10:02 to Toledo

d = rt

If a train leaves Chicago at 10:02 am, heading toward Toledo at 75 miles per hour, onboard is a killer and another passenger, soon to be killed; and a boy, 29 miles away, on the same track, leaving Indiana, heading toward Chicago at an average speed of 2 miles an hour, how long until that boy witnesses a murder?

m = 10:02 + x, 29 = (75x + 2x)x

The brakeman gave the nod, the conductor gave the final call. The train eased forward with a thick peal, a timbre of complaint, as it pulled out of the station right on time, 10:02 on the dot.

The train rattled along. The edge of the city gave way to a countryside in spring, rolling green hills, still brown where their feet met the groves. Bright splashes of pink and white blossoms dotted the bright green forest canopies. Birds flocked and murmured. Fluffy clouds caravaned high over the ridges on the horizon.

Mariam watched it go by, allowing herself a reserved smile, her shoulders relaxing the tiniest bit, while her grip on the bag in her lap, stayed as strong as a vice. She let her back fall against the coarse upholstery of her window seat. It was just a math problem; a + b = c. If she just followed the appropriate steps, stuck to the formula, no one was going to get hurt. Well, at any rate, almost no one. There was definitely one ‘someone’ who needed to pay. She stiffened in her seat.

The man who slid into the aisle seat across from her kept his cap low as he sloughed his case and coat onto the seat beside him, and untucked his folded newspaper from under his arm. In one smooth motion he took off his hat and snapped the paper open, obscuring his face.

Miriam kept her eyes on the window, studying the man in her periphery.

m = 10:02 + x, 29 = (77x)x

At nine years old, Kevin had had enough. Enough of the arguing, enough of the constant chores, enough of math class. He missed uncle Jack and he figured he might pay a visit to aunt Kathy in Chicago. Maybe she might know what he was supposed to do about everything.

Kevin pushed up the hill, batted through the bushes and came out on the tracks. He looked right; the tracks bending around a ridge, then left; a straight stretch of rail, a mountain tunnel in the distance. He looked to the sky, remembering his uncle’s words. Head west with the sun to your left. He went left, walking the rail like a balance beam, arms akimbo.

He was small for his age, big ears poking out from under his shaggy hair. He’d left home in his favorite shirt(a blue and yellow striped tee) and blue jeans, and the olive green army sack his uncle had given him for his birthday back in April. He remembers his uncle telling him that every boy needs a good bag, and a good knife. The same folding buck knife he’d found in the bottom of the bag then, the knife that he’d instinctively known not to tell his mother about, was back in the same bag, under a handful of items he thought might come in handy on his way to the big city. His canteen, a toothbrush(he’d always been a good toothbrusher), a box of crackers, a half-full box of film, an extra pair of socks, his other favorite shirt, and his new favorite book, The Invisible Man, and his compass. He’d hemmed and hawed whether to bring his Grandpas’ Polaroid camera, and even though his bag was a little too full, he decided to take it anyway.

Kevin stood in front of the entrance to the tunnel, gawking into the dark. He couldn’t see the stark light of the opening on the other end, but a faint glow bled in from beyond the bend. It’s not that he was specifically afraid of not being able to make it through before a train bore down on him, or the tunnel itself, or the fact that when he came out on the other side he’d be in Illinois, it’s just that on the other side of the tunnel was the furthest he’d ever been away from home on his own.

He looked up at the southern ridge—the sun well over it now, took a big breath and marched into the unknown.

m = 10:02 + x, 29/77 = 77x/77

Miriam wasn’t sure whether she had audibly yelped or not when the conductor came up beside her and asked her for her ticket. She stared up at him with wide eyes, so startled that she wasn’t computing what he’d asked. He repeated himself. She nodded, wrapping a secure arm around her bag, before fishing through one coat pocket and then the other. She held it out to him. He asked her if she was okay. She assured him she was and he punched her ticket and handed it back. As she took it she looked up to find the man sitting across from her staring at her. Her breath caught in her throat.

The man continued to stare at her as the conductor punched his ticket and returned it. The man tucked the punched ticket into his breast pocket. He straightened his paper with a snap, hiding his face once again.

She stared at the paper, still seeing his face in her mind. Thick neck, rough square jaw, short cropped hair graying at the temples, and a thick scar across the outside corner of his left eye. Her eye fell to the article below the main one on the front page. Military Codes Cracked By Anonymous Informant.

She gripped her bag tighter, yet. Of course, she knew who the informant was. That was the whole reason she was sitting in this seat right now.

m = 10:02 + x, x = 29/77

Kevin walked along the edge of the cliff, peering down at the fat river below, plenty of good fishing holes and small sandy beaches at its most meandering points. He was starting to think that Illinois didn’t seem that bad, in fact it was a lot like back home. He was starting to regret not bringing his fishing pole, but he reminded himself that he didn’t have time if he was going to make it to Chicago before dark.

He swung his bag around, resting it against his belly as he flipped the flap open and fished through it. He ate a few crackers, surprised at how hungry he was, and reminded himself not to eat too many. He still had a long way to go. He tucked the box back into the bag and pulled out the camera.

