Train Haven

That morning, the sky had awaken from it’s rich, liquid like blackness and blossomed into a sweet purple, then simmered into a zesty orange, and finally shifted to it’s fully awakened icy vastness. So calm were the colors of the dewy morning. I can’t believe it is still the same day, for what started as a serene, peaceful dawn, had now turned into one of the most terrifying days of my life.
I cover my seven year old, frail sister, Frost, like a protective shell, who is shivering and sobbing.
“It’s ok. Breathe. Breathe,” I try to sooth her.
That isn’t going to happen.
We are surrounded by big musty boxes, nailed shut with rusty nails. We are trapped in a train car, that is jolting uncontrollably, and the boxes are sliding all over the place. My hay bale colored, choppy hair is blocking Frost’s view of our surroundings, which I’m thankful for.
“Bale... Bale…” my white-blonde haired sister looks into my deep gray eyes looking for comfort. My sister is quirky and fun, but every seven year old needs protecting when their parents have abandoned them on a train- and haven’t seen their parents for two months. I take her pale, slender hand in my big, scarred and tan hands and look at her.
“We will find a way out of here Frost. I will not let you go. Do you hear me?” I yell over the noise.
She nods, or at least she looks at me, the bouncing caboose might me shaking her head. I might also not be able to see her because my surroundings look like a watercolor painting, objects blurring into others, because of my tears.
No.
I will not show my fear to Frost.
I am stronger than that.
I squeeze my tears back, feeling that gritty feeling in my throat that you get when you are trying not to cry. But I don’t have time, because two stacked boxes are sliding dangerously towards my little sister and I/ I may be skinny, but I am strong. I put my palms on the slowly gliding boxes and push back with all of my strength. My muscles burn as gravity fights to push t boxes, which are about 6 ft high, and therefore about a foot taller than me, towards me and Frost, who is now hugging her knees where I used to sit. It takes every last bit of strength out of me to push off from my legs and push the boxes all the way back to the corner, where they give in with a loud thump against the side walls of the car. I walk uncertainly, stumbling back to where I used to sit, because the train is shaking so much, and again hug my sibling protectively. My broad shoulders create a shield against any more boxes that might be coming. So, I make sure Frost is facing the opposite way, and hold her tight, my back to the mountainous and dangerous crates. She will not pay the price for what other people did. It’s not her fault we are here. It wasn’t her fault that we are on the roughest spot on the train tracks. It wasn’t her that left us at a train station with nothing and no one. It was my parents- who are now dead to me.
It isn’t her fault that we are orphans.

……………………………..………………………………………………………………………


The train shakes me from sleep as it starts its engines, letting me know it’s time to get up. I sit there, trying hard to open my droopy eyes, and eventually succeed. I rub the groggy feeling from my eyes and place my hands behind me to sit up. The previous night leaks back into my memory, spreading like leaking ink- we must have fallen asleep, and the train must have past the rough spot. There is no time to lose. I’ve got to get everything Frost needs for today. My box bed- which is a box filled with packing paper that I manage to curl up in- crinkles with the sound of the packing paper. Looking over at my sister, who sleeps in a large suitcase stuffed with the warm towels that I stole from the storage car- she deserved better than packing paper- is still sleeping deeply, and breathing steadily. I exhale, and carefully get up from my noisy dwelling. I think it is time to eat.
Tiptoeing in and around the boxes and suitcases that make up our humble home, I slip through the train car door, that thankfully, has been recently oiled, so I won’t wake Frost up. Outside the train car, it is warm and humid, but the wind from the moving train is refreshing. It isn’t moving very fast yet, having just gotten started, about the speed of a cruising bicycle, so I stroll across the skinny metal bar connecting the cars easily. After a few months practice, after I’ve lived alone without my parents for many weeks, I’ve become way more agile. The food car is conveniently the next car over, but is freezing cold and is refrigerated to keep the food fresh. I scrunch up my face, preparing for the bitter cold that I still have not gotten used to and reach for the wheel that opens the door. But something stops me. Inside I can hear a dull murmur, but it is not the sound of an engine, or any mechanical item. It is not the sound of the train whistle, that usually cuts sharply into the air around 8:30. Oh God. People!
Anyone other than my sister Frost was bad news. About two months ago, my ex-parents, and my sister and I, were waiting to catch a train to New Jersey, to meet my grandparents for the first time. They told us they would be right back, they just wanted to grab us some snacks. I’ve never seen them again.
