Tickets
"Goodbye," Blake said before cutting the coupling.
Adam watched her go, knowing she kept her amber eyes on him to make sure he didn't follow. He was tempted, if only to ask why. Why was she leaving? How long had she been planning this? He felt his free hand, the one not holding his sword, opening and closing. He heard the leather glove creaking each time over the wind. He took a deep breath and let it out slow.
He put his hand over the mask that covered his eyes. The signs had been there. Her lack of passion at the rallies, the long walks by herself at night, and even that day, in the middle of a combat zone.
"What about the crew members?" she had asked.
"What about them?" he had replied.
Adam's chest tightened. Reeling his head back, he yelled until his throat was raw. The pain, or maybe it was anger, was still lodged deeply into his heart. He ran to one of the crates that had been knocked loose in the fighting. He took another deep breath, one that burned the whole way down, and howled as he pushed it over the side of the flatcar. It wasn't enough. He kicked an android's head as hard as he could.
"What about the crew members?" she had asked.
Adam stopped, blade poised to cut a crate in half. His snarl shifted into a grin that threatened to split his face in half. "What about them?" he hissed. Putting his sword away, he set off towards the car he and Blake had been blasted out of.
Red was everywhere. Red lights in the train made way for the red leaves outside. Red was everywhere. He couldn't hear the train's horn anymore. One of the cars had a thick door on the other side. It fell in two with one slice. Red lights greeted him on the other side, highlighting the expressions of fright.
Adam stood in the doorway, sword back in its sheath. His grin hadn't faded an inch as he assessed the room full of crew members.
"H-hey man," someone said, "d-don't do anything crazy there. You can just let us go."
"What about the crew members?" Blake's question. Still fresh.
Adam's cheeks hurt. His chest was still tight. He forced his jaw to move. "You didn't save them, Blake," he spat.
The closest crew member looked like he wanted to speak. Adam raised his sheath and pulled the trigger. The sword struck the man between the eyes and severed his neck in the next second.
Panic spread. They tried to run. Adam bound after them. Gunshots echoed over screams and innards spilled through neat, swift strokes. "Blame her! Blame her!" Adam screamed. Another slice, three successive shots, gore dripping from the ceiling. "You're dying because of her! She left you," Adam put the barrel of his gun under a man's chin, "with me!" He pulled the trigger.
Adam sat on the edge of the flatcar, watching the scenery go by. The cars were slower now, almost at a complete standstill. His clothes were stiff and covered with blood. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
The pain and anger were gone. They had been gone for a while, actually. He tapped his chest where the rage had resided and found nothing. His body was sore. Fighting up and butchering down the length of the train had been tiring business.
He cleared his throat and closed his eyes. Quiet moments were rare. He had learned that there was no better time to rest.
Author's Note:
The name for this story comes from the fact that you need tickets to ride a train. It's lame, I know, but I've never been the best when it comes to titles.