The Steel Horse

– "The Steel Horse will enter track three, platform two"… A strangely dry, barely understandable voice spoke. Standing in the tiny, dusty station, watching the bustling people bustle here and there, I was glad to be able to leave this place for a while, maybe even forever.

Looking around for the train that would soon arrive at the platform, I tried to remember once again how I came to be here. My wandering gaze was the only evidence that today had not been one of the most peaceful days, when I'd woken up relaxed, bathed in sunshine, and happily bustled about the apartment.

It all started a week ago, when I'd received an unexpected call informing me I'd won a week-long trip to Romania, to the heart of the Carpathians. And yet… I thought, solving those stupid crossword puzzles had finally paid off. This was my first win in my entire thirty-four years. I was so happy. I'd wanted to visit the Carpathians since I was a child. There was something about them… extraordinary, mysterious, that drew me to them like an invisible magnet. Now that I could afford such a trip, I felt life was beautiful.

Departure was scheduled for Monday at 6:00 PM from Czarny Dwór station and arrival at 6:00 AM in Britz on Tuesday. There, I was to find the "Palace Dream" hotel and show them the free stay permit I had received, along with all the motel's amenities. In short, a 12-hour journey awaited me to one of the most expensive and luxurious hotels in Romania.

I spent Sunday constantly packing and unpacking my suitcase. I couldn't decide on anything in particular. Sometimes I wanted to take more warm clothes, thinking it would be cold, and other times I packed elegant clothes, hoping to meet someone I could have a good time with. Perhaps a beautiful guide would spot me in the crowd, dressed in an elegantly tailored, fake navy blue tuxedo. I hoped to explore the local castles, whose dungeons still hold unsolved secrets, and sample the extraordinary culinary delights.

Around noon on Monday, I piled into an old black Mercedes and happily set off on the journey of a lifetime. A journey that would constitute the next chapter of my earthly existence, a journey I had decided to begin and change everything with.

I was to leave the car with a friend from Czarny Dwór. I rolled down the windows, turned on the radio, and set off. I had about 45 km of driving ahead of me.

The wind whistled joyfully in my ears. I sped like lightning between gorgeous green forests, blue ponds, and picturesque meadows. I remember occasionally passing small villages I hadn't paid much attention to, hurtling like a cheetah through the wilds of Africa in the glow of the midday sun. In one of these run-down backwaters, I thought to myself, "Enough of this radio, time for something stronger." I smiled to myself and reached for the cassette tape in the glove compartment with my right hand. I looked down for a second, but that moment was enough. I heard a loud bang, and some invisible force tried to rip the steering wheel from my hands. Stunned, I stopped and looked back. A figure lay on the road, a few dozen meters away. I didn't know if it was alive or not, I didn't care. All the horrors flashed before my eyes... the police, the court. It all happened just as I was planning to start over. It felt like the road was slowly flooding with blood. It was too much. I hit the gas pedal and sped ahead. I drove with a pounding heart and tears in my eyes. "What have I done..." I kept repeating, "What have I done..." I never thought I'd escape the scene of an accident. I never thought it would happen. My hands were shaking as if after drinking several liters of coffee. My saliva had become sour and had a very unpleasant taste.

I abandoned the car in the Black Manor Forest. It was a large, sparsely populated area, and I hoped that until I returned... if I returned... it would be safe there. I examined the car carefully. The severe dents made it impossible to return it to a friend. I would never be able to escape his questions about the details of the crash. Besides, that blood... There was a lot of it on the hood and even more on the undercarriage.

I walked to the station, carrying my suitcase like a ball and chain. It was 4:00 PM when I finally rested on the platform, slightly calmed and refreshed by the city food. I hoped, or rather, was convinced, that the person I'd hit would be saved. But there was no way to check. Despite my thoughts and speculations, I knew I wouldn't be returning. Nothing tied me to this place except that unpleasant incident. I treated it as an opportunity. I'd always dreamed of living somewhere else, and now that opportunity had fallen right under my nose. I had a lot of savings. I'd stay in a hotel for a week, then look for a job and stay in Birtz, leaving this whole mess behind. Incidentally, if it weren't for the accident, I would have put off making this decision for a good few months, and knowing my luck, I would have ended up in some small African country. I smiled gently and greeted the arriving train with relief.

The Steel Steed. It was a very elegant and luxurious means of transport. I was glad I didn't have to pay for the ticket out of my own pocket. If it had been, I would have had almost nothing left for the entertainment at Britz. Smiling, I searched for a suitable compartment, number 14A. Finally, I found it, comfortable, empty, and cozy. A dream… warm, soft upholstery massaged my tired body. The large, clean windows opened and closed easily. Air conditioning and excellent lighting completed my positive impression of the Steed. The train departed, moving slowly at first, but then picking up speed and gliding forward like an arrow fired from a recurve bow. It was getting dark, and both mental and physical fatigue were making themselves felt.

