Inez and the Forgotten from the Quarry

Control

The last time I rode a train was a little over a year ago. I had convinced several of my sisters to sneak on with me. We had dressed up like some of the working women and blended in during the rush. It was one of the few times I saw them worried about getting caught. By that time the city had started driving us out of the shelter of the woods. I reaffirmed them about our powers of persuasion, and that no one cared more than they usually would if several young women were in the common section. They were always crowded anyway, and that day was no exception. In fact, I don’t ever remember it being as crowded than it was that day. It was like it was meant to be.

We stood in the outside carriages with the third class city folk. A few looked at us, side eyed glances, suspicious of our candor. A pack of eight to twelve women moving anywhere would garner those stares, however, no matter what we did or how we behaved, we always managed to bring even more attention on to ourselves. We laughed and played games amongst each other, we talked with, rather talked at, passengers standing around us, a few of the older girls nicked whatever they could get from unwatched bags and pockets. But other than the usual loud and jovial and mischievous antics, we enjoyed the sun on our arms and the wind in our hair and the fresh air away from the city like everyone else there did.

 What I remember most from that day was a couple in the carriage behind us. Well, when I think about it now there might not have been any courtship at all. Just a woman with a man. Amongst the crowded people they were intimate with each other. They made sure they were not seen. They were discreet enough that the people around them probably had no idea they were even traveling together nonetheless fornicating. From my vantage point I could see everything and even I needed a second to process what was happening.

A part of me knew I shouldn’t be watching but I couldn’t look away. I didn’t tell any of my sisters or point it out to them, because like watching a doe and her mother I didn’t want them to run off. I didn’t want them to stop their nature and notice me. I stayed still and quiet, invisible to their affair. 

They stayed at the rear, leaning against the carriage. They faced each other. The man slightly older than the woman. He had one of those fancy hats we used to see men wear in the city. She had her hair up, her lips painted and small white gloves. They weren’t posh but you could tell they were traveling in a class lower than they were. As if they were rich travelers on holiday passing through the local parts. Thrill seekers who knew they could get away with anything when surrounded by common people. 

I couldn’t see his face but I could see hers. Occasionally she would bite her lip or tug on the sleeve of his blazer. Like no matter how hard she tried, some reactions were uncontrollable. It was not like the i*********e I was told about. Sure I heard of talk of what happens in the brothels, but it always amounted to men on top, sticking it in until it was over. This woman thrusted her hips forward as well. Give and take. They were face to face but she didn’t look at him. It was like she was doing everything in her power not to look at him. Her eyes were locked, lifeless, her pupils wading in thought. Her blank expression, focused on nothing but pleasure. I had never seen such control.

A bump here, a rattle there, the train carriage slightly shook and she was pulled out of her focus. Incidentally her eyes locked with mine. She didn’t move, she didn’t stop, she didn’t look away. She continued, now with her focus on me. The more she looked at me the redder her face got, the harder she grabbed at his sleeve. I was suddenly aware of my body again. What I was seeing wasn’t a dismembered vision or a daydream performing in my mind. I was reminded that I was in the moment, that the bodies in front of me were real and that my body was experiencing a similar rush. 

I followed every slight movement of her shoulders and neck like a pulse. Swallowing air every time I felt her stare linger on my shape. I was as involved with her as he was, possibly even more. Redder and redder her face turned. She kept her eyes on me until she couldn’t anymore, looking out toward the passing countryside. Holding her closed fist over her mouth as if she would explode if she didn’t. Her eyes rolled closed while she shivered her way to ecstasy. Warmth traveled up from my legs to my cheeks, a burning itch I couldn’t scratch.

For the rest of the ride we shared looks. In between her talking with him, and my sisters talking to me, we would smile at one another. She kept fidgeting in her spot, playing with the thin hairs above her ear. I imagined I was doing the same. The two of us, waiting for the other to admit they would be perfectly fine being trapped in that moment over and over again, like a recurring dream.

The absolute control she had over him, over me. I thought of nothing else for days.

Today this train ride isn’t...as eventful. For one, the first class carriages are real posh. Stuffed seats, little windows, and a roof over our heads like a proper carriage. It’s not a youthful summer afternoon, with the wind whipping us free. The morning never found any light. It is still dark and gloomy. A mercilessly freezing winter day. The bare trees that I can make out through the blur of white and brown, look like bones shivering dry. 

Luckily I got the seat by the window. Whenever I look back I can still tell where the city is, the smog hovering in one place like a big black cloud. I try not to look back too much.

At least I have the trees and hills. I feel closer to where I once lived, even if I’m experiencing it with this band of strangers and this stuffy dress.

“How long have we been on this deathtrap?” Adelaide shouts over the rattling of the rails. 

“You know it’s only been a few hours. I don’t know why you have to keep asking.” I say, finding some entertainment in hearing her groan.

I’m sitting in a booth with my lovely “aunt and uncle”. Across the aisle sits Olliver, Maurice and a guard to watch over us. A motley band. 

The lords sat in their own train car away from us. Like earlier with the feast at the tavern, reminding us of our place. 

“Now Emma, that’s no way to talk to your auntie.” Maurice smirks.

