The Train of the Dead

Chapter Nineteen

Sakura's voice was soft and light as it floated out from the carriage, but it carried a desperate undertone – a vicious undertone. Michael jumped as she turned her gaze from the Teke Teke to him and his father. There was a longing, almost resentful look in her eyes. He remembered how she had tried to stop him from leaving the train, almost like she was dreading him and Riku leaving.

And now, she was yelling for her to kill them – kill Michael and his father.

Tomiju caught sight of her, too. His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth in a shocked, heartbroken cry.

"Sakura!" He kept calling her name, his voice breaking as he repeated his daughter's name.

Sakura gaped in surprise. She turned her attention to him, her eyes widening. For a moment, joy and amazement flickered in her dark eyes, before being replaced with sadness – even greater than the sadness she usually displayed. Sorrow and devastation filled her face, followed by a resigned acceptance. She slowly faded away, until there was nothing left but a blank window.

"No!" Tomiju gaped as he watched his daughter's form disintegrate – her pale, transparent form.

She isn't a real person, Michael realized with a jolt. She's a ghost. Just like everyone else on the train.

"Sakura!" Tomiju kept yelling her name, pleading for her to return. Mr. Yamamoto narrowed his eyes at him, silently signaling him to be quiet, but he didn't listen. And Sakura didn't reappear.

Tomiju seemed to completely forget about the Teke Teke, who had forgotten him as well as she turned her attention to Michael and his father. Michael gulped as he caught a glimpse of the sick, twisted grin on her face from behind his father's body. He was trembling as Michael grabbed onto the back of his suit jacket. His presence comforted him slightly.

"Where is she?" Tomiju cried. "Where's my daughter?"

"She's gone," Mr. Yamamoto muttered. "You need to accept it, sir. You can't see her again—"

"No!" Tomiju let out a cry as he charged forward, ignoring Mr. Yamamoto's protests. He stumbled through the platform, his arms desperately outstretched towards the train.

He came to a stop at the edge of the platform, helplessly banging against the side of the train with his fists. They barely seemed to connect with the thick steel as he screamed for his daughter at the top of his lungs.

"Sir, come back!" Mr. Yamamoto called. "There's nothing you can do. She's stuck there forever. And she can never escape... unless you're killed."

"What?" Tomiju demanded. "What do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter," Mr. Yamamoto insisted. "It only matters who she chooses for her victim."

At that moment, the ghost turned her head away, her dark hair falling back over her face. Michael barely had time to be relieved that the gruesome smile was no longer visible before the scurrying sound started again. Michael stifled a scream as she began moving, but she wasn't reaching out for him. Instead, she was moving away from him.

Michael watched with bated breath as she turned away. Her arms lowered and raised, dragging her across the platform – away from Michael. The further away she got, the more he could hear his own heartbeat and feel his breathing return. But he was still just as terrified as he watched her scurry off – past Tomiju, who was too busy banging on the train to notice. Past Mr. Yamamoto, who looked remarkably unconcerned as she shuffled away along the railroad.

She's looking for her axe," he explained casually, as if describing the unusual behavior of his pet dog. "It isn't easy to move around on her hands and hold the axe at the same time. Sometimes, she leaves it in places for safekeeping. It's slightly inconvenient when she has to scurry off to find it before ending her victims."