And Clementine was starting to feel she had.
She watched Jacob––as best she could in the near dark––grab another suitcase and carelessly rifle through it. Nearby, Noah bent down to peruse a duffle bag as Kid Black tore something open and emptied it onto the floor, chattering to himself. The scene brought to mind rats skittering in the darkness, ugly worm-tails swinging as they scampered over rotting scraps, scavenging what they could.
She would have said she had never felt so dirty, but that just wasn’t true.
“Guys,” she whispered. “This is pointless.”
“It’s here, babe, I know it is,” Jacob said. He was standing the furthest from her, little more than a shape in the gloom, but she knew he was shaking his head.
“Jake, we don’t even know what we’re looking for.”
“Maybe Mega-Ball got his info wrong or some–” Noah started to offer.
“You calling me a liar?” Jacob snapped.
“No, not at all,” Noah calmly replied. “But maybe it was on a different train, or his arcana got it wrong–”
“You did put us onto the right train, right?”
It took Clem a second to realize Jacob had been asking her. “It’s the Texas Eagle 21, Jake, the one you said. It’s pretty hard to get wrong.”
He muttered under his breath. Behind her, Kid Black kept emptying suitcases and sifting through the scattered clothing, occasionally stuffing something into his backpack. “See?’ Jacob said smugly. “Kid’s down to keep looking.”
“Nah,” Kid drawled, picking something up and sniffing it deeply. “Mega-Ball got it wrong. I wouldn’t trust his power to find my cousin’s asshole from her cooter.”
“Kid, you don’t even have a cousin,” said Noah.
“That’s how little I trust that one-balled rat. Anyways, you guys do whatever the hell you want, I’m huntin’ for my own treasures.” They all realized what he meant, and screeched their disgust.
“Hey, don’t make it weird.” Kid smelled another pair of panties. “It’s not like they’re used. I’m just goin’ for the ones that smell the most like clean cotton. S’not really any different than regular clothes, right?”
“If that was true, you’d be sniffing regular clothes,” Jacob countered.
“And how do you know they’re even women’s panties?” Clementine pointed out.
Kid’s scrawny cowboy silhouette twitched as he contemplated that. “What… what do you mean?” His Stetson teetered ever so slightly as the train began its deceleration. The overhead intercom clicked on.
“Folks, we’re coming up on Lubbock station,” a voice rasped. “If this is your stop, please make your way to the exits now. We’ll be here for fifteen minutes, and won’t be stopping again until Midland, so this is your last chance to smoke. TexaRail asks that you please don’t blow your smoke towards the entrances or passenger windows, and would like to remind you that if you see anyone performing arcana, please report it to the nearest TexaRail employee…”
The general sense of unease within her began to dissipate as the gang emerged from the darkness; the dark had been advantageous when she had brought them into the cabin while the train was stationed in Plainview, but she hadn’t anticipated how good it would feel to step back into the light. The glow of the train’s kerosene lamps was like the warm shower of a summer rainstorm, washing away the cold dampness of their sins. In the light, she felt less like a rat hunting for scraps, and more like an actual human being.
But there were signs forbidding the use of arcana posted everywhere, brazenly reminding her why they would never truly be able to call Texas home.
Her cheap clothing clashed with the crushed-velvet upholstery, the golden silk curtains, the chandeliers like a fountain of glass. She was reminded of a museum her father took her to once, of its rigid and disapproving atmosphere, and joked to herself to not touch anything, but the humor was missing. She suspected at any point someone would spot the four obvious stowaways––how else could a wretch like her afford to come onboard?––but she was a little hurt that nobody even glanced their way. People were usually instinctively detected by other people, but a rat––those went unseen.
During their prior reconnaissance of the train, they had chosen an empty cabin to hide in; as they now headed towards it, they quietly argued the whole way about doing Jacob’s Plan B: wait until nightfall, when everyone else onboard should be sleeping, and then use their powers to rob each slumbering passenger blind. Clem thought it was a comically dangerous option that would just result in their eventual arrest at the hands of Texas Ranger Martinez. When they arrived at their cabin and seated themselves, Jake ignored her as if they weren’t arguing, pulled out his knife and a small ambiguously-shaped piece of wood, and startled whittling; the splintered chunks dusted her shoddy boots.
