To Boston

Zach Pulsipher found himself late for his train. He needed to be on the 5:00 Amtrak headed to Boston, but by the time he reached the loading dock, the last cabin was streaking into the tunnel to his right. Sweating from the final sprint, he set down his briefcase and pressed shaking palms to his knees. I need to see Whitney tonight he thought to himself. Can't miss it.

    He turned and viewed the terminal. It was wide and pale, the walls colored dirty cream and the floor dark gray cement. The smell reminded him of can return stations where you could exchange soda bottles for money. A homeless man lied in a corner near the end of the platform, sleeping bag pulled over his face. His head rested on a stack of stained newspapers. Zach saw a lone bench that looked like a bus shelter, glass and metal awning arcing over the striped bench. A man sat alone there. He wore a wrinkleless three-piece, his hair tidy and cut, shoes shined to a sparkle.

    "This seat taken?" asked Zach as he approached, envious of the man's attire. Zach straightened his tie.

    "Unless some phantom sits there, I'll think you'll be fine," the man said, gesturing to the open seat. Zach thanked him and sat, setting his briefcase in his lap. He regretted setting it on the ground a minute ago. Who knows what kind of bacteria crawl under our shoes? He promised himself he'd never let it happen again.

    "Nice day, isn't it? Very warm," the man in the suit questioned. Zach looked at him, hot and irritated.

    "It's fine," said Zach.

    "Don't approve of the July heat?" the man said.

    "I guess not. It's just... I was supposed to make that train."

    "I can tell."

    "Yeah..." Zach looked at his shoes, the tips wrinkled with wear. No one at the offices of Teshburg Resources seemed to notice and Zach thanked his lucky stars for that. A chill came through the empty tunnel and settled under Zach's skin, a complimentary shudder tickling his spine.

    "Well, don't worry. Next train's at six."

    "Thanks," said Zach, making sure the man could hear his sarcasm. Zach had lived in New York for six- would be seven in October- years now. He could have sworn he looked the part.

    "I didn't mean any offense. Surely you know the schedule," said the man in the suit, as if reading Zach's mind.

    "Sorry... it's just been a long week."

    "I hear that," said the man. He had a little smile constantly painted on his face, eyes squinting, never showing his teeth. It was as if he knew the rest of his life was going to be good; taken care of. Nothing could worry him. Hell, one could just look at the suit and haircut and see the man was definitely taken care of.

    "My name is Zach," said Zach, reaching out a hand and discarding the idea of remaining quiet.

    "Francisco Felix the Sixth," Francisco said, shaking Zach's hand. His skin was cold to the touch. He could use some gloves. Should have brought them Zach thought.

    "Wow, that's impressive," Zach said. "The sixth?"

    "Yessir," said Francisco, resting an ankle on the opposite knee. "Everyone's always so amazed. I've grown used to it. My family history's really long. No need to go into it."

    "What do you do for a living?" Zach wondered, eyeing the suit again. "If that's not rude to ask?"

    "Not at all. Transportation. I own -rather my family owns- a dozen transportation firms and enterprises. I just help with the business."

    "Guess that explains the suit," Zach said.

    "That it does," said Francisco, eyeing Zach's tattered tie and inside-out jacket pocket. "What do you do?"

    "I work at Teshburg Resources. We work to supply the city with biodegradable products like to-go boxes, paper cups, those kinds of things."

    "Make anything useful?" Francisco asked. Zach thought of his projects. A model he'd pitched for a new biodegradable food container had fell through, along with his reusable straw patent being founded by another company. Everything else had been stuffed into his desk drawer due to a lack of confidence.

    "Just ideas mostly. I've got a new one I'm working on that might be worth a lot. Just gotta polish it."

    "I see." They sat quiet for a bit, Zach occasionally watching the homeless man in his still slumber, counting the tears in his red nylon sleeping bag.

    "Do you have the time?" Zach wondered. Francisco, despite the watch on his wrist, pointed to an old clock mounted on the wall to their left. It read 5:16. "Oh. Thanks."

    "No problem," said Francisco. "Six o'clock train. Six o'clock. Favorite train by far."

    "Where are you headed?" Zach said.

    "Where you are." Francisco said.

    "And that's..."

    "Boston," said Francisco. Zach arched is brow.

    "How did you know I was headed to Boston?" Zach said.

    "That's where the six o'clock is going. Boston trains come around every hour. I assume the five o'clock you missed was going to Boston."

    "I guess you got me there," said Zach. "What's your business in Boston today?"

    "Got a couple more people to pick up," said Francisco, brushing his black pant leg.

    "Couple more?" asked Zach. "I don't see anyone with you. Picking up for what?"

    "Well, you and uh," Francisco said, pointing at the homeless man. "That fellow, are my first guests of the night. We've got a couple more to grab in Boston then that should be it for tonight. Small amount for a day's work."

    "I don't..." said Zach, clearing his throat. "I don't understand. What do you mean? Me?"

