The Commute
Every day is the same, but there's a certain pleasure that comes with that monotony. I get up at 5, shower, eat, and then head off to the Batterbrook station to catch the 6:00 train to Bakersfield. I usually don't get home until 9:00 PM where I quickly collapse onto my bed and pray to God for eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.
For the past decade, I have worked for the same company and have never once been late.
One day, as I entered the train, I found myself frowning at a rather unusual sight: newly upholstered seats. They were once a cool, patterned blue – reminiscent of the seats found on charter buses in the 90s. Now they were red. No patterns or anything. Just red.
I sighed and took my usual place next to the window with a working socket, but when I plugged in my laptop to get some work done, it created a small spark. For some reason, it wasn't charging, so I opted to just close the laptop and stare absently out the window.
At this stage, the train sill hadn't left the station. It was waiting a few more minutes for the usual passengers to meander on in. It was Friday, so I was expecting maybe three or four others on the route:
An old lady who always carried a single piece of bread in a plastic bag. I never really asked what the bread was for, but I imagined she would go off to feed some birds or something somewhere near Bakersfield. A young graduate student who always used the commute to study a bit or scribble in her notebook. A chef who always seemed dejected and stared absently out the window the entire ride. If I was lucky, Jeff would join. He was the only other person I had ever spoken to on the train. He was a nice enough guy and always had some interesting story to tell about the time he cycled across America from the tip of Chile to Alaska. He was a bit flirty and would often tap my shoulder in a somewhat uncomfortable manner, but was otherwise the highlight of my day. Unfortunately, I was not lucky. As the doors closed, there was absolutely no one in the cabin. I started wondering if maybe they were boycotting the new seats, but dismissed the thought and zoned out a bit as the train went through the first tunnel.
There was a large orchard right outside of Batterbrook. The trees were perfectly aligned, so in one second, you could see down an entire row, but it would look completely random soon thereafter. The mix between order and chaos was always mesmerixing to watch.
We then went through the second tunnel, revealing a series of fish farms, which were just large pols of water to breed fish in. I would always try to count the number of cranes. There were usually about ten, but I must have been off my game or else a bit tired. The train seemed to be moving a bit fast and I only found five.
After the next tunnel, there would be a some rice patties, where there were sometimes elderly workers already wading about and harvesting their crop. I always respected their work ethic at their age. Bending down for hours every day would wreck my back. I didn't know how they did it for literal decades of their life.
I took a deep breath and sighed, wondering how many people would be out today, but as we left the next tunnel, there were no rice patties. In fact, it was a dense forest. I furrowed my brows a bit and started wondering where we were. There was no forest between Batterbrook and Bakersfield.
I checked the map on my phone, but I didn't have service and it couldn't pinpoint where we were. I looked to the sign at the front of the cabin, which clearly indicated the next stop was Bakersfield, so I just slumped back in my chair and shook my head. Maybe there was always a forest and I just forgot? Maybe it was a detour? It felt like the train was moving faster than usual, maybe that was because of the detour?
It didn't matter, as long as I would get to work on time.
Suddenly, I heard a loud whoosh as we entered another tunnel. When we left, I looked out of the window to see a desert. A literal desert. Sand dunes stretched along the horizon as far as I could see. How did we go from a dense forest to a desert? Were there even any deserts nearby?
Before I could think further, we entered another tunnel. On the other side was a literal ocean. We were on top of the ocean! Wait, no. That didn't make sense. How could we be on top of the ocean? Maybe we were on a really small island?
On the other side of the train, I could see a large mountain in the distance that seemed to be emitting smoke. A volcano?
Another tunnel.
I couldn't tell where we were after that, but it was hot and red.
Anther tunnel. Then cold and white. Another tunnel, then yellow for some reason? It was just a blur of yellow.
Another tunnel, and then... The train stopped.
There was nothing outside of the window. It was pitch black.
I cautiously walked to the doors at the front of the cabin as the conductor announced, "Bakersfield. Please get off for Bakersfield."
I rubbed by eyes as I looked outside of the door. No matter how much I squinted, I could see absolutely nothing, but the conductor did say it was Bakersfield, so this must be the right stop, right? I stood there long enough for the doors to start closing. I had no idea what was on the other side of that door and I didn't want to find out, so instead of stepping out, I stayed put.
When the doors shut, the conductor said, "Next stop: the end of the line."
As the train took off again, I stumbled back to my seat and pulled out my phone. Still no service. Worse, it seemed to be completely out of battery. The screen wouldn't turn on at all.
I tried looking out of the window again, but there was nothing on the other side. The only thing I could see was my own reflection staring back at me. About twenty minutes later, the train stopped and the conductor announced, "We are at the end of the line. Please get on here."
Again, I could see nothing outside of the window or outside of the door, so I stayed put, hoping that the train would find it's way back to Batterbrook eventually.
But as I watched the front of the cabin, I noticed a rather peculiar figure enter the aisle. They were wearing black from head to toe. In fact, I couldn't see an inch of skin on them. They seemed like a living shadow. They walked to a seat a few rows in front of me and collapsed onto the chair, immediately staring off into space.
After a moment, I realized that this person had taken the chef's seat. In fact, outside of the fact that the clothes were pitch black, they were wearing exactly the same outfit as the chef.
I blinked a few times and looked around. A few rows behind me there was a short, shadowy figure deeply engrossed in a large textbook. To my right was another shadow holding a bag of bread. Directly behind me was yet another shadow.
It was Jeff. He was only a silhouette, but I knew it was him. He had his hands in his jacket pocket and was bouncing his leg as if he was anxiously waiting for someone to come into the train. Suddenly, his leg stopped shaking and he stared to the front of the train where the figure of a young woman appeared.
She was the same age as me, wearing a skirt and blouse – the exact clothes I was wearing. I soon realized that this figure was not just a random woman, but was, in fact, me... Or, well, a shadow me.
My heart started beating faster than it ever had before. I wanted to scream, but was afraid of startling the other passengers. I knew she was coming to my seat and that I had to leave, but no matter what I did, my body would not move. I was stuck, glued to my chair.
As she came closer, she began saying something to shadow Jeff. I couldn't quite make out what it was, but it was clear the two of them were laughing between each other. They did not seem to notice me at all. She then pulled her hair back slightly and began to sit down in the exact seat I was currently sitting in. I tried to move, but couldn't. I was completely and utterly paralyzed.
I felt a cold wave rush over me and suddenly felt my head tilt to the side towards Jeff. My body was moving on it's own. I then heard myself speak, "So Jeff, any cool stories to tell?"
He laughed and said, "Well, I fought an elephant seal in California once!"
My body then laughed, "I'm sure you did, Jeff."
"No seriously! I was camping on a beach..."
As Jeff continued, I kept trying to free myself and move on my own, but I could not. Whatever that shadowy figure was, it now had complete control over me. I tried to look around, only to realize that the windows were no longer pitch-black.
In fact, everyone was, so far as I could tell, normal. They were no longer pitch-black silhouettes, but living, breathing people. From the best I could tell, we were sitting at the Batterbrook station on the 6:00 train just like always.
Soon the doors began to close and the conductor announced, "Next stop, Bakersfield."
We were off to live another day just as we always have whether I wanted to or not.