“You told me yesterday you were tired,” he said. “Well, I’m tired too! Didn’t you want something better in life, don’t you want that?”
Kid Black’s hand shot into the air. “I want that.”
“No one asked you!”
Kid withered next to Noah on the opposite seat, both visibly uncomfortable to be sharing the small cabin with the bickering couple. Clementine stared at her hands, idly picking some dry skin on her palm and avoiding Jake’s eyes as his temper waned. She worried he could hear what she was thinking, what she always thought after their arguments, one way or another.
Jake knows what he’s doing.
But the arguing continued for some time, despite Clem’s disgruntlement. Noah joined in and, to both her and Jake’s surprise, sided with her, doing his best to level-headedly explain to Jake that although he was an excellent leader, Plan B was not just foolish but reckless. “Dude, it ain’t just you and Clem,” Noah explained. “We’re all tired of scraping by. I mean, shit, ain’t you tired?” he asked Kid.
“I’m tired of this moment,” Kid answered. His Stetson was tilted so far back it almost fell off, as if it, too, wanted to be done with the conversation.
“That’s not–” Noah groaned, then turned to Jake. “You keep saying you still want us to be a band, but you also expecting us to switch over to your––crazy-ass Plan B, which by the way, we never said we were ok with.” He had clearly refrained from saying “rob this train” aloud. “So which is it? Or you planning for us to always be minstrels by day and thieves by night?”
“Yeah,” Kid added, pleased with this thoughtful contribution. Nobody acknowledged it.
“So what, we don’t even try?” Jake asked Noah. “We get all the way here, literally hours from doing what we’ve planned for months, and now you’re saying you don’t wanna–”
“Mega-Ball messed up, Jake,” Clem said lightly, resting her hand on his knee. Jake just turned away and stared out the window, completely deadpan. Clem looked at the others for encouragement; Noah nodded eagerly at the idea, but Kid just shrugged.
The argument had officially died down, for now. An anxious silence filled the air, and it suddenly occurred to Clem that she couldn’t remember the last time she had gone to the restroom; the need to go had made itself urgently present. She quietly excused herself (only Noah noticed she was leaving, giving her a small, wearied smile as she left), and she quickly scampered off to the restroom in the next car over, her head down to avoid making eye contact with anyone, although she encountered no one else. However, as she reached the door to the single-user restroom and wasted no time opening it, she discovered somebody already inside.
A 40-something, Asian woman stood before the sink, applying makeup one-handedly while monitoring her work in the mirror; in her other hand was a small rubber ball, with a thin hose leading from one end, disappearing into the sleeve of her blouse. “Um, excuse me?” she said motionlessly, a tube of magenta lipstick pressed against her lips, staring at Clem with wide-eyed incredulity.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should’ve knocked–”
“Mhmm,” she grunted, nearly hitting Clementine with the door as she kicked it shut with a high-heeled foot.
Was that a train attendant? What if she asks for my ticket?! After waiting in the hall for an anxiety-inducing minute, debating if it would be better or worse to stay, Clem wondered if her assumption had been wrong. Perhaps the woman wasn’t coming out anytime soon, or was notifying security that she had spotted a team of rag-tag stowaways and relaying their exact location to the authorities. When the restroom door swung open, Clementine almost screamed that she didn’t mean it, it was her friends, please show mercy!
But the woman stood with an arm extended against the door, studying Clem through a mesh of false lashes; a delicate hint of rose and berries wafted through the air, beautifully subdued. It was evident that the woman’s perfume, makeup, and shoes were highly expensive.
“Don’t they knock on doors where you’re from?” she asked, bringing her hands to her hips. She hadn’t asked it harshly, but hadn’t left much room for friendliness, either. Her nametag read: HI, MY NAME IS KIKU.
“I’m sorry, but the– the handle said it was vacant.”
Kiku frowned and inspected the lock. She turned it and it jammed halfway, then fully engaged after a stronger twist; it hadn’t been locked all the way. “Oh. My apologies.”
