MotherTrain

The young girl looked out the window of the train and wondered when she'd see something other than a gray cement wall.

It had been eleven years.

But that was life on MotherTrain. Ever since The Event, no one was allowed to set foot outside the train. What was The Event? No one knew. That was the story that had been told to them. By whom? No one in particular. When children were old enough to read, they were given an official-looking piece of parchment, complete with a stamp of the MotherTrain Community logo (a locomotive with a heart), on which was written:

Congratulations!

You are now old enough to read this message. You might be wondering if you'll be able to leave the train. You may not. The Event prevents all of us from leaving. This rule is for your own good. The last person to try to leave flew away immediately upon leaving the train. We do not know what became of this person. We care about you. We want you to have a nice long life. Do not leave.

                                        Be good!

                                                                          The Principal

Lizzy Plum organized the materials in front of her on a pull-down desk: a few crayons, a blank sheet of paper. She began to draw. First, at the top of the page, a big yellow sun. Then, under the sun, in red, a bird, the crude kind that just looked like a more flexible letter “V.” At the bottom, a giant blue circle for water. Then she took out the brown crayon and drew a train track around the edge of the water. Finally, a black train with a red heart on its locomotive, chugging around the track, complete with smoke billowing. She didn't know if this was actually what The Outside looked like, but she had a feeling it was. She finished the picture and held it up, satisfied with what she’d done, but confused as to why she wished so deeply to be the bird.

"Whatcha drawing there, kiddo?"

It was her teacher, Mr. (Ian) Holmes, making his rounds to each kid during recess. As you can probably imagine, recess on a train wasn't exactly recess, but it was a nice break for the kids nonetheless. There were only a few things to do. Some kids went to the Food Car for a snack. Some kids went to the Gym Car to run around. Some kids went to the Library Car to read. And some kids, like Lizzy, sat alone and made themselves busy for the half hour of Free Time they were given.

Lizzy was, by her judgment, a good judge of character, even if she was eleven. She liked Mr. Holmes--he had the personality of Buddy, The Plum Family Golden Retriever--but she felt bad for him: he was one of those people who looked happy and treated everyone well, but you could tell the guy was miserable, inside. Lizzy didn't blame him. Mr. Holmes was now in his 30's, meaning he had been living on the train for at least 30 years. That's a long time to be anywhere, much less on a train. He had lost his only child last year when she wandered off and tried to escape. Lizzy also heard a rumor that his wife was trying to divorce him, a word she heard only once before with her Mom. All of this was going through her head as she responded to him.

"Oh, nothin'" she said, turning the page over.

Mr. Holmes stood straight, put his hands on his hips, and kind of snorted through his nose.

"Nothin' shmothin'," he said, bending back down to her level. "Tell me about your picture."

Lizzy looked back at him as if trying to gauge if she could fully trust him. She was weary of telling anyone anything personal, besides her Mom, of course.

"Well I started with the bird…” she said.

"I love birds," Mr. Holmes said. "What kind of bird?"

It occurred to Lizzy that they had just been studying types of birds in class, with Mr. Holmes even showing them a live cardinal in a cage, so she figured he thought she would have at least one of those on her mind, but honestly, she couldn't remember the types, not even cardinal.

"It's just a bird," she said, trying to deflect. "I didn't make it a certain type because the type isn't important to the rest of the picture."

“I see.”

"And it’s flying over the water here,” she said, pointing at the water, “as MotherTrain goes around the track.”

A blip of anxiety arose in Mr. Holmes’s stomach. He cleared his throat, put his right index finger to his pursed lips and tapped.

"Why do you think you chose to draw that picture?" he asked.

"No clue," Lizzy said. "I just started drawing."

Mr. Holmes looked at her as if he knew she had more to tell him, which she did, but then smiled and patted her on the head.

"Well I think it's excellent," he said. "Keep going. I'm going to come back at the end of Free Time and see what else you've come up with."

Lizzy nodded and turned back toward her picture. She wasn’t finished.

Ian walked swiftly out of the Quiet Car, through the Food Car, Gym Car, Faculty Car, and finally, into The Principal's Car, as if on a mission.

"You know a knock is common courtesy," The Principal said. She was sitting so that Ian could only see the back of her chair. "Living together on a train demands that we be more courteous to each other, not less."

"Sorry, Principal," Ian said. "I'm just a little anxious."

She swung her chair around: "About?"

"Lizzy Plum."

No one on MotherTrain, except for The Principal, knew who Lizzy’s parents were. The story everyone was told was that she was just found on MotherTrain, and it was the community’s responsibility to care for her.

"Why?"

"We're in recess, and she's sitting alone, drawing a picture…”

He didn’t want to finish.

“Of?”

Ian cleared his throat again.

“Mr. Holmes…” The Principal said.

“The Outside.”

“So? Everyone on MotherTrain has a guess as to what The Outside looks like.”

“Yes, but hers was correct.”

The Principal's eyes went wide. She turned her chair.

"How does she know?"

"I have no idea."

"You haven't said anything, have you?"

"No m'am."