    "You're a guest. You're not going to Boston to visit your girlfriend, Mister Pulsipher. You're coming with me to Boston for another reason." Francisco looked at Zach with retinas so brown they seemed black. The more Zach stared, the more unsettled he became.

    "How do you know I'm seeing my girlfriend and how do you know my last name?" Zach said, standing up, briefcase shaking in hand.

    "Because I'm your host. It's my job as host to learn as much as possible about my guests before taking them."

    "Taking them where?!" Zach said. "What are you, some sort of kidnapper? Murder?"

    "Just doing my job."

    "You said you help with transportation!"

    "And I am. I'm transporting you somewhere."

    "You act as though you own the train!" Zach said, scratching at his scalp.

    "I do. My family doesn't own Amtrak but this particular train that comes at six is mine. It helps get the job done and it appeases my family."

    "What does your family really do?" Zach wondered. Francisco sat in silence, that little smile never wavering. "Stay the fuck away from me." Zach sped to the edge of the platform -behind the yellow line, of course- clutching his briefcase to his chest. He looked back occasionally, unsure if Francisco was staring at him or into space. Who does he think he is Zach thought to himself. Talking crazy like that to strangers?

    "But I'm not crazy," said Francisco behind Zach's shoulder. Zach jumped to his right, Francisco right behind him, little smile glued to his face.

    "I said stay away from me," said Zach, wondering how he got to him that quickly. "Who the hell are you?"

    "If I must," said Francisco. "I'm the end. The debt. The man who comes knocking when it's time to go." He began to sing. "Don't fear the reaper, baby take my hand." Zach's gut churned as he stumbled backward. He felt woozy, his head spinning.

    "No way," Zach said. Francisco kept the smile, hands behind his back while pushing his chest outward. "I don't believe you. No way are you him."

    "You don't believe me?" Francisco wondered.

    "No! I don't! You're just a loon!" Zach said. The rumble of a train drew near. Zach could see the light in the tunnel ahead. Francisco turned and grinned wider.

    "Ah, here's the five-thirty! I'll show you that I'm telling the truth!" Francisco said. With that, he leaped off the platform and stood in the middle of the tracks. Zach let out one loud scream before the train ran Francisco over, his body disappearing somewhere under the train. Nausea came over him, Zach unashamed of losing his lunch in the nearby trash can. All there was for a moment was the rush of the train, the rumble somewhat soothing. Perhaps I imagined it he thought to himself as he approached the yellow line again. He could see the tail drawing near. It passed into the other tunnel and sitting there, on the tracks, suit still without wrinkles, was Francisco, smile and all.

    "Ta-da," Francisco said, standing up, brushing himself off and leaping back onto the platform. Zach stood with wide eyes and closed throat. "I know it's a lot to take in. Everyone goes through this."

    "Again, stay away," said Zach, trembling. He stepped backwards and fell to the ground with a thud. Francisco watched him crawl away. "Help me! Someone please help!" Zach saw the homeless man in his sleeping bag and scuttled over to him. "Mister, you've got to help me! Please, wake up sir! Help me!"

    "He's not going to answer you," said Francisco. "He's had a brain aneurysm. He'll wake up when the train comes." That's when the sobs came. Deep breaths followed by choking coughs. Zach's face grew red as he set it in his hands, rocking himself back and forth.

    "Why?" said Zach through a cry. "Why me? Why me?"

    "Everyone has their time," said Francisco, composed. "Yours is today."

    "But I'm not ready," said Zach.

    "I don't think anyone ever really is. There's a couple exceptions but most are certainly not ready."

    "I'm not going!" said Zach, hopping up, tears streaking down his face.

    "No matter what happens, at six o'clock, you're going to step onto that train." Francisco said. Zach stared at him for a few seconds, spat at the floor in front of him and darted for the stairs leading up to the main station, forgetting his briefcase. It was darker in the stairwell than he remembered but he didn't care. Shifting into a hard sprint, he dashed through darkness so black, he wasn't sure he was going up anymore. In fact, he wasn't. When the light came back, he found he was going down the steps. Jumping off the last step, he saw Francisco, the homeless man and his briefcase.

    "No," he said, sighing. "No no NO!" The crying again. He fell to the ground, lips curled and face beet red.

    "I'm sorry, Zach," said Francisco, now by Zach's side. "This is how it has to be."

    "Why?" said Zach through his cries. "Why so early? I'm healthy, I've got a good job, people who love me. Why do you have to take me now?"

    "Look," said Francisco, sitting on the ground next to Zach. "I don't really control that part. That's someone else's job. My job is to just... get you where you're supposed to be on time."

    "So, you don't know why I'm going now?" Zach said, looking at Francisco with red eyes. Francisco shook his head, looked at his watch.

    "No," said Francisco. "I don't. I just know that... what I'm doing is saving you even more grief."

    "How the hell is that possible?" Zach said. "I'm about to die and hop on a train to the afterlife, as put by you! How can it get worse than that?"

