Pillage

  The doors to all of the sleeper compartments were open but the compartments were empty. My insides began to feel more than just hunger. Something wasn’t right. I had fallen asleep and woken up on an empty train. The next car was filled with nothing but empty seats. The same attendant who had checked my ticket earlier entered the car from the other direction. He was surprised to see me.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “I’m just walking around,” I said, looking past him.

  “It’s best that the passengers stay in their designated seats.”

  “What passengers?” I asked.

  “Not many people travel to Kingsplot.”

  “Can’t I walk around?” I asked.

  “I think not.”

  “Can I see the captain?” I said, trying to sound young and interested in how trains run.

  “That would be the engineer,” the attendant corrected. “And no. It is best for the safety of everyone if you return to your seat.”

  I’m old enough to know how futile it is to argue with some adults. I turned and walked back through the car and into the dining car.

  The attendant followed me.

  “I can find my way,” I said.

  Apparently there is no course in train etiquette that teaches its students to be cordial. The attendant simply shooed me forward. I reached my compartment and stepped inside. I closed the sliding door behind me. Kate looked up at me and blinked.

  “There’s nobody else on the train,” I whispered.

  “What?”

  “The train’s empty.”

  “Who’s driving it?”

  “Someone, but all the passengers are gone.”

  “Well, not many people ride this train to the end.”

  I didn’t like the way she said, “the end.”

  “And we’re moving upward.”

  “Into the mountains,” she agreed. “Kingsplot is in the Hagen Valley.”

  “You’re not bothered that there are no other people on board?”

  Kate shrugged.

  “I went through three cars—there was nobody but a waiter.”

  “Maybe they’re all in the cars behind us.”

  “Maybe.”

  I slid the door back open. I stepped into the hall and looked up and down it. The attendant was gone.

  “He’s not there.”

  “Who?”

  “The ticket dude.”

  “I thought you said everyone was gone.”

  The train seemed to be moving faster.

  “The ticket dude’s still here,” I said. “Who else is going to check the tickets of all the missing passengers? I’m going to check the compartments behind me. Wanna come?”

  Her look told me she didn’t, but her knees appeared to be lifting her up. She stood next to me at the door. I was so surprised she had taken me up on my offer that I froze.

  “Well?” she said.

  It was interesting to see her standing. Kate was two inches shorter than me and her hair looked longer than I’d first suspected. From this angle she didn’t look quite so bored to be alive. I slipped into the hall and began to creep down the hallway. I kept my hands against the walls to balance myself as I walked. I looked back every couple of seconds to make sure Kate hadn’t left me.

  “I’m still here,” she said, after my fourth glance.

  All the compartments were empty. The next car was the same way. So was the one after that.

  “Don’t you think this is weird?”

  Kate shrugged. Her action, or lack thereof, reminded me of my mother. For as long as I could remember, my mother had responded to me more with shrugs and grunts than with any real conversation. I felt right at home.

  The next car was also empty.

  “See?” I said anxiously.

  “No one else is going to Kingsplot,” Kate said casually. “Big deal.”

  The trees outside the train became thicker and darkened the inside of the train even more.

  “I think it’s weird,” I said.

  “I think you watch too much TV,” Kate said. “I’m going back.”

  “Two more cars,” I said. “There has to be someone.”

  Kate sighed in resignation.

  The next two cars were empty and the last one was locked with a sign above the door that read Baggage. The car we were now in had a partially glass ceiling, giving us a terrific view of the tree branches reaching and weaving over the train. It also made me feel that each mile forward was closing up the space we had just traveled. I felt like we were being zipped up into the mountains.

  “No passengers. Only one attendant.”

  “You’re forgetting that we’re passengers,” Kate pointed out.

  “You don’t think this feels wrong?”

  “It feels like we’re on a train climbing up a mountain. I’m going back to my seat.”

  “Why?” I asked. “You can sit anywhere.”

  “My ticket says 32A.”

  Who could argue with that?

  Kate walked out of the car and back toward our compartment. I stayed to look up through the glass ceiling. The foliage was growing thicker every clack of the track. I sat down in one of the many empty seats and tried not to think about my mom. She had not always been so out of it. I could remember a time many years ago when I had mattered to her. Unfortunately those memories were harder to pull up than the ones where she was ill and neglectful.

  I stood up and began to work my way back. As I stepped into the next car I was surprised to see a single passenger sitting in one of the seats. She was an old woman with a feathery hat and a purple purse that she clutched tightly in her lap. She looked at me as though I was going to steal not only her purse, but her hat as well.

  I walked past her, nodding a cautious hello, and entered the next car. The rest of the train was vacant until I made it to our compartment and noticed that in the compartment next to ours there was a man sitting alone with his head down and his arms crossed against his chest. I watched him for a moment and realized he was sleeping.

  I stepped past his compartment and slipped into ours. Kate was sitting, looking out the window. She turned and looked at me as I entered.

  Our relationship was growing.

