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When Jolyon slept, they dreamt of hell, the flames and endless pain of it, the cold darkness that sank into your bones after too long there. When they woke, still on the train, it was almost a relief.
A strange thing in Sangfielle, to be relieved to find oneself trapped on a train.
It had been days since the Red Zephyr had allowed Duvall and his friend to depart, moving without its earlier frantic pace but not stopping for any signal, darting in front of other, larger, trains as the tracks of the Shape criss-crossed one another, making Jolyon’s stomach churn. Outside the landscape blurred again into memory. Jolyon watched it pass, Fezh’s life speeding forwards and backwards in a sickening loop, lingering at Bell Metal Station before it returned to their childhood. A strange way to learn about a person, but perhaps no stranger than Jolyon’s current circumstances overall.
The carriage tilted dangerously as the Red Zephyr rounded a corner, rocking from side to side as it sped on. Jolyon gripped the side of the bar, scrambling for a pen and paper.
You must slow down , they wrote, you will kill us both, and I have no wish to return to hell so soon after my departure, nor for you to suffer such a fate on top of this one.
Jolyon folded the paper and put it in the suggestion box. The train sped on, the landscape outside returning to the deserts on Sangfielle rather than the loop of memory. Not ideal, but a slight concession to safety perhaps, an acknowledgment of their words.
They walked the length of the train, checking for damage. The kitchen car had restocked itself, ready for service. The luggage car was empty, as was the passenger car. The engine room was similarly empty, the damage Pickman had done to the lines filling the cabin with steam. Jolyon cracked a window, letting in the cool night air. The Red Zephyr would heal from its injuries in time, if it ever slowed down enough to rest.
Outside the window, the world kept rushing by, a blur of colour. Jolyon leant against the cabin door, eyeing the suggestion box.
Please , they wrote again, please slow down .
The Red Zephyr’s engine groaned, the sound of it drawn out into a howl. The train lurched sickeningly and Jolyon put a hand on the wall to steady themselves. Outside, they could see the train’s tendrils extending from the engine, plunging into the earth and gripping the tracks in order to slow itself. The train began to slow, not completely to a stop but enough that Jolyon could make out the world through the windows, enough that it didn’t feel as though they were about to shake free of the tracks.
Thank you , they wrote, slipping the paper into the suggestion box.
The engine let out a short burst of sound, the train settling into a steadier pace. The world outside the windows began to warp back into memories, clearer now without the train’s earlier speed - a small town, travel, friendship. A peaceful life, very different to Jolyon’s own, until the end. The memories stilled, playing in reverse, going over the Bell Metal Station scenes again, lingering on the figure of a richly-dressed devil with purple skin. The train began to speed up again.
You must put him from your mind , Jolyon wrote, Such memories can hardly help us now .
Their pen hovered over the paper. They were hardly likely to chastise a train into behaving with simple words.
As if to prove their point, the train sped up again. Jolyon looked at the speeding landscape with despair. Though they had often, in their misspent youth, wished to swing aboard a train and see what adventure they might find there, this was hardly the adventure they had pictured. They had at least thought they would be able to see some of the world from inside the train, not the blur of colours the world became as the Red Zephyr picked up speed once more.
They’d thought Duvall would be there too, if not by their side, then waiting for them at the station.
He’d looked different, since Jolyon had last seen him, understandable given the transformation he’d undergone since their death. They wondered if they would ever see each other for long enough for them to learn the details of what had transpired, what Duvall’s life looked like now, what they’d done in the span of time between Jolyon’s last breath and this one. They wondered if they would ever see him again at all, or if Duvall might never find another used for the signal torch.
Their throat ached sharply.
I understand it is difficult , they continued , and I find that it is hard to take my own advice on such things, where pains of the heart are concerned. But if we are to survive we must. We cannot free one another but perhaps we can seek a different kind of freedom even in the trap fate has laid for us.
They paused again, considering the flashes of the rocky landscape through the windows and then turning their gaze to the inside of the cabin, decorated in an old Sapodilla style, the hint of another hand at work in its construction. They took a deep breath, closing their eyes and focusing their mind, feeling the vibration of the train’s power and, underneath that, the spark of the Shape itself, pulling on the thread of it the way they had when Duvall had appeared, changing the interior of the train to their will. This time, instead of the plush finery they had created for Duvall, the interior was simpler, closer to the plain country houses at the start of Fezh’s memories.
We can choose something other than the path created for us , they wrote, We can do it together. Even though the lives we once hoped for are lost to us, that is no reason to race to death, for I have seen death and there is no respite to be found there. You are not alone in this entrapment. I am here. I have found my way out of worse spots than this, and I will find our way out of this one.
They slid the note into the suggestion box, closing their eyes. The train began to slow, brakes hissing as the Red Zephyr brought itself to a stop. It let out another low howl, the sound lost to the desert air.
Jolyon put a hand on the suggestion box, like one might offer a comforting hand on a person’s shoulder. The wood of the box felt warm under their palm.
“I am here,” they said.
The engine let out another groan, the sound of it less mournful than before. Jolyon carefully stepped between cars, making their way to the engine room. There was a toolkit there, where there had not been one before, unlocked and waiting for them.
“Is this your doing or mine?” murmured Jolyon. “Or the Shape, perhaps?”
Inside were various bits and pieces, tools that were mostly unfamiliar to Jolyon. They had not, after all, been mechanically minded during their last lifetime. There was however some strips of rubber, rolled in such a way that they brought to mind bandages. Jolyon looked up to the puncture marks left on the pipes.
“Ah,” said Jolyon, “I suppose that is that I am your caretaker, is it not?”
Carefully, trying to angle the steam away from himself, Jolyon wrapped the pipes with the rubber bandages. The steam in the engine room lessened, the holes not sealed but covered enough to stop the loss of power.
They will hold until you can heal , they wrote, You will need to take care not to overexert yourself . They paused. I would recommend bed rest, if such a thing were possible.
They slid the note into the suggestion box. The engine made an odd grinding noise. Laughter, perhaps. They’d never heard a train laugh before. It was possible nobody had. They felt the spark of it under their skin, the feeling of discovery that had been lost to them since their death. Perhaps, even trapped here, they could make new discoveries.
The Red Zephyr began to move again, slowly this time, easing itself along the tracks. Jolyon eyed the pipes, but the rubber bandages held steady, only a thin stream of steam escaping. Perhaps they were better at mechanical repairs than they had thought. Always nice, to discover new skills within oneself.
They smiled to themselves, patting the suggestion box again before they began to move back through the cabins. Escape for them both would not be easy, but perhaps this knowledge, too, resided somewhere, out of reach for now, but discoverable in time as all things were.
Together, they would find it.