Clem watched Kiku scan her from head to toe, stopping at the exact spots she didn’t want people noticing––the year-old coffee stain dotting the floral pattern of her long-sleeved button down, the rips and frayed threads on the hem of her skirt, the missing laces of her dirty boots––before finishing their sweep and landing on Clementine’s nervous gaze.
“How old are you?” Her accent, although faint, had become more apparent to Clementine, but she couldn’t place it; Chinese or Japanese, she guessed, but didn’t know enough about either to say for sure. Perhaps this woman’s frankness was merely part of her culture. Maybe the overt sensuality was, too.
“I’m twenty.”
“I’d use that to my advantage, if I were you,” Kiku said, leaning against the doorframe, allowing the bulb over the bathroom sink to illuminate her incredibly beautiful features. Even that tattoo on her neck looks cute, Clem noted, although the shadows of Kiku’s hair obscured its design; a heart, or star, perhaps? A skull? Kiku smiled, unveiling a glistening row of perfectly straight teeth, and her demeanor slid into that of a trusted confidante, like an elder sister disclosing sex tips to a younger sibling. Clementine was unaccustomed to such a role model; maybe that was why the coy glint in Kiku’s eyes didn’t exactly instill confidence.
But she didn’t want to seem rude, so Clem pretended to chuckle and said, “Yeah, I guess I should. I mean, I– I do. Sometimes.”
“Mmm. That’s what I’m doing, you know? I don’t always wear such clothing.” She pointed at her cleavage. The top buttons were undone, revealing the edges of a black lace bra; Clementine gathered from its unusual thickness that it was a pump-up. “I’ve simply learned over the years that dressing like this yields larger tips. One isn’t given many advantages at birth, and your youth and womanhood are two. Do not waste them, or fear using them. Hold nothing back when seeking what you desire. And with your–” She waved up and down at Clementine’s clothes. “–grungy Little House on the Prairie style, those youthful looks of yours could go a long way.”
And with that, Kiku headed off to attend to the train’s lavish and rich guests. Clem immediately slammed the door shut and locked it, then heaved a mighty sigh as she slumped onto the closed toilet seat.
After she finished, she washed her hands once, then again, and again. Soon her palms were raw and pink, and she slowly grasped she wasn’t trying to wash the germs away, but her own self-loathing. She almost fell as the train rocked, and hastily shut the faucet off and stared at her reflection. Her left eye looked irritated––maybe there was dust underneath the contact lens––and there were a few too many freckles spotting her skin, but otherwise she looked normal; definitely not like a crazy person washing their hands raw for no good reason. Yet, as she continued to scan her reflection, she obsessively searched for the same defects she hadn’t wanted Kiku to see.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“I don’t wanna do this anymore,” she told her reflection, who seemed to agree. A dinner bell faintly rang in the distance; an ancient echo, tolling from the past. In each chime Clementine could hear her mother’s voice, frothing as she cried of the evils of witchkind, how God had already denounced them and marked their souls for Hell; they were powerful, but this only showed the power of their collective sins.
Was this true? Clementine and her friends were just trying to survive, to live; did she feel this grungy, this destitute and grimy, because of the careless flips life had shown them as it had laid out their cards? Or did they all deserve to be in this lowly state––were they destined for despair simply because of the evils surging within them?
Clem didn’t know, and her reflection could provide no answers for her, either. There was nothing else to settle for other than hope; it had provided little sustenance for her in the past, but she supposed she was grateful she at least had that––and that she still even had the ability to hope. She turned away from her reflection and left the bathroom.
Still recessed in the back of her mind, her dread clawed at its burrow.
Clementine crossed into the sleeper car, then immediately froze. The instinct to run, to go anywhere but here, flared up, but all she could do was remain motionless.
In the doorway of the first sleeper room, Kiku stood beside a trolley loaded with fancy plates of gourmet food. As she guided it inside, a thick accented voice––Clementine could only conclude it sounded European––superciliously said, “I was already served an inadequate meal this evening, I do not remember ordering another. If I am expected to pay–”
“Mr. Sh?fer,” Kiku sweetly crooned, “TexaRail sincerely apologizes for the quality of your earlier meal, and hopes that this rectifies the situation. Free of charge, of course.”
