Black Knight #11

Jim DiCul rode the train home from work every single day. It was a two-hour commute and it was always crowded. Jim worked as a sales associate; that was a nice way of saying Jim sold trash service to people who had trash. Everyone had trash, so everyone pretty much had trash service already. Jim spent every day on the phone prostrating himself to these customers, trying to get them to have their trash hauled with him. It was degrading.

"Gamgee! Next stoooop, Gamgee!"

That's funny. Gamgee?

"Excuse me, sir?" Jim said to the conductor. "Where's Gamgee? I've never heard of it before."

"Never heard of it?" laughed the conductor. "Well, son, we'll be there in just a few minutes. You can see it then." Jim asked how long the train would be stopped there. Five or ten minutes, said the conductor.

Today Jim had found himself having to tolerate the shrill laugh and redneck drawl of a woman who owned a salon. For two hours, she kept him on the phone, all morning, and then in the end she didn't even end up buying trash service from Jim's company. When Jim hung up the phone and went to find someone to vent to, he found they'd all already left for lunch without him. Jim didn't have a car -- hence the train -- so it was vending machine food. Again.

"Gamgee! Now pulling into the station at Gaaaamgee! We'll be here for fiiiive minutes."

Jim had ridden this train for each of his thirteen years as a sales associate. He'd never heard of Gamgee before. What a strange little town it must be. Jim found himself curious.

He walked to the door of the train and peeked his head out. A large sign read, "Welcome to Gamgee." A child rode his bike down the street nearby; the houses all had personality. A young woman walking nearby turned, saw Jim, and smiled. She was pretty. She waved at Jim, and Jim waved back. He figured he'd better get back to his seat.

He sat down and stared out the window as the train began to pull away. A dog ran at the feet of the letter carrier, a tiny little dog. The mail man turned, reached down, and ruffled the dog's fur playfully... and then it was gone. The train chugged on.

When Jim got home, he greeted his wife, Kara, with a bleak "hi." He had long ago stopped telling her about his days; he had nothing to tell, and it bored her.

"Dinner's in the fridge. Spaghetti," Kara said, flipping blankly through the TV channels. Jim really didn't like spaghetti.

The next day at work, Jim's boss, Ethan, chewed him out for his sales numbers. "You've been here for thirteen years, Jim," he barked, "and I've got junior associates who are outselling you!" Jim meekly apologized and promised to work extra hard. He said he'd stay late, whatever it took. "You'd damn well better," said Ethan. "I'm sick of you not pulling your weight."

That night, Jim stayed even later than usual, calling old contacts, old customers who had left. He managed to lock down one sale that day, but he knew it wouldn't be enough. Desperate, he started cold-calling from the Yellow pages (the goddamn Yellow Pages, he thought to himself) but it was starting to be useless. Everyone had gone home.

He figured he had better too. After he'd been on the train a while and night had set, he heard the conductor's voice call "Gaaaamgee! Next stop, Gamgee! Just a few minutes until Gaaaaamgee!" Jim peered out the window as they stopped. Streetlamps pooled gentle orange light onto the pavement. A man and woman walked, quietly, hand in hand, enjoying each other's company. It seemed like such a beautiful city. Jim found himself almost involuntarily standing up, but the train pulled away.

When Jim got home, he noticed another car in the driveway. Entering the house, there was no one downstairs. Jim, puzzled, wandered into the living room and saw no one; suddenly, he heard Kara coming downstairs.

"Jim, you're home!" she said, out of breath and a little flush.

"I... yeah... Kara, whose car is that?"

"Oh, it's just, um, it's just my friend Peter's."

"Oh."

"I invited him over for dinner, just, you know, just to hang out."

"I see. Well. Okay, sure, I think I'm just going to make a sandwich or something. It's late."

"Are you okay, Jim?"

"Of course. Heh, sure!"

At work the next day, he didn't get chewed out. No one talked to Jim at all, in fact; they carried on conversations right in the door to his office with each other, never even acknowledging he was in there. He called back to confirm some route details with the customer he had landed last night... and the telephone just rang and rang. No one answered.

Jim was depressed.

Jim was down.

But Jim wasn't out.

Jim took his coat and left work early. At three o'clock, he boarded the train, enough time to be home by five. But Jim wasn't going home. Not today. He eagerly awaited the conductor's call, and when it came, he nearly jumped out of his seat:

"Gamgee! Next stop! Gamgee train station!"

Jim waited by the door of the train as it pulled to a halt. "Eager to be on your way?" asked the conductor. "Seems like a nice little town," Jim said. "Think I'll have dinner here." The conductor swung open the door and placed the stool on the ground so Jim could step lightly. He did so, and on the platform of the station, looked around and breathed a deep breath.

Jim felt tranquil. And peaceful. "Afternoon," said a woman on a nearby street. "You new here?" she asked. The train pulled away from the station, slowly, then faster, until it disappeared in the distance. Jim took another deep breath. But then Jim screamed at the top of his lungs.

--

Two men lifted the heavy casket with both hands, sliding it slowly into the back of a hearse. "Easy, easy!" said one. "You hear what happened with this guy?" said the other. Shook his head no. "Apparently, the poor bastard just stepped off the back of a train in the middle of nowhere. Strangest thing I've ever heard. Just... stepped off."

"Damndest thing," said the other, and swung the back door to the hearse shut.

On its reverse, it read: "GAMGEE FUNERAL HOME."