Stasis crested the four hour mark, and the inhabitants of Car 67 began to grow restless. Delays were normal, of course, but this stoppage was anything but. Since the moment they rumbled to a halt, nervousness festered, and as the sun set in the desert, the decorum of self-containment eroded into whispered discontent.
The screeching brakes had been an omen, unheeded in the moment as another mild annoyance that would eventually rectify itself.
Darla was the first to speak up, gathering her purple skirts as she stood and claimed an accidental authority she never expected to find on an unmoving train. Her voice was small, but as the eyes of Car 67 drew to her, she was bolstered in a way she hadn’t felt in years.
“Friends, I don’t have any answers. The trouble could be mechanical in nature, but there’s no real way of knowing. I am disturbed that we’ve had no visit from a porter, nor an announcement from the loudspeaker. I want to mention, however, my trust in this mode of transport, and my deferance to the expertise of the crew. Perhaps we’ve heard naught because of the diligent work to resolve a predicament beyond our understanding.”
She took to the aisles, pulling a violet cascade of fabric behind her. Darla tugged at the doors on either end of the car, twice apiece, to no avail. As she paced, the inkling of confidence faltered, and she flopped back into her seat as a shrill voice echoed from the far side of the car.
“Are we trapped?”
The mere mention stirred waves of panic among the passengers, and the whispers transmogrified into a dull roar of indignation. Still, Darla seemed the only one capable of addressing the crowd.
“Please, I beg you, be calm. The unknown is surely frightening, but we’ve no cause for alarm.”
A shriek in the distance punctuated her plea at the precise moment the sun disappeared below the horizon. A hush fell upon the passengers, the taste of fear snatching the complaints from their throats. Car 67 shook violently, and the lights went out. An instant darkness drew inarticulate bursts of concern as a passenger in a khaki trenchcoat smashed the handle of his umbrella into the glass of the rear door.
“We have to get out of here.”
Collectively, they weighed their options in silence. Desert loomed in every direction, the arid wind pouring through the shattered window at the back of the car. Another clarion howl spurred Darla away from her worries, and she stood, smoothing her skirt despite its invisibility.
“Perhaps my trust was unfounded. I know not the place to which we will flee, but flee we must.”
The train lurched again, and Darla made her way hastily to the back of the car. She delilcately examined the opening, and began to crawl through, beckoning the others to follow. The residual bits of falling glass filled the quiet space between distant, cacophonous cries. Darla offered a breathless request.
“To the east.”
As people squeezed through the opening, barely illuminated by the crescent moon, the intensity of the howling descended upon them. Darla began to sprint and the others followed suit, chasing a purple phantom across the sand.