He looked through its view finder, taking in the world through the lens of the camera, framing this and that. A tree, a hill, a bank in the river, the tracks bending around a pass. The finder fell on a crow perched on the dead snag of a tree. He resisted snapping the photo, having seen enough crows in his life, and knowing that it was too far away, anyhow. It would most likely just come out as a black speck on what otherwise would just be a picture of a not-particularly-pretty tree.

He slung the strap over his neck and marched on.

m = 10:02 + x, x = 0.376 x 60

The longer Miriam stared at the paper, the more the man’s face burned into her mind. Had she seen him before? He looked like any other soldier from the base, but that scar. Something about that scar seemed familiar. She shook her head and convinced herself that she was just letting her imagination run away with itself. No one knew she was on this train. She’d gone to great lengths to make sure she hadn’t been followed. But still, that scar.

She stood up abruptly, her ticket falling from her lap and landing next to the black, spit-shined toe of the man’s shoe. She stood there for a moment before deciding to abandon her ticket. She turned down the aisle and made her way to the back of the train. After she had put enough distance between her and the man, a dozen seats or so, she braved a glance back.

Again, he was staring at her. This time he wore a tiny scowl as he pushed himself out of his seat and stepped into the aisle.

Miriam didn’t wait to see if he was following her. She ran to the end of the car, shouldered her bag, and threw the gangway door open, the clatter of the train rushing in with the wind.

m = 10:02 + x, x = 00:22:56

The caterpillar inched up the bright green stem of the lily, purposefully. Its black spines bristling along its red and orange body with every convulsion. The caterpillar went blurry. Kevin pulled the camera back, keeping The lens as close to it as he could, trying to find that sweet spot. It came into focus and with the push of a button Kevin froze him in time.

Kevin stood on the small hill above the tracks holding his hand under the film as it ejected with a buzz. He tugged it free and looked at the undeveloped black square, imagining how it was going to turn out. A train horn blew in the near distance. He let the camera hang from its strap around his neck. From his back pocket he pulled out the other two he had taken so far and brought the three together. The first was of a waterfall, small and obscured by forest, but still nice. The second, the lush crop of Michigan lilies he’d climbed the hill to photograph. He wasn’t big on flowers, but he always remembered that they were Aunt Kathy’s favorites. He mostly remembered because of how strange he thought it was that they were named after Michigan even though he’d seen them all around Indiana. The third starting to show the faint outlines of its subject

The horn blew again, closer this time. Kevin looked up to see it come charging around the bend. He tucked the small stack of pictures into his back pocket, steadied himself on the uneven ground, and looked through the camera, bringing the train into the viewfinder. He was in just the right spot to get a sweet shot as it passed.

m = 10:02 + 00:22:56

Miriam had run out of cars. She looked out of the tiny window to the caboose platform, tracks disappearing into the distance. No where to go. She gripped the handle and looked back over her shoulder.

The man with the scar stepped into the vestibule and opened the penultimate door, attracting almost no attention from the scattered half-dozen passengers as he slowly lumbered down the aisle toward her.

Out of options she threw the door open, stepped onto the windy platform and closed it behind her, holding the handle as she watched his inevitable approach through the tiny window.

He stopped at the door, his face without expression and stared down at her, only the small pane of glass between them. Without looking down he reached for the handle.

Miriam clasped it with both hands, using all her might. Slowly, and as inevitably as his constant approach, the handle started to turn against her grip.

m = 10:24:56

The train was growing larger in the view finder, its cars snaking majestically into the distance. From his perch Kevin had a beautiful angle. He held his finger on the shutter button, forcing himself to wait for the perfect shot.

It came, the engine larger than life, cars arcing back and forth like a ribbon in the wind, the valley and mountains behind squaring it in an artistic frame. Kevin pushed the button and found it unyielding. He squinted at the 0 in the counter window and scolded himself for not checking as the engine rushed by drowning out, what was for him, the closest he came to an expletive.

He shrugged his bag to the ground, flipped it open, and began hastily fishing through it. Again, chastising himself for possibly forgetting to pack more film. Had it been on his list? He couldn’t remember.

His hand fell on the corner of the small cardboard box and he yelped in triumph. He slipped one of the cartridges free. As fast as he could, while still being as careful as possible, he dropped the spent case, and replaced the new cartridge and brought the camera to his eye.

The image in the viewfinder was far less spectacular, though not without its own pleasing aesthetic quality. He snapped the photo, guided it out and tugged it free, holding it up to look at the black square, imagining how it would look. He looked up to see the end of the train. Maybe a shot of it leaving would be cool. He slipped the soon-to-be-picture into his back pocket with the others and readied his camera, carefully adjusting his stance as he looked back and forth between both trains, the one in the view finder and the one right in front of him.

He glanced over his shoulder, only a few cars to go, and tucked his eye into the viewfinder. The train seemed as though it was going faster now. He knew he’d have to act fast or he’d miss it, but he didn’t want to jump the gun.

The caboose came into view. He sucked in a breath and snapped the shot.

Kevin let the camera come down slowly, shocked at what he thought he had seen. The man was standing on the platform growing smaller as he continued to stare. Kevin watched him for a long moment then turned a nervous eye to the thick growth jutting up from just beyond the cliff-side of the tracks. He stared at that spot for quite a while before looking down at his camera and the photo jutting out of it, nearly developed. Slowly, he tugged it free and looked at it.