    "You're not dead yet. That's the thing. Think of it this way... I'm sparing you the death part and just... taking you a little bit early. That's what I do. That's how I help my family. They deal with deaths, times, and locales. For the longest time, they didn't think about it my way. I know death is natural but, as much as you try to normalize it, death still terrifies humans. So, I figured that if I could cut out the middleman and just pick people up -even if it's just a few- before they actually die... it would make it much easier on them. They'd still be sensible and could possibly be worked into it."

    "So... you're really just looking out for me, is what you're saying?" Zach wasn't sure if he should be touched or bewildered. He felt both, amongst other things.

    "Just thought it'd be easier on you guys. But if you want your death, I'll let you have it. Just trust that I know you won't have long after tonight. A day, at max." Francisco looked at his watch again. "Fifteen til'." Zach wiped the tears from his face, heart racing. He didn't know what to think, let alone where to begin. This morning, he could have never pictured himself being here. Well, who does? he thought.

    "That's kind of... brilliant. Wait, so there's more than one Reaper?" Zach wondered. Francisco seemed to smile at the question.

    "Dozens of us. People make that misconception. You really think Death could go around the whole world in one night by himself? Fuck that. I just manage upper east coast."

    "It's not okay," said Zach. "That I'm kind of... okay with this."

    "Yeah?" Francisco said, turning to look over his shoulder.

    "Well, not okay, but... I don't know. It's so wrong how calm I am right now. Are you doing anything to me? Spells or something?"

    "I'm not a fairy. I don't do anything of the sort."

    "Okay. I guess I'll take your word for it." Zach ran a hand through his hair. "What about my family? Everyone who knows me?"

    "They're all taken care of. Letters have been sent out. Notices. Even your headstone's already been made."

    "Jesus, when did you do that?"

    "Don't ask and don't take it personally. We're good at our job. We're plenty ahead of schedule. It's kind of sick."

    "You think?" said Zach, finding himself letting out a chuckle. "I... you know what? Thank you."

    "For what?” Francisco said, dropping the smile for the first time.

    "Just... I guess, making it easier. Giving me a heads up is much better than not having one at all." Francisco looked shocked, Zach convinced his eyebrows were taking off for flight with how high they went. "What?"

    "No one's ever thanked me before. You're welcome, I guess?"

    "Really? All this time and no one's ever thanked you?"

    "Not that I can recall," said Francisco. "I don't know why that means a lot. Maybe it's because your opinion is the only one that seems to matter. You're the only I've ever really talked to about this."

    "Well, I'm happy you did," said Zach, surprised to hear himself say it. He looked at the clock on the wall, the face reading 5:58. They both heard the rumble of the train, stood up and walked to the platform. To their right, the man in the sleeping bag rolled over, rubbed his eyes -now glowing bright turquoise- and stood. Zach shuddered.

    "Don't be worried. He won't do anything but board and sit down," said Francisco. "Let him get on first." With that, the train rolled in, sleek and silver with one black streak running along the body. The windows were tinted a deep violet. The word “Hellhound” was printed on the side in black, cursive font. Zach laughed to himself.

    "Damn, it looks great," said Zach, once more surprised at his approval.

    "Thanks," said Francisco as the doors opened, faint gray smoke slinking from the cabins under the tracks like slithering snakes. "Designed her myself." They watched the homeless man leave his possessions and enter the train, sitting down and remaining still like a mannequin. Francisco stepped on the train, crossing the yellow line. He turned and held out his hand. "Come on, Zach. It's time."

    Zach turned and looked back at the empty station, fluorescent lights flickering overhead. He eyed his briefcase, dashed for it, snagged it by the handle and ran back to the train.

    "You don't need that," said Francisco. "We gotta go."

    "One second," said Zach. He unclipped the latches and let the contents fall to the ground. There it was, amongst the pile of loose pages and manila folders. A photo of himself and his family, along with his girlfriend Whitney latched onto his arm. "Can't leave them behind."

    "Don't think of it like that," said Francisco. "You'll see them in due time." Zach nodded and, abandoning whatever doubt he had left, took Francisco’s hand and stepped onto the train. A few other bodies with smoldering blue eyes lined the cabin, but their spacing gave Zach some ease. He sat next to Francisco, the seats cushioned and armrests firm.

    "So, where is this train going?" said Zach. “In the end, after Boston?”

    "Well, it's nowhere with fire and whips and torture, if that's what you're asking," said Francisco.

    "Great," said Zach. He found himself smiling. "I've grown tired of the heat of New York in the summer." They both started laughing, faces red. Zach hadn't laughed like that in a long time.

    "I think you're gonna fit in just fine," said Francisco. With a snap of his fingers, the doors shut and the train lurched forward, gaining speed at an alarming rate. "There's some people I think you'd love to meet."

    "To Boston?" Zach wondered.

    "Yeah,” said Francisco, giving a faint nod. “To Boston.”