Adelaide and I both groan.

“Oh shut up, pirate. It’s bad enough that we’re on this hunk metal.” Adelaide clenches her imaginary pearls. “Hurling us toward our cold, senseless death with reckless abandon. Where our remains will be lost in the midst of the crash and snow, but not before the delirium kicks in. Our souls trapped in the rails forever.” She drifts away, daydreaming our demise.

“I didn’t know we had a poet amongst us.” Maurice says in jest.

“She might be a romantic.” I add to the fire.

“You laugh now until it happens.” She huffs. “This could be your very last laugh.”

“Is what you saying true, ma’am?” Olliver says practically shaking in his seat. “I’m already afraid of these things as it is--”

“Ma’am? How dare you call me...do I look like a ma’am to you?” Adelaide snaps. “I’m nearly thirty three!”

“I’m sorry ma’am--I mean...no disrespect. I don’t think you’re old...miss?” 

“Oh my dear aunt Adelaide, please don’t pick on him. He means well.” I poke at her. “I mean, I, myself, stumbled over the phrase ‘nearly thirty’.” 

“It is true, you know.” She ignores my comment. “These things are a deathtrap. One faulty bolt and we’re tipping over. And don’t get me started on the mental strain.”

“f**k me. How do you know all this, miss?” Olliver leans forward.

“Well, I saw it in the papers once.”

“I thought you couldn’t read.” I couldn’t help it.

“I can’t, witch. I had someone read it to me.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I’m just keeping myself informed. How often do you--”

“Will you all stop!” The guard watching us yells. “What is wrong with you people? All the cursing and back talk. So loud and rude and downright awful. Do you not know how long this trip is?”

“Excuse me monsieur, but I don’t think I did anything wrong here.” Maurice pretends to clench imaginary pearls.

“You whole lot is rotten. They might as well turn this train around and you all back. You think you’re going to fool anyone?”

“Maybe I can put them under my spell? Get the whole castle dancing with the devil.” I say in jest.

“She doesn’t really mean that sir.” Olliver sticks up for me.

“Oh I wouldn’t be so sure.” Maurice winks.

“These are real proper folks. You can’t just look the part, you have to act the part too. Gentlemen and gentlewomen, not...bizarre, rude people that walk around with a masked man.” The guard gives us a reality check. Chester groans. “Did he just growl at me?”

“He? Are you referring to my husband? If so then yes, my husband growls at people. That is his thing.” Adelaide chimes in. “And just so you know...guard whatever you name is, I completely agree with you.”

“How dare you? My uncle Chester is a great man. I am lucky to have him as an uncle. Who knows what lady I would’ve become without his guidance.” I say, trying as hard as I can to look away from his hideous mask. Of course Maurice enjoys my ribbing. 

“Look, you either trick everyone or you don’t, I don’t give a s**t. I just want to have a little time before we have to bring you all back to that sewage hole. I hate this trip.” The guard fixes his helmet. “Now shut up for a few hours, will you? I can’t hear myself think.” The guard leans into his seat and closes his eyes.

A minute or two passes. 

“Could you at least give us an estimation as to how far we are from the kingdom?” Adelaide asks sheepishly. The guard gives her a stern look. “You’ve done this trip before, do they usually have something for us to eat? Are they expecting us or--”

“Are you mental?” The guard yells.

“Now I think that’s the train delirium kicking in.” Maurice grins.

                                                                                      ***

I wake up from a dream where my sisters and I were running along a fire. We were in the middle of the woods, dead cold but our entire bodies basked in the flames. Skipping in the orange hue, watching our step for spitting embers. We ran in circles. Twirling and twirling until I froze, stopping directly in front of the woman from the train. She stood there, silent, completely bare except for her white gloves. To the sound of the crackling fire and the cackling young witches, she stroked the thin hairs away from the side of her face. Engulfed in all of that lovely orange. We locked eyes. She smiled.

That’s when I woke up.

Jolted awake by the rattling of the train on the tracks. It was still night. The moon was bright enough to shine through the windows. The perks of life outside of the Quarry, with all it’s light bulbs and lanterns. The cold rushes back like my body was in shock. All these layers they make us wear, and I’ve never been this cold.

“You know, it’s naughty to be a night owl.” Maurice whispers from his side of the train car. Everything but his jaw line hiding in the dark.

“You know, only crude people say naughty.” I sigh, hoping he saw my eye roll.

“Oh don’t be like that. It’s just us here.”

I looked at everyone else in our car sleeping. 

“I thought of what you said. They are dead weight.” I say.

“Someone wants to be unstoppable.”

“And this plan of yours. Is it worth it?”

“Depends on your definition of plan.”

“No plan? What a surprise. I guess I had high hopes for such a lowly proposition.”

He chuckles. “That’s why it’s a long haul my dear. Half the fun is the improvising.”

“So just another game for you?”

“Sure, you could say that. But where else will you get that kind of rush? The consequence of death around every corner, waiting to catch you off guard? Your skills constantly tested? That kind of rush doesn’t interest you, Inez?”

I grin from ear to ear. I hate that he’s right. “Please, call me Emma.”