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The sounds of the train have given off the same rattling sounds in the past hours since the former serviceman and his fellow fugitive boarded. It heaves its weight forward, steadily racing toward Chicago as its surroundings pass by.
Gary can’t help but sigh. There are some pretty sights to be seen during the journey. Gorgeous landscapes and glimpses of wildlife, but no alcohol to be drunk in tandem while sightseeing.
That whisky on the rocks he had several hours earlier at the Feuillatte siblings’ tavern would be perfect right now. The coolness of the ice, the strong yet smooth flavor of the alcohol… it’d pair with the natural scenery outside perfectly.
It was a pity, really. For now, until the train arrives at its destination, he’d have to do without it. The water in his flask would suffice for now.
Looking to his right, he sees the sleeping figure of Paul leaning against the window next to him. He snores lightly as arms are casually crossed and his cap leans a little over his eyes, working as a shield against the soft light that poured in from the sunset outside.
How lucky of him to already be asleep, though some of the ‘excitement’ from hours earlier most likely contributed to Paul’s slumber. Unfortunately for Gary, he couldn’t seem to do the same. His mind felt restless and he had no desire to hit the hay just yet. Plus, the train is not exactly the quietest thing to sleep on.
Gary gets up from his seat, stretching a bit before he begins to walk through a few of the train cars in front. There isn’t much to do, but at the very least he could move his body a bit before sitting down again. It could help with sleeping as well, hopefully.
Most of the train cars he walks through look pretty similar. Businessmen here and there, along with a few families. Most appeared to be snoozing away or keeping themselves busy by reading a book. Others opt to look at the scenery outside as the train whizzes by, the glow of the sunset now just peeking over the horizon.
It felt a little strange, seeing such sights. After being in the war for so long, he had nearly forgotten what everyday life is like at home. Still, it was much better than what he had seen while deployed.
Gary walks a few steps more into the current train car he’s in before he stops suddenly. He stands there for a moment, his nose catching a familiar scent. Citrus like and tangy.
He turns to what he thinks is the source, seeing an older woman bundled in warm clothes in a seat to his right. Placed in her lap is a basket of various fruit. Apples, oranges, and of course, lemons. More lemons than he expected.
“Are you interested, young man?”
The ex-serviceman blinks, looking to the woman. He didn’t realize he was staring enough to get her attention. Regardless, a welcoming smile adorns her wrinkled face as she takes an apple and offers it to him.
“They’re still fresh! What say you?” she says cheerfully. Gary holds up a hand to decline, replying apologetically.
“Ah, no. I just noticed the scent of lemons since you seem to have so many.”
It was the elderly woman’s turn to stare at him now, a little surprised at his answer. Then, she chuckles as she places the apple back down in the basket.
“You have a good nose, don’t you? Though I suppose it’s to be expected when I have this many. A friend decided to give me more than I needed. Are you sure you don’t want one? You seemed like you did when I saw you looking at them,” she asks again, tilting her head a little.
He’s a bit confused at first. Was he really staring that intently? Gary bites his lip lightly. In an instant, certain memories flash through his mind.
A single lemon peel adorning a glass. The rich, reddish brown color of sazerac and its colorful taste.
A friend, remembering that he likes it.
The ex-serviceman shakes his head in reply. “No, thank you. Maybe another time.”
He gives a small nod of recognition before turning around to return to his train car, the scent of lemons quickly fading as he walks away. When he arrives back at his seat, he lets out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding, along with a slight tension in his chest being released.
Gary can still smell the lemons for some reason. The citrus flavor seems to sit in his mouth, painfully letting him know that it could be paired with a particular drink right now.
He leans his head back as he closes his eyes. For now, he would ignore that feeling and the memories that came with the flavor.
The young man sighs again, burying the ache away as he drifts in-between consciousness and its opposite.