Four Passengers on a Train

As the conductor collected the tickets, John followed behind taking food and drink orders. There were five passengers.

The last one sat in the far corner, an elderly woman staring out the window. Her dress was like an old costume, faded and a bit dusty.

She must be part of the historical tour, John thought.

Her bleary grey eyes settled on the conductor as her long blue-veined fingers reached into a tiny purse. A shudder passed through John’s bones.

She turned back to the window without another glance.

John tipped his hat and hurried from the car.

He couldn’t stop watching her each time he passed through. There was something odd about that lady.

At the High Line pass, something was wrong. One passenger was missing, the elderly lady. The restroom was empty. There were no other exits or entrances. He swallowed hard.

“Sir.” The conductor turned his way.

“One of my passengers is missing.”

“Impossible.”

“There were five when we started and now there are only four.”

He looked through the presidential car tickets.

“What’s this?” He held a brittle, faded ticket, dated July 13, 1904.

John's jaw dropped, shocked.

“You had four guests, not five.”

He walked away.