Chapter 2

Proceed Right or Left

There are many types of people in this world. I won’t bother naming all of them. I’m sure you can name quite a few on your own without my help. As it were though, we will be focusing on a particular breed of male for now. Please prepare yourself…he can be a bit, what’s the word I’m looking for? Extreme.

Wilhelm, preferably pronounced Vilhelm, was, I’m sorry, is an unusual man. For one thing, he is an albino, which in itself is largely unseen. For another, he has a strange fascination with death.

Take that bit of information as you will.

Now, this first generation German is our first character in this jumbled mess of a story. Why? Well, as life would have it, Vilhelm had a habit of being first in everything. It is no surprise Violet would pick one of his tales first without even looking. But as he would say: “It was the sheer gravity of my absent presence that drew attention to me, of course!”

As I said: Be prepared.

1929

1930ish America is often depicted as gray or bleak, with the weight of the depression heavy on each inhabitant’s shoulders. Particularly in New York, where the soup lines are long and the sleeping figures lying on the streets are many.

Such was not the case with one Vilhelm Veilderschmit (I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to spell his last name, never having seen him write it or having to write it down myself. Veilderschmit is indeed how you pronounce it, I am certain of that). That man was full of life where all others were dead. But then again, that had always been the case.

Perhaps that was why he had two lovely ladies on each arm.

“…left ‘em at the cleaners!” Vilhelm laughed loudly at the punch line to his own joke as the two ladies threw their heads back and laughed, their short hair bouncing merrily. “And he never lived it down!”

This was a typical sight for those who knew Veilderschmit. Always telling crude jokes and loving up the ladies. Who knew where they even came from? It was quite possible that Vilhelm himself didn’t even remember where he picked them up.

It was too bad he couldn’t afford a car.

“Oh Willy!” One of the girls patted his arm as she laid her head down on his shoulder. “Where do you hear these jokes? They’re so funny I could die!”

He would have had so much fun with a car. He would paint it red, though not with paint. Never with paint. And he would show it off to the others. Show them he wasn’t losing his touch. Wilhelm Veilderschmit never lost his touch.

And odd smile spread across his face at the girl’s words. One could only describe it as a mixture of annoyance, malice, and…something else. His pink eyes glinted slightly in the gorgeous afternoon light. “Oh?” he quirked a pale brow and showed teeth as white as his hair.

In the end, no more was said and nothing was to be done. Vilhelm would not get the red he would need to paint his non-existent car. If he had had his way though, which he was often used to getting, there would have been plenty red to go around and maybe even some pleasure in between. That was how he functioned, how he lived, how he was raised. The man was built and bred for war long before the concept had been fully grasped. He knew no other way to live.

I feel that most, if not all of his war instincts will live with him forever. They were certainly with him then, as his record may have proven to those willing to search for it. I think it was those war instincts that didn’t make him freeze and scream when the explosion rocked the earth and plooms of black smoke and fire rose to mingle with the clouds above.

It must have been those instincts that sent him running, though not in the direction you would expect. While all others had frozen or run in the opposite direction, Vilhelm had run to meet the fire. A second explosion shook the earth when he finally stopped in front of the burning and collapsing building.

He stared into the flames, his eyes dancing at the sight while a huge smile stretched painfully on his lips. He was so captivated at the sight he didn’t seem to notice a young woman rushing from behind the building, her glasses crooked on her nose and thick braided hair singed along the ends. Their shoulders knocked together in her haste to retreat the scene, but neither made any move to acknowledge the other. They were both rather preoccupied at the moment.

Seconds later, Vilhelm had begun laughing as he continued to stare into the chaos and burning wreckage. It was just so incredibly glorious! This was what he lived for. This uncontrollable feeling, like the fire in front of him. This was what he had been born for.

It was not a minute later that he was tackled to the ground and shoved into a pair of handcuffs while someone read out his rights to him in a tight voice.

