Passengers of Regret

Regina reached the station at 11:57 p.m.

The last train was already waiting.

That was strange. According to the faded timetable hanging above the platform, the final train had left twenty minutes ago.

She checked her phone. No signal.

Behind her, the road disappeared into thick fog. She could still hear the distant sirens from town, but they were getting closer.

The train doors slid open.

Nobody stepped out.

Regina stared into the empty carriage. Every seat was vacant except for one near the back, where a black envelope rested against the window.

Her name was written across it.

She almost ran.

Then the sirens grew louder.

Regina stepped aboard.

The doors shut immediately.

"There's no going back now," a voice said behind her.

She spun around.

An old man sat three rows away. Regina could have sworn the seat had been empty seconds earlier.

"Who are you?"

He pointed toward the envelope.

"Read it."

The train began moving.

Regina grabbed the envelope and tore it open. Inside was a photograph.

Her stomach dropped.

It showed the station platform.

It showed the train.

And it showed Regina standing outside the open doors.

The photograph had been taken from somewhere inside the carriage.

At the bottom, someone had written a date.

August 11, 1996.

Regina looked at the old man.

"That's impossible."

He gave her a tired smile.

Outside the window, the lights of the town vanished. The train entered a tunnel, and for several seconds there was nothing but darkness.

Then sunlight flooded the carriage.

Regina looked outside.

The town was back.

But the buildings were different. The cars were older. People stood on the platform wearing clothes she'd only seen in photographs.

The train slowed.

The old man stood.

"Your mother is waiting."

Regina froze.

Her mother had died thirty years ago.

The doors opened.

And there she was.

Twenty-five years old. Alive. Smiling on the platform.

"Regina?"

For the first time in years, Regina heard her mother's voice.

She stepped toward the door.

Then she noticed the photograph still trembling in her hand.

There was something on the back.

A message she hadn't seen before.

Whatever you do, don't get off the train.

Regina read the warning twice.

Whatever you do, don't get off the train.

"Regina?"

Her mother's voice came from the platform again.

It was exactly as Regina remembered it. Warm, slightly impatient, with that little lift at the end whenever she was worried.

Regina looked up.

Her mother stood only a few feet away.

She was wearing the yellow coat.

Regina remembered that coat.

Her mother had worn it the morning she died.

"Mum?"

Her mother's face softened.

"Oh, sweetheart."

Regina moved toward the open doors.

The old man grabbed her wrist.

"Don't."

She pulled away. "That's my mother."

"No," he said. "It's something that knows what you want."

Her mother frowned.

"Regina, who are you talking to?"

Regina looked at the old man.

Then back at her mother.

"Can you see him?"

Her mother's expression changed.

Only slightly.

But Regina noticed.

The smile disappeared for half a second.

Then returned.

"There's nobody there, sweetheart."

The old man leaned closer to Regina.

"Ask her something."

"What?"

"Something only your mother would know."

Regina's heart pounded.

On the platform, people moved around her mother. A man folded a newspaper. A woman dragged a little boy toward the stairs. Somewhere beyond the station, a car horn sounded.

Everything felt real.

Too real.

Regina swallowed.

"When I was eight," she called, "I broke something in the kitchen. Dad never found out. What was it?"

Her mother laughed.

"The blue vase."

Regina's eyes filled with tears.

It was right.

The old man tightened his grip.

"Again."

Regina shook her head. "She knew."

"Again."

Her mother stepped closer to the train.

"Regina, please. We don't have much time."

Regina stared at her.

"What did we do with the pieces?"

Her mother stopped.

For the first time, the station seemed to grow quiet.

The newspaper stopped rustling.

The child stopped crying.

Even the distant traffic disappeared.

Her mother's smile remained.

But her eyes didn't.

"We threw them away."

Regina's blood went cold.

"No."

The old man whispered, "There."

Regina remembered that afternoon perfectly.

She and her mother hadn't thrown the broken vase away.

They had buried the pieces beneath the apple tree in the garden because eight-year-old Regina had believed broken things deserved funerals.

Her mother had even made a tiny wooden cross from two ice-pop sticks.

It had been their secret.

The woman on the platform tilted her head.

"Regina?"

"You're not her."

