I was sitting amidst the dirt and weeds. There were no trees or buildings around me, so nothing shielded me from the night chill. The only thing I could do was hunch over and warm my hands with my breath. Hunger and thirst would soon return, and I knew they would be a problem for the rest of my journey. Yet, what worried me most at that moment was sleep: my eyes were beginning to close, and sleeping in that place was extremely risky. Besides, if I fell asleep, I would likely miss what I was waiting for.
I sensed quite a few auras around me, even though I could only see darkness, undergrowth, the road, and the train tracks. The auras were faint, but at least they told me I was in the right place. They were all likely waiting for "the Devil"—the train that travels through these parts. It got that name because it takes you straight to hell. Contrary to what one might think, it wasn't a passenger train, but one that hauled freight across the entire country.
And to the migrants who managed to cling to it too.
So I awaited its arrival while time seemed not to move in that static darkness, and the silence tortured me.
One time, my team and I arrived at a house that gang members had attacked. According to witnesses, several armed individuals arrived in a pickup truck, entered the house, unleashed a hail of gunfire, and fled. The attack could not have lasted more than two minutes. The first thing we noticed upon arrival was that the door was ajar. We opened it cautiously and immediately saw the living room, where several people were seated around the table; there were bullet marks all over the walls and a trail of blood on the floor.
The people sat motionless, heads bowed, as if merely asleep, despite the multiple bullets that had shattered their chests. On the table were cups, various dishes, and a cake in the center.
We never found out why they were attacked by those gang members. Perhaps one of them was involved with gangs, or maybe someone had tried to extort protection money from them and they had refused to pay, or perhaps they had an enemy who hired a gang to kill them. All we knew was that the family had apparently been celebrating something, but now there was only silence—a heavy, oppressive silence.
I hate silence. All my years as a Hero taught me that silence is the language of death.
Suddenly, I heard a train whistle in the distance and snapped back to reality. I couldn't see the train, but it surely wouldn't be long before it drew closer. Yet minutes passed, and the train didn't seem to be moving. It had likely stopped at a nearby station that I couldn't see to load or unload cargo.
Perhaps more than an hour passed, or maybe just a couple of minutes—I couldn't say for sure—but the train began to draw near, and soon I could see it. It was moving slowly, yet gradually picking up speed. Around me, I noticed people coming out of their hiding places and nervously approaching the tracks, getting ready to board one of the cars. There were men and women, but also children, elderly people, and pregnant women.
By the time the train passed where I was standing, it was already moving at considerable speed, so we all sprinted alongside it as fast as we could. The train was faster than us, and the cars began to pull ahead. Some people would jump and cling to whatever they could—a pipe, a railing, or the hand of someone who had already boarded and was trying to help—while others failed to get a grip and fell to the ground. This was extremely dangerous, as a fall put you very close to the wheels, which could sever a limb—something that happened all too often.
I gathered a bit of magic in my feet, leapt more than a few feet in the air, and lifted my legs as high as I could to avoid an accident. That jump made it easy to grab a railing. From there, I reached out to the people who hadn't yet climbed up and helped them.
Many people, having barely managed to climb aboard, would try to open the cars, but these were secured with multiple padlocks; consequently, they preferred to hide between them, where they were shielded from the cold. Once those spaces filled up, people began climbing onto the roofs to stay there—exposed to the elements, yet facing less risk of falling than if they were merely clinging to a railing.
The train picked up speed to the point where boarding was nearly impossible. People ran alongside it but soon fell behind. Some tried to jump on, yet very few managed to cling to anything. The vast majority fell to the ground, and I swear that on more than one occasion I heard the distant scream of someone who likely fell right onto the wheels.
I looked down and noticed some metal bars quite close to the train car's wheels, right beneath where I was standing. I climbed down, and the moment I stepped onto them, I felt they weren't very sturdy. Even so, I reached out to the migrants who hadn't yet boarded and helped a couple of them up. The others ran alongside me and quickly were left behind.
At one point, I thought about climbing down to help them up, but I knew that if I did, I almost certainly wouldn't be able to climb back up.
The train kept picking up speed, and soon all those migrants were lost from sight. I climbed onto the roof of the car looking for a place to rest. There were already many people there; some had gathered in groups and were talking among themselves, while others remained aloof and alert. Almost everyone was shivering from the cold. I headed to an empty spot and sat down. Despite the train's speed, the ride was smooth and peaceful. The cold air lashed at my face, so I shielded myself with my arms, but it wasn't enough. On top of that, hunger and thirst returned, along with the lingering pain from the wounds I'd sustained fighting Lancel. Sleep kept coming back, but I fought to stay awake at all costs; if I dozed off, I would likely fall—perhaps right into the train's wheels.
At that moment, I thought I heard someone's distant shout, but it was so faint that I am not sure if it was real or a figment of my imagination. I looked all around but couldn't see a thing, even though dawn was not far off.
The train swayed slowly, and my eyes kept closing on their own. I would open them again and again to keep from falling asleep, but they would close once more, and it took me longer each time to open them. The train swayed so slowly that I soon forgot where I was, and sleep and exhaustion filled my every thought.
"It's freezing, isn't it, my friend?" A nearby voice snapped me back to reality. I looked around and saw the silhouette of a man close by. I yawned.
"Don't fall asleep, my friend, or the Devil will eat you up," he said—and he was right. "This your first time riding the Devil, right?"
I nodded.
"Where you going?" he asked me.
"Elitesburg," I replied, hoping he would give me some advice that might help me on my journey.
"Is someone waiting for you there."
"I hope I find him there."
This person took a small sip from a plastic bottle that crinkled when moved. My mouth felt parched, but I said nothing. I looked away. Dawn was almost breaking; the first rays of sunlight were just beginning to peek over the horizon.
"Well, if you're heading to Elitesburg, my friend, I'd recommend you go around Hopeless," he told me.
"But that's the fastest route," I replied. "Hopeless is right below Elitesburg, and going around it would only set me back several days."
"I know what I'm talking about," he said seriously, as if speaking to a stubborn child. "That's ash's territory, and if they catch you there, it would be a miracle if they don't kill you." Rays of sunlight broke through toward us, illuminating everything around. I could see him now. He was a middle-aged man with a prominent scar in his face that forced one eye to stay shut, and he was missing an arm. "Take my word for it, my friend. I got really lucky."