It was four hours into the trip that I remembered the worst parts about train travel, starting with the sheer amount of time it took. Our original tickets would have gotten us to Chicago after nearly twenty-four hours straight of travel, and even now after four hours we were barely into West Virginia. I guess it beat driving in a lot of ways, but I would take a flight any day. We’d definitely been dipping deep into paranoia when we’d chosen the train option. Or maybe Fate had its finger on the scale, what with Danielle’s next point. There wasn’t exactly a way to jump out of a plane journey halfway through. Not one that would leave us a life to live afterwards, at any rate.

Beyond the sheer amount of boredom that was starting to set in after so long rumbling down the tracks, there was the lack of privacy. The three of us couldn’t exactly find a corner away from other people and plan exactly where we wanted to jump off and what we could possibly do once we got there, not with how many people were stuffed into economy seating. We probably should have sprung for one of the more expensive bedroom suites, but I’d felt guilty about draining Jerry’s funds like that and figured we could tough it out. I was very much regretting that decision now.

Still, it wasn’t all bad. There were charging outlets and wifi, even if it was just about the slowest I’d ever experienced. Jerry was clearly more prepared than either Danielle or I, almost immediately pulling out his laptop and watching some shows he must have downloaded beforehand. Danielle and I made conversation at first, but my stress and caffeine fueled wakefulness started to fade as the hypnotic clacking of the train went on. If the chairs were more comfortable or my dreams not plagued by more worst case scenario nightmares, I probably would have napped most of the day away. As it was, I woke up just as my two friends drifted off themselves with nothing but a newfound crick in my neck to keep me company.

Bleary-eyed, I packed away Jerry’s laptop before making my way to the dining car. My sleep schedule was already starting to cry and I knew it was in for further abuse before the journey was through. The least I could do was try to stay awake while it was still light outside, though with our destination still uncertain I knew that probably wouldn’t last. I grabbed one of the information brochures with a map of this line and some dark brown sludge masquerading as coffee and settled in to plan as much as I could.

The three of us had talked about it a bit right before the train arrived and decided that a bigger city would be safer. Counterintuitive, maybe, but three teenagers could definitely blend into the crowd easier where there was a crowd to blend in to, and that was more likely to happen in Cincinnati or Indianapolis than Alderson, West Virginia or Connersville, Indiana. I pulled out my phone, trying to get at least some information on what might become my temporary home. I certainly hoped we weren’t prodded back on the road as soon as we set foot in whatever city we chose. Adventure was all well and good, but life on the run was a little more than I’d signed up for.

I sighed, taking another sip of what tasted like burnt rubber and dirt but called itself coffee. I’d be lying if I said this whole runaway plan wasn’t a little exciting, but I’d be lying even more if I said it was exactly what I wanted to be doing. So I was bitter at Fate, I think I was more than allowed. It felt like I was being dragged around by the whims of something bigger than me and not even permitted to have a say in it for myself. No matter what I did, I would never have that moment where a tick mark pushed itself into being on my wrist, never have that affirmation that I was on the right track. I could put up a brave front around the others and I didn’t regret telling them, but in the quiet moments I couldn’t help feeling like I was defective. What was it about me that made Fate say ‘no thanks’? Was I consigned to a life of mediocrity, doomed to only just keep my head above water and achieve nothing of any real note? Was I just that boring that destiny itself spit out a blank where my future should be?

I was spiraling, and never had I been more thankful than our brief health unit on how to help someone through an anxiety attack. Five things I could see: the slightly chipped off-white table, my phone, the brochure, the styrofoam coffee cup, the chair across from me. Four things I could touch: the lukewarm coffee cup, cool table, smudged phone screen, glossy brochure. Three things I could hear: the persistent background clack of the tracks, the dining car employee taking another order, a man on his phone in the corner. Two things I could smell: cleaning supplies and coffee. One thing I could taste: the burning car tire aftertaste of this poor excuse for coffee. Three more deep breaths and I was just about back to normal.

“Shit, kid. You that nervous about a derailment or something?” A gruff, smoker’s voice came from across the table, and my eyes refocused to see a man sitting on the other side of the booth. I must have been really out of it to miss him, because the best word to describe him was simply big. Not necessarily fat, though he had a bit of pudge, but the kind of broad-shouldered, barrel-chested guy that linebacker and construction worker stereotypes were made of. One of his heavily tattooed arms was holding a soda can while the other was lazily draped over the back of the booth. Despite how much space he was taking up and his stereotypical biker appearance, the slightly furrowed brow of his weatherbeaten face betrayed actual concern.

“Uh… not until you mentioned it. Should I be?” I responded awkwardly.

“Nah, trains are hella safe!” The man proclaimed. “Got nothing on the thrill of the wind in your hair like a bike, but safe as anything.”

“That’s… good to know.” I replied, still unsure why this conversation was happening.

“Damn straight it is.” The biker dude said. “So whatcha freaking out about if it’s not that?”

