Once upon a time there was a railroad line / Don't ask where, friend, don't ask when / It was a road to Hell / It was hard times / It was a world of gods and men
It's a sad song / It's a sad tale, it's a tragedy / It's a sad song / But we sing it anyway
There was a railroad line on the road to Hell / There was a young girl down on a bended knee / And friend, thus begins the tale / Of Beca and Chloe
It was cold.
It's all Chloe can seem to remember feeling; it's cold. She's cold. It's windy and there's a bitter chill in the air and when she exhales she can see it like the smoke of a cigarette she hasn't been able to afford in ages.
And she's hungry. Food is scarce this time of year. Nothing can grow. She has to beg and scrounge for scraps outside the shops and restaurants where the luckier, wealthier people can afford a proper meal.
She follows the road—the only road she knows—until she finds a railroad station. She has nowhere to travel to, but least it's warm. There will be people there waiting. They might spare a nickel or dime. Maybe a scrap of bread.
The wind blows her in and she wraps her tattered coat tighter around herself. She makes the rounds; she's polite in her begging. She doesn't tell guilt-inducing dramatic stories; she simply asks if you have a coin to spare or anything to help her eat for the first time today. There is a small cafe in it, mostly for those who can afford to indulge in coffee or a shot of whiskey.
She manages to pocket thirty cents. She considers it a success and finds a corner to rest in. She's hopeful no one will kick her out; after all, a railroad station is meant to be a place of loitering by its very nature. She sets up her few meager belongings, pulling out the small piece of dried beef she saved from yesterday's breakfast and a candle. Dinner by candlelight, she muses as she balances her meal on her knee while she digs for a match.
"Need a light?"
Chloe looks up, startled that someone's approached her. Most people keep their distance once they know she's a beggar.
It's a girl. Maybe about her age. She's wearing an apron smudged with dirt and soot and she's down on one knee, a broom on the floor next to her. Her hair is dark. So are her eyes which flash a deep blue at the strike of a match. The girl lights Chloe's candle for her and extinguishes the match with a quick flick of her wrist.
"I'm Beca."
Chloe struggles to respond. She's never been bowled over by laying eyes on a person before but now...now she feels as though she can't breathe with how her heart is trying to pound its way right out of her chest.
"Chloe," she manages.
The girl smiles at her and Chloe is overwhelmed by the need to either run away or throw herself into this person's arms. "Chloe," this Beca repeats. "Your name means 'blooming,' did you know that?"
Chloe shakes her head. She's terrified and she's not sure why.
"It suits you," Beca says with a bigger smile. It's been so long since someone smiled at Chloe that way she'd almost forgotten what it felt like. "Here," she says as she reaches into the pocket of her apron. "I swiped this from the kitchen; don't tell." She hands Chloe something wrapped in a rag and then sits back on her heels again.
Nervous, Chloe sets the package in her lap with care and unwraps it to find an honest to goodness ham sandwich and—
"An apple?!"
"Shh," Beca says with a laugh. "Don't get me fired."
"You...you stole this food...for me?" Chloe's stomach wants to stare at her gift but her heart won't let her look away from Beca's face. She notices now that the girl is pretty, very pretty in fact, even with smudges of dirt on her cheeks and neck. Maybe even more so because of it? Every inch of her feels drawn to this stranger and it's as exhilarating as it is terrifying.
"I saw you asking around and...yeah," Beca says with a shrug and a crooked smile that is so, so endearing.
"Do you work here?"
Beca nods and shifts to sit on the floor rather than kneel. "I bus the tables. Sweep and mop and wash the dishes. It doesn't pay but Amy lets me busk for extra change."
Chloe's heart beats faster. "You sing? I love music!"
Beca scratches at her nose somewhat shyly and shrugs. "Yeah. I mean, I'm trying to write this song but I haven't finished it yet."
"Oh, I would love to hear it."
"Maybe." Beca gestures toward Chloe's untouched meal. "Eat, please. And tell me about yourself."
Chloe picks up the sandwich; she's almost too excited to eat. Almost. "Why don't you tell me about yourself while I eat?" She sinks her teeth into the stale bread and cured cold meat and can't stop the groan of pleasure that escapes her.