The lights above the platform flickered.

Once.

Twice.

When they came back on, everyone was staring at Regina.

Every person.

The man with the newspaper.

The woman.

The little boy.

The station attendant.

Dozens of faces turned toward the train.

None of them blinked.

The old man stepped backward.

"Close the doors."

Nothing happened.

"Close the doors!" he shouted.

The woman wearing Regina's mother's face walked toward the carriage.

Regina backed away.

"Regina," it said.

ts voice sounded different now.

Not deeper.

Not distorted.

Worse.

It sounded like several voices trying to speak at exactly the same time.

"You came all this way."

The other people began walking toward the train.

Slowly.

Together.

The old man grabbed a red emergency handle beside the doors and pulled.

Nothing.

The first passenger reached the doorway.

Regina's mother extended one hand.

"Come home."

Regina looked into her face.

For one terrible second, she wanted to.

She wanted to forget the photograph.

Forget the warning.

Forget everything.

She wanted to be eight years old again, sitting beneath the apple tree while her mother solemnly buried pieces of blue porcelain.

Regina reached toward her.

The old man slapped her hand away.

The thing on the platform screamed.

Every window in the carriage shattered.

The train lurched forward.

Regina fell.

The old man hit the floor beside her.

Outside, the people began running alongside the train.

They shouldn't have been able to keep up.

But they did.

Faster and faster.

Her mother's face remained inches from the broken window.

"Regina!"

Then the platform ended.

The figures vanished into darkness.

The train plunged into another tunnel.

For several seconds, neither Regina nor the old man moved.

Finally, Regina sat up.

Blood ran from a cut on her palm.

"What was that?"

The old man didn't answer.

Regina grabbed his coat.

"What was that?"

He looked at her.

And suddenly Regina understood something she should have noticed the moment she saw him.

He wasn't old.

Not exactly.

Beneath the white hair and deep lines, there was something familiar about his face.

The shape of his nose.

The small scar beneath his left eye.

Regina had that scar.

Same place.

Same shape.

She slowly released him.

"Who are you?"

The old man closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, there were tears in them.

"My name is Eddie."

Regina stopped breathing.

That wasn't possible either.

Eddie was her younger brother.

He had disappeared when he was twelve.

The police had searched for months.

No body had ever been found.

Regina stared at him.

"Eddie?"

He nodded.

She stumbled backward.

"No."

"I know."

"No. Eddie was twelve."

"When I got on this train, I was."

Regina looked around the carriage.

The shattered windows were whole again.

Not repaired.

Whole.

As though nothing had happened.

"How long have you been here?"

Eddie looked toward the darkness beyond the glass.

"I don't know anymore."

"Years?"

He gave a hollow laugh.

"Time doesn't work like that here."

The lights flickered.

A speaker crackled overhead.

A woman's voice announced:

"Next stop, Ashcroft."

Eddie's face drained of color.

Regina noticed.

"What?"

He didn't answer.

"Eddie, what is Ashcroft?"

He stood quickly.

"We need to get to the front of the train."

"Why?"

"Because that's where I got off."

Regina stared at him.

"You just said not to get off."

"I did."

The announcement came again.

"Next stop, Ashcroft."

Eddie looked at her.

"I got off there when I was twelve."

Regina's mouth went dry.

"And?"

He looked toward the next carriage.

"When I came back onto the train, I was sixty-three."

The brakes began to squeal.

Eddie grabbed Regina's hand.

"Run."

They raced through the carriage.

The connecting door slammed behind them.

Then another.

Then another.

Each carriage was empty.

Until they reached the fifth.

Regina stopped.

Every seat was occupied.

Men.

Women.

Children.

All sitting perfectly still.

All facing forward.

Eddie whispered, "Don't look at them."

They moved down the aisle.

Regina kept her eyes on the next door.

Halfway through the carriage, someone whispered her name.

"Regina."

She kept walking.

Another voice.

"Regina."

Then another.

"Regina."

Soon every passenger was whispering it.

Regina.

Regina.

Regina.

She reached the door.

Eddie opened it.

Regina stepped through.

Then she heard a child's voice behind her.

"Don't leave me again."

She froze.

Eddie's face changed.

