenty years older, I’d say she’d at least be in her fifties. Wow.

It always amazed me how some people had so much energy.

“How long has she been doing marathons?” I wondered aloud.

“She’s fifty-seven.” He yawned again. “She started doing marathons last year to keep in shape. What brings you to Panama?”

“Well, I have work there. I work in an electrical company, and they need a person over there because one of the positions opened up. I was the closest person in that position.

The only other one is in France.” This was partly true. I was going to Panama for work, but I certainly wasn’t an electrician. I was a zoologist.

“Where are you headed?” he asked.

“Panama City.” I said, grabbing a menu.

“Could you tell me your name?” he requested, putting his own menu back on the table.

“My name?"

First he asks why I’m going to Panama, then he asks me where I’m headed to in Panama, then he asks for my name, It was a little suspicious, but sometimes, you couldn’t help natural curiosity.

“I’m Josh Somerfield.” I answered, lying through my teeth.

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t call me out on my lie. “I’m Lenard Bailey.”

Likely, he was lying back to me. Oh well. I guess I brought it upon myself. I studied the menu when he didn’t say anything else. There was soup, sandwiches, salad, and drinks.

More choices than I had expected for a brand new train that was on its first journey. I chose a turkey sandwich and iced tea for a drink.

While I was pretending to look at my menu, I looked over the people sitting at this table.

‘Lenard’ wore a wrinkled gray short sleeve that looked like it hadn’t been washed in a couple days and a pair of dark blue sweatpants.

Dirty white sneakers peeked out from beneath his sweatpants. He had dark brown eyes that were the color of chocolate.

One was a woman with mounds of curly light brown hair piled on top of her head in a bun and small beady black eyes with a pinched features on a plump face.

She was dressed in a a red long sleeve shirt and wore black jewelry around both her wrists and neck. She wore a stretched purple skirt that looked several sizes too small.

Her fingernails had been painted in a twilight blue and her feet had been crammed into red flats. She looked in her late forties.

The other was a man in a white dress shirt and black slacks combined with shiny leather shoes.

He had ashy brown hair that had been combed down flat against his head and a weirdly bright gray-blue eyes. He could’ve been around twenty-five.

At last, a waiter dressed in a tuxedo came to our table. “What can I get for you on this fine afternoon, lady and gentlemen?”

“I’ll take a turkey sandwich and some iced tea.” I told him, and handed over the menu.

“Ham sandwich and water.” The man with gray-blue eyes said. “Do you-”

“Um, I’ll have a ham sandwich, a salad with extra bacon, clam chowder soup, fruit punch, and-” Greedily interjected the woman with curls piled on top of her head.

“Sorry, Ma’am, we only serve three options at the most per person.” the waiter interrupted. “Should I give you some time to think over your choices?”

“Then I’ll have a ham sandwich, clam chowder soup, and fruit punch.” the woman babbled, but didn’t hand over the menu.

“Menu, please, Ma’am?” the waiter quavered, leaning away from the woman as if she were infected or had some other problem no one knew about.

She looked ready to drool from hunger, but finally gave it to him after the third time he asked this.

The man with the gray-blue eyes opened his mouth again. “As I was saying, do you-”

“I’ll have a cheese sandwich and iced tea.” ‘Lenard’ chimed in.

The man with the gray-blue eyes cleared his throat. “Do you-”

“Is that it?” questioned the waiter. “My name is Walter. Glad to be serving you on this fine afternoon. I hope you enjoy your meals.” Then he strode off without a second glance.

“Wait! Waiter! Walter!” when the waiter didn’t respond, the man with gray-blue eyes gave up with an irritated expression.

I settled into my chair, unbuttoning my black overcoat and arranging it on the back of my chair because it was getting rather hot.

I heard a male voice behind me while I was turned around. “Do you live in Greenland?”

Since I figured whoever it was happened to be talking to me, I straightened my posture and twisted back around to face my seatmates.

But ‘Lenard’ answered instead. “Yeah. I move around a lot. Next month, I’m going to Russia.”

“Russia? Have you been there before? It’s a ways from Greenland.” the gray-blue eyed man remarked.

“I guess it is. I haven’t been there before.” ‘Lenard’ stated. “Do you live in Greenland?”

“No. I was just there to-” he hesitated. “See some. . . old acquaintances.”

“What’s your name?” I butted in, intent on learning something about at least one of the members on this train.

“Tristan Wade.” Judging from the way he stared me in the eye, he was also, probably lying. Why did everyone on this train lie? What did they possibly have to hide? Then again, I had lied too.

I decided to ask them a question.

“Who do you think is attacking everyone?”

All three of them stared at me.

“Who do you think is attacking everyone?” ‘Lenard’ turned the question back around.

“I have no idea. That’s why I’m asking you!” I exclaimed, frustrated.

“I don’t know enough passengers around here.” He informed me. “But I’d say that the one who attacked the woman was probably in the same cab as her.

That would make it easy for them to know who was currently the weakest, since according to the doctor, she also had asthma, which anyone in the cab would’ve noticed.”

“How do you know that?” I interrogated him.

“Well, Mr. Somerfield, everyone went to Cab 1 when we heard the sudden hush.” he noted.

“And?” I prompted.

“And I asked around to see what happened. Thanks to that, I know who was in Cab 1.”

“So you started in Cab 2?” I verified.

“Yes. The same cab as you. There are only two traveling cabs.” ‘Lenard’ responded, letting out another long yawn.

Neither ‘Tristan’ or the woman answered my inquiry. At that point, I decided to visit the others tables to see what they thought about the attacks.

I decided to pass the other table with two men and one woman because they looked rather uninviting. So I skipped straight to the table with the four women.

“Uh-” I started awkwardly because I didn’t know what to say. “What do you think of the attacks? Who do you think is the assailant?”

One of them stared me down with golden hazel eyes. She had shoulder length, hickory colored hair woven into a short braid and tied off with a black ribbon.

She looked young, maybe nineteen at most. A clean white blouse climbed up to her mid-neck and a black choker circled her throat. “Why do you ask?” She prodded.

“I’m just curious about others’ opinions on the matter.” I put forth.

“Well, I don’t know. All I know is that you should probably keep a low profile for now.” she offered. “By the way, I heard you work as an electrician.

Could you drop by and fix the lights in my room?” She requested, then without waiting for a response, turned back to the other women and they continued their conversation.

I was a zoologist. I had no idea about anything having to do with lights.

“How about methods?” I appealed.

The one directly opposite the one I had just talked to, answered me this time. “Trapping, and the art of knives."

She wore a pristine midnight blue vest on top of a black undershirt and tan khakis.

Black ebony hair sprang down in waterfalls to her mid-back, and long bangs curled in waves around the top of her forehead.

Though she frankly looked very attracting, she seemed to want to downplay her outfit a ton by purposely hiding her eyes and creating crinkles in her shirt. Weird.

Did she not like attention or something? No… that can’t be it… She answered my question perfectly fine.

Stories We Think You'll Love 💕

Get The App

App Store