I'm staring out the window, watching the scenery as it whizzes past the window. The green of the trees and the blue of the sky move by so rapidly, it's all a blur of colour.

I sigh as I glance over at the empty seat across from me. It would've been nice to have some company along the long journey home. But unfortunately, mine seems to be one of the only compartments where there's only one person.

"Nothing to be done, I suppose," I murmur to myself as I lean my elbow against the window railing. I notice a pasture of lovely blue flowers fly by, and I resist the urge to reach a hand out to try and touch it, far away as it is.

I'm settling into the rhythm of the train when I feel my eyes start to fall shut. The purr of the engine and the gentle rocking of the train as it chugs along the tracks try their best to lull me to sleep.

But just as I'm about to fall into sleep's blissful embrace, the train jerks suddenly, causing me to hit my head against the window grill.

I right myself grumbling, my chance at sleep suddenly lost. I groan out loud, unable to stand the monotony of the journey a second longer. So carefully easing off my crimson tie, I stuff it into my briefcase before exiting the cramped compartment.

I stretch my arms out luxuriously as I emerge, checking either end of the corridor to make sure no one is watching me. Once I've thoroughly eased the ache out of my joints, I set off towards the end carriage, my long legs crossing the length of the train with sprightly strides.

I pass by the multitudes of compartments that encase me on either side. I can't help but peek into some of them, my quick glances revealing lone businessmen typing away into their phones and mothers trying to handle their crying children.

I finally arrive at the final compartment, pushing open the door that leads to the small balcony off the back off the train. I hold my breath in anticipation as I revel in the thought of being outside, even if it is only for a few moments.

But my feet suddenly pause, my hand still grasping the rusty door handle.

Because it's not empty like I thought it would be.

Instead there's a young woman leaning dangerously far out over the railing. The rapid winds are flinging her golden strands of hair about her face, and she moves a hand up to brush it away.

She must not have heard the door creaking open over the loud chugs of train. Not wanting to startle her, I approach cautiously, one hand still poised on the handle.

"Hello?" I call out. But my voice is faint and whispery, so I clear my throat and try again. "Hello?"

The figure in front of me doesn't startle. She doesn't flinch or make any sort of movement to indicate she heard me. Quite the opposite, really, because she goes as still as untouched water at the sound of my voice.

I take a tentative step forwards, hoping I'm not intruding on her privacy.

"I can go, if you'd rather be alone," I say.

She waits for a beat before answering, her knuckles turning white on the railing. "No, that's alright."

Her voice is raspy, paper thin.

I hesitate. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose."

"I'm sure."

Her words reassure me a little, but I'm still reluctant. But the possibility of cool wind against my face is too tempting an offer, and I move forward to stand beside my companion.

I hold out a hand once I've approached her. She stares at it, bemused.

"Thomas," I say, my hand still hanging awkwardly between us. "My name, that is."

I watch as she swallows slowly, her throat bobbing as she does. She's still staring at my hand as if it's the bane of her existence.

Just as I'm about to drop it, she grasps my hand in a feather light grip. "Mallory," she chokes out, voice sounding strangely strangled.

I nod, shaking her hand. I want to ask her more- why she looks so scared and forlorn, but it's not my place to do so.

So instead we stand in silence, the screech of the wheels on the metal tracks loud and rumbling. Still, the breeze is a pleasant reprieve as the train carries along, and I find myself grateful for the distraction.

Dimly, I register a small sniffing sound beside me. When I look over, I see Mallory standing with her head hung low, tears dripping silently down her face.

My lips part as I work out what to say. But the right words escape me and I'm left speechless. So instead I pull out an embarrassingly embroidered handkerchief from my vest and hold it out to her.

But to my dismay, my offer seems to only trigger a fresh wave of tears. Her blonde hair obscures most of her face but I can still see the tracks they leave, etched into her skin.

The hand holding my handkerchief shakes as I desperately try to puzzle out what I possibly could have done to offend her. Whether her tears are because of me.