Beca laughs and Chloe thinks it's the most beautiful sound she's ever heard. "Good, I take it?"
Chloe nods and takes another bite.
"Good. Okay, well...I'm Beca. I'm not really from around here...Hell, I can't even remember how I ended up here now that I think about it." Beca does seem to think about it, eyes going unfocused for a few seconds before they land on Chloe again. "Whatever. Anyway. I've been here for as long as I can remember. Amy over there," she jerks her thumb over her shoulder and Chloe sees a blond woman sitting in the ticket booth, "pretty much takes care of me as long as I take care of this place. A lot of people come through so it keeps me busy."
It's not a lengthy biography but Chloe finishes her sandwich in the little time it takes Beca to narrate it. She'd be embarrassed if it wasn't more common to be starving than fed this time of year. They desperately need summer to arrive. "So you're here every day?" she asks, trying to forget about her daily battle with starvation.
"Every day. And night," Beca adds with a slight tilt of her head.
It makes Chloe blush and she's hopeful the weak candlelight doesn't give it away. She's not usually one to be made giddy by flirtation (if that's even what it was), but it's been a very, very long time since someone flirted with her that wasn't seconds away from taking from her what they decided was theirs whether she agreed or not.
"Do you have a place to stay tonight?"
She shakes her head. "No, unfortunately."
"Unfortunately…" Beca drawls. Then she smiles. "Grab your stuff. Come spend the night with me."
"Okay." Chloe thinks she should gasp from Beca's forwardness and her own quick agreement but it feels like she's known Beca for a lifetime already. Many lifetimes. She tucks her valuable apple safely away in her satchel and watches as Beca leans forward to blow out her candle with a quick puff of air.
The stranger picks it up and hands it to her, then stands and offers her hand to Chloe to help her off the floor. "Come on. My room is upstairs."
"I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me," Chloe says when Beca closes the door behind her. The room above the train station is small but furnished and tidy. It's dark, lit only by the moonlight coming in through its singular window. But most importantly, it's warm.
"And what is the wrong idea?" Beca asks with a glance over her shoulder as she makes a quick lap around the room tidying further. She stops at the sink along the wall and returns with a cup of water which she offers to Chloe.
"I'm not a prostitute," she says as she drains the cup. She hasn't had good, clean water all day.
Beca laughs and strips herself of her apron to toss it into a linen bag in the corner. Her khaki pants and white henley shirt are just as dirty as the apron. "I didn't think you were."
"So you gave me food and brought me up to your room because…?"
Beca just shrugs. "I don't know. I saw you and wanted to get to know you."
"Oh. Well...that's nice."
"So, do you want to hear it?" Beca asks as she crosses the room and picks up a guitar that looks far older than she.
Chloe's heart leaps. "I would love to."
"Like I said, it's not finished yet, so…" She clears her throat and finds her chord. It's a slow, sweet song.
"Gather 'round, you vagabonds
Pickin' fruit and hoppin' freights
Anyone who's wondering
Wondering why the winds have changed
I'll sing a song of a love gone wrong
Between two mighty queens
Gather 'round and I'll sing a song
Of Aubrey and Anastasia
Oh, queen of flowers
Queen of fields
Queen of the green and the growing Earth
Lady Anastasia, half of the year
Was bound to stay down in the Underworld
In the other half, she could walk in the sun
And the sun, in turn, burned twice as bright
Which is where the seasons come from
And with that cycle of the seed and the sickle
And the lives of the people
The birds and their flights, singing
La la la la la la la...
...and that's all I've got."
"It's good," Chloe says, feeling like no words could be good enough for what she heard. "It's going to be even greater."
"I hope so. Come on." Beca sets down her guitar and plops herself on the small, lumpy bed to stretch out, inching herself over to make room. "Come sleep with me."
"So you can get to know me?" Chloe teases; somehow she's starting to feel like her old self, before the cold and the hunger took over her life.
"Yup." Beca looks up at her and waggles her eyebrows.
