out which cabin they were in? Because I was.”
32
Every time the train stopped at a station, either Logan or Daeng would step out onto the platform, and keep an eye on the first class cars to make sure the others didn’t leave. At around nine, they grabbed something to eat in the restaurant car, and dined to the singing of a group of three Irish backpackers who’d had a few too many Chang Beers.
When they returned to their car, their booth was no longer a booth. The porter had transformed not only theirs, but all the other booths into upper and lower sleeping berths. Each was only wide enough for one person. That explained why there were only two people per booth. Some people had apparently already checked out for the night as baby blue curtains were pulled across the aisle side of several of the berths.
“You take the top one,” Daeng said.
“Since I paid for the tickets, you take the top one,” Logan told him. The lower berth had a wider bed.
“And here I thought I was doing you a favor. Maybe I should charge you for my services.”
Daeng got the lower.
Since the train would be making stops throughout the night, they agreed to split the time into two-hour shifts so that one of them would always be awake. Logan had first shift, and took a train-length walk every thirty minutes to keep his focus.
It was odd how quiet everything had become. With the exception of his new Irish friends, it seemed like the whole train was asleep. Even the porters and the people who’d been working in the now closed restaurant were nowhere to be found.
The three from Ireland—Barry, Brian, and Saoirse, pronounced
“Kicked out of the dining car when it closed,” Brian told Logan. “You can walk through, but you can’t sit there any longer. Who closes a dining car at ten?”
Every time Logan passed, they’d offer him a beer, and try to coax him into sitting so they could talk about the places they’d visited, and the ones they were still planning on seeing. The beer he passed on, but a couple of times he stayed for a few minutes to pass the time.
The only cars he avoided were the front two first class ones, in the closest of which was Aaron and the others’ cabin. No sense in pressing his luck.
When the train stopped at a station, he always made sure he was at least two cars deep in second class, so that when he stepped onto the platform—not much more than concrete slabs in front of most of the station buildings—he would be less noticeable if the others stepped out, too.
When midnight came, he switched with Daeng, and tried to get a little sleep.
It only felt like seconds, though, before Daeng was shaking his shoulder, and they switched places again.
At the sink, Logan splashed water on his face, then started his walk.
The Irish backpackers had apparently decided enough was enough, because the curtain was pulled over the berth they’d been sitting in, and the area was quiet. Logan half wondered if they’d knocked out on their own, or if it had been “suggested” by some of their neighbors that they might want to curtail the conversation, and get some shut eye.
Whatever the case, he was left alone.
He decided to use the time thinking over everything again, retracing his steps, rerunning conversations, and trying to make sure he hadn’t missed something that might be important.
As he was remembering Elyse’s apartment, he started thinking about the paintings on her wall, the same girl in each image always on the edge of the action. In some, she seemed to just be watching, while in others it was like she wanted to join in but was waiting. Then there was the winged girl in the tree, alone but smiling like she had a secret. Even so, there was an innocence about her, a life on the verge of being lived.
It was only natural that he then starting thinking about Carl and Afghanistan and the day everything changed.
The heat of summer hadn’t taken hold of Afghanistan yet. Which was fine by Logan. Unlike Carl, he wasn’t a fan of the heat. They’d flown over to meet with a group of their men who’d been sent in to serve at a checkpoint just outside of Kabul.
Easy stuff, really. They just had to run a few assessments, and make sure the men were up to speed on everything required of them.
It had been going well. Very well, in fact. The guys were in good spirits, and their physical condition exceeded expectations. Unless something unexpected happened, Logan and Carl would be home by the weekend.
Ironically, both things came true.
It was Carl’s idea, but it could have just as easily been Logan’s.
For the first time in years, Carl had a serious girlfriend. Her name was Brenda, and they’d been going out for nearly four months. Every time he and Logan traveled somewhere he made sure to pick her up something interesting.
On this trip he’d heard from some security guys who’d been in the country for a while about some tablecloths that were supposed to be big hits with the wives back home.
That day they finished early, freeing up most of their afternoon. So Carl had talked their Afghani guide into taking them and a few other Forbus guys to the shop where these cloths were sold.