It seemed Wilhelm Veilderschmit was going to jail for a crime he wished he had committed.

1931

The train station was alive and active with the usual hustle and bustle of people coming and going and merely just standing there. We’re going to focus on a stationary subject for now.

Vladimir Kostov was early, he knew this. In fact he had planned on it. How early was he? Oh, about four hours.

He was standing in the exact middle of the exiting area of the trains, where all the incoming passengers would eventually come through to get to the exit of the station. A large bouquet of sunflowers was held gently in his arms so as not to rumple or crinkle any of the bright petals. Wrapped snugly around his neck was a pale pick scarf that contrasted greatly with his long dark coat. Gloved fingers absentmindedly stroked one of the sunflower petals. It appeared as if he was dressed for a mild winter, but the signs of late spring or early summer were visible through the doors of the station.

Vladimir didn’t mind though. He could barely feel the heat. He had decided long ago that he would make himself numb to all temperatures. Low and behold, he did. It was amazing what one could do when one merely put in the effort to succeed.

The man was smiling slightly, as he often did. It was when that smile suddenly widened or dropped that you need worry. But as of now that smile was at a safe level, matching his soft ice blue eyes which were shifting every ten minutes or so from the large clock on the wall to the large open doors in front of him. He had been like this for quite some time, merely standing and watching with those flowers held as if the bundle was a human child in his arms.

No one paid him any mind save for the staff, who occasionally threw worried or confused looks in his direction. They found it curious that a man could stand so still for so long seemingly without any purpose but to watch a clock and stare at passengers stepping off the latest train. Saying they found it unnerving would be a light way of putting it.

In the end the staff at the reception desk decided who would have to talk to the strange and somewhat intimidating man with the sunflowers. “Obviously, he’s a foreigner,” one man in a crisp uniform stated. “He probably doesn’t understand what any of the signs mean.”

“But why would he stand there for an hour instead of asking someone?” a fifteen year old staff member whispered back, shaking slightly as he stared across the floor at the man. The poor boy was new to the job and was quite shy. He didn’t want to get involved with any strange foreigners, especially large ones like the one in question.

The first man shrugged. “How am I supposed to know what’s going through his head right now?”—he had his suspicions of course, but they were far off the mark. Vladimir was thinking of gift he had recently given to a very dear friend of his—“All I know is, it’s our job to help people who may need help and that guy looks like he might need help.” He gave the fifteen year old a light nudge with his elbow. “Go get ‘em, Richie.”

“W-why me?”

“Because you need more experience in the field.”

“You’re just making me do it because you’re too scared to!”

“Get out there or I’ll tell the manager you’re not doing your job!” he hissed and shoved the young man from behind the desk, forcing him to leave his safe haven. The boy stumbled a bit and one of his hands latched onto the edge of the desk. He looked from Vladimir to his colleague, a pleading look on his face. He received nothing more than a finger jabbed in the direction of his new charge. Richie gulped quietly and dug his fingers into his uniform. He took short, jerky steps to the tall man in the middle of the exit platform.

Vladimir was staring at the clock and counting the seconds until he would switch his gaze to the platform when he heard a small broken voice somewhere near his right elbow. “C-Can I h-h-help you with s-something, s-sir?” He looked down to find a shivering boy a head and a half shorter than himself with dirty blonde hair and huge green eyes. Vladimir wondered idly in the poor boy was cold. His chattering teeth certainly indicated as such. Oh, but the child had asked him a question.

“Ah, yes.” He answered and was disheartened to see the boy’s shivering become worse. Was he sick? Surely if you were sick enough to shake then you shouldn’t come into work! Perhaps he would retire to his home after their talk. Yes, that would be best, Vladimir decided. “Do you perchance know when the train The Mayflower will be arriving? I find most time schedules somewhat tiring and needlessly confusing. What with the delays and rescheduling. I am never up to date on this information.” He asked kindly, hoping that he had been clear enough in his speech. English had never been one of his favorite languages, but recently he had been trying to improve.