It's all Chloe can do to stop herself from crawling into bed and directly on top of Beca. Instead, she settles into the narrow space left open for her and feels Beca's arm sneak behind her neck just before her head lands on the pillow they will be sharing. A hand comes to rest on her upper arm and it's amazing how Chloe feels like she's melting into Beca in seconds.
"I feel like I've known you for years," Chloe blurts into the silence after a few minutes. "Is that weird?"
She feels Beca shake her head. "I feel the same way."
Being in Beca's arms makes everything feel bright and warm. She could almost forget how dark and cold it can get. She knows it's ludicrous and it's probably going to be a tragic mistake, but she already knows she loves Beca.
"Can I kiss you?" Beca's voice is quiet, not quite a whisper but low enough that Chloe knows she was nervous to ask. "Not because I gave you food or anything. Just...if you want me to."
"I'd like that," Chloe answers as she turns her head to wait for Beca's lips.
They find hers and Chloe does melt into the kiss. It's so soft and tender and it's been so long since she's felt loved that tears prick her eyes. She pulls at Beca's hip until she moves on top of her and feels herself sink into the bed that feels like it's made of thousands of feathers.
The whistle of an approaching train stirs Chloe from her sleep. She hasn't woken up warm in so long she thinks she could be dreaming. She even pinches herself to be sure. But she's awake and warm, and Beca is still next to her, also stirring at the sound.
"Finally. Thank God," Beca mumbles before hugging Chloe closer.
Chloe doesn't ask what she means; she's too busy soaking it all in.
It's not until a raucous erupts downstairs, hooting and hollering and whistling, that Beca rolls out of bed. She pulls on her trousers, discarded by Chloe sometime in the night, and runs her fingers through her hair before tying it back. "Come on," she says as she tosses Chloe's shirt to her. "She's here."
0000
By the time Chloe gets dressed and down the narrow stairs, the party is in full swing. It's bright. There's music. People are dancing. Everyone is drinking. There's...food! There are baskets of fresh bread and fruit and vegetables and she thinks she might even see eggs in one of them.
Beca's already in the middle of it, accepting the wine that's poured in a cup for her as she gestures for Chloe to join.
"You must be Chloe," the blond from the ticket booth says as she chews a mouthful of something.
"How did you know?" Chloe asks, a little flabbergasted by everything as she shakes the girl's hand.
"Oh, I know everything. And you can call me Amy. I run this joint so if you ever need directions, just ask. Oh, I'm really good at advice, too."
"It's true; she is," Beca says as she hands Chloe her cup instead of making Chloe wait for one.
"Have you met Anastasia yet?" Amy asks and Chloe knows she's referring to the tall, beautiful woman at the center of this inexplicable bacchanal. "Well, we call her Stacie. Just arrived on the train."
"No, I don't think so." She watches; Stacie is clearly the life of the party. The wine she pours seems endless. Her dress is light and flowing and she has a flower pinned in her hair and it makes Chloe realize that it's not cold here either.
It's sunny and she can see birds flitting happily outside the windows and the breeze that's coming through is fresh and sweet and warm and she can feel her very soul thawing.
No one introduces them but they do make eye contact. It seems to make Stacie take pause for a moment before someone gets her attention requesting more wine.
She feels hands around her waist and suddenly she's dancing, Beca leading her around the room with the other revelers.
The party seems endless and goes late into the night until Beca and Chloe stumble up the stairs and into Beca's bed.
Last night, they'd been nervous and shy.
Tonight, Chloe pushes Beca into bed and all but rips her clothes off, followed by her own. It's hot and passionate and rough and Chloe cries out more times than she's ever been made to in a single night.
The night turns into days and days into weeks and weeks into months and the wine flows and the baskets are full every morning when Chloe goes downstairs to join the party.
"Marry me," Beca says one night.
Chloe feels the earth drop from beneath her. She loves Beca with her whole heart but, "How will we afford a wedding? A ring, even?"
"I don't need a wedding to marry you," Beca says with a warm smile. "Or a ring."
"We can't live here forever. And when it grows cold again...how will we eat?"
"I have my music; it will provide for us. And you. That's all I need if you promise to stay with me."
