The Rain Train

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His paranoid gaze fixed on a man in the booth closest to the bathroom. The man, bushy moustache and beige rain slicker still on craned his head up and looked right at Kevin. There was a faint hint of recognition in those eyes and Kevin’s nerves sent warning signs of fleeing through him. His dream, he had seen this man in his dream. They had looked at each other in the same way. A little voice in the back of his head told him he was right on schedule and at any moment the shit would hit the proverbial fan.

When the scream came it was muffled by a hallway and a bathroom door.

It sounded like a woman being split apart. It started out sharp, cinematic and ended with a tearing sound. The sound of the largest bunch of celery snapping wet and soaked in blood. Kevin, along with everyone else in the little diner jumped and turned toward the bathroom hallway. He had a second to register the the moustache man with his head in the same direction as the rest of the patrons, only his body didn’t seem to gripped in the confusion and building horror of the people around him.

What was he supposed to do? He closed his eyes tight and tried to remember his dream. Flashes of golden eyes and sprays of blood. Nothing would come together. Nothing was in focus. He should just run. Not out the door but into the bathroom. Someone was likely calling the police and after three weeks of sleepless nights and waking nightmares he wasn’t about to lose his opportunity to end it all here and now. Not knowing what he was doing or why he was doing it he got up and lunged for the hallway. As he approached the last booth moustache man turned to meet his eyes and in that split second Kevin saw a slight grin on his face. What does he know, he thought, and rushed past him.

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