Train

Once on the platform, standing alone amidst the eerie glow on the horizon, I finally allowed myself a deep breath. The night felt never-ending, and for a moment, I thought the first rays of sunrise were gracing the skies, but the clock on the platform sternly corrected me – it was only three in the morning.

The station's arch loomed above me, constructed from iron rods and weathered stones, proudly displaying its name - Gori. A city with a storied past, now one of the largest in the empire, though it had been painstakingly rebuilt after the devastating war.

My gaze returned to the tracks, and there it was, the sign that held my destiny – Tiflis.

"So this is the right platform," I mused, my mind still grappling with the chaotic events of recent times. Uncertainty gnawed at me. I had been warned not to wait, yet the urgency of my situation demanded a decision.

I found a chair and sank into it, my body still weak from the ordeals I had endured. The stress had taken its toll on both body and mind. I needed a moment to gather my thoughts. I counted the seconds, my fingers tapping restlessly on my knee. I planned to rise after a minute, to take action, to move forward.

But the quiet of the station was shattered before the minute could pass. A distant beep pierced the air, jolting me to my feet. My eyes darted around, seeking refuge. A small booth beckoned, and I darted behind it. Moments later, a train thundered into view, smoke billowing from its engine, hurtling at breakneck speed. With a thunderous horn, it came to a stop.

I peered out cautiously, and there he was, a thin man, his head turning nervously. Unsure if he was the one I sought, I knew I had to act now, or risk being caught. I emerged from the shadows, cautiously approaching him. He paled, almost turning blue – a reaction I had grown accustomed to.

"It's me, Mart," I said, trying to appear non-threatening, raising my hand in a calming gesture. "I need to go to Tiflis. I was told to come here."

His voice trembled as he stuttered, "Rest?"

"They said not to wait," I replied, gesturing toward the smoldering forest behind us.

His gulped response was a nod, his hands fidgeting, as if seeking solace in the ground beneath him. With a sigh, he pointed me toward the first car's stairs, and I acknowledged him with a nod before swiftly making my way onto the train. Fear was a luxury I couldn't afford. People were frightened of me, and now that fear worked in my favor.

Climbing the steps, I found myself alone in an empty carriage. The thin stranger soon joined me, shutting the door behind him. His trembling was visible, and his hooked nose twitched with anxiety.

"Mr. March, if you are certain your friends advised you not to wait, then we must depart," he stammered, hurrying to the mechanic's room.

I leaned wearily into the plush seat, looking out the window. The fiery inferno was subsiding, but I was certain the mastermind behind it remained unscathed.

With a jerk, the train surged forward again, and the outside world became a blur of fleeting landscapes. Though it all should have been familiar, my memory failed me.

Abruptly, the tracks veered off, and my heart skipped a beat. We were heading straight towards a mountain. No tunnel, no rail beyond that point. I was about to call out to my new acquaintance when, to my astonishment, the mountain itself seemed to twist and shift, revealing an intricately crafted tunnel that appeared as if it had been there since time immemorial.

Relief washed over me; the mechanic must possess an ability to manipulate the earth. With a hiss, we plunged into the dark tunnel, and as the train entered, the tunnel sealed itself shut, leaving the world behind us.

As we journeyed through the pitch-black darkness of the tunnel, I couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation. The unknown loomed all around us, and it was hard to shake off the feeling of being enveloped by shadows. But just as unexpectedly as we had plunged into the darkness, we emerged back into the realm of light. The train reemerged on the surface, and the familiar tracks stretched out ahead of us.

The thin conductor dashed into the carriage once more, his breath ragged and sweat streaming down his forehead. He struggled to stand upright, raising a trembling finger to indicate we were almost at our destination. With a nod, I got to my feet, accepting the clothes and accessories he offered – a hat, razor, and an ointment he said would help hide my scars. I hadn't realized until then that I was still dressed in the tattered garments of a prisoner, my body bearing the marks of my ordeal.

"What is your name?" I asked, and for the first time I saw a different expression on his face.

"It's me, sir, Gega," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty and perhaps resentment.

"I apologize, Gega," I said, waving off the misunderstanding, "I'm just very tired, and my mind is not as sharp as it should be."

He departed, muttering something under his breath, and I hastened to change into the new clothes. A mirror in the carriage offered me a glimpse of myself, and I noted my long white hair, almost reaching my shoulders, and a beard that had grown unkempt during my imprisonment. The scar on my left cheek and ear seemed to burn with an intensity that made me wince, and my unique white pupils unnerved me, even though I had grown used to them. A thin black line bordered the white pupils, making them stand out all the more. My physique was regular – neither skinny nor fat.

Once I had completed my transformation, I studied my disguise in the mirror. Though I could still recognize myself, for others, I would likely appear as a different person. Satisfied with the change, I returned to my seat, finding solace in its warmth and comfort. However, our respite was short-lived as we entered yet another tunnel, this time feeling like we were plunging into the depths, descending into an abyss.