All Chloe's wanted for herself is stability. Love. This isn't quite the type of stability she'd hoped for, but it nonetheless has brought her immense happiness. "Your music will provide for us?"
"I promise that it will."
She smiles as she leans down to kiss Beca. "Say that we'll stay with each other and it'll always be like this."
Beca's arms slip around her neck and she nods. "As long as we stay with each other then it will always be like this."
She wonders if Beca notices she didn't actually agree to her proposal.
The day's party is in high gear when the whistle of a train cuts through the celebration.
It sends the room into silence.
"Oh, come on!" Stacie says angrily as she tosses her pitcher onto the floor. Empty. It's never been empty. "That was not six months."
"You better get your suitcase packed," Amy says, almost leeringly. She's manning the rear door of the station where the train will soon arrive. "Guess it's time to go."
"Where is she going?" Chloe asks, worried. There's a chill in the air and Stacie's stacking her empty baskets and wearing a frown.
"Aubrey's come to take her home," Beca whispers just as a blast of cold wind rips through the station.
A woman—Aubrey, Chloe deduces—enters from the platform; she's dressed in the most expensive fabrics Chloe's ever laid eyes on: a white leather trenchcoat, albino alligator boots, pleated white pants, white silk blouse, and mirrored sunglasses. It makes Chloe itch with jealousy that she's ashamed of; she's never owned anything as nice as any single one of her items of clothing.
She strides through the room with a level of confidence that knows no bounds until she has her hand on Stacie's arm.
"You're early," Stacie says with disdain.
"I missed you," the woman replies.
"I don't want to go back. It's just a bunch of stiffs down there," Stacie pouts though she packs up her things. "I get so bored."
"Down where?" Chloe asks Amy as she tucks herself closer to Beca. This feels foreboding and she doesn't like it.
"Oh, way down," Amy says as if it's obvious. "Aubrey has everything down there. Fancy threads and coin and all the food she can eat."
"Is it a gold mine or something?"
"Something like that."
"You know, Aubrey," Beca says, speaking up and gaining the new arrival's surprised attention, "everyone works their ass off for you and get fuck-all in return. You're a shitty boss."
"With a gold pocket watch to clock her workers by," Amy says under her breath.
"Thank you for your feedback," Aubrey says. She lowers her sunglasses but only for a moment to look over them at Chloe and Beca. "I'll keep that in mind. Let's go, darling."
Stacie doesn't argue further; she follows a half-step behind Aubrey out the door and onto the waiting train.
When its door slams shut Chloe begins to shiver.
0000
It's not as warm in Beca's small room as she remembers it that first night Beca invited her in from the cold. Maybe it's colder outside now than it was then.
Or maybe Chloe can't get out of her head the need for them to have a better place to live.
"Bec, honey, I know you want to finish your song—"
Beca looks up from where she's hunched over her notebook. She's been humming the same melody to herself for at least an hour. "I don't want to; I have to."
"I'm sorry, I know you do." Chloe tries not to be frustrated. "But I barely scrape together enough change to buy a bar of soap. It would be really helpful if you could try to find work that pays better than the station."
"Amy lets me work on my music."
"And that's great;" Chloe's trying not to sound like a nagging girlfriend but she knows it's what she is. "But it would be even greater if we could afford to eat more than once a day. Maybe fix the hole in my shoe that lets the snow in."
"Babe, I promise as soon as I finish this song—"
"I know, I know; your music will provide for us." She can't help but smile at Beca. Frustrated as she is, she loves her music-obsessed girlfriend. No one can say Beca isn't passionate or committed. And she does love listening to Beca work out her song, sometimes humming, sometimes singing quietly while she picks out chords on her guitar. And she loves the story Beca's telling; she only wishes she could know how it ends.
