The shadows crept over the cold valley as the man wandered through the brutal wilderness. His beard grew long and his feet were swollen from hiking barefoot atop sharp snowy rocks and fallen tree branches. His eyes were bloodshot and his head ached when he tried to remember the last time he had slept.

Beneath a sea of dying, brown, leaves and shaken twigs, he halted his strenuous and monotonous footsteps to reach behind his back to grab an old tin water bottle. His hand shook as he lifted the near hollow metal over his head and in front of his eyes. The once vibrant red label that wrapped around the neck of the tin like a cute ribbon on girl’s neck was now faded brown, with the manufacturing name, “Natasha”, soiled and corrupted beneath layers of immovable dirt.

He tilted the bottle into his lips and sucked out the remaining drops of water. Slowly, he looked up and into the distance, aimlessly staring at the frozen, desolate, tundra that the track marks he followed had finally lead him to. Miles had he traveled in what he thought, and had been told, was uncharted territory. In any other land, this might have frustrated him, however these tracks had guided him through the mountains and around the cold lakes, allowing him to study and memorize the weather patterns of the environment he was now trapped within.
Still, the territory was vast, in fact much larger than he had dared imagine. Yet, somehow the man knew that beyond the hill he marched on and between the thorns that caged him beneath the shadows of the trees, was the train. Weeks ago, this wooden machine had hummed to him a rhythm, calling him… crying for him, the train bathed the land in its shallow song.

So, as the man resumed his footsteps, he hacked the thorns and kicked his feet through the snow, finally meeting face to face with the black iron and flickering lights of the train. Smoke coughed out of the chimney and faded into the sky, as cracked wheels dug into twisted rails. With the whistling sound of dejection, the train, which seated one, saturated the air, inviting the man into the embrace of its snowy lounge.

In no mood to debate, the man climbed up and rested his red cheeks between the corners of the broken windowsill. With no coal for the furnace, the train began moving on its own will, taking the man through twinkling canyons, along the cliffs of mountains, and through the depths of shining coral reefs. As he traveled up the arm of this familiar yet strange environment, the track marks he once followed faded into nothingness, as he now trailed a new set of tracks, which he hoped would lead him to the benumbed brain responsible for the deficiencies of this land. Chords needed to be severed, electrical units needed to be sparked, and questions needed to be asked.

Slowly the train chugged along, bouncing up and down, swaying left and right as it cut through branches and rocks that were sprayed along the tracks. As time passed, the man’s surroundings began to vanish in the distance as he entered a flat and undeveloped plane. It seemed that no walking creature had ever stepped foot in this empty and lifeless world. Even the trees that surrounded the train seemed surprised and cautious of the man’s presence. The creaking wheels slowed to a crawl as the road came to an end, vanishing into snow. His face was pale and swollen as he dragged himself out of the train and into the whipping wind. Eyes blurry, his flapping arm sleeve shielded his face as he walked. Beyond this hill, the signal of distress that had so sweetly called him all those years ago lied… he just hoped, alive.

His pace quickened. A murky mix of fear and anticipation stabbed his chest. The sound of his footsteps grew closer together and louder as he desperately sprinted forward. Faster and faster his legs moved as he yanked his ankles out of the snow, nearly falling. Faster and faster the wind seemed to blow into his face as he tripped through increasingly deep snow. He sank…in waste deep snow he could see it. Just out of his reach, smiling at him, a small, torn, red ribbon waved goodbye as it melted into the white ocean. He cried out, he slapped the snow with his hands, he bit the vicious wind, and he kicked his submerged feet.

…Then he felt it and it hurt him. Iron rails still lay beneath his feet and they had followed him all the way, reaching her mind before he could. He just stood and stared… there was nobody here… the track marks had ended.

And through the pain of a grieving man, the wires and circuits pulsed, casting brown
bubbles… flatline.