The Train of the Dead

Chapter Twenty Four

Michael couldn't drown out the metallic scent of blood as he held his father up while Mr. Yamamoto bandaged him. He hadn't wanted to, but recognized that it was partially his fault that he was bleeding out. He couldn't block out his father's soft cries, either. He had begun to regain his senses, his eyes becoming glazed with pain again.

"Sorry, sorry," Mr. Yamamoto apologized at a particularly loud gasp. "I know sarashi aren't usually used to treat wounds, but it's the best I have."

"Why can't we get help for him?" Michael pleaded for the second time, clutching his father's arms so tightly his knuckles went white. Tomiju and Riku had wisely run off. Michael prayed they were getting help, but he privately thought they were trying to save themselves.

"Shh," Mr. Yamamoto soothed, wiping away a bit of the excess blood with the damp rag. Mr. Miyamoto winced in response. "The wound isn't as deep as it looks."

Michael suspected that wasn't the real reason he was so reluctant to call for help. He was probably worried about all of the questions that would be asked. Michael would hate him for being such a coward, but he couldn't deny that he was worried as well. How would they explain it to anyone? Tell them a ghost tried to slice him in half?

"Not as deep as it looks?" Michael cried. "Just look at him!" He glanced at the blood staining his hands as he held his father in place. "Or look at me."

"Not as deep as usual," Mr. Yamamoto explained. "His body is still fully attached. She didn't succeed in decapitating him, like the other victims. Which means she probably didn't succeed in killing him."

"But she did succeed!" Michael cried, his mind flashing back to the awful moment when his father's heartbeat stopped and his eyes closed. "He stopped breathing for a moment..."

"But he's fine now," Mr. Yamamoto insisted, gently wrapping the cloth around his torso.

Michael carefully lowered him to the ground while Mr. Yamamoto tightened the makeshift bandage. Michael flinched at the blood caked into his father's skin and seeping through his clothes. It was almost more tolerable before it was cleaned up. The scent rose to his nostrils again, eliciting another wave of nausea in the pit of his stomach. In order to distract himself, he continued talking to Mr. Yamamoto.

"All of those people on the train..." Michael tried to focus on the image of the glowing train. It was more beautiful than what was in front of him, that was for sure. "No, I mean, all those ghosts. I can't believe I was surrounded with dead people while on the train." Or talking with dead people. "They looked so much like humans... well, they didn't. I could tell there was something off about him... but they still looked human enough. They were all killed by... her, weren't they?"

Mr. Yamamoto nodded while unfurling the bandage. "Every last one of them. I regret every death. I could have prevented all of them..."

"But you were willing to sacrifice yourself," Michael pointed out.

"I really did mean it," Mr. Yamamoto assured. "It was almost a relief, to be free of this job. I wasn't really living, at the whim of a murderous ghost." He shuddered. "It isn't easy cleaning blood off the platform each time, either. Or burying their remains."

"Their remains..." Michael muttered. He felt another wave of nausea picturing the graveyard of victims. The distraction tactic evidently wasn't working. But he couldn't stop talking now. "How come... how come they look like that? I mean, shouldn't they be missing their legs, like... like her? All of them on the train have their entire bodies..."

"Good question," Mr. Yamamoto admitted, pressing against Mr. Miyamoto's abdomen. He winced. "I'm not entirely sure, myself. While the victims are confined to the train, Kanashi is never there. She roams the station and railway, but never in the train. She's just different from the other ghosts, I suppose."

Michael winced as his father gave a loud moan of pain. "Yes... she's a murderer!" he spat. He was still furious at her for doing this.

"I know," Mr. Yamamoto admitted. "But she wasn't always like that. She was the first to be murdered. It certainly isn't an excuse for her actions, though. At least she's gone now. And she'll never come back. Neither will anyone on the train."

"Because she doesn't have her precious axe anymore?" Michael scoffed.

"Not just because of that," Mr. Yamamoto argued. "I think your father's sacrifice truly affected her on some level. Along with Tomiju's offer to sacrifice himself for his daughter and nephew, and that boy Riku's words. And possibly even my offer to sacrifice myself... but when she tried killing all of us, her weapon didn't work. It was useless after being was used on someone who willingly sacrificed himself. We have your father to thank." He glanced at Michael, who was speechless with shock. "Ironic that the only person she didn't try to strike was the one she looked in the eyes."

"She did try to strike me," Michael pointed out. He felt a wave of affection for his father. He hadn't just rescued him, he had rescued everyone else on the platform. "She would have if you didn't call out..."

"You're lucky you didn't feel her axe, even in its useless state," Mr. Yamamoto said with a shudder. "So chilling, so biting... but at the same time, it's a relief that it went right through us. We could've all ended up like your father if he hadn't sacrificed himself..."

He trailed off as Mr. Miyamoto let out a cry of pain. Mr. Yamamoto winced, quickly unfurling the sarashi.

"Sorry. You probably don't need that many bandages," he admitted. "There isn't as much blood as I thought. You're lucky."

"Lucky?" Michael demanded, glaring at him. "How is he lucky?"

"Luckier than the other victims," Mr. Yamamoto amended. "If anything, it's a miracle he has his entire body in one piece. No other victim had that luxury. Not one."

"I guess it is kind of lucky," Michael admitted reluctantly. "But—"

"It almost seems too lucky," Mr. Yamamoto admitted contemplatively. "I can't believe it. How can she have only now have faltered in her goal? Wait a minute..." Mr. Yamamoto unfurled another bandage, frowning. "Perhaps... perhaps it was a good thing he sacrificed himself."

"What?" Michael cried. "How can you say that?"

"If she managed to strike you as she intended, she would most definitely have succeeded in killing you," Mr. Yamamoto explained. "Your body would be sliced in half." Michael shuddered at the thought. "But since your father took the blow for you, it only sliced him halfway. That's probably the reason he isn't lying dead right now."

"It doesn't feel too lucky," Michael muttered, shuddering at the sight of his father's body. Had he really sacrificed himself for him? A few days ago, he never would've imagined it... in fact, a few days ago, he probably wouldn't have.

And a few days ago, Michael probably wouldn't have cared too much if he learned that his father had been killed. It'd be like receiving notice of a stranger's death. But now, he couldn't imagine never seeing him again. And it was all thanks to him that the curse over the station had been broken.

Well, not entirely him. Kanashi had also been influenced by Tomiju and Riku. And even Mr. Yamamoto's offer to sacrifice himself at the end. She had seen how selfless humans could be, how selfish she was being by inflicting people to the same pain and suffering she had endured. And now, she was in a better place, along with everyone else.