*****

I must have dozed off, because when I opened my eyes, impenetrable darkness reigned outside the windows. Even the moon, which should have been clearly visible by now, had disappeared beneath the black sky. The monotonous clatter of the wheels was very pleasant; I fell into a kind of trance, in which my body became lighter and purer. Unfortunately, I was interrupted by the sound of the compartment door sliding open. A beautiful young woman appeared in the gap. Her black hair fell delicately to her shoulders. A black turtleneck hid her neck. Denim pants draped smoothly over her long, stick-thin legs.

"Excuse me, may I…?" she asked quietly, her voice choked.

I felt as if she were speaking through an invisible pillow.

"Yes, of course," I replied. "And where are you going, if I may ask…

" "Where are you," the girl replied dryly.

"On vacation too? That's wonderful… you see, I won this trip by solving some crossword puzzle and…

" "No, unfortunately, I've never won anything," the stranger interrupted.

The woman sat down and stared blankly out the window with empty, black eyes.

"I understand—you're not in the mood for conversation... I'm sorry.

" "Nobody is, at a time like this," she whispered curtly, her eyes glinting.

Not quite grasping the meaning of these words, I glanced back at the sliding door, where a tall man dressed in an exquisite suit appeared.

He looked like a statue. His heavily chiseled face betrayed no emotion. His deep eyes seemed clouded. I watched in surprise as he sat down next to me, took out a newspaper, and, ignoring us as much as possible, immersed himself in his reading.

"Good morning," I said.

The man's cold gaze silenced me for another dozen or so minutes.

I decided to ignore this boor and engage in conversation with the beautiful stranger

. "What's your name?"

"I guess it doesn't matter anymore... but you'll be fine. I'm Dolores." "

Nice to meet you, I'm Teodor." "

I knew a Teodor once," the girl said with a smile.

"Yes, and what happened?" I asked flirtatiously. "

I killed a scumbag," Dolores said .

The brusqueness with which she said this made me root myself to the spot. Suddenly, her pale face lit up with a radiant smile, and I realized it was just a joke.

"I almost believed you," I said, and looked around the compartment.

"You see, I'm an excellent actress," she replied flirtatiously.

We continued on, time seeming to stand still. The clock read 1:37.

I felt a craving for something good, so I decided to go to the dining car. I stood up, stepped over the legs of a man as silent as a grave, absorbed in reading, and quickly made my way to the back of the train. The dining car was beautiful. Several tables were set up under the windows, and in the center of the car was a drinks bar. It was pleasantly dark and strangely cool. I felt like I was walking past the open doors of a morgue. There was only a waiter in the car. An older man sat at a table, polishing the same glass over and over. When he noticed me, he smiled and invited me to the bar. I ordered a gin and tonic and, staring out the window at the darkness, waited for my drink.

"Here," the waiter said in a resonant voice. "

Do you like this job?" he asked, looking around the carriage

. "Actually, yes," he sighed. "I'm here by force..." He thought for a moment and said, "but better here than there." He gestured out the window. "

I understand..." I replied, though I wasn't entirely convinced. The man was clearly tired of life, but he expressed it in a strange way.

"You mentioned being forced to work.

" "Yes, it was supposed to be a bit of resocialization.

" "Yes... and for what?" I wondered.

"I'd rather keep that to myself."

I finished my drink and thanked him. They were returning to the compartment. I glanced at my watch. It was 1:37. Strange, I thought, it must have broken. I shook my hand and continued on my way. I returned to the compartment. Dolores continued to stare out the window, gently rubbing her covered hands, and the tall, silent man continued to stare at the newspaper.

I sat down in my seat and studied my seatmate. He seemed to be staring at the pages, his eyes not moving an inch. Finally, I peeked out and saw what the man was staring at so blankly

. "Oh my God," I whispered. No one else in the seat reacted. In the middle of the newspaper was a photo of the rejuvenated waiter I'd recently spoken to. Above the photo, in large letters, was written "...45-year-old serial killer of women dies after being hit by a car during a police chase..." Beneath, in slightly smaller letters, was another caption... "Finally, the horror is over."

I was speechless, my palms were sweaty, and my mind was in a haze.

Wait a minute, I thought, it's just a resemblance. It could be his twin brother or a doppelganger. The man sitting next to me folded his newspaper for a moment and stared out into the darkness, sitting as silent as a statue. I leaned my head further, and then I saw something even stranger: the man was reading a newspaper from 15 years ago.

"What's this supposed to be?" I said to myself. "Aren't there any newer newspapers here?" I stood up and went back to the dining car. Behind the bar sat an older likeness of the murderer. I approached her and asked.

"You know they have newspapers on this train from 15 years ago.

" "Yes," he confirmed in a voice that expressed no surprise.