Inquisitive strangers, my only weakness. I shrugged and tried to play it off. “Just life, lot of things changing at once. Having trouble finding my feet, I guess.”

He gave a slow nod. “It’s that time of year again. There’s usually one or two on this train around this time.”

I blinked. “One or two?”

“Questers, or runaways, or whatever you kids are calling it nowadays.” He took a swig of soda. “Y’know, just got your List, it prodded you to get away and do something and you just couldn’t wait? Ringing any bells?”

I stiffened slightly. “Is that really any of your business?”

He gave a half-smile. “Nah, it ain’t. But I’m here anyway. Was in your shoes twenty-odd years ago and some stranger helped me out. Now I gotta pay it forward, y’know?”

I frowned slightly. “Is it really the best idea to spill secrets to a random biker dude in an Amtrak snack car?”

He barked a sharp laugh. “Ha! You got a point, kid.” He extended a hand to shake. “Name’s Rodney Reynolds, put her there.”

His grip wasn’t crushing like I expected, just firm. Still, no reason to trust him completely. “Connor Montgomery. Nice to meet you?”

“You don’t gotta make it sound like a question, kid. I know you’re probably thinking stranger danger, even odds that at least one of the names you just gave me was fake.” Shit, he was good. “I don’t exactly look like the good Samaritan type. But hey, neither did the Samaritan!”

I squinted slightly, confused. “What?”

“Lotta people forget that bit now that it’s just shorthand for bystander or whatever.” Rodney liked to talk, apparently. “But Samaritans back then, everybody hated them. They were trash, the punching bags of ancient Israel! That’s why it was so radical back then right? That there would be a good one when all those other upstanding folks passed up on helping, that blew people’s minds. So I’m living the parable. You sure as shit don’t trust the look of me, but did anyone else care that a kid was verging on a panic attack?”

“Um, thanks then. For caring, and for checking on me.”

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Rodney waved my thanks away. “No skin off my nose. You don’t gotta say anything you don’t want to. Just sometimes good to bounce things off someone outside the situation, yeah? Can help you avoid some stupid mistakes.”

I took another sip of coffee sludge, now room temperature and all the grosser for it. He had a decent point. I knew that of the three of us, Jerry was probably thinking the most clearly right now, or at least dealing with the least upheaval. None of us had any real life experience. As long as I kept things vague, why not use Rodney as a sort of sounding board? He was offering.

“Alright.” I said slowly, going over each sentence twice in my mind to make sure it was censored enough. “It’s not exactly what you were thinking. My friends and I, we aren’t Questers. One friend was in a rough spot in their home life and needed to get away from their family. The rest of us are mostly just along to support them.” There, ambiguous but not untrue.

Rodney nodded like he’d heard it before. “Shit sucks. The other kid’s parents, controllers or abusers?”

I blinked. “Controllers, mostly. No physical abuse at least.”

“Verbal and emotional abuse can be just as bad. Good call getting out of reach.” Rodney took another swig of soda. “Got an actual plan for what you’re doing now?”

I raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Kinda? More of a goal than a plan.”

“Better than nothing.” Rodney scratched the side of his face, then looked down at the map brochure that was still open on the table. “You know where you’re headed?”

I paused, then relented. “Not Chicago.”

“Lotta places that aren’t Chicago.” He said non-judgmentally.

“One of the bigger cities.” I offered.

“So Cincy or Indianapolis.” He nodded to himself. “Not bad choices. If I can let my bias show…” He took out a set of keys, a Cincinnati Bengals keychain featured prominently. “It’s a good town. Rough edges like any city, but a lot of good people.”

“A good place to find a new start?” I asked.

“Worked for me.” He said nonchalantly. “Like I said, I was in your shoes twenty-odd years back. Young and convinced there was more to the world than a little podunk town in West Virginia. Didn’t want to go and become a preacher like my old man, so I took off for the city. Made a lot of mistakes along the way, some of em I even regret. Still got to be my own man, and I’ll never regret that part.” He took out a pen from his pocket and scribbled a number on the corner of the open brochure. “If you do end up in Cincy, feel free to give me a buzz. My wife would roll out the red carpet.”

I gave an honest smile. “Thanks, man. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

“That’s the beauty of it!” Rodney said, stretching his arms above his head. “No one really has to do anything. I wanted to. You looked like you might need help, I wanted to help. No need to make it any more complicated than that.”

I eyed his heavily tattooed arms and remembered a fleeting thought I’d had yesterday. “Can I ask what might be a rude or personal question?”

“I dunno, kid, can you?” He smirked. “Fire away.”

“The tattoos.” I gestured to them, then to my own bare wrist. “Do they get in the way of tick marks? Like, do you have to design around them or something?”

Rodney snorted. “You call that a rude question? That’s nothing. But it depends on the person. Some people leave a little space for em, others like me prioritize the art. If Fate wants to mark me up more, it’ll find a way for it to look good. If it doesn’t, it wasn’t really fated, you get me?”

