Surviving Prague Excerpt 7

The Hollow Man    |     The Hollow Man Series, International Espionage​

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The storm had passed through by the time I hopped an early morning freight train headed north out of Lenora. Fatigue had left me without bones, without muscles, without rage. Defeated, I crawled into an open box car and oozed into the cracks between the wooden slats of the floor.

The heavy engine shook the empty cars down the line. I pressed my hands to the floor for fear of rolling out onto the gravel. The diesel raced and the train lurched as it began to roll forward.

I lay there looking up at the wooden cantilevers, breathing like every exhale was my last. A magpie stared back at me from one if the rafters. He turned his head curiously, thinking about breakfast.

I’m not dying today, I thought. With some difficulty I rolled over and crawled to the far corner away from the blackbird. I smiled at him. He smiled back questioningly. He started to talk and I wondered what he was saying. Are you positive you are not dying today? Falling asleep was a chance I wasn’t willing to take under the circumstances.

My clothes felt like a plaster body cast since they had dried. The magpie watched me undress. I shook my clothes and continued shaking until the stiffness was gone. They were still filthy and more than a little scratchy but there wasn’t a thing I could do about it right now.

I slipped my clothes back on and sat against the bulkhead exchanging glances with the bird. He had stopped talking when the clothes snapped in the air but held his ground. He changed positions, flying to the next closest rafter.

I peered outside watching the gray scenery roll by. The day had arrived with a dull canopy of thick clouds that blocked most of the sun’s light. The wind had faded to a soft breeze cutting across the open doors.

The train hit a loose rail connection, jerking hard to the left then back to the right. I shifted my body into the ninety degree angle where the side met the front wall. The train’s motion settled into a smooth glide as the engine cut its speed to twenty kilometers an hour.

The magpie was still holding vigil on his perch. He cawed once. Don’t start calling your friends, I thought. Right now I haven’t the strength to fight off you and them, too. Besides, there isn’t enough of me to share. I folded my arms across my chest for protection just in case.

I closed my eyes and listened to the box car breathing. Wind seeped through the cracks in the sideboards above my head. The faint smell of manure swirled around me before draining out the other side with a soft rhythmic rattle.

The slow rocking of the box car lulled me into restless sleep. I wandered through fog with faceless strangers. I dreamed of blood-soaked bodies, and ghosts, and not finding Zita in time. I was stopped at the edge of evil not allowed to pass to safety.

“Jste mrtvý, pane?”

Cellophane creatures spoke to me but I couldn’t understand. The haze in my dreams blurred the words and clouded the faces. I found myself back in the forest with no way to turn that didn’t hurt.

I heard more sounds that made no sense; conversation fragments swirling in the mist. I reached out to touch them. The words oozed through my fingers.

Huge arms wrapped around me not to comfort my limp body but to crush the bones. The skin burst. The skeleton fractured. The sinew imploded. The remaining powder flew away with the fog.