Pushing the thought back to the depths of my heart, I think about our safety again. If we are found on this train, they would surely separate us and we would never be together again. What would happen to Frost? She would be all alone! I wouldn’t let that happen. Frantically, I search for a hiding spot, which, is really difficult on the connecting parts of two train cars, on a train that is gaining speed. My heart soars when they spot a ladder encrusted with green rust, that leads to the top of the car. I swiftly climb it, though it cuts my hands, but when I get up, I catch my breath. It’s… a little… higher... than I thought. Telling myself not to look down, I breathe deeply and focus on the sounds coming from below.
“Pierre! Ze eggs ze eggs! Where did you put ze eggs! I can’t serve 500 passengers breakfast without eggs! Sacre bleu!” boomed who I assumed was the chef in a heavy French accent.
“Keep breathing. Don’t look down. Don’t look down,” I repeated softly to myself. “Do it for Frost. You’re better than this.” I’m not going to let myself be afraid of such a wimpy thing like heights.
“Sir! Can’t we make that lovely yogurt with those scrumptious berries, and that recipe for eggless bread?” screeched a higher voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard, or a mewing cat.
“Zat will have to do! Out. OUT!” he said, sounding like a cannon. The second the door clicked shut, I go into action, gliding down the old ladder and into the refrigerator car. Chills are already creeping up my spine and arms from the cold, but I will not leave until I find what I came for. Searching through dozens of freezing cold boxes, and the tall shelves that lined each side of the 8 ft wide, dimly lit car, I finally find it! Peanut butter and Jelly! It was little Frost’s favorite, and so I was set on getting it for her every morning. She told me I didn’t have to, but she’s my sister. She deserves the best. I carefully put together a sandwich and make sure there was just enough of the salty peanut butter and the strawberry preserves she adores. I grabbed a napkin to keep it clean, and start out the door when I remember I didn’t get anything for myself. I grab the first thing I see, a small biscuit, and run out the door. I stand a moment halfway in between the cars on the skinny metal bar, even though the train is moving very fast. The wind tickles my ears and ruffles my already messy hair as I look out at the bright blue sky and sandy landscape. I give out a laugh, thinking of the “poor” chef, whose eggs we had last night for dinner. He didn’t deserve them anyway. He had everything while we had nothing. Serves him right! Other people can handle themselves without a few eggs. My job? To protect Frost and myself- mostly my sister- without hesitation, all I can, all the time.
When I enter our caboose house, I find that Frost has already woken up, and she is leaning her head out of the window. Her shoulder length white-blonde hair is hovering a few inches behind her head, forced back by the wind.
“What are you doing?” I laugh lightly at my always curious sister. She turns back with a look that is not happy, or curious. It is deeply concerned. Her bright eyes framed with downward facing, thin eyebrows- the look she makes when she is a little scared.
“Bale? Does this train have window washers?” she asked worriedly.
“Window washers? Why do you need to know that?” I responded. Questions like this usually came up during our conversations, Frost was always the quirky one.
“Window washers Bale. You heard me!” I roll my eyes and step towards the window.
My eyes nearly fell out of my head. A woman who looked to be about 65, was gliding along the sides of the train by tightly gripping the windows’ upper frames, her feet secured in the bottom part of the frame. She scooted along with immense grace, that was really not common for a woman of her age. She was getting closer and closer, and the worse part- she was looking directly at me. Suddenly my good mood fades into dark fear and anger.
“Frost! Haven’t I told you never to be seen by anyone? Don’t you know what you’ve done? She could come for us and never let us see each other again! She could even send us to one of those awful homes for children! Frost we are ruined!” I lash out. Why on earth did she do that? I shut the window abruptly. I’ve taken care of her- she should be grateful and listen to me when I tell her what to do!
Quiet tears are streaming down her face now, and I immediately feel guilty. I shouldn’t have said that. “No...I’m sorry...I shouldn’t have…don’t cry...just…” my apology was interrupted by banging sound on the window. I go rigid, not able to move. The banging continues.
“Thump thump thump!” I turn around hesitantly to see the weirdest sight I have ever laid eyes on. The mysterious lady latched on to the side of the train like a leech- and my jaw drops.
“Hey guys! Sorry to interrupt….but uh...as you can see, I’m in a bit of a pickle.” Her voice is muffled and her incredibly long braided gray hair is moving in the air like on crazy snake. Is she talking to us? Actually talking to us? What does she expect us to do? Open up the window and just let her take us away? This has got to be the weirdest situation I’ve ever been in. I’m gaping up at the disturbingly athletic lady with a dropped jaw when she says, “Um, ya think you can open the window? Maybe? I mean, I don’t want to intrude but I’m pretty sure you don’t want to see me hurt...ya know? Sucked under the wheels? That might be a little gory.”
