Additional Sense

I picked the wrong seat. This was supposed to be my new beginning, and every minute was supposed to be a new and exciting moment to catalog in my mind and retell to the grandchildren of the future as a beloved memory. Instead, I am staring at the crinkle-faced child in the seat across from me while her mother ignores the hideous wailing sounds the kid is emitting. I might need to rethink the ‘future grandchildren’ part of my plan. I am starting to believe I won’t even make it through having children, let alone surviving until the birth of their children.

I want to glare at the woman until she feels the weight of my stare and looks up. I want her to realize how absolutely rude and irritating her daughter is. Instead, I grab my bag and stand up. I am not accustomed to the way the train sways as it cruises along the tracks, but I try to leave as gracefully as possible. I do not know where I am going or if I’m even supposed to stand while the train is moving. This is my first time leaving my hometown, let alone being on a train.

               Thankfully, an official-looking man in a uniform meets me in the aisle and asks me if I’m looking for the dining car. Eating sounds like a grand idea, so I nod. He smiles and points over my shoulder at the door on the other end of the car. Offering a timid smile, I turn and walk in the opposite direction. I am so out of my depth, far from my confident self, as I enter the dining car and try to figure out if I’m supposed to wait to be seated. I give up and seat myself near a window and begin reading the menu on the table before me.

               It only takes a moment for my attention to veer from the description of simple dishes on the page to the older gentleman at the table in front of me. He does not belong here. My knowledge of this is inexplicable, but I have always sensed such things. I just know when they are not from here. I don’t know where the man is from and I don’t know why he came, but this is not the planet where he was born.

               Observing the man, though knowing he is not of this world could mean he isn’t the male of his species, and see nothing that should indicate his other-worldliness. Still, I feel it. I avert my gaze when I realize the man is watching me back out of the corner of his eye. While pretending to read the sea of words on the menu, I hold my breath. I hope I’m calm on the exterior because right now I am petrified that the alien in old-man skin will perceive me as a threat.

               My mother warned me not to go on this journey. She told me it would be difficult to hide my extra sense out here in the real world. At the station, I had even lingered for a moment with one foot still on the platform and considered not boarding this train. My desire for adventure won my internal battle, and I am here. Right now, I wish my adventurous spirit had been the weakling during the train-boarding duel.

               The alien is still watching me, regularly sneaking glances. I am not safe here. He somehow knows that I am aware of his secret. I put the menu down on the table and snatch up my bag. I consider going back to the seat I had claimed earlier, but I didn’t want to endanger the child. Screaming and infuriating as she was, the girl did not deserve to die.

               I may be naïve when it came to the culture outside of my small town, but I was not foolish enough to believe inadvertently identifying an alien would end well for me or any human around me. I headed for the rear of the dining car, looking for a restroom. If the alien followed me, maybe I could at least isolate myself from others and minimize casualties. I quickened my pace when I saw the old man rise from his seat in the reflection of the mirrored walls of the dining car.

               I reached the door of the bathroom and tugged. It didn’t open. I turned to face the alien. He was only feet away and raising his fist into the air. A thought skirted my mind, prodding me to scream and warn the other people in the car. But that thought has no time to wholly form. The flash of a brilliant blue light makes me slam my eyes shut, and I wait for the pain of a gruesome death.

               I’m still here. Nothing hurts. I hesitantly pull one eye open. The dining car appears the same as it did before I closed my eyes, save several people looking around in confusion. Likely, they are wondering where the flash of light had come from. The alien wearing human skin was gone. I allow my body to fall against the wall. Not only am I alive, and the other passengers safe, but the alien is gone as well. What an incredible stroke of luck!

               If I don’t want to prove my mother correct, and admit that this journey was a mistake, I’m going to need to be a lot more careful about staring at people. That was nearly the last lesson I ever learned, but I have a second chance. I will do better moving forward. Dying is not on my list of adventures, and I don’t want to put others in harm’s way either. I am pretty sure my mother might be more concerned about the latter issue than she is about my safety, but she loves me too much to say so.

               As I walk back to my seat near the window, I catch sight of the landscape beyond the glass. I have been so very wrong to relax. My inability to keep my head down and focus off of those around me has altered the path of every life on this train with me. The trees and structures beyond the window are not those of our planet. The entire train is now an unwilling part of an adventure more magnificent and daunting than I have dared to imagine.