“Hmm, perhaps, perhaps.”
Clementine relaxed as Kiku moved into the cabin; she initially assumed whoever was inside had stopped Kiku to talk about the stowaways, but that was clearly incorrect. Weird that she was doing it so late, but Kiku was just giving them their meal. She debated walking to her cabin now, or waiting for Kiku to leave and shut the door. It didn’t matter if Kiku saw her, but Clem was afraid of being seen by the others.
Although, would someone who holds nothing back worry about being seen?
Clementine stood straight, squared her shoulders, and casually ambled towards her room. As she passed the opened door of the cabin, she couldn’t stop from taking a peek inside. Kiku’s back was to her, blocking someone; probably Mr. Sh?fer, who sat opposite a woman, presumably in her late fifties from her thinning white hair woven in a thick braid. Her gaze––amenable but bored––flitted towards Clem as she moved past the doorway, almost spotting her, but darted back to Kiku. The attendant had reached for a small, metal briefcase next to the man, saying, “Here, let me remove this so I can set your meal down–”
“That is not necessary–” the man started to yell as Kiku picked the briefcase up, which opened and spilled something out. The older woman bolted up as the man screamed obscenities at Kiku, who babbled apologies. The man shouted for her to leave, and Clem heard Kiku run out of their room and dash into the next car. And she definitely heard the man loudly whisper for help to put everything back into the case, before slamming the door shut.
Clem heard all of these things but didn’t see them: she had hurried away when she spotted what had fallen out.
It was a small vial, and she had only caught a glimpse, but there was no mistaking it contained some sort of metallic liquid. She had seen mercury before, but never something like this, something so beautiful, and although she hadn’t the faintest clue what it was, simply based off the man’s reaction––and the stunning beauty of the silvery fluid––she instantly assumed it was some type of rare metal and was probably worth a lot.
Was that what Mega-Ball was talking about?!
It was still on her mind as she reentered her cabin, drowning out whatever nonsense her friends were saying. She plopped down next to Jake, who failed to notice her return. His inattention was normally upsetting, but the vial allowed her to overlook it: the pale, silvery fluid swirled around, and she abandoned herself in that glittery cloud; dollar bills condensed into fat drops of cash raining around her. That vial had everything she and her friends needed, maybe it could be the answer–
“I ain’t never, never, put baby powder on my balls,” Jake sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Kid, I swear, you make me say it again I’m gonna sock ya.”
While it wasn’t surprising her friends were engaging in testicular talk, the sudden awareness of their stupidity grounded Clementine. It had only been a fleeting glance, and even then, it didn’t prove anything about the vial’s worth, or what was in it. Without a definitive answer, she was just assuming, which was never safe, so it was useless to even dream about it until she had that answer. But…
She snatched a glass and darted out of the room, then snuck into the adjacent cabin, barely wasting time to verify it was empty before quietly sliding the door shut. She placed the glass on the wall, and set her ear against it. The wall muted the conversation, and the strangers spoke quietly, but Clem could vaguely make them out.
“… this samp… erior quality… higher val… be more…” the man said.
“Yes, but… key wouldn’t… to the ward for help… why meet here… ” the woman said.
“… speak to me… her, I am quite… no issues with sell…”
Clementine shifted to hear more clearly. “Does it do what you say?” the woman said, the hoarse, ashy quality of her voice more apparent now, as well as a hint of intrigue.
“Yes. Of course,” the man said. “I made it myself. Do you doubt me?”
“No, no. But what does it do?”
Silence. Clem’s pulse pounded in her ear. Had they heard her eavesdropping?!
Then the man softly chuckled. “Anything.”
The train hit a bump, bouncing her head on the glass, which rapped against the wall. Someone in the cabin yelled, but Clem had already raced out, closed the door, and sprinted back to her own room. Again, no one noticed as she sat next to Jake, rubbing her palms raw and anxiously waiting for someone to barge inside. They must have seen or heard her, or guessed––correctly––that the offending eavesdropper came from the only other cabin with anyone inside. There’s no way she had escaped; but as time ticked away, each second too heavy and too long, she felt more and more confident that she had, and slowly came to a verdict.