The boy’s shaking seemed to improve slightly. Maybe this guy isn’t so scary, he thought to himself. He looked the tall foreigner up and down, taking in the sunflowers, pink scarf, and smile. He looked like a giant teddy bear…and yet there was something about him, Richie just couldn’t explain. That something prevented him from becoming still and being comfortable with the man.

“T-The Mayflower?” Richie wrinkled his brow slightly when the foreigner nodded his head happily. He had to think for a second. Remembering every train that came through here and at what time was a hard job, one that he thought he would never master. The name sparked a memory from that morning in the staff room. Something about a maiden voyage…the train’s first run. That’s right! The Mayflower was a new fancy deluxe train coming in from Chicago being run for the first time. It was supposed to be a new style of train built for luxury and comfort rather than just transport. You had to have some serious cash to be aboard that train and on its maiden voyage no less…

“U-um…” he thought back to the time tables for today and glanced at the clock on the wall. “I-it’s not due f-for at least another t-two hours.”

Two hours? Vladimir thought. That meant he wasn’t nearly as early as he had intended. The train schedule must have changed again. Oh well, now he wouldn’t have to wait as long for The Mayflower to arrive. This was good news! He smile became much more genuine as he looked down at the boy. He would have to give him something for his help. One of his sunflowers perhaps? Hmm…but they were for someone else. One couldn’t hurt though, right?

“Thank you, Comrade, for your help.” He pulled the smallest flower from his bouquet and handed it over to the boy. “You should go home to rest now. That shaking does not look good.”

Richie took the flower in confusion, wondering what the man was talking about. He was about to reply when a loud voice called across the room, effectively silencing any and all conversation taking place.

“All station personnel, report to the break room immediately!” both he and the foreigner turned to face the owner of that voice. Richie gulped when he saw it was the station manager. Something was wrong, he could just feel it. With one last glance at the man beside him, who smiled at him warmly, Richie hurriedly walked to the break room, finding that all of the others were already there looking at each other in confusion, trying to figure out what was going on.

The manager walked in one minute after him and began in a hard voice, “The station has just received a phone call from a conductor aboard The Mayflower. It appears the train has been hijacked. We have confirmed an explosion on board, before the line was cut. One of the engines may have been blown but we are not certain of this.”

“What!? How do you know?” a lone voice called out in the following silence.

The manager stared coolly at his colleagues. “The Senator’s wife and daughter are being held for a ransom of one hundred million dollars. If the perpetrators do not receive this ransom before twelve o’clock tonight, they will kill the other passengers one by one until they receive the money. The Senator has been notified of the situation and is making his decision as we speak.”

Richie stared at the manger in horror, the sunflower held loosely in his hand. He thought back to the foreigner on the platform. He had been waiting for someone on The Mayflower. Those sunflowers must have been for someone special.

“He’s going to pay them right?” he hadn’t realized he was speaking until the words were already out of his mouth. “H-he wouldn’t let them kill everyone else on the train…would he?”

The others in the room looked from Richie to the manager in silence. The manager was the very epitome of grim as he focused his stare at the boy.

“It is very likely,” he said, “that the ransom will not be paid.”

Back on the platform, Vladimir was humming to himself, thinking of sunflowers and presents, while the most wonderful feeling burned in his heart.

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What is going on!? Who are these new characters and why do they matter? Will we find out what's happening on the train? Tune in next time for some answers in next week's new episode of...I'm sorry, I've just always wanted to do that XD

*cough* Anyway, I'm not the best at staying focused when I research stuff, so some things are probably wrong, like I wasn't sure about the whole telephone on a train back then thing...so I went with it. Please correct me if I'm wrong.

Yes, TIME SKIPS...'cause everybody loves those *so much sarcasm it hurts* It jumps back and forth, but I'll label each one so it hopefully won't get too confusing.

Point out any spelling or grammar mistakes and I'll give you a cookie! :)