  “There are a couple of other passengers now,” I whispered fiercely. “Two of them.”

  “Wow.”

  “Seriously,” I said. “Where’d they come from? We haven’t stopped.”

  “I don’t know, Nancy Drew,” Kate said, looking out the window again. “The bathroom?”

  “Whatever,” I said, embarrassed. “I still think it’s weird.”

  The train choked as it moved up the mountain pass. The windows began to blur with small drops of water. The water swirled around the window in wispy gray patterns.

  “It’s raining?” I asked, stepping to the window and looking up. The trees were so thick above and around us that it felt like a tunnel of branches and leaves. I couldn’t understand how any rain could even reach us.

  “It’s the mist,” Kate said. “Kingsplot and these mountains are always covered with mist and fog.”

  I looked back out the window.

  “It’s because of the lakes,” Kate added.

  “I need sunshine,” I said, having lived most of my life in the West.

  “You’ll be pale and vitamin D-deficient in no time.”

  “Great.”

  Kate sighed and grimaced.

  I’m not sure why that made me happy. I suppose it could have something to do with the way her blue eyes looked when she grimaced at me.

  “Where do you live?” I asked.

  Kate opened her mouth to speak just as the train began to pick up speed. “We’re getting close,” she said instead of answering my question. “We’re entering the valley.”

  “And you live in the valley?” I tried again.

  “I live way up in the mountains,” she said snottily.

  Kate gathered her few things and put them into her bag. The windows lit up as
the trees thinned a bit. I could see fields and lakes through the forest. A weathered white barn with roses covering one entire wall sat in a field of thick green growth.

  Kate stood up and waved a small wave from her hip. I think it was directed toward me.

  “See you,” she said, and with that she was out the door and walking down the corridor.

  “Wait!”

  She didn’t.

  “Nice meeting you, too,” I said to myself.

  The train was still moving at the same fast pace and there was no sign of us pulling into any town or dwelling. I sat in my seat and tried to figure out how to feel. I was excited to be doing something new, but I was nervous to be doing it without my mother. Even though she had been sick or confused all the time, taking care of her had always helped me move into new

  situations. I think the routine of me watching out for her helped keep my mind busy.

  Now that routine was gone. Amplifying my feelings of uneasiness was the feeling the train gave me. It didn’t seem right. I felt like I was riding through an old Hollywood set that had been built to use in a movie. And the missing passengers only added to my uneasiness and heightened my desire to rethink what I was doing. Of course I didn’t have many options. I could have gone into foster care or taken the crazy train.

  The train began to slow down as we approached the station in Kingsplot. I could see cobblestone streets and quaint buildings with shingled roofs. The trees were still all around, but they were different and taller. They had thin white trunks and bushy foliage. I could see a large fountain shaped like a roaring lion at the far end of a wide road. Behind the fountain rose a tall pillar with a large clock on it.

  The streets looked busy. Pockets of red flowers filled window boxes and flowerpots placed randomly around town.

  The train started to shiver slowly and, like a dying snake, it slithered into the station and gave up the ghost. I stood up and grabbed my backpack.

  “Last stop,” the attendant hollered as he came down the corridor. “Kingsplot, last stop.”

  I stepped out of the compartment and looked at him.

  “They pay you for this?” I asked.

  “Last stop. Kingsplot. Last stop,” he hollered into my face as he walked off.

  I walked down the corridor and off the train. I couldn’t see Kate anywhere. She had gotten off fast. There was an old man handing out suitcases. I took mine.

  It was only then that I realized I had no idea who I was looking for, or what to do next.

  Chapter 4

  Up to the Old House

  The train pulled away, moving backward and leaving me standing alone on the platform. The two other passengers had disappeared, having places to go and things to do. The clock on the train station pointed out clearly that it was twelve-thirteen. Although it was just past high noon, the mist in the gray air made it seem much later.

  I stood with my suitcase and backpack wondering what in the world I was doing. It was cold and I wished I had brought a jacket or a long-sleeved shirt. I actually missed the heating duct I had gotten caught in. At least it had been warm there and I had known where I was.

  I looked out the large archway into the city streets. Through the mist I could see people walking up and down the cobblestone walkways, doing business or talking to others. Kingsplot was alive and busy. The only lull in activity was the train platform where I stood.

  A thick flume of mist pushed through the air, blocking my view of the archway and making me feel like a pointed island in the middle of a foggy ocean.

  I stepped forward just as the sound of knocking echoed around me. I looked around; nothing but fog.

  Again with the knocking.

  The fog was getting thicker. I couldn’t tell if the noise was coming from behind me or in front of me so I moved to the side of the archway as if to step out of the way of whatever was making the noise.

  The knocking grew louder. Thump. Pause. Thump.

  I could see the tall form of someone or something materializing in the fog. I moved back, clutching my backpack and hoping whoever was coming was both kind and filled with information that would help me know what to do.

