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Maneuvering around the train was a tricky ordeal for Olivia, especially so now that her left arm had been reduced to a bloody, bandaged stump that still throbbed with pain. Despite Tanaka’s insistence that he could wheel her around the city, she’d managed to convince the rest of the survivors that she could be most useful left behind at the train. When she had first boarded this train three days prior, she had been impressed by how spacious it seemed. But now, as darkness seeped in through the windows and fear gnawed at the edges of her mind, it seemed so cramped and lonely.
She preoccupied herself with her botanical work. Setting up a small station where she could chop, grind, and mix herbs had been easy enough. She had been left with a decent supply. By her estimations the others had been away for a few hours now, so surely they would be back soon to pick up some healing salves and condensed herbs. And, if she was lucky, perhaps leave a vegetable pie for her. The pangs of hunger in her stomach were getting harder to ignore, and she had finished the meager rations left to her some time ago.
As she somewhat clumsily rolled a mixture of blue and red herbs with her single hand, she caught a glimpse of a tall shadow moving outside the train’s windows. She looked up and listened intently for a moment. There was a soft crunch of footsteps casually making their way to door.
Olivia craned her neck to get a better look outside. It was too dark to make out details, but it was a tall figure fiddling with the lock on the entrance door.
‘Must be Marcoh, thank goodness.’
She turned back to finish rolling the condensed herbs with the palm of her hand as she heard the doors slide open.
“Welcome back, did you guys find out anythi-”
“Well, hello! Here she is, just the little wallflower I was looking for! And still using that beautiful botanical brain, I see. How wonderful!”
Olivia’s head snapped up at the unfamiliar voice. She gave a squeak of fear at the tall, imposing man darkening the train entrance. He stared down at her with piercing yellow eyes behind what appeared to be a stained rubber mask of a cat. She dropped the herbs in her hand and quickly tried to roll away from the man, awkwardly pivoting back in forth in her wheelchair.
“Who are you?! I-I don’t want any trouble!” Olivia stammered. She quickly glanced around her for any type of weapon, but the only items around were scatted pieces of luggage and papers.
The man stepped forward as Olivia tried to awkwardly steer one wheel away. The rubber cat mask had a mouth full of sharp teeth that glinted menacingly in the train’s lantern light. His limbs were long and strangely proportioned, giving him an uncanny look despite the sharp and clean outfit he was wearing.
One of his hands was deep inside the pocket of his checkered pants, occasionally rubbing in a way that made Olivia’s stomach knot in discomfort.
The man hummed happily and took another few steps forward.
“Hmm, who indeed? Really, after the bloody misadventures of the past few days it seems most of us are quite fundamentally different people altogether than from when we started, don’t you think? The Festival certainly tends to have that effect. But listen to me babble on, I’ve come to fetch you and take you to the party! And surely you don’t want to miss the party.”
“P…Party? What party?”
The hand in the man’s pocket began to rub more vigorously for a moment as he hummed another tune.
“I did promise you a dance, didn’t I? And what better way to celebrate this final day of the Festival by taking the missus out for a right ripsnorting night on the town. One last big hurrah as this whole thing finally wraps up? So get your coat, dear!”
Dance?
Olivia stared in horror at the creature looming over her. Her eyes glanced down to his familiar checkered pants. She was suddenly acutely aware of the strong smell of tobacco permeating the train.
“...Daan?! Daan what happened?! You’re seriously freaking me out with that mask!”
“Now, now, it’s rather rude to comment so aggressively on one’s appearance, don’t you think? Especially when it’s your would-be dance partner. How’s the arm by the way? Keeping up on changing those bandages? I’d be properly chapped if I went through all the trouble of stitching it up and you just went and some nasty little infection.”
Olivia stammered for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Daan approached her and with a swift motion, grabbed the handles of her wheelchair and began to push her towards the exit.
“We’ll have plenty of time to catch up along the way, darling! But we really do have to get a move on, I’m afraid the party has already started without us.”
“Wait, Daan, what are you-”
Daan rolled her to the entrance and lifted her chair with such a shocking amount of strength that Olivia fearfully gripped the side of it. He set her down onto the grass outside and quickly slammed the train doors shut behind them.
“Daan, wait! I don’t want to go to any party! Let go!” Olivia tried desperately to twist her body around in some attempt to slap Daan’s hands away from the handles of her wheelchair, “You’re really scaring me!”
Daan began to push Olivia across the grass, making a beeline for the city looming ahead of them. The moonlight above was shining down with such intensity that it almost felt like it was burning her skin.
