Nowhere left to run now.
He knows that as well as I do.
My fingers coil softly around the trigger as I aim the barrel towards his skull. I pause to gaze nonchalantly at my adversary — the last man standing between myself and victory in this twisted game. I picture his body limp and soaked in violent crimson. Only with his murder will I finally be free.
His eyes bore into mine with the same stark coldness as the metal in my hands. My fingers tense up but do not yet make the final move. I take a moment to relish the feeling of his life in my hands, letting the adrenaline invigorate my resolve.
The game ends now. I win.
A chilling wind howled through the night, careening through the broken windows, rustling an old abandoned newspaper. Dense trees thrashed wildly against the train walls, scratching against the shattered panes with their wooden claws. As the rain thundered relentlessly against the roof of the carriage, a steady stream of water leaked through the ceiling onto the damp carpet inside. Cowering beneath the windows were rusted seats that would have long ago carried people — but now the only passengers they had were thick patches of musty green moss.
He had been there for so long, he had almost forgotten what the train had been like before the Earth had claimed it as her own. Vaguely, he recalled sounds of chatter, laughter, hurried footsteps along the aisle, parents scolding raucous children, and the cheerful panting of a dog.
He smiled, glancing at the faint outline of his furry companion sleeping soundly on the ground. Even now, Sadie had never left his side. He remembered how he would take her along with him as he made his rounds on the train. Seeing the brief joy she brought to his passengers' otherwise mundane journeys was something he would never be able to forget.
How many years had it been since then? He shuddered as memories of that fateful day began to resurface unbidden — the day the train had abandoned the tracks and flown into the forest's open arms.
His pale, shaking hands grasped desperately at the translucent wisps of his hair, trying to uproot the memory from his very soul, but to no avail. Sorrow and frustration hung like lead in the place where his heart once beat.
The train was no longer his; it hadn't been for a long time. His passengers had since moved on, but he had not. He could not. His guilt tied him to the vehicle like an anchor. He could never leave this place.
