“Lester...?”
But it wasn't Lester who was there. It was the car. All crumpled up like a used handkerchief. There was no sign of Lester.
“Miss.” The stranger from the train called again. I didn't know if it was the driver or someone else. I didn't know anything. I didn't know where Lester was.
I spun on my heels, realizing I was barefoot, but not knowing when that had happened. I looked around. At the vacant lots surrounding us. At the railroad tracks. At the huge vehicle casting a shadow over the dawn. I ignored the faces of several people who began to approach, until the stranger placed his hands on my shoulders.
“Miss, come with me. It's better to get out of here. Come on.”
“N-no, my boyfriend.” I stammered. “He was on the tracks when the train passed. He must be clinging to the train. He spent years in Wyoming, you know? He's a cowboy.”
“Miss...” The man's pitying tone stopped me. I stared at him, confused by the sorrow on his face. “Come with me, please...?”
“No, you don't understand! He must have grabbed onto some part of the train! We have to help him! He must be hurt! We need to take him to a hospital—”
The stranger rubbed his hands on my arms and started to cry. But why on earth would he cry? The train only wrecked the car, it wasn't serious.
Other people's exclamations filled the early morning air. I heard ‘My good Lord!’ echoing and saw how, in the distance, behind the last train car, people were moving around with their arms raised. Terrified. Which didn't make sense, because the only thing there was the car.
I lost the ability to breathe.
Staggering, I turned, looking at the front of the train.
That's where the car was.
Tears clouded my vision.
“Miss, come on… Let’s go…”
The oil on the railroad tracks. The twisted thing behind the last train car. At first, it was as if my heart were made of stone. As if there were nothing there. Until I looked back at the crowd that had gathered. There were people crying. People crouching as if they were vomiting. I couldn't make out faces because of the darkness and the distance, but the silhouettes told me enough.
Lester's image replayed in my mind. His face contorted with fear.
It wasn't true.
I pushed the stranger and started running again. I lifted what was left of my dress skirt, definitely revealing more of my body than I should have, but didn't care. I ran like I had never run before in my life. I ran until my legs became a numb mass. I ran until I collapsed at the back of the last wagon and saw the twisted thing.
On my knees, with unfamiliar hands trying to support me, I gasped for air and felt what my eyes refused to see, tears washing my face. Flesh, bones, skin, hair, and clothes. A body contorted in the most horrifying and irreparable way one could imagine.
That thing, those remains, belonged to the young man who was with me moments ago. Those remnants used to have a heart, a name, a purpose.
My mouth opened wide in a muffled groan. I grabbed something, bones, and tried to put them together. People tried to pull me away, but without success. I wanted, Ineededto help Lester. I had to heal him. But as I felt the still-warm blood and broken bones, unable to piece together the puzzle that had once been the man I loved, the sound returned to my throat and my ragged cries filled the air.
“NO!”
Chapter 5
Daisy Peonia Mary Parker
May, 2013
18 years old
Silver River, South Mississippi, USA
Twelve years ago
Conrad Fury howled, slumped over the closed coffin, refusing to let them lower it into the ground. Senator Jones was a wreck, supported by close friends. And me? I had no tears or sorrow left. I existed, yet no longer lived. I felt trapped in a nightmare where nothing seemed to be real.