“NO!” I shout decidedly, not letting Frost, who I’ve hidden behind myself speak- knowing she is extremely friendly and sympathetic. Not the right qualities for this situation.
“I don’t know you and you don’t know us. I’d like to keep it that way. What are we supposed to think of an 80 year old woman who just happens to be scaling the outside of train?”
“You're supposed to think, ‘Hey! Cool lady who likes window washing, let’s be friends’,”she winks at me. The woman’s casualty is incredible. Here she is just dilly dallying on the outside of a train at full speed. “Will you let me in?” she says with mock puppy dog eyes, and then starts laughing at her joke, as if the possibility of dying in a matter of seconds is funny.
“No,” I say coldly.
“Thought you mights say that. Well, I really don’t care what you think because guess what?” she asks with a look of mischief in her smile. “I could have opened it the second I got here!” she opens the window, maneuvers around it and jumps inside, wiping her hands on the seat of her pants with a proud smile. Frost and I both gasp and step back, with terrified looks on our faces. The lady laughs, still casual and mischievous.
“You don’t honestly think that I would just scale the side of a train without a plan do you? Been there done that- never gonna do it again. I just thought I’d be polite and ask first,” she laughs at her own joke again- an extremely annoying habit, and paces the room as if inspecting it. She looks back at my gaping face. “Are you scared of me? Wow, that's a new one! In my whole career no one has ever cowered when they saw me- I better put that on my resume!” she jokes while looking around the caboose.
“Who are you?” I bravely blurt out.
“Me? Oh, sorry. My name is Agatha Sa- well, you don’t need to know my last name. Just call me Aggie. Oh and I’m not 80 years old- I’m actually 59, today!” she says grinning from ear to ear like a 6 year old about to get ice cream.
We stand there saying nothing. Who does she think she is? Why is she so casual, and- silly? We don’t know her, and we don’t care to, why doesn’t she just go back to her train car in the passenger section. I take a close look at her. Maybe she doesn’t come from the passenger section. She is about 5’6, and is wearing cargo pants and a stain covered vest with a million pockets and a black long sleeved t shirt. Her eyes are a stunning blue- strangely similar to Frost’s, and she has a smile that makes her look like she knows something we don’t. She looks very fit, and healthy, but you can just make out some crinkles in the corners of her mouth that show she is not invincible. “Aren’t you going to wish me a happy birthday?” she giggles- yes giggles.
“Why are you here?” I mutter without a hint of kindness in my voice.
“Oh, Mister ‘Right to the point’ huh? Well, I’ve heard a rumor that there are two missing children and they were last seen by a train station. So I thought I would take it upon myself to help you guys out and find you! Now, do I get a thank you?” I still can’t imagine any of this is real. This is definitely not an everyday situation.
“A thank you? We are perfectly fine, and you did not need to come looking for us. Go back to where you came from! We don’t like to be disturbed! Don’t you dare come any closer.”
“We? I only see the one of you? I’m sure she told me there were two.” She leans to the left and sees my little sister from behind me and my protective stance. Her joking smile fades into one of sorrow. “Come here child,” Aggie whispers, as if struck by surprise. I hold Frost back, but she gives me that cute little look that says, trust me, in an innocent and comforting way. My arm melts back into my own circle, as I watch my little sister take charge of her own life for the first time. Huh. That’s new.
She walks up to “Aggie” slowly but confidently, and in her smooth but high voice says- “What do you want?” The lady still looks bewildered for some reason, and it is starting to freak me out. She reaches out to touch Frost’s face, who doesn’t shrink back.
“Your eyes! And your nose!” the lady whispers in disbelief. “You remind me so much of your moth-” Agatha snaps out of her oddly timed trance and clears her throat, and in a more serious tone says, “Never mind. I’ve said too much.”
Wait. Wait wait wait. She can’t mean- surely she didn’t know my…
“I look like who?” Frost’s voice questions and echoes through the air, as I stare at Agatha and she stares back. The silence between us is deafening, as we speak through our eyes. The lady gives a slight nod towards both of us.
I can barely speak. This woman knew my mother! This ridiculous looking Indianna Jones Grandma who just popped into our lives not five minutes ago!
“How?” is all I can squeak out, as the memory of my mom- ex mom- painfully suffocates my mind.
“I think you’d both better sit down.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………


I’m sitting on a dirt caked blue crate with Frost sitting on the floor next to me, and Agatha is sitting across from us on a black suitcase.
“There is too much to say, it is hard to know where to start,” she is cracking her knuckles nervously.