"Did another kid tell her?"

"I don't know."

"Another teacher? A janitor?"

"I have no way of knowing, Principal."

She sighed long and deep.

"My poor Lizzy," she said, staring at the top of her desk as if it were a black hole.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing," she said, looking up. "I will handle it. Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome."

Ian turned around to exit The Principal's Car.

"Wait," she said. "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

Ian couldn't discern her motive for asking.

"No," he said, not turning.

"Sure?" she said.

Then he knew, turning.

"Mag wants a divorce," he said.

"Ah," she said. "I'm sorry."

"It's rough."

"How long?"

"12 years."

"That's two years longer than mine."

"It's not a competition."

"I know, I'm just trying to comfort you."

"Thank you."

He turned and exited to the Faculty Car. Maybe 30 faculty and staff in there, sipping coffee, a few smoking, some eating their lunches.

Before he could say anything, The Principal appeared behind him. Everyone else put down whatever they were doing and stood up straight. The room’s atmosphere tensed.

"This will be quick," The Principal said, "unless you make it long."

She walked slowly up and down the center aisle of the car. A few people wondered why her footsteps sounded louder than everyone else’s.

The Principal got to the other side of the car, spun around, and said: "Who told Lizzy Plum about The Outside?"

Silence.

The Principal paused for another moment. Everyone else in the room looked up at her like “It couldn’t possibly be me.” She expected someone to confess right away. She gathered herself and started again, speaking more pointedly and slowly.

"Who…told…Lizzy…Plum…about…The…Outside?"

Teachers and staff looked at one another. They knew the punishment would be bad if no one said anything.

The only thing anyone could hear was The Principal’s breath. She crossed her arms.

Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, all of Maggie Holmes's emotions burst forth. She didn't say anything; she just started to cry and scream, sob, really.

Ian couldn't believe it. How could she have been so careless?

Teachers are specifically instructed to never discuss The Outside. They all knew: if they were caught, the teacher him/herself had to first push the kid they told off the train (so that no other kids would be told; if the other kids wondered where a particular kid was, they would be told that the child tried to escape and died), and, two, jump off the train, as a sign to other community members that letting one of the children know about The Outside was a deadly serious infraction.

The Principal showed no emotion: "Mrs. Holmes, my office."

Ian knew what she would be told: push Lizzy off, jump out.

Before he could have another thought, Ian said: "No, I will take her place."

Maggie began to sob even more. Here was the man she was trying to divorce who just offered his life for hers.

Maggie pleaded: "Ian, no, I will not allow it."

He walked over to her and whispered in her ear: "Mag, trust me, this will be better for both of us. You just have to trust me."

She looked up at him like Lizzy looked up at him when she was trying to figure out if she could trust him. She knew he was a good man. A very good man. A good husband and father. She began to think about why she even wanted to divorce him in the first place.

He whispered: "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she said, nodding and drying her eyes with her sweater.

He stood up and met The Principal's eyes.

"Very well," The Principal said. "As our by-laws state, a married man may volunteer for his wife. Mr. Holmes, come with me."

“No, please!” Maggie screamed.

They went back into The Principal's office. Her demeanor had changed. Suddenly, she seemed more robotic, less human. There was another man in the room who Ian had never seen before. He was older than death and didn’t once look at Ian. Ian guessed he was there to witness what was about to happen.

"Mr. Holmes," The Principal said. "Your wife confessed to leaking information about The Outside to one of Our Young, but you volunteered to take her place in Punishment. Is this correct?"

"Yes."

“Sign here,” she said, handing him a piece of paper and pointing at the dotted line on the bottom of the page. Ian could tell she had just painted her nails. The room smelled slightly of nail polish remover.

"Your Punishment: take Lizzy to The Outside Door, push her out, jump. This is your final sacrifice for the good of MotherTrain. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Leave."

Ian spun around like a soldier at attention, walked through the Faculty Car without speaking or looking at anyone, although everyone was looking at him, Maggie still sobbing in the chest of one of her friends. He walked through the Food Car, the Gym Car, back to the Quiet Car, where Lizzy was where she had been, doing what she had been doing.

He spoke before his emotions could capture him.

"Lizzy Plum, come with me, please."

She recognized he had changed. She got up and followed him. It seemed like they walked through fifteen different cars. She wanted to ask where they were going, but she was too nervous. All the sudden, Ian opened a panel on the side wall of one of the cars and told her to get in. It smelled burnt. She looked up at him like she had before. He nodded his head to the right as if to demand she get in. She did.

Inside the panel was a long corridor with a door at the end. The only light in the corridor was a small, exposed bulb above the door.

The door was twice the size of a normal door, metal, heavy, with a bunch of latches and locks, kind of rusty, as if it had been there a long time. They reached the door. Ian opened it.

Lizzy looked. It was just as she thought it was: a big yellow sun, the blue water.

Ian smiled at her.

"Lizzy, promise me you'll finish your picture."

She looked up at him.

"I promise."

He smiled, nodded, and jumped.

Lizzy watched him fly away like a bird.