I gulp and consider heading back to my compartment before I make things worse. But before I can do so, Mallory gingerly plucks the scrap of fabric out of my grasp.

Instead of wiping away her tears like I expect, she simply clutches it to her chest, eyes shut as she sucks in a controlled breath.

"Are you... Are you alright?"

She unfurls my handkerchief and stares at the small flowers along the border. "No," she finally admits.

I nod. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Another long pause. "Maybe. But I don't think you'd believe me if I told you what's wrong."

I stare out into the distance. The afternoon sun is high, and it casts everything in equal parts brightness and shadow. Except Mallory, who seems to be all light.

"Try me," I say.

She stares out into the trees beyond the rails. "Do you believe in magic?"

I blink once. I open my mouth to answer, but then shut it again, reconsidering. After a long moment, I say, "Not yet. But I think I could if I saw it myself."

Mallory hums in agreement, the sound low and soft. "I didn't. Thought all the Hocus Pocus and Abracadabra was nonsense. Just party tricks and sleights of hand."

"Didn't?"

She looks up at me, and I notice her eyes are the colour of silver lined storm clouds.

"I'm sorry?"

"You said 'didn't'. So you do now?"

She sighs. "At this point, I think I'd be a fool not to."

"What happened, Mallory?"

She takes a deep breath. "I think I'm stuck in a time loop. The same thing repeating over and over again?"

I can't help staring at her, puzzled, but somewhat amused. My lips quirk up slightly as I try to process what the joke is.

But my smile quickly slides off my face when I take in the dead serious expression on her face.

She sighs. "You don't believe me." She lets out a sardonic laugh. "I suppose I can't exactly blame you. Even I'd think it to be insane. And yet..."

I don't know what to say. "I'm sorry. I thought..."

Her pewter eyes turn to me again, and I shove down the stange feeling of guilt clawing at my throat. What she's saying is ridiculous. Absolute madness.

And yet, indeed.

Mallory's grip on the rail becomes impossibly tight. Her mouth hardens into a grim line as her mood goes from morose to solemn determination.

"Alright, then," she says. "What if I told you that someone on this train is carrying a bomb?"

The bluntness of her words takes me aback. Again, I'm tempted to think this is all just one big joke, but her tears still haunt me. And though my pragmatic mind is howling at the audacity, I consider it. "Well, it's unlikely, but not impossible. Do you have any proof?"

"I- No. Not yet, at least."

"Well, that might be a good way to start. What about a lead? Anything that could indicate someone being in possession of an explosive?"

She shuts her eyes. "No. I probably should have done that instead of crying." She clenches her fists at her sides. "But no more of that. I have to do something."

I tilt my bead to the side, curious. "But why?"

"What do you mean?"

"What happens if you don't? And why you?"

"I don't know why me. Of course, you won't believe me, but for some reason, I'm the only one who remembers. The only one who can stop it. And if I don't, everybody on this train dies."

I take a step back. Whatever I expected her to say, that wasn't it. "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"Know that I wouldn't believe you. Fantastical as your story is, there was always the chance that I would be of the whimsical type. And yet you seemed so sure when you said so."

She purses her lips and looks away. "Because we've done this before, you and I. You didn't believe me then, and you won't believe me now."

It suddenly occurs to me that I truly do want to believe her. Trust in her words, no matter how strange. Because something about this woman with the unruly golden hair compels me; draws me in.

I want to. Because there's something I'm missing. Something that nags at me from the very deepest reaches of my mind.

I want to.

But I can't.

I am a sensible man, after all. And just because she practically radiates light, doesn't mean it's enough to change my entire system of beliefs.

What she's claiming is impossible, I tell myself. A fantasy. A lie.

And yet.

Mallory must see the turmoil in my eyes, because her gaze turns steely with resolve. She steps closer to me, and despite my instincts compelling me otherwise, I don't step back.

Suddenly, her eyes widen.

She gasps and whirls on her heel, swiftly making her way back into the train.

