The Maple Leaf Train

The metal wheels were grinding against the tracks, shaking the cabin as Ava watched the snowcapped landscape race by through the frosty window. The further North the locomotive crept, the less color there was in the world. Within a few hours, she watched as though someone leached all the vibrancy out of the trees, giving way to a monochromatic panorama. 

There weren’t many people on the train at that time of year. It was a scenic route, and since the scenery had been completely smothered by a bright, white blanket, it was the perfect place to hide out. That’s what Frank had told her, at least, as he hugged her tightly on the platform while the few people boarding at the same time said their goodbyes to loved ones. 

“I promise, I’ll meet up with you soon,” he had whispered into her ear.

“Are you sure we should split up?” She asked him shakily.

“You’ll be perfectly safe. I’m just going to get them off our trail and I’ll find you where we planned, okay?” He pushed her away so he could look her in the eye, fixing her backpack strap so it was properly positioned on her narrow shoulder. “You won’t even miss me.”

“I already do.”

The empty seat beside her on the train was stirring, so she picked up her bag and wandered slowly to the cafe in the next car, bouncing off the seats on either side like a human pinball. She subtly scanned the few faces she passed to see if any looked threatening. Frank had been working with her on things like situational awareness and now that she was on her own, she was glad he did. 

To her comfort, the cafe was empty. It seemed the rhythmic rocking of the train had put most of the passengers to sleep, but Ava was far too alert to rest. As soon as she picked up the menu, her stomach growled loudly. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate anything. 

A lanky young man in an apron appeared from the kitchen. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize anyone had come in! Have you been waiting long?” He had a very disarming Canadian accent. 

“I just sat down, actually. No worries.” 

“Can I get anything started for you? Tea or coffee?” 

“Actually, there’s a burger on your menu that is calling my name.” 

“Excellent choice! It’s the best cheeseburger on the east coast!” With a charming smile, he typed something onto a small electronic device. “Anything else?”

"No, thanks," she answered.

The sound of the train piercing through the air suddenly grew louder; the car door opened and an older woman walked in and sat down at the other end of the cafe. She had short, curly, grey hair and wore a thick wool coat. She looked like one of those women who had a "Nana" sticker on the back of her car. Ava watched her out of the corner of her eye while she called the waiter over and ordered a hot tea and a scone. She seemed benign enough.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Ava was able to take a deep breath and relax as much as her body would allow. The scenery was the same out of the cafe window as it was back at her seat, so she pulled a pen out of her backpack and started sketching the woman’s face on a paper napkin. She didn’t like to dwell on her past at all; she was much more comfortable pushing all the memories and trauma into the deepest, most unreachable corners of her mind. The only remnants of her dark childhood were a sketchbook, completely filled with portraits of all the people she encountered during her escape from the foster system and life on the streets, and a weathered, dog-eared copy of Great Expectations. Drawing soothed her—many of the pages contained the faces of people she just found fascinating, and while she didn’t want to remember the others, young Ava discovered that putting them on paper gave her some power over them, like she trapped them on those pages so they could no longer hurt her. Over the years, it just became habit. When Chaos’s inevitable ebb and flow favored the latter, she retreated to the few comforts that got her through so many of life’s deleterious moments. 

The waiter disappeared once again into the other room. The woman smiled sweetly and Ava blushed, worried she had been caught drawing her likeness without permission. But the woman didn’t seem to notice.

“You’re traveling alone?” The woman asked.

“No, my husband is asleep in the other car," she lied. 

“Ooo, family vacation?” 

“We’re going to see his folks up in Canada.” Ava had come up with a backstory during the first few hours of the ride just in case.

“That’s lovely. How long have you been married?”

“Four years this February.” 

“My husband and I were together for thirty five years. I always hated going to see his parents,” joked the woman.

“Always?”

“They never approved. He was Jewish. I wasn’t.”

“Oh, that must have been hard.”

“We managed.”

The waiter reappeared with a tray hoisted over his shoulder. He stopped at the woman’s table first, delivering her tea and scone, then sauntered over to Ava to deliver a fresh, steaming hot cheeseburger on a soft brioche bun. The smell wafted up and made Ava’s mouth instantly start watering. The meat dripped oil over the edge of a bed of lettuce and pooled on the porcelain plate. Before he had even left her side, Ava was deep into her first decadent bite. 

“You don’t want any ketchup or anything?” The waiter asked, shocked at the site of such a dainty young woman devouring a big, meaty cheeseburger. 

Ava shook her head. It could have been squid and crickets—she would have inhaled anything he put down in front of her. The waiter disappeared again and she took another bite, her eyes rolling back in her head in ecstasy. 

“My my, someone was hungry!” The woman observed. 

“Sorry,” replied Ava with a mouthful of greasy top sirloin.

“Surely your husband feeds you!”

“Sometimes,” joked Ava.

The woman lifted her teacup to her mouth and her coat opened slightly, revealing a large gun hanging from her shoulder. Ava, with a face full of charbroiled beef, set her burger down and struggled to swallow the giant bite. It pushed against the sides of her throat like a clog in a drain. Maybe she didn’t know Ava saw the gun. Maybe it wasn’t even for her. Maybe she could fake motion sickness and hide out in the bathroom until she came up with a better plan. She glanced around the room as nonchalantly as possible to not raise suspicion. There were lots of thick, glass bottles behind the bar. Maybe there were some knives, too. The bar was tall enough she could hide behind it. Was there enough time to get to the door before the woman started to fire? 

The thoughts raced through Ava’s mind as the woman set her tea down and stared intensely at her. Ava was so hyper-focused on the woman’s hands, everything else became background noise. The woman moved her hand down and wrapped her fingers around the grip and Ava began to panic. Just as she lifted the barrel of the gun in Ava's direction, a tall figure pushed the muzzle towards the window, wrapping the strap around the woman’s neck. He pulled her towards the door, opening it swiftly and tossing her squirming body out onto the snowy landscape. 

During all the commotion, Ava had slid down in her seat to take refuge beneath the table. It was reflex, really. The door slammed shut and the sound of the wind died down. A single set of footsteps approached her table, growing louder as they got closer. 

“Just jump out and start punching,” she thought. “Maybe you can catch them off guard!” 

The big, black, canvas boots stopped at Ava’s table and turned towards her. She took a deep breath, then burst out like a wild animal. She started scratching and swinging her arms, but the man caught her and wrapped his arms around her like a straight-jacket. 

“Ava, it’s me,” Frank said softly.

She stopped flailing and looked up at him, banging her fists against his dense, thick chest. 

“You scared the shit out of me!” She cried. "What are you doing here?!"

Frank hugged her as tightly as he could without breaking her.

“I knew they planted someone on board. I just had to wait them out.” Ava tried to pull away from him, but he was too strong. She let her body go limp in his arms, like somehow that would make him let go. He held her up like it was nothing. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I needed you to appear vulnerable so they'd make a move.”

“You used me as bait?!” She yelled into his shoulder, breathing him in. He smelled like gun powder and tobacco. He smelled like home.

“You were never in any real danger, I promise!”

She knew he was right: as long as he was around, she was safe. He was the expert, after all. The closer he held her, the more relieved she was to be back in his arms. She couldn’t stay mad at him. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him back.

The waiter pushed open the door with his elbow, but upon seeing their embrace, he slowly backed up back into the kitchen to give them some privacy. He didn't even notice the older woman had skipped out on her check.