“Guys?” she said, clearing her throat, before repeating herself more loudly. They stopped chattering and looked at her.
“I… I have something to tell you.”
The plan was simple. In fact, it was a variation of Plan B.
When night arrived and the kerosene lamps were extinguished, they worked up their courage and headed for the strangers’ room, skulking through the fleeting, feeble beams of moonlight creeping in through the windows. She feared the worst as Kid’s backpack snagged on a fire extinguisher attached to the wall; he shrieked at the unexpected tug, frantically reaching for the pair of panties that had fallen out. Noah rushed over and clasped a hand over his mouth. They waited in a petrified cluster. During the flashing light of a passing streetlamp, Clem thought she glimpsed someone else, some slender, feminine shape, but no, they were alone.
The train rattled beneath her as they sneaked through the gloomy hallway, heart spiking with each jolt. They neared Sh?fer’s unlit cabin, and Jake pressed an ear to the door, checking for noise. The train rocked along––had Clementine made a mistake? She peered at the others, at their hazy silhouettes, and could sense their somber expressions, the chance of failure shining through the darkness in the sweat glistening on their brows. Draped in light, their success could be revealed as nothing more than an illusion of the shadows. The train rumbled underneath her.
STOP, it seemed to moan.
She searched for Jacob in the gloom. He was motionless, one hand trembling on the door handle. “Jake? What’s wrong?”
He stayed still a bit longer, then led them all into a small alcove next to the door; Clem wildly wondered if he might pull the emergency brakes located there––she nearly hoped he would. “Guys, I…” he whispered shakily. “I don’t know if we should do this.” In the dark, it was easy for Clem to hide her relief, but before she could tell him they should just forget the whole thing, Kid Black hissed, “Dude, c’mon, we’re right here.”
“Yo, Jake’s right,” Noah said. “These people could be dangerous, this isn’t–”
“I ain’t afraid,” Jake said, stiffening his spine. “None of you should be either. What? There’s gonna be something in there worse than some of the shit we’ve faced? Pfft. Please. Each one of us had to go through crap nobody else could’ve endured, and we did that shit alone. Every one of us. But guess what––now we’re together. Now we ain’t alone anymore, we ain’t… wandering in the dark, scrambling for a bit of hope. We found it. And you know what? It’s on the other side of this fucking door. And I sure as hell ain’t gonna let anyone get in my way of getting it. Bet on that. You guys feel me?”
The train had hummed along without a hitch in its tracks, mirroring perfectly the reverent awe with which the others now stared at their leader. Clem assumed the other two were looking at Jake, anyway; she couldn’t tear her eyes off him, off the shadowy figure before her, gazing upon his audience with the sad pity of a prophet who knows many will hear––but few will listen. She would, though; she’d follow him anywhere after that. Well… before that, too, right? she asked herself, but the answer was diverted by her profound respect and admiration for Jacob.
“Yeah,” Noah said, and she almost jumped, already forgetting anyone else existed other than her and Jake. “Yeah man, I…” Noah looked at her and Kid. “I think we do, right?”
“Fuck yeah, man,” Kid whispered, grinning madly; the few white spots on his teeth flashed in the meager light, accentuating the oily sheen of his pallid, acned cheeks.
“Yeah,” Clementine said, “I think we’re all–”
“Perfect,” Jake said. “That’s exactly why I think Noah and Kid should go in first.”
“What?!” they both exclaimed.
“Think about it. If you guys die first, you got nobody back home that’ll miss you, and–”
“No no no.” Noah’s tone was becoming bitter. “You did not, I repeat, you did not–”
“Look, dude, I know how that sounded,” Jake started, but by this point Clementine had already stopped listening. Was any of what he had said real? Jacob sounded so sure, so believable, it had to be true, it just had to be. Jake knows what he’s doing––he’s always right. Still, Clem couldn’t quite shake off the sourness that had upset her initial esteem, and the echoes of his speech still rattling in her head were beginning to spoil, cracking when they landed.