"Regina, don't."

She turned.

A twelve-year-old boy stood in the aisle.

Dark hair.

Green jacket.

A missing front tooth.

Eddie.

Exactly as he had looked the night he disappeared.

The old man beside Regina began trembling.

The boy smiled.

"Regina?"

She looked from the child to the old man.

The train slowed.

Outside the windows, a platform appeared through the darkness.

A sign passed by.

ASHCROFT

The boy held out his hand.

"You promised you'd come find me."

Regina's eyes filled with tears.

Because he was right.

Thirty years ago, on the night Eddie disappeared, she had made that promise.

She had never told anyone.

Not even the police.

The old Eddie whispered beside her.

"Don't believe him."

Regina looked at the boy.

Then at the old man.

Both had Eddie's face.

Both knew things only Eddie should know.

The train stopped.

The doors opened.

Beyond them stood a deserted platform covered in snow.

At the far end was a clock.

Its hands were moving backward.

The boy smiled.

"Come on."

Regina didn't move.

Then she noticed something reflected in the train window.

The boy had no reflection.

She looked at old Eddie.

Neither did he.

Regina stared at the window.

Her own reflection stood pale and terrified in the glass.

Behind her, the carriage stretched away.

Empty.

No boy.

No old man.

She turned.

Both Eddies were still there.

The twelve-year-old stood in the aisle.

The old man stood beside her.

Neither moved.

Neither spoke.

Regina's heart hammered.

"What are you?"

The boy's smile disappeared.

The old man's face tightened.

"Regina," he said quietly. "We don't have time."

"Answer me."

The station clock continued turning backward.

11:42.

11:41.

11:40.

Outside, snow fell without making a sound.

The old man looked toward the open doors.

Then back at Regina.

"I told you the truth."

"Not all of it."

"No."

"Then tell me now."

The boy interrupted.

"He's lying."

Regina ignored him.

The old man took a long breath.

"I never came back onto the train."

Regina felt something inside her go still.

"What?"

"Ashcroft was where I died."

The boy's eyes flicked toward him.

Eddie continued.

"I got off when I was twelve. I thought I heard Dad calling me. I followed him into the station."

His voice cracked.

"By the time I realized it wasn't Dad, the train was leaving."

Regina looked at the old man.

"Then how are you here?"

"I've been waiting."

"For what?"

"For you."

The carriage lights went out.

Only the cold white glow from Ashcroft Station remained.

The boy took one step closer.

"He's not Eddie."

The old man whispered, "Neither is he."

Regina looked between them.

"Then where is my brother?"

Silence.

The station clock reached 11:30.

Something moved at the far end of the platform.

A shadow.

Tall.

Thin.

It walked beneath the lamps.

Each light went dark as it passed.

One by one.

The old man looked terrified.

"We need to go."

The boy backed away.

For the first time, he looked frightened too.

Regina understood.

Whatever was approaching, both of them feared it.

The train doors remained open.

"Tell me where Eddie is."

The old man grabbed her shoulders.

"Regina, listen to me. This train doesn't take you into the past. It takes you to places you can't let go of."

The shadow moved closer.

Another lamp died.

"And the things outside?" Regina asked.

"They're memories."

"The things inside?"

Eddie looked at the boy.

"Regrets."

The boy's face twisted.

"I'm real."

"No," Regina whispered.

He looked at her.

"You promised you'd find me."

"I know."

"You didn't."

Regina flinched.

The words hurt because they were true.

She had searched.

For months.

Then years.

Eventually she stopped saying Eddie's name every day.

She went to university.

Found work.

Moved away.

Laughed again.

And every time she laughed, some part of her had hated herself for it.

The boy stepped closer.

"You left me here."

"No."

"You forgot me."

"I never forgot you."

"Then come with me."

He held out his hand.

Behind him, the carriage was changing.

The seats faded.

The walls disappeared.

Regina saw their childhood home.

The kitchen.

Sunlight through the curtains.

Her father cooking breakfast.

Her mother humming by the sink.

Eddie sitting at the table, twelve years old forever.

A normal morning.

A life that had never broken.

Regina's chest ached.

Her mother turned.

"Breakfast is ready."

Her father smiled.