"Who were you before you started working on the train?" The car grew colder, the clock still reading 1:37.

"I shouldn't say anything.

" "Why..." I was surprised. I felt like I was going crazy. What game am I playing at? I thought, but I continued.

"It's not that simple..."

"Okay, I'll ask you straight. You killed those women and had a car accident..." I caught my breath. "But the newspapers, as usual, didn't write the truth... you survived and you're here. I don't know if it's resocialization or hiding, but..." "

They weren't wrong..." he whispered firmly and lowered his head. His long gray hair fell gently over his thin shoulders.

"What?" I asked, disconcerted.

"The newspapers weren't wrong." As he spoke, he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it aside like a theater curtain.

"But..." was all I managed to choke out. "The bent ribs spoke for themselves. One of them pierced the skin and emerged like a snail emerging from its shell. My collapsed chest was bruised and unnaturally contorted.

I escaped the train car and, running into my compartment, narrowly avoided colliding with the silent man's enormous knees.

"Listen... there's some lunatic working in the restaurant..." I began, "some lunatic." I looked around at the neighbors, their faces fixed on mine, waiting for an explanation for such an accusation. "Oh my God... he's claiming to be dead, apparently it's that guy from your 15-year-old newspaper."

"Calm down," the girl said.

"How am I supposed to calm down?" I shouted. "The guy's glued on fake ribs or something equally disgusting and is saying I've been dead for years. "

Dolores made a sad face and exposed her wrists . "Oh my God..." I said . "A failed suicide," she whispered dryly, and after a moment, she revealed her turtleneck sweater. The rope mark was clearly visible on her delicate, thin neck. "It worked this time," she said, looking sad, staring into the darkness outside the window. "What's wrong with you people? This is some kind of nightmare." "It's definitely my imagination, just a dream. I didn't mean to kill anyone, this man crashed into my car on his own." I wrestled with my thoughts. I was sure it was remorse causing the hallucination or whatever it was.

Suddenly, the quiet man looked at me and turned so I could see the back of his square head. A hole stared at me from the back of his head, probably from a close-range gunshot wound. The back of his suit was covered in a net of dried blood.

"No... this has to be a dream," I whimpered. "Please tell me it's not true."

"Gangsters," the man said sternly, and stared back into the distance.

I ran out of the compartment. The world spun before my eyes. I glanced at my watch; it was still the damned 1:37 a.m. "

I'm crazy!!!" I screamed through my tears.

"No," I heard a warm, soothing voice.

I turned and saw the uniformed conductor. He had short dark hair and very vacant, cheerful eyes. A faint, mocking smile never left his long face.

"No?" I was surprised. "It's good to see you, sir. Maybe I'll get some explanation for what the hell is going on here."

The conductor said with delight

, "You used a very apt phrase." His dark, cheerful eyes studied my terrified face.

"What phrase?" I asked. "You'll probably tell me you're dead too, but I don't care, I have to get out of here."

Terrified as a small child, I shook my whole body. God, what's happening to me, what's wrong? I didn't mean to kill anyone… "

Here, this is for you," the man said, then handed me the newspaper.

It was dated August 14, 2005, so… (here it goes again, I thought) in three days.

"What is this? It's the eleventh.

" "Read it," he ordered in a voice that brooked no argument.

The first article… the large, dark headline clearly stood out from the rest… "The car of the person responsible for the accident in which 31-year-old Marcin G. was killed has been found. The perpetrator fled the scene."… Sweat flowed down my neck like a waterfall down the steep mountainside, and I looked lower… "The black Mercedes abandoned in the forest undoubtedly belonged to Teodor W." "

What's that supposed to mean?" I shouted. "

Read more," he said, handing me another newspaper, this one dated August 11th.

"This is madness," I said, and began reading… "The express train, the Steel Steed, en route to Romania, derailed in Hungarian territory at 1:37 a.m. All passengers are dead…" "

This is some kind of sick joke," I screamed and cried simultaneously. "I didn't mean to kill anyone, I really did."

"I believe you," the man said, then added, "And it's with even greater pleasure that I welcome you into our midst."

"What midst…?"

"This is the perfect place for you to atone for your sins," he said slowly and carefully, never taking his smile off his face. Please unbutton your blouse.

I did as he ordered, lowering my head and letting out a strangled groan; my shirt was stained with blood. I lifted it and saw a terrible thing. A torn chest, shards of glass embedded in it.

I looked out the window and saw that the landscape had changed. The sky had turned crimson. Rivers of fire flowed along the tracks, and among them I saw herds of people chained and screaming.

Various passengers of the express slowly emerged from the compartments, among them Dolores and the silent giant.

"The final station is coming soon."

"What station!" I shouted. "What's happening here...have I died?"

"Welcome to hell..." the conductor replied.

"The end..."