After a while, the sensation reversed, and the train came to an abrupt stop with a rattling jolt. Looking out the window, I saw a multitude of other trains gathered nearby.

"We've reached the station," I thought to myself, and Gega opened the door, holding onto it for support. "We've arrived, sir. Please be cautious as you step out."

He appeared utterly exhausted, and a twinge of sympathy washed over me. But I quickly reminded myself to maintain distance, knowing that caution was paramount at this juncture. I nodded to him, swiftly making my way towards the exit. As I glanced back at Gega, he slumped wearily into a chair, exhaling heavily before disembarking from the train.

Outside, insecurity wrapped its tendrils around me once again. The visions of pillars of fire and the fierce winds still lingered in my mind, and I felt utterly defenseless against them, except perhaps for my elusive popularity, which might prove useful in this perilous endeavor.

Looking around, I spotted the exit sign and made my way there hastily. However, just as I was about to reach it, a firm hand grasped my shoulder, and I instinctively tensed, ready to defend myself. But it was Gega, looking visibly fatigued with trembling legs.

"I knew you were heading straight for the main exit!" he said, his voice trembling slightly from exhaustion, "Sir, please be cautious and use the secret emergency exit, you don't want to get more attention"

He pointed towards what appeared to be a nondescript wall, but upon closer inspection, I noticed a rusty door almost camouflaged against the bricks. I nodded, feeling grateful for his concern, and patted him on the shoulder.

"Thank you," I said, my gratitude evident, and decided to abandon my old detached demeanor, offering him a genuine smile.

His eyes widened in surprise, and he nodded uncertainly, seemingly caught off guard by my change in demeanor. I quickly moved towards the door, struggling to open it with a creak, the disuse evident. Yet, I managed to push it open, and it closed just as noisily. Clearly, this door was rarely used, but at least it still functioned. Ahead lay a long, dimly lit tunnel filled with cobwebs and insects, but compared to the prison, it didn't seem so daunting.

I finally reached the end of the tunnel and emerged back through the rusty door. I found myself in a dark alley, but to my left lay a bustling train station. The place was teeming with people in a hurry, seemingly oblivious to my presence. The cacophony of luggage carts, the clamor of passengers, the cries of newspaper sellers, and merchants filled the air. I stepped out cautiously and merged into the crowd, slowly making my way towards the exit sign. Above me, a glass ceiling allowed the faint light of the morning sun to filter through, casting a few rays into the vast building.

Stalls lined the surroundings, offering various goods, from food and newspapers to clothes and watches. Some stalls even had peculiar items like a levitating cube within a glass sphere or an endlessly jumping doll.

"Where should I go from here?" I wondered, realizing that I had received no further instructions.

Finally, upon exiting the station, I beheld a massive square sprawling before me, brimming with even more people and noise. Carriages rushed along designated roads, and travelers with their suitcases streamed in and out of the station, resembling a sea of ants in perpetual motion.

"I beg your pardon, sir," a stern voice interrupted, and I immediately understood what awaited me.

I turned around, only to be met by a red-haired officer. He sported an all-black uniform, a rugged silver hawk, and a pair of mustaches that occasionally twitched comically. My heart sank, and I could already envision myself being dragged back to prison. I had the urge to flee, but mustering the last shred of self-control, I forced a smile and asked politely, "Yes? Have you called for me?"

The officer didn't appear aggressive, but rather he stepped closer, studying me carefully. "Sir, we are searching for a criminal who matches your description," he explained, his gaze focused on his notebook, "If it's not too much trouble, please present your identification."

I felt as though my soul had dropped into my shoes, but I fumbled in my pockets, eventually feeling a hard, square object tucked away in my trousers. Retrieving it, I found a red document labeled "Passport of the Empire." As I opened it, I noticed my new name, "Achik," written inside.

The officer scrutinized the document, then looked back at me before returning it. "May I perform the birch tree test?" he inquired, and I nearly shuddered, remembering the sensations. Despite my trepidation, I nodded.

He summoned an assistant, and soon another officer, taller and swarthy, stood before me, holding a small birch branch.

"Extend your hand, sir," he commanded, and I complied, holding out my left hand. As I glanced around, I noticed many others being checked as well, which strangely offered me a sense of solace.

However, that comfort vanished the moment the branch made contact with my hand. A numbing sensation quickly surged through my left side, and I fought the urge to scream. The officers' eyes remained fixed on my face, any display of emotion potentially jeopardizing my freedom or even my life. The sensation intensified, morphing into pain, and my lung struggled to function, but I managed to maintain my composure.

"How much longer will this go on?" I wondered, bracing myself for losing consciousness when, to my immense relief, the sensation subsided.

"Apologies for the inconvenience," the officer said, tipping his hat, "You are free to go."

He returned my passport, and it felt like an enormous weight had lifted off my shoulders. I nodded with a grateful smile, tucked the document back into my pocket, and turned away. It didn't matter where I went next; the only thing that mattered was putting distance between myself and those officers.