Light as a Feather, Silent as the Grave

Chapter 19

It took me a few seconds to shake away sleep and remind myself that I was on a train bound for California instead of in my cozy bed in Florida. The lights had been dimmed in our car and yet the train's engine hummed around us in a hypnotic rhythm.  I had no idea at first what time it was, only that it was late enough that this voice, a man's voice, was a jarring disruption in the otherwise peaceful train car.

Mr. Dean's face was crimson and glossy with perspiration. At first, I didn't realize that he was intoxicated; my own parents drank so infrequently that I'd only seen my dad drunk a handful of times. But the stale smell of beer on his sweat gave him away. He must have either tied a few on in the dining car, or been drinking in his seat prior to deciding to visit the dining car for a snack. Either way, he stood mere inches away from me and glared right at Trey, who stirred awake in the seat next to mine.

"What's going on, man? Could you shut up? It's like eleven o'clock," another passenger a few rows ahead of ours snapped at Mr. Dean.

I reached for Trey with both hands and gripped his arms. There was a vicious light in Mr. Dean's eyes; it was obvious that he was quite pleased with himself for having spotted Trey in the shadowy seat where he'd tucked himself away. As soon as I realized that there was no way Mr. Dean was going to pipe down and leave us alone, I also realized that he didn't recognize me. Since freshman year I'd been one of Mr. Dean's pet students; he'd even personally encouraged me to run for Student Government Treasurer earlier that year. But who he saw sitting next to Trey wasn't McKenna Brady, his former star history student. It was instead just a blond girl who could have gone to any high school, anywhere.

"Do you realize who this is sitting back here? This is Trey Emory, the high school student from Wisconsin on the run from police!" Mr. Dean continued excitedly, shaking a pointed finger at Trey. "Someone needs to tell the conductor to stop the train!"

My adrenal glands kicked into high gear and flooded my body with the urge to run. Heads turned toward us throughout our train car, and curious eyes peered at us over the tops of blue seats. But next to me, Trey remained calm. "You're nuts, man. You're seeing things," Trey told Mr. Dean. In my peripheral vision, I saw one of the other passengers in our car pass through the doors to the next car, presumably in pursuit of a member of the Amtrak staff. "You should go have a seat and lay off the brewski's."

Trey's complacency seemed to rile up Mr. Dean even more. His fists tightened into little balls at his sides and his shoulders tensed. "You always were quite a little smart ass, Emory. You're going to regret running away from the prison where you belong."

"What prison, man? I'm not whoever you think I am. Leave me and my girlfriend alone. We're just trying to get some rest," Trey said, making no attempt to get up.

"Just you wait, young man. The police have plenty of questions to ask you about McKenna Brady," Mr. Dean said with so much hatred that tiny sparks of saliva flew from his mouth and landed upon my cheek in a gross spray. Trey and I hadn't come across a television in two days. On the back burner of my mind I'd been a little worried that police might assume Trey had harmed me since we'd both gone missing around the same time, and certainly my strange new appearance wasn't going to put fears to rest about the fate of poor, vanished McKenna Brady. It certainly would have looked to anyone else like Trey and some mysterious blond chick were on the run together.

"Okay, whatever, man." Trey continued his attempt to brush off Mr. Dean's accusations. "You should really go sober up." He raised his voice so that the other passengers could hear him. "This guy is totally wasted, everyone."  

A woman entered our train car with a man wearing an Amtrak uniform following her. Although they were at the far end of our car, their eyes remained fixed on us as they approached.