“Start with who you are- who you really are,” I force the words from my mouth.
“Bale? Just let her talk, everything will be fine,” she warmly smiles my way. I breathe, and for once let my sister take care of me. Agatha breaks the silence and starts to speak.
“Your mother and father were amazing people. Far more than you really know. They were smart, kind, and extremely courageous. They did not leave you there at the train station because they were bad parents- they did because they were good parents,” she says sincerely, eyes shining.
“Aggie, how did you know that?” says Frost, knowing that I can’t speak because I’m so surprised.
“I was a good friend of Peter and Jamie.”
Peter and Jamie. I might literally faint. My sister however, smiles and drinks in the sound of her parents’ names, she never truly believed they left us on purpose, she always thought it was all a misunderstanding.
“Your parents were not all they seemed to be. And neither am I,” she says taking a deep breath, preparing to tell us everything.
“Are you my sister?” Frost says lightening the mood. Agatha laughs heartily, and stares right at me.
“No child, I’m your grandmother.”
What? Her? How? When? Why? Questions are flooding my mind, and it is overwhelming how much I want to cry now. Nothing makes sense anymore. Where is my ex mom- no. My mom. My dad? Why did they leave me. Why was I here, forced to take care of myself and my sister at only 14 years old? Suddenly feeling like a meek little child I let the tears freely fall from my face. Frost hugs my back, wetting my stolen shirt with tears. I let all the tension I’ve been holding in out- I let myself have emotions for the first time in forever, I let myself think about someone other than my sister.. My parents. Aggie. Me.
I take some time to calm down, and Aggie puts her hand lightly on my shoulder and then rubs my back like my mom used to do when I was sad.
“Is that why you wouldn’t tell us your last name right away? It’s Samson isn’t it- just like ours!” Frost says like a detective.
“Yes child, you’re right. I didn’t think it was the right time. I think now is though, I’ll just tell you the story then.” She nods, as if she approves of the idea, cracks her knuckles and begins.
“Long ago, before your parents were born, there was a boy named Gilbert Mud. He went to my elementary school, and we were good friends. Now, you can imagine with a name like Gilbert Mud, that this boy was teased on a frequent basis.”
“Poor Gilbert!” Frost solemnly sympathized.
“Yes. Poor Gilbert indeed.” I looked up, my face red from tears, something in her tone had changed. “Not only was Gilbert teased because of his name- he was made fun of because of his talking disability. When he spoke it just didn’t sound right ya know? Sort of muffled, like maybe his tongue couldn’t reach the tip of his mouth,” she spoke as if seeing the memories right before her eyes.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Frost sticking her tongue out and trying see if she can touch her teeth, Aggie sees it too and smiles but her smile soon fades. “One day, Gilbert had had enough. He ran away from his home. Leaving behind his school, and his life,” says Aggie as she looks off into the distance, as if looking for a sign to keep going. “I’ve never seen him again,” she sighs heavily. I’m still not talking, there is too much new information to absorb to ask any questions. But as if she could read minds, Aggie answers the question I was pondering silently- what then? “Rumor has it that he took a train- this very train- far away to who knows where. It wasn’t until I was a grown woman, married with two 22 year old sons, did I know that he didn’t just run away to get away from his life. He ran away to start a war.”
What? Every word out of this woman’s mouth, my grandmother’s mouth, happen to be the strangest words I’ve ever heard anyone say. Each sentence turning my world upside down. First, my parents are good people, which, minutes ago, I seriously doubted. Second, this lady is my grandmother? Third- she had two sons? My dad never told me he had a brother! Fourth, a little boy named Gilbert Mud started a war?
“I can see you are confused. So was I. When Gilbert ran away, he created an organization. It was called the U.U.U.. The Unified Underestimated Underdogs.”
My emotions are still shot, so I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry. The ‘uuuhhhh’ foundation? Is she serious? “I know it doesn’t sound intimidating, but this organization, saying it’s name was forbidden for years. That’s how bad it was. Gilbert and his group would target any random person that either Gilbert or any of his members deeply hated, just to get revenge. They would burn houses. They would rob stores, they would ruin egos, key cars, steal money, beat people up. For revenge.” She would still not look away from us, and wouldn’t let her sadness get to her, she was going to tell the whole story no matter what happened. “After college, I joined the FBI. So when I heard about this group of awful people, I knew I had to do something. I requested to go on a mission, with a few other agents, to track these men and women down,” she pauses. “It didn’t go as planned.” I urge her to continue, but it looks like she thinks she can’t. “We had planned to arrest every one of them. We had everything we needed. We tracked them to their headquarters, and hacked into their systems. Everything seemed under control. But it wasn’t.” She takes a slow breath, not wanting the truth to be real. “Out of 14 people who went out with me that day to the headquarters, 8 were injured. And two men, they- well they...they didn’t come back. Including your uncle,” Aggie says solemnly, cracking her knuckles once again. I can tell she is tough, but this is her son she is talking about, and I’m sure I can see a few tears falling down her tan, weathered, cheeks. Frost clutches my arm tightly, but still looks strong. Aggie composes herself and continues.