Eddie pulled out a chair.

"We've been waiting for you."

Regina took one step forward.

The old man caught her arm.

"There's no going back now."

The words struck her differently this time.

Not as a threat.

As the truth.

Regina looked at the kitchen.

At her mother.

Her father.

Her little brother.

She wanted it so badly that breathing hurt.

But the sunlight wasn't warm.

The clock above the kitchen door wasn't moving.

And none of them were breathing.

Regina closed her eyes.

"I loved you."

Eddie's child voice answered.

"Then stay."

She opened her eyes.

"No."

The kitchen flickered.

Her mother's smile vanished.

Regina looked at the boy.

"I loved you, Eddie."

His face began to tremble.

"But you're gone."

The walls cracked.

"You can't leave me!"

"I already did."

The boy screamed.

The illusion shattered.

Regina was back inside the train.

Ashcroft Station waited outside.

The shadow was almost at the doors now.

The old man pulled Regina toward the next carriage.

"Go!"

They ran.

Behind them came a sound like hundreds of people screaming underwater.

The train doors slammed shut.

The shadow struck the glass.

The entire carriage shook.

Then the train began moving.

Ashcroft slipped away.

Regina collapsed against a seat.

The old man sat opposite her.

For a while, neither spoke.

Then Regina looked at him.

"If Eddie died there, who are you?"

He smiled sadly.

"I'm the part of him you kept alive."

Regina's eyes filled with tears.

"My memory?"

"Something like that."

"Why are you old?"

"Because this is how you imagined him."

Regina frowned.

Eddie touched his face.

"Every birthday after I disappeared, you wondered what I'd look like."

Twenty.

Thirty.

Forty.

Fifty.

Regina had imagined every version.

The brother who might have married.

Who might have had children.

Who might have grown gray beside her.

She covered her mouth.

Eddie smiled.

"You gave me a whole life."

Regina began crying.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I should've protected you."

"You were fifteen."

"I told you I'd come find you."

"You tried."

"I stopped."

"You lived."

She looked at him.

Eddie leaned forward.

"That's what you were supposed to do."

The train entered another tunnel.

This time, Regina wasn't afraid of the darkness.

When they emerged, dawn filled the windows.

The carriage had changed.

Clean seats.

Bright lights.

Morning commuters.

Real people.

A woman drank coffee.

A teenager slept against the window.

Someone's headphones leaked tinny music.

Regina turned.

Eddie was gone.

On the seat opposite her lay the black envelope.

Her hands shook as she opened it.

The photograph was still inside.

But it had changed.

It showed two children beneath an apple tree.

Regina recognized herself immediately.

Eight years old.

Beside her sat Eddie, five, holding a tiny wooden cross made from ice-pop sticks.

Between them was a small hole filled with pieces of blue porcelain.

Regina laughed through her tears.

She turned the photograph over.

There was one final message.

This time, she recognized the handwriting.

Her own.

You found him.

The train slowed.

A normal announcement sounded overhead.

"Final stop."

People stood and collected their bags.

Regina stepped onto the platform.

Morning sunlight touched her face.

Her phone buzzed.

Signal restored.

11:58 p.m.

Only one minute had passed.

The sirens were gone.

The mysterious train was gone too.

Regina stood alone on the platform.

For thirty years, she had imagined that finding Eddie would mean bringing him home.

She finally understood.

Sometimes finding someone meant accepting where their story ended.

Regina walked out of the station.

Months later, she returned to the house where she'd grown up.

The apple tree was still there.

Older now.

Its branches stretched across half the garden.

Regina knelt beneath it and began digging.

It took twenty minutes.

Then her fingers touched something hard.

Blue porcelain.

She laughed.

And cried.

And kept digging.

At the bottom of the little grave, beneath the broken pieces of the vase, she found two rotted ice-pop sticks tied together with string.

Regina sat beneath the tree until sunset.

Before leaving, she placed the photograph in the hole.

Then she covered everything with soil.

She didn't build another cross.

She didn't need one.

As she walked toward the house, wind moved through the apple branches behind her.

For just a moment, it sounded like a boy laughing.

Regina stopped.

She almost turned around.

Almost.

Then she smiled and kept walking.