“I think so.” I said, nodding.

“You looking into getting inked up?” He asked.

I choked a bit. “No, no, just always been curious. Well, maybe one day, but I don’t even know what I’d get now. Don’t want to look back in ten years and cringe at my younger self.”

He laughed. “Kid, you’re gonna do that anyway, trust me. We all do. Nothing wrong with waiting until you got something meaningful that you want a reminder of, though.” He took one last draw from his soda and let out a belch. “Scuse me. In both ways, actually. I’ll let you get back to those friends of yours. I’m in the car just behind this one if you want a third party opinion, though.”

I gave him a nod and a smile. “Thanks, Rodney. Can’t say I expected wisdom in the Amtrak snack car, but you delivered.”

He barked another laugh. “Stop it, kid, you’ll make me blush!” He waved over his shoulder as he lumbered out of the car. Definitely not what I had been expecting, but that was a fair summary of the last few days of my life. Seemingly random events that spiraled into something bigger than each individual one. I eyed the number he’d scrawled onto the brochure, and entered it into my phone before I could forget or lose it. Cincinnati was suddenly looking like the more appealing destination. Funny how things work out.

I tossed the dregs of my coffee into the trash rather than trying to choke them down and grabbed a bottle of water before heading back to my own seat. That conversation with Rodney had been a good diversion and a reminder. There were good people out there, people just living their lives and doing their best. We needed to be careful, sure, but the vast majority of the population didn’t and wouldn’t care about our troubles unless we gave them a reason to. It was freeing, in a sense. We could use assumptions to our advantage and hide in plain sight and most people wouldn’t think twice. And for every self-interested douchebag who wanted to take advantage of us, I bet there was one like Rodney who remembered being eighteen and heading out on their own for the first time and just wanted to help.

Danielle was blearily blinking herself awake as I settled back into my seat next to her, with Jerry still conked out across the aisle. I gave her a little smile and offered the bottle of water. She took it gratefully, a few sips serving to bring her fully back to wakefulness.

“Have a good nap?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I admit there is something soothing about the sound of the tracks.”

“I know, right? Like a good white noise machine combined with that little rocking motion, it’s entirely too easy to pass out.”

She smiled. “Were you in the dining car?”

I shook my head. “Just the snack one. Had an interesting conversation, though.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“How do you feel about bikers?”

She blinked. “Cycling is certainly a good way to exercise and an environmentally conscious way to travel shorter distances.”

“Oh my god you know what I mean.” I groaned. She just smirked. “Who would’ve guessed prim and proper Danielle Harp has the soul of a comedian.”

“Someone sold theirs to my parents a long time ago, I just thought I’d make good use of it.” She said innocently.

“Did you just basically call your parents the devil?”

“Do you disagree?”

“No, no, just making sure we’re on the same page.” She was really reveling in her newfound freedom. “Anyway, bikers.”

“Why are you asking about bikers?”

“I met one in the snack car.”

“And?”

“And he gave me his phone number.”

“Congratulations?” She said in confusion. “I didn’t realize bikers were your type.”

I flushed. “No! Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Then get to the point.”

“Fine, fine.” I sighed. “I was spiraling a bit, trying to plan where we’d get off and what we’ll do and how we’ll survive and all that. This biker dude kinda helped pull me out of it, gave me some decent advice. And his phone number if we end up in Cincinnati.”

“Hm.” Danielle hummed. “We were already considering it, and it can’t hurt to have another friendly face to call upon, however tangential the connection.”

“If it weren’t for my, er, condition, I’d say it was fated.”

“Who’s to say it isn’t?” She mused. I must have looked as confused as I felt, as she went on. “Maybe not your List, but his? Or even just good luck. I refuse to believe that fortune solely operates in the realm of Lists.”

“If I really did help Rodney tick off a point, I’m sure I must be setting some kind of record.” I grumbled. “Leading the league in assists right now.”

Danielle smiled. “It’s certainly a unique approach. I for one am a fan.”

“You would be.” I complained halfheartedly. Honestly it was the best I could really do, and I wasn’t gonna say no to helping people out if they weren’t dicks. Unfortunately, most people are dicks.

“Cincinnati then?” Danielle asked. “We don’t have a better alternative, and it does seem lucky.” She paused, looking contemplative. “It would certainly throw off anyone my parents send after me if I join a biker gang.”

My thoughts stuttered and crashed to a halt as visions of Danielle in black leather with various facial piercings and a purple-dyed undercut danced through my mind. I could feel my face blowing past Death Valley and rapidly approaching the temperature of the sun. That mental image was far too appealing.

“That, uh, yeah, abso-great plan let’s.” I babbled, valiantly trying and failing to produce comprehensible English.

The gleam in Danielle’s eyes was dangerous as she nodded and, in the most impressive display of control I’ve ever heard, parroted back my word vomit with a straight face.

“Abso-great plan let’s.”