I haste to follow her, my long legs catching up to her strides easily. I place a hand on her shoulder as soon as she's within reach, and she turns to face me, eyes alight with something I can't quite place. Recognition? Pride?

No.

Hope.

"Where are you going?" I ask, suddenly acutely aware of how little distance there is between us.

"I have a hunch. I can't know for sure, but I think I know who it is."

"Who is it?"

"This man that we- that I ran into. He was dressed in this fancy suit and stuff, and he was being strangely rude to us."

I pretend not to notice her change of words. "That's hardly a reason to suspect someone of arson."

"I know. But that isn't all. When he passed us, there was this ticking sound. At the time, I thought it was just his watch; but it was too loud for just that. It was almost deafening. And it's the exact same sound I heard when the bomb went off the first two times."

She's talking animatedly, her eyes sparkling with newfound determination. I realise my hand is still perched on her warm shoulder, so I go to pull it back. But then she's clasping it within her own, staring right into my eyes.

Right into my soul.

"Will you help me?" she asks.

"What do you need me for?" My voice is strangled because of how close she is, how warm her hands are around mine.

"To find him, Thomas. It would be so much faster with the both of us."

I snatch my hand away, her touch suddenly burning. "You want me to help you accuse a man of what? Committing a crime he's done in some alternate universe?"

"No. I want you to help me stop him from doing it again."

I hold my hands behind my back so she doesn't see them shake. "Do you realise how serious an accusation this is? This is murder you're talking about!"

Her eyes are shining furiously now. "Of course I know how serious this is." Her voice cracks. "I've seen it first hand. Twice."

"But what if he's innocent? You'll get into so much trouble for this."

"I'll be in trouble no matter what I do!" Tears are forming along her lashes but she blinks them away. "You might think I'm lying. That this is all some big hoax. But I watched you burn. And I don't know if I can do it again."

I stumble back as if she struck me, her words revertebrating within me over and over again.

She looks so small now. As if all the determination and fury's drained out of her. "I can't do this alone. I need your help because I'm so scared. Scared amd confused and tired. I don't know what's happening or why it is, but I just-" she cuts herself off with a shudder. "I can't let you die again."

"You barely know me," I whisper. But even as I say it, I realise that if what she's claiming is true, then she does know me. Better than I know her.

"Do you believe me, Thomas?"

I look away, my hands flexing uselessly at my sides. I can't lie to her.

In my periphery, I notice Mallory nod her head in quiet resignation. She doesn't look surprised, but she does look disappointed. And despite the fact that to me, she is in fact, a perfect stranger, I find myself wishing things were different.

"Will you help me, then?"

I sigh, and my protests dissolve into ash in my mouth. "Yeah. Yeah, I will."

She smiles, and suddenly, everything seems like it's worth it.

"Let's go, then."

We walk by the length of the train, passing one coach after another. I hadn't realised how far my compartment was from the end car the last time I made this journey. Mallory stops for a second once we arrive at the pantry, and she takes a wistful look around.

I wonder what that's about.

"Do you know what he looks like?" I ask, once we're only two coaches away.

"Yeah. He's tall and stocky. Looks like your typical businessman. Wearing a striped suit. Slicked hair, polished shoes." She pauses. "Briefcase."

"Shouldn't we inform the authorities? Maybe tell the conductor we have reason to suspect something."

"No..." she shakes her head slowly. "They wouldn't take us seriously. He's rich and influential, and they wouldn't want to mess with someone like him."

"But what..." I clear my throat. "What are you even going to do if you find him? Accuse him?"

I notice Mallory press her lips together. "I'm not sure yet. But we have to do something. If it is him, I'll stop him somehow. And if it isn't, I'll find out who it is."

Suddenly, a sound fills the air. A low, monotonous, robotic sort of sound.

Ticking.

"Fuck," Mallory swears out loud before sprinting forwards past my compartment and into first class.

People are emerging from their seats on either side of us, a curiously poking their heads out to investigate the strange noise.