The other three were still quietly debating whether Jake or Noah should go in first––no one argued in favor of Kid having the honors––and Clementine peeked around the corner of the alcove, her eyes on the door of the strangers’ cabin. Its shadows were more deserving of the fear bubbling inside her gut, and she appreciated Jake’s hesitation; this was, without a doubt, the riskiest thing they had ever done. Any of them.
Plan B had seemed daunting enough, but now they were about to steal something they knew nothing about other than that it was shiny, and possibly––possibly––valuable. Surely, the safest option was to back away before things got out of control. But her stomach growled from the hunger she had been trying to ignore all day, the air poked at the holes in her clothes; her heart hurt from what she had left back home.
Hold nothing back when seeking what you desire.
She couldn’t hear her friends, or even herself anymore––just the train. She reached for the clementine bead hanging from her necklace, idly rubbing it, and once more remembered what her father told her. Their entire lives, she and her friends had only been given lemons and were expected to be grateful, and should be, but she felt it still valid to ask why they had never been given lemonade. That didn’t quite sit well with her, though; it sounded too entitled, as if she deserved lemonade, deserved an unwarranted reward while others didn’t. There had to be a deeper justification to it all, something that said why some thirsts were quenched with no effort put in, why others were required to work for it, and why some died with parched mouths held open waiting for a drop.
The train pulled them along, and Clem listened to its wheels squealing against the rail line; she realized that, like her, it also hadn’t set its course of its own accord, but unlike her, she had chosen to be here, and it occurred to her that she had been using the wrong approach. Life didn’t hand out lemons; they grew, and to obtain one, you had to pick it yourself. Which meant Clem had to choose: be content with what’s been given––or go against everything she stood for, and take.
Daddy, I… Clementine rubbed the bead, letting whatever she was going to say to him––to herself––trail off. She didn’t need him to answer, and it wasn’t like he was around to do so; this was a choice for her alone. She looked at her friends, seeing upon them the same exhaustion that bore down on her, and knew she already had her answer. Before anyone could stop her––before she could stop herself––Clem raced over, slid the door open and slunk inside, then immediately shut it behind her. Noah may have whispered “No!” just as it closed, but it was too late. She leaned against the door, breathing as quietly as possible; her nerves cried out in terror. The room was a flurry of wind and noise, the curtain violently rustling by the opened window.
As her eyes adjusted, she saw Mr. Sh?fer in one of the bunk beds, moonlight spilling onto his face. In the pale glow, he looked lifeless, dead; perhaps he was. Was it possible whoever killed him could still be here, and would be after her next? Then he gave a hefty snore and turned over, and it took everything in Clem’s power not to vocalize her relief. Where was the woman with the braid she had spotted earlier, and how long did Clem have before she came back?
Probably not long enough to be asking questions. Clementine willed herself to proceed. Where’s that dang briefcase? She couldn’t spot it in the gloom, and the moonlight showed only Mr. Sh?fer’s slumbering form on the lower bunk bed. Her hair whipped in the wind, stinging her cheeks. A sinking sensation grew in the pit of her stomach as it dawned on her the briefcase was probably hidden, and she couldn’t begin to fathom how the heck she was supposed to look for it in the dark. Or maybe the woman with the braid took it, and if that was true, then as far as Clem was concerned, it was as good as gone. The train’s wheels faintly whined beneath her feet, and their message was loud and clear.
GET OUT NOW.
The moonlight glinted off something shiny underneath the bunk bed: the briefcase! Clem tip-toed to the bed, holding her breath as she studied the man’s motionless body, then knelt and slowly dragged the case out. Thankfully, the noise was masked by the wind. She clutched it to her chest and stood, freezing after her knees popped, but the sound hadn’t woken him. She carefully tip-toed back to the door, her eyes never veering from the sleeping man. She reached behind her to painstakingly slide the door open, wincing at every creak it made. When the gap was large enough, she rushed through it, but froze as someone grabbed her arm. Then Jacob hissed “Go!” into her ear, latching onto her free hand. Kid leaped over to them and grabbed Noah, then held on to Clem’s shoulder.
Time seemed to hold still. She looked back at her companions. I’m sorry. She said this to herself, to her friends, to God, to whomever was watching.
If anyone was.
She closed her eyes and deeply inhaled. Then the air swirled in the train hallway, and they were all gone.