The Second Train - Boarding Call

Nothing to add today other than dear GOD there are so many bones in the human body. And I got to hold the tonight :3
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 The second train came, speeding down the track, and with it came memories, thoughts, a sense of self. Instantly Rachel was out the door, determined that this time, this time there would be no passing her by. She ran as fast as she could, apron strings fluttering behind her, dress snagging on weeds as she raced down the gravel lane towards the only light, only sound there was in the world. She could feel unconsciousness behind her, loping along with a fox's grin, waiting for her to tire and be swallowed up again.

"NO!" she shrieked, keeping her eyes on the train as it whipped closer, and suddenly she was on a platform, and had a brief impression of cobwebs and a sign that read "Platform 1" swinging on one hinge before the train was on her, red engine bearing down. It was so beautiful and terrifying and amazing that she cried out in joy and terror, and leaped to it, seeing an open door yawning in front of her, and then a rebound off a wall, a tangible reminder that this train was not hers, would never be hers, that she had given up all such things when she decided to wait for Sam. But she was done waiting. Sam was on a train too, and when he got where he belonged he'd find her pulling up beside him.

She pulled her apron off in a blind fury, and saw the caboose approaching. The gleaming handrails called to her, screamed at her, so she obeyed, whipping the apron around one and holding on for dear life as she was bounced violently against the back of the car, over and over again, as if the train itself were trying to dislodge her. God help her, it felt so good.

She managed to get a hand on the railing as the train rattled around a corner, swung helplessly for a moment, and got the other hand up, pulled herself up and over, and lay on the cold steel floor of the caboose, panting. She watched through the bars as the gray farmhouse pulled further and further away, and felt a sense of quiet jubilation. Slowly, she pulled herself to her feet, rubbing her side and wincing at the pain of bruises blooming under her fingertips, and stared at the door to the compartment. It was imposing, black as coal with a design of black feathers threaded through bars, and great eyes stared blankly out at her from the door as she approached. "No use stopping now," she muttered. "Never was one for skulking around, and I'm certainly not staying on the back of this thing for the whole journey." Slowly, with an air of menace, she reached her hand out and grasped the handle.

Pain lanced through her as the handle immediately turned red, then white-hot, hotter than anything she'd ever known, and it was by sheer luck that she twisted as she shrieked in agony, falling through the doorway into-

Snow. A blanket of it covering a wide meadow ringed all around by slumbering pine trees, like nothing she had ever seen before. The air was crisp and clear, and small flakes gathered on Rachel's hair and clothes as she lay gripping her hand. Several minutes passed before she unclasped it, and experimentally opened her clenched fist. Smooth white skin faced her, rather than the blackened ruin she was expecting, and she couldn't help a sardonic smile escaping. She was dead, after all.

Looking around, she noticed two people standing on the other side of the meadow, nearly beneath the trees. She wasn't surprised no one had noticed her yet, as they were clearly locked in a heated argument. One stabbed her finger into the other's chest, making a forceful point, and the wind whipped around them as if trying to keep the peace, keep them apart.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" an angry voice said behind her. Rachel turned, and a few feet away stood a woman with mousey brown hair pulled into a ponytail, wire-rimmed glasses perched on a long nose. She was not someone that would stand out in a crowd, but the eyes behind the lenses were grass-green, snapping with intelligence and rage, and Rachel knew she was not to be underestimated.

"I don't know," she said, drawing herself up to her full height. "I was just stepping into-"

"Get out!" the other woman interrupted, and in a familiar move stabbed her finger into Rachel's chest. "You have no right to be here!" she cried, stepping closer and shoving Rachel as hard as she could. Pinwheeling madly, Rachel struggled to stay upright, when suddenly the snow beneath her feet was carpet and she slammed into a wall. The doorway she had just fallen through gaped open for a moment, showing a glimpse of whiteness and trees before swiftly rolling shut.

Having been knocked around quite enough for the moment, Rachel sat against the wall and looked at her new surroundings. On the wall above her was a small window, and along the hallway she could see other windows spaced at regular intervals. The wall facing her had a long row of sliding doors, with no ornamentation but a black number stenciled into them, and the carpeted hallway stretched to identical black doors at either end. She sat, rocked by the train, listening to the steady chugging sounds and gripping the carpet in her long fingers, and smiled.

She'd made it.

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So there's more of The Second Train, which is officially my NaNo book this year. Hooray for making decisions!