“Now, let’s not go into such dramatics.” Daan chided, his tone disturbingly saccharine, “You should have a bit more faith in your good doctor, shouldn’t you? I have no intention of harming a hair on your pretty little head. In fact, I feel as if we have a special kinship, you and me. Don’t you agree? I’ve always wanted a sister, you know. Perhaps a selfish desire from a lonely bygone youth, but how better to form a bond than tackling the especially chaotic nature of life together?”
He gave Olivia a small squeeze on the shoulder. She could feel sharpened nails through the fabric of her shirt and quickly jerked away.
Daan was beginning to pick up speed. In the distance, Olivia could see the gothic windows of the Bohemia National Museum come into view. Above them, the rancid light of the Moon God was beginning to give Olivia a splitting headache. It felt as if Rher’s empty eyes were carving holes into her bones. Feeling a surge of panic grip her chest, she grabbed the wheel of her chair with as much strength as she could muster. The metal and rubber dug and burned horribly into her hand as the chair skidded to a halt so suddenly that it almost sent her flying out of the seat.
“Stop! Stop! I want to go back to the train! I can’t stand being out here, my head is pounding! It feels like I’m going insane! Please, Daan!”
She heard a huff of annoyance behind her.
The strange man stepped around and knelt down in front of her. It was a pose that mimicked when she had lost her arm the night before. Daan, the real Daan, had knelt beside her to comfort her as best he could while he sutured up the stump and wrapped them in the cleanest bandages he could scavenge up. Despite the unbearable pain, Olivia had so greatly appreciated such a nurturing gesture amidst all the horrors surrounding them. Daan always had such blank, tired eyes but… whenever he took on his role as a doctor she could see those small glints of kindness.
The man kneeling before her right now had eyes that pierced through her like daggers. It made her feel horribly small, like a rabbit backed into a corner or a child being scolded by a parent. He stared at her for a second before prying her hand off the chairs wheel and examining her palm in his hands. The hand that had been in his pocket was warm and damp to the touch, sending a shiver up her spine.
Grime and filth from the city streets was smeared across her palm. The chill of the air made the burn all the more intense. Small droplets of blood began to seep out of the cracked skin.
Daan clicked his tongue in annoyance. He continued to stare at her with those bright yellow eyes.
“My dear, that was wholly unnecessary. You only have the one hand left, you realize? Best to not try to hard to turn it into a mess of ground meat, yes? You had such nice, delicate hands too… and I’m afraid I don’t have anymore bandages on my person. Are you going to continue to be so difficult?”
“You’re not Daan.”
“Hmm…People change all the time, you know? Are you sure you ever really knew the ol’ chap in the first place? Or he himself? It’s a tricky thing, being someone.”
Pocketcat continued to stare at her. His gaze froze her in place and she pulled her injured hand away from him. Her breathing quickened and her chest was beginning to feel stiff and rigid, like something inside her was calcifying. Pocketcat did not move from his position and simply continued to pierce her skull with sharp eyes.
“...Stop it. Stop looking at me.” Olivia said, barely above a whisper. She struggled to catch her breath, “Don’t… Don’t look at me.”
He held her gaze for a moment longer before rising to his feet.
“Right-o! We’ve wasted enough time as it is! We’re going to miss our song! Don’t worry, love, I’ll have us down there lickety-split.”
Pocketcat wheeled her the rest of the way to the museum in silence. Olivia began to feel a searing pain in the stump of her arm, as if the small remaining bone in there was trying to force its way out. Her head felt like it was going to split open at any moment. As she reached up to to hold her forehead, she felt a massive chunk of her hair slip off her skull, pulling a bloody chunk of skin with it.
Everything was spinning.
As they approached the museum doors, she heard something in the distance. She turned to look but the moonlight above was so bright, it was blinding. Searing. She could barely make out a small group of people in the far distance.
Marcoh was shouting her name and running in her direction. Tanaka stood nearby, propping up Levi up by the arm as the soldier balanced on his one remaining leg. Marina was close behind Marcoh, eyes wide and full of terror.
They were all looking at her with eyes full of terror. Terror and pity. Surely pity. She clutched her head in pain. More chunks of bloody hair fell into her lap of fused, wrought iron. She could feel it now, her cold mechanical body bursting through the seams of her flesh and skin.
“Stop! STOP IT! I SAID DON’T LOOK AT ME! DON’T LOOK AT ME.”
“Shall we sign the guest book?” Pocketcat asked before quickly pushing her into the museum and letting the doors slam shut behind them.