  The form stepped out of the fog and stopped directly in front of me. The shape belonged to a tall man with thin shoulders and crooked legs. He wore a felt cap and a vest that was buttoned up. His shirtsleeves were long and white. He looked at me with dark black eyes and a smile so buried that it would take pliers to pull it out. He had a bulbous nose and ears that stuck out just like mine. In his right hand was the cane that had been the cause of all the commotion.

  “Mr. Phillips?” he asked, his voice as flat as glass.

  “I think so,” I said, confused.

  “Are you or are you not Francine’s boy?”

  Hearing my mother’s name made me feel worse. “Yes,” I answered.

  He looked at my single suitcase. “Is there more?” he asked.

  I shook my head and he extended his hand to take the

  handle of my suitcase.

  “Welcome,” he said. “My name is Thomas. This way please.”

  I stayed directly behind Thomas, afraid of losing him in the mist. He walked slowly, moving through the archway and down around the station. We stepped into an open courtyard bursting with rosebushes. The bushes looked weighed down by the gray and wet weather.

  Outside of the courtyard there was a large black car. It surprised me to see it. The town of Kingsplot had such an old feeling that to see something modern looked out of place.

  Thomas opened the back door and I climbed in. He loaded the luggage into the trunk and then got behind the wheel, sliding his cane into the passenger seat. He turned to look back at me.

  “Have I welcomed you?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Of course,” he sighed heavily. “Sit back. The ride will take about an hour.”

  “An hour?” I said, surprised by the length of time.

  “The manor sits well above the town.”

  Manor? I liked the sound of that.

  “So, is it always this wet?”

  “Always,” he answered, pulling the black car out onto the main street and driving slowly through the town.

  The street was lined with ivy-covered buildings and small shops that sold individual items. One sold shoes, one sold hats, and another sold vacuums. I looked around for a McDonald’s or a Wal-Mart, but there was nothing of the sort within view. I couldn’t even see a gas station or a freeway.

  “Do you have a Taco Bell here?” I asked.

  “Certainly not,” Thomas said, his voice tinged with insult.

  “A mall?”

  “There are strict covenants in Kingsplot,” he replied as if that would clear it all up for me.

  I had no idea what he meant, but I stopped asking questions.

  We drove past a single tree standing behind a sign that read Kingsplot, Quaint and Courteous. I saw large homes that looked as old and regal as those in the movies. A girl was playing with a hula hoop, and I watched a milkman collect empty bottles from off a large back porch. The mist moved in weird patches and strips, making everything look slightly out of focus.

  The homes became sparse and eventually disappeared altogether. Thomas followed the narrow road into the trees and up the side of the mountain. The car traveled the switchback road, rising in altitude. We passed through a long tunnel that was a touch too dark for my taste. Coming out of the tunnel we made a sharp turn that directed us even further up the mountain.

  “How high are we going?”

  Thomas didn’t answer. Instead he slowed as another sharp corner slung us higher yet. We went through another tunnel that was not quite as long as the first and came out onto a flat shelf of green land. Two turns later I spotted a large house. It looked impressive enough to be called a manor. Massive granite lions guarded a winding driveway. My heart stopped, thinking this was where we were headed.

  We passed it by without slowing.

  I co
uld see another building back in the woods. It had more chimneys than I could count and a vast front lawn. Two men carrying shotguns crossed the lawn with dead birds in their grip.

  We passed that driveway as well.

  The mist was different at this height. It felt like we were inside a large patch of wet sky; everything looked greener and danker than in town. I could see a few birds flying through the soggy air. I worried about them flying over the gentlemen who were carrying shotguns.

  Thomas reached up and pushed something near the driver’s window visor. He coughed once as if signaling our arrival. I looked up ahead, wondering where we were. I could barely see two large ivy-covered gates begin to separate. It looked like the forest was opening itself up to swallow us whole. Near the gate was a small, empty shack with a clay-tiled roof. Three gargoyles were perched on the top of the gates, the two on the ends reaching down with their claws and the one in the center reaching up. I looked out the back window of the car and my breath was stolen by how far we’d traveled. Through the low clouds and mist I could see Kingsplot miles below down in the valley.

  “Wow.”

  The gates yawned and we drove through. The driveway was brick and lined with thick shrubs and odd statues. I could see a large house in the distance. It was back behind the trees with a pitched roof and three chimneys. It wasn’t as enormous as the other mansions we had passed, but it was ten times larger than any place I thought I would ever live in.

  “Is that it?” I asked, pointing through the front window.

  “No,” Thomas said. “Those are the stables.”

  The car followed the bend in the drive and the view parted to reveal my uncle’s mansion. I couldn’t keep my jaw from falling open. The house was not a house, nor was it a mansion—it was somewhere between a mall and a castle. There were more chimneys and windows than any chimney or window store could ever possibly stock.

  I counted at least seven floors.

  The sixth floor of the manor was circled by a thick stone balcony, and the seventh floor sat back a bit with massive windows that were dark and shuttered.