"Queen of diamonds, queen of spades
Aubrey was queen of a kingdom of dirt
Miners of mines, diggers of graves
They bowed down to Aubrey who gave them work
And they bowed down to Aubrey who made them sweat
Who paid them their wages and set them about
Digging and dredging and dragging the depths of the earth
To turn its insides out, singing
La la la la la la la…
Queen of mortar, queen of bricks
The river Styx was a river of stones
And Aubrey laid them high and thick
With a million hands that were not her own
And a million feet that fell in line
That stepped in time with Aubrey's step
And a million minds that were just one mind
Like stones in a row
And stone by stone
Row by row
The river rose up, singing
La la la la la la la…"
"It's the coldest time of year," Stacie says as she throws her bag onto the floor of her sprawling bedroom. "Why is it so damn hot down here?"
Aubrey's already settled at her desk, a massive thing from where she conducts the majority of her business. She's still wearing her coat, unfazed by the heat. She looks up from a file of papers. "You were gone so long I needed something to do. I built a foundry downstairs."
"A foundry?" Stacie looks at the ground beneath her feet; the warmth does seem to be emanating from there.
"For steel."
"Why do we need steel?"
"For the wall to keep us safe." Aubrey drops her pen and sits back in her chair as she pushes her sunglasses up into her hair. It's the first time Stacie's seen her eyes in...she doesn't know how long. "Whenever you start to complain that it's too hot, you can think of it as my desire for you."
"Poetic," Stacie says with a snort. "And since when is it so bright?"
"We have electricity now." Aubrey presses a button on a fixture on her desk and it illuminates, only adding to the brightness filling their bedroom. "Don't you like it?"
"Aubrey, I don't want these things! Why do you keep insisting that I do? Do you think you'll impress me?"
"Haven't I?"
Stacie groans and lets her face fall into her hands. They seem to have this fight every year. "Don't you remember when we met? We were happy. No factories, no electricity. No wall. Just the garden. We were happy without all this materialistic bullshit."
"Everything I do, I do because I love you. If you don't want it, I can find someone else who does. Someone who appreciates what I can provide."
"If someone only loves you for your power, that's not love."
"I'm not sure that matters." Aubrey smiles at her but it doesn't reach those eyes she's missed so much. "I can find someone who wants the security I can provide."
"Is that a threat?"
"Shit," Chloe curses, grabbing her shoulder. She tweaked it yesterday splitting firewood and now she's tweaked it again stacking yesterday's chore. It would be nice if Beca was there to help her but she's holed up in their room trying to finish her song.
Which Chloe is supportive of. Really, she is.
But she would also like to maybe...have dinner tonight.
"Are you okay?"
She jumps, nearly dropping the log on her foot. It's the woman who came to take Stacie and with it, warmth and prosperity.
"Cat got your tongue? I'm a busy woman; they're giving me hell and I need to get back. Tell me; have you eaten today?"
Chloe can see herself in the reflection of Aubrey's sunglasses; it's a reminder of how gaunt she's become in the barren winter. One small meal per day and the amount of physical labor she has to do to keep from freezing to death has been a losing battle for her.
"You know, we're never hungry where I live. Why don't you join me?" She folds her white-gloved hands in front of her and smiles. It's as cold as it is warm and Chloe finds herself intrigued.
"Beca!" She finally finds her voice. "Beca, can you come down here, please?"
"Beca, hmm?" Aubrey says as she strolls closer. It's hard not to stare; her clothes are amazing and envy-inducing. Healthy, which is a rarity to witness this time of year. She's flat-out beautiful. "And who is Beca to you?"
"My love."
"Mm, I see." Aubrey seems to be thinking and Chloe feels anxious. Trapped, almost.
"Beca!" She strains to hear her coming but all she can hear is the wind.
"Let me guess." Her advance is slow, calculated. "She's some kind of poet? Penniless? It's cold up here. Why not fly south for the winter?"
Somehow Aubrey's hand has come to rest on her forearm and though Chloe's heart races in fear she's undeniably drawn to the woman in a way she's never felt. It's not like it was with Beca, not close, but it's just as strong.
"What have you got to lose?" There's a jingle of metal, sharp and quick. It sounds like a rattlesnake but it's a coin purse in Aubrey's hand. "You'll never want for food again. The choice is yours."
Chloe eyes the purse. "What is that?"
"Your ticket."
