The Train of the Dead

Chapter Fourteen

To his surprise, he didn't dream about the sight he had witnessed. Instead, he dreamed about something even more terrifying.

He was on the train tracks, but he didn't spot the grave of disembodied limbs. Maybe because he was too focused on running. Running as fast as he could, away from the Teke Teke. She was chasing him on her long arms, making the awful sound. She had one of the bloodied legs in clutched in her hand, swinging it wildly in the air as she chased after him. His dream self ran as fast as he could in terror, but he was no match for the Teke Teke. Just as she was about to catch up with him, and he felt her breath on the back of his neck, he woke up.

His breaths came out in short gasps as he lay in his bed, his heart pounding beneath his thick blanket. The heavy covers felt like they were stifling him. He tossed them off, feeling his body drenched in a cold sweat.

As he slowly regained his senses, he realized that the Teke Teke wasn't even the star of his dreams. She had just shown up at the last moment. In fact, possibly his scariest dream was about the Japanese words he had learned. He was standing in front of a packed theatre, getting ready to recite a speech in Japanese to a large crowd of people, with his father in the front seat staring at him expectantly... and he couldn't get out a single word.

That was a truly horrifying dream, Michael thought wryly while forcing his stiff legs out of bed. Learning Japanese is scarier than any disembodied ghost.

"So, where does your friend Riku live?" Mr. Miyamoto asked while scanning the breakfast menu. Akira and her mother had gone off somewhere again. "Get changed and tell me what you want. It's a good thing you had most of your clothes in your suitcase."

"I, uh... don't know," Michael admitted, picking out clothes. "He just told me he's staying here with his family..." He was so mad at his new "friend", he almost considered telling his father how he had stolen from his brother and tripped a man over. But at the last moment, he decided against it. He wasn't that petty.

"Well, do you know his last name, at least?" Mr. Miyamoto asked.

"Well... no," Michael admitted sheepishly. He glanced over his father's shoulder at the menu. "I, uh... want the scrambled eggs."

Mr. Miyamoto sighed, reaching for the telephone to order. "Just get changed. You don't really need your bag, anyway. I thought you packed far too much."

Michael disappeared into the bathroom to get changed and shower. Once he came out, the food had already arrived.

"Woah. Room service is quick," Michael remarked, taking a seat at the table.

As they ate in silence, Michael could feel his father's eyes on him, observing him carefully. He winced. He felt like he was about to be scolded again.

"I can't help but feel that you're hiding something from me, Michael," Mr. Miyamoto said. Michael jumped, raising his eyes to him. "I let it drop last night, but I can tell there's more to what happened when you got separated than you're letting on."

"What... what are you talking about?" Michael sputtered. He could feel his face heating up. On one hand, he somewhat wanted to get the terrifying encounter off his chest. But he also wanted to block it out of his mind, and he knew his father would never believe him. He'd probably think he was crazy or a liar – and they had started getting along better last night. He didn't want to ruin it.

"Come on, Michael. You can tell me," Mr. Miyamoto insisted. "I just want you to tell me the truth. I can tell there's something bothering you."

His words were gentle, but Michael couldn't prevent the flash of annoyance. He was worried that he'd blurt out the crazy thing that had happened, so instead, he blurted something else out. "Why do you care? I've barely even met you before this trip."