Chapter 5: The Train of Transition
1469 Words
"Some chapters begin with hope. This one begins with survival."
The man in the present, even though was in the present, his mind wandered into the past. His head replaying the memory of the tears which fell from his mother's lifeless eyes plays like a broken record. He sits down on his throne heavily and looks at the interviewer and pours him a glass of wine in a long flute glass and he continues with his eyes gazing into nothingness as his mind is still somewhere only he knows.
"I could never have chocolates after that. They scare me. It's like a phobia, you know...? They sometimes make me think I am responsible for my mother's death. It's my love for chocolates as a child that made her step out of the train... If only I could have told her no... She would have been with me..."
He takes out his wallet and flips a flap open out of the three flaps in the hidden compartment of his posh leather wallet studded with tiny diamonds and he looks at the picture of a woman in her late thirties, beautiful blue eyes just like the man holding the wallet but much more calm and gentler. An Angel. That's the best way to describe her. The man sighs and kisses the picture and says in a gentle and warm tone. As if a little child is looking at his mother for the slightest bit of affection.
"Moc tě miluji, mami... Jak bych si přál, abys tu byla se mnou... Miluji tě... "
(Translation: I love you so so much, Mother... How I wish you were here with me... I love you)
He closes the flap and folds the wallet before placing it in his suit pocket and he looks at the interviewer and composes himself before continuing.
"The train I still remember what it smelled like inside the train. Soft iron-pressed linen sheets, the earthy smell of leather and the cheap vodka which I was familiar with when my dad used to bring his co-workers home to celebrate small victories at the office or something like Easter or Christmas Eve."
"I took a seat on the fold-down beds which were for now acting as cushioned seat. The window was pattering with raindrops. It looked like even the skies felt sorry for my plight and weeped with me for my mother."
As the boy was weeping and mourning his mother as he was seated on his chair. A hand holds him by his shoulder. He quickly pulls away and looks at the hand. He thought it was one of them but when he looked up, it was a train ticket collector. A woman with a kind face, not any older than his mother. She asks for his ticket. When he slides his hand inside his pocket and takes it out, he finds two tickets. He became numb and lost in his thoughts.
The woman looks at the ticket and then the boy, asking in a concern manner. "Who does the second ticket belong to...? "
The boy breaks into tears the moment she finished her sentence and hugs the woman. The woman, even though surprised, she hugged him back as she was reminded of her own child and embraces him until he loosened his arms around her. The woman smiles and pats his head before leaving to inspect tye tickets of the other passengers. The boy looks out the window blankly until it was night time.
At midnight, the lady comes back from her rounds, she sees the boy, the seat now turned into a berth bed, hugging his pillow with dried tear trails along his cheeks and an expression which looked like as if it was an infant clinging on to his mother for warmth and affection. Craving for it.
The lady goes towards the sleeping boy and brushes his hair away from his forehead and kisses it gently and tucks him in the blanket before leaving the train when it stopped in a sub station where she can get off and finish her duty for the night. Mothers are truly a blessing. Angels of God on Earth.
Time passed, and the morning rays of light shimmered against the window. The boy woke up and turned his head to look outside.
People looked different. Different clothes, foreign expressions. There were cigarette shops everywhere, food vendors just beyond the platform, and the signs were not written in Czech. The boy tried to read one of the signs, and to his surprise, he understood what it said.
Moscow.
He had finally reached Russia.
He got out of the train compartment and stepped down onto the platform. Looking around for a moment, he headed toward the exit.
As he stepped out of the train station, he looked out at the city before him.
He felt as if he had gone back in time.
The brutalist architecture, the cars, the signboards, the communist flags, the churches, and the monuments—it all looked as if he had stepped into a place untouched by change. They reminded him of the pictures and drawings in the history textbooks that told stories about the Soviet Union.
Even with the recent traumatic events, he couldn't help but admire the surreal experience he was having. He took in the scent of the unfamiliar air he breathed.
He headed toward the pickup point he had found by asking the locals. He knew some Russian, as his father had taught him, believing it would be useful in the future.
He expected to see either his aunt or uncle.
But no one was there.
He was worried.
Then suddenly, a white GAZelle van drove into the parking lot. The van came to a stop, and the engine shut off.
The boy looked at the van from a distance, wondering if it belonged to his relatives.
The people inside the van looked at the boy. They seemed intrigued.
One of them, an older man, observed the boy carefully and realized that he was completely alone. He stepped out of the van and approached him.
As the boy looked out toward the parking lot and the road leading into the train station, hoping his relatives would arrive at any moment, he noticed a man approaching him.
The man looked respectable and distinguished. He wore a white shirt and a grey suit. He appeared polished and refined, with neatly cut hair.
The boy assumed he was a government employee.
The boy stood his ground, trying not to appear suspicious.
The man looked at him and asked in a thick Russian accent,
"May I see your passport?"
The boy nodded and handed it over.
The man took the passport and examined it. He looked at the photograph, then at the boy, studying him for a moment before glancing around.
"Is there someone with you?" the man asked in an intrigued manner.
The boy answered by shaking his head.
The man looked at him as if he were scanning him—his expression, his posture, his build.
A faint smile appeared on the man's face.
He told the boy to follow him, explaining that he wished to make some enquiries regarding his documents.
The boy reluctantly agreed and followed the man toward the parking lot.
The boy noticed a small office opposite the waiting stand they had been standing near. He assumed he would be taken there for questioning and some routine procedures before being allowed to leave.
But that was far from the truth.
As they walked, the man pulled out a walkie-talkie and muttered something into it.
Suddenly, the van parked in the lot roared to life.
It accelerated toward them and drifted into position so that its sliding door faced them directly.
The door flew open.
Two sets of arms reached out and grabbed the boy.
The boy tried to fight back, but the man accompanying him reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a syringe.
The boy felt a sharp prick against his neck.
His vision blurred.
The world around him seemed to slow.
The milky white liquid inside the barrel of the syringe slowly disappears into his vein.
The hands dragged him into the van.
The sliding door slammed shut.
The man in the grey suit combed his sleek hair back, slightly ruffled by the commotion. He calmly walked to the front passenger seat, got inside, and closed the door.
Moments later, the van drove away from the train station.
A few minutes passed.
Then a small black Lada drove into the station parking lot.
The occupants of the car looked toward the waiting stand and became confused.
The man behind the wheel looked at the woman beside him with growing concern.
"Milena..." he asked in a worried tone.
"Where's Karolina's son...?"
- Writer