She doesn't want to. Her heart's aching already because she knows she's made her decision. She loves Beca but the body is winning over her aching heart.
The moment her hands touch the leather of the coin purse she's on the train and gone.
"Chloe?" Beca says as she hops down the stairs. The moon is high in the sky and Chloe's never not home by now. "Hey, Amy; have you seen Chloe?"
"Ah, Miss Artiste. You're not working on your magnum opus?"
"Ha. Where is she?"
Amy spins on the stool she's dragged from her ticket booth into the main waiting room. "What do you care? You'll find another muse."
"Excuse me?" Beca's immediate offense starts to bleed into panic. When Amy avoids answering a question, it's never good. "Did she leave?"
"Why do you care?"
Beca almost laughs but it catches in her throat. "I'll go wherever she is."
"And if I said she's down below?"
Beca's heart stops. "Down...below?"
"Six feet under." Amy twists on her stool again. "She was looking for you before she left. Guess you weren't paying attention."
"I...I was working. I didn't hear...what do you mean—" Her world starts spinning. There's no way Chloe...she wouldn't!
"How far would you go for her?"
"To the ends of the earth! Amy, tell me where she is!"
"I already did. Do you have a ticket?"
She shakes her head, tears in her eyes.
"Didn't think so. It's not your time yet. There's another way, but…"
"But what, Amy?"
"I'm not supposed to say."
"You need to tell me. I'm going."
Amy leans in and whispers, "You can sneak in the back way." Then she sits back. "It's not going to be easy. Definitely not for the weak of souls. Or mind. You really want to go?"
"With all my heart." Beca's heart feels like it's stuck in her throat, choking on it as it breaks.
Amy nods. "Guess that's a start. You're going to have to take the long way down. Travel only at night. No one can see you. Follow the tracks. Keep on walking and don't stop, not for anything."
Beca doesn't hesitate, not one more second. She sets off running into the darkness. "Chloe! Wait for me; I'm coming with you!"
When Chloe steps off the train with Aubrey, she's blinded by the brightness. She's hot. There are people everywhere, all of them walking with purpose to their final destination. Construction seems ever-present: machinery erecting tall buildings like she's never seen, factories with smoke billowing from stacks and the glare of molten metal pouring from crucibles to be shaped into tools and supplies for even more construction.
The most obvious work underway is that of a massive wall. It's so tall Chloe can't see the top of it and so long she cannot see where it ends, all brick and razor wire. She remembers Beca singing about Aubrey laying stones far and wide. She wonders how Beca knew of such a thing.
"Why are you building this wall?" she asks. It's the first real thing she's ever said to Aubrey.
"To keep out the enemy," Aubrey answers simply.
"The enemy?"
Aubrey nods and leads Chloe toward the largest domestic structure she can see, largest by far. "Others want what we have."
"And what's that?"
"A wall to work on, and that work is never done. Among other things." Aubrey smiles at her and Chloe hates that she can't see the woman's eyes. With every second that passes, she's starting to feel more and more like a sheep willingly following a wolf. "Now, come with me. There are papers to be signed."
"Papers?"
Aubrey holds the door to the mansion for her and she enters; the home (is it a home?) is nothing but gleaming gold and silver, glossy granite, and light. Everywhere, light.
"Of course." She leads Chloe down a long hallway into what probably qualifies as a bedroom, though it has a huge desk in it that sits in front of a wall-sized window. Chloe can see for miles thanks to its panoramic view. "Nothing too complicated." Aubrey sits at her desk and gesture for Chloe to sit across from her as she spins the pages on her desk so Chloe can read them. "Sign on page thirty-four."
"I need to read this first."
"It's not complicated, like I said. It basically states that while you're here, you'll never be hungry or thirsty in exchange for your contributions to our society."
Chloe tries to read the contract but it feels like the words are growing smaller by the second. "Contributions?"
"Everyone here contributes. It's how we are able to have what we have."
Chloe looks out the window again, past Aubrey, at the landscape. She can see houses and roads and public spaces and all the people she passed on the way in seemed fit, not starving. And it certainly wasn't cold.
She flips to the last page and signs.
To be continued...