Chapter 12: With A Steel Chair

So. On one hand, it didn’t look to be a preexisting open window that let the fog in, which was great. On the other hand, apparently the staff members were either complicit or mind controlled into doing the same. I couldn’t be sure if it was only happening here, or all throughout the train, but I had no way of dealing with the latter, so I refocused on the here and now, and moved to interfere in the only way I could see working out. Now, I was never a particularly violent man, but I did get into a few drunken scuffles, back in the day. I even knew my way around a knife, like most rowdy London boys with too much time on their hands, but I’d left the only sharp piece back in my cabin, and a few seconds wasn’t enough time for a round trip, which meant I had to improvise.

A steel chair wasn’t a great weapon, not outside old wrestling memes anyway, but it was the only thing on hand big enough to do some damage. So that’s what I did: I picked up the chair by the handlebars, and sprinted for the steward. It only took moments to cross the Club Car, but by that time he’d already put one hand on the windowsill, and his eyes were turned away from me. The chair came down with a loud crunch, sending the man to his knees. It didn’t take him out of the picture, though, and he was still trying to get up, moving like a zombie, or maybe just concussed, I neither knew nor cared at that point.

The chair was unwieldy, up close, so I tossed it aside, and body checked him, using weight and momentum to overpower his shaky footing and put him down on the floor. Then, to make it stick, I sat on his abdomen, grabbed him by the neck with my left hand, and started throwing haymakers into his face with my right. I’m no boxer, never was and never will be, but I still knew the basics of throwing a punch, and quantity has a quality of its own, where traumatic head injuries were concerned. The steward was still trying to resist and throw me off, for the first few punches, but after that, as concussion took hold, his strength waned and resistance faded. I kept going, because I really couldn’t afford to take any chances here, hammering him repeatedly until my fist was sore, my knuckles cracked, and he’d completely stopped moving. Only then did I check his pulse, confirming it was gone, and finally get off of his corpse.

There was still no fog in the corridor behind me, which ruled out any of the passenger cabins as the source. Unfortunately, the same could not be said up front. Through the staff entrance to the locomotive pulling us along, I looked into the corridor and saw only fog. Then, the door opened, and I was sprinting for my cabin. The fog advanced slowly, enough that I was able to get back inside, but I was at a loss what to do after that. The best I could manage was to lock myself in the bathroom, placing spare towels along the cracks of the door, and adding wet toilet paper over what gaps remained.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

It worked, somewhat; when the fog eventually reached the back of the carriage and crept into my room, only a thin trickle was able to enter the toilet. Unfortunately, I’d run out of anything to plug the roof, nothing I put up there sticking for long enough, and I was already feeling light headed as the fog thickened.

“Another go around, then,” I groaned. “Need to find a way into the front engine somehow. Maybe I can grab a key card? Should’ve looked before. Oh well, next go it is.”

I was getting remarkably relaxed about the time loop, which probably didn’t bode well for my mental state, but I found it hard to care as the crimson fog dragged me back into slumber once more.

—

I woke up, and it was one minute past seven. Apparently, I’d done something right in my last loop, because I wasn’t going to have to spend another two hours watching movies this time. Idly, I noted that my big successes thus far had centred around two acts of murder, suggesting a pattern that I didn’t really like, but what was the alternative? Letting the steward open the window was a surefire way to waste that loop, and I wasn’t going to make it that easy for the powers that be. Shaking my head, I picked up my bag, deciding to bring it with me to breakfast this time, in case I needed another weapon on short notice. I was a bit earlier than before, but I doubted that would be a problem, at least, until I got outside, and found British Transport Police in the corridor. Apparently, the steward had been in my sleeper carriage until shortly before I went to breakfast, last night.

The officers were different this time, the previous lot having stayed behind at Edinburgh, most likely, but they were performing a similar role, carrying the body of the steward between them. As before, the dead man was outwardly unmarked, and clutching at his chest with both hands in distress, thus validating my suspicions about what happened to those who died between loops. Strangely, it didn’t apply to me, though I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth here. At least I was already packed, because I had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen next.

“Attention all passengers.” Yep, there it was, right on time. “Due to a medical incident onboard, the train will be alighting at Arrochar & Tarbet. Emergency services will be onboard the platform, please do not attempt to disembark or interfere with their duties.”

A bit more verbose than the previous time, but the sentiment was clear. I remained in the corridor until we arrived at the station, and the body left the train. Then, the Waiter showed up, apparently the only member of staff still available, to make me change cabins again, so that my existing carriage could be taken away as a crime scene.

“Huh. Apparently, I was the only one in this carriage. Who knew?”

The Waiter frowned at that, but dutifully followed me to the sole remaining carriage for passenger use, and swapped out my keycard. After opening the door, I was frowning too: apparently, there were no more deluxe cabins left on this car, so I’d been downgraded. Oh bother.