“After that day, the FBI never had it the same. These weren’t just people who held grudges. They were killers. A force to be reckoned with. Though we did teach them a lesson that day, we didn’t come out of it the same. For years, the attacks inexplicably stopped. All was well. Your father got married to your mother, and they started their real estate business as you know. But then, rumors started to spread that the U.U.U was back. One thing was different this time. The U.U.U were not targeting anyone who had harmed them before. They were going after anyone and everyone who had anything to do with the mission that day. Which meant all of my agents. Me. And because we were related, your parents,” she explains with a face ridden with regret.
I gasp. Mom and Dad? Being hunted ? They didn’t even do anything- why didn’t we know that they were being- all of the sudden, I put two and two together, and I finally understand.
“They left us at the train station…” I whisper, my eyes wide, “...to protect us.” Aggie nods silently, letting both Frost and I take it in. “All this time, all of these months, I’ve resented them. I’ve tried to never think about them. All this time, they did what I’ve hated them for- out of love.” I can’t tell if I’m talking or thinking this, I’m just so overpowered by the feeling of relief. They did love us all along. They didn’t abandon us. I must have been talking because Aggie adds on.
“Your parents would never do anything to hurt you. And if they told anyone, they were sure they would come after you anyway. They didn’t want you to know about your uncle, even when you were young, just because he already had so many enemies, who would question anyone about his whereabouts. The only way to keep you hidden, was to make you invisible from the world. ” she tries to win me over, but she already has.
The word invisible stays with me. I think my parents succeeded- I’ve been hidden from the world on this train. But I think I became more invisible to myself than they would have wanted. I tried to hide my fear, pretend I didn’t notice it, and tried to think of Frost. I didn’t let myself trust anyone, and that was why I was so afraid of us being found out. I shut the world out. I tried to make my fear invisible, my love was invisible and my trust in other people became invisible as well.
“I knew Mommy and Daddy weren’t bad guys. Thank you Aggie for coming to tell us,” she gives me a big hug expressing her happiness, as I sit in awe of her superior maturity. There is so much strength in Frost. Strength that I don’t think I had myself all of these months. I tried to make myself feel powerful by thinking that my seven year old sister needed me, to make my weakness invisible. Now I can see that I need her. I hug back, not letting go of my amazing little sister.
“Your parents hid from the U.U.U, and special agents went out to arrest them. Good news kids. Every last one of them is behind bars at this moment. And now we come to why I’m here. Your parents have sent for you, they are still a little frazzled and needed rest, so they sent me. It’s time to go home!” she says excitedly, as if looking forward to seeing us all together.
Frost and I let out a cheer. I’m happier than I’ve been in months! The air seems fresher, and the train seems prettier. I feel like kissing the old wooden crates I’m sitting on, I feel like dancing in the wind. I’m not invisible anymore.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………


We wait for the next stop to get off and catch a different train back home. As Aggie tells Frost wild stories about her adventures as an FBI agent, I sit on a crate looking out the dirty window.
The world is a different place now. The sky looks prettier as it sets into oblivion, the wind smells fresher, and my head and heart feel lighter. Even before this all happened, I never felt this good. I was to hard on myself then, and I never thought I needed help. I can see now that I’m wrong. I understand now. I’m just a boy. Just a boy.
I touch the walls of the old rusty train. This train has been my hiding place. I’ve hidden from the world, and from truth and trust, just as Gilbert hid from his fears so long ago. This haven of a train will no longer hide me away. Just a boy.
The train slows to a stop, and Aggie and Frost open the door to leave. I skip over to catch up with them and wrap an arm around my grandmother and my sister, letting the sun warm my face. Grandma tussles my hair and I laugh. Letting go of their joyful embraces, I look back at the train that has been a shield for me, keeping me from what I feared. I’m ready to let it go. Just a boy.
My story started with the sun rising, rising on a dark, scary world, and an unhappy boy. And now the sun sets on a new world, filled with hope and opportunity, and a boy ready to trust, ready to feel, and ready to not be invisible anymore.
Just a boy…