This can't be good.

The sound gets louder with every step we take. Louder and faster, just like my heart, pumping away furiously in my chest.

Mallory starts throwing open doors at random once we reach first class, frantically peering into each in search of the man. None seem to be right as she proceeds past each just as soon as she looks in.

I throw apologetic glances left and right as I too join her in her pursuit. Our panic seems to be contagious, because soon everybody is huddling outside, the air heavy with whispers. A guard has made his way into the midst of the mob and is trying to calm the crowd, but to no avail.

Mallory is undeterred, however, and skids over to the only unopened door in the coach. She doesn't hesitate before sliding it open.

I see her scream before I hear it, her eyes widening with fear. She freezes for a split second before diving into the compartment, out of sight. I shove my way to her, not caring who I might be pushing over, because Mallory is screaming and something is ticking and everything seems horribly wrong.

When I finally reach her, my blood runs cold.

A large contraption is spread out on the floor, wires spilling out the sides of the briefcase in which it was contained.

A bomb.

Mallory is currently wrestling with a man who's at least twice her size. He wears a tailored pinstriped suit, though there's a large hole torn out below the breast pocket. Despite Mallory clawing at him, the man laughs. A cold, chilling laugh that makes me want to scream.

I jump in to try and help, but the man pins both of Mallory's wrists together and throws her to the floor effortlessly.

"What did you do?!" Mallory screams ad she struggles to her elbows. I rush towards her and help her rise, glancing helplessly at the big red numbers ticking down.

"We have to get out of here," I whisper, but my voice hardly carries.

She ignores me, throwing herself to the floor next to the bomb, hands fluttering uselessly as she tries to disable it. I'm too numb with shock to do anything but stare.

Stare as Mallory starts ripping out wires at random. Stare as the man laughs again, cruel and unyielding. Stare as the blinking lights count down the mere seconds I have left in my life.

Mallory pounds at the bomb one last time before letting out a growl of frustration. The sound suddenly breaks my frozen stature and I start to run outside to alert someone. Anyone.

There must be something I can do.

I see flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. Blonde hair whipping forward as Mallory punches the man in the jaw. He goes sprawling to the floor, but doesn't resist as Mallory pummels him. Her punches are feral and uncoordinated, and she must be doing more damage to her knuckles than to him.

But that doesn't seem to bother her.

She pulls him forward by the collar. "You have to stop it."

But he laughs and spits out blood on the floor beside him. "Even if I wanted to, I can't. It's too late, girl. I'm going down, and I'm taking everyone here with me."

Mallory screams again and shoves his head to the floor. It meets it with a sickening crack, and his body goes limp.

"Mallory," I say. "Mallory!" My plan to go find someone disintegrates as my body is suddenly flooded with pure panic.

She's kneeling on the floor, hair now matted to her forehead. "We were too late."

I stumble backwards, the sight of the bomb on the floor making me sick."It can't be too late!" I can't conceal my terror.

But Mallory doesn't rise from her spot. She stays where she is, motionless. "Next time," she mumbles faintly.

My disbelief is apparent."Do you even hear yourself? There won't be a next time! We're going to die."

She presses herself against the wall and shuts her eyes. "I wasted too much time," she murmurs to herself. "There isn't another way, because I'm not strong enough to do this on my own. I have to get you to-"

A shrill keening sound suddenly pierces the air. I cover my ears with my palms as my heartbeat triples.

People have finally registered what's going on. They're huddled at the doorway, their screams shaking the very foundations of the tracks. A guard manages to shove himself into the compartment. I vaguely register his eyes widening with alarm as he brings a walkie-talkie to his mouth.

"I'm sorry," Mallory says over the din. "I should've done something. But I will next time. All this will happen all over again, and I promise I'll fix it."

I shake my head as a roar, louder than the screams, louder than anything I've ever heard before erupts. "You're insane," I croak out.

I don't know if she hears me. But I do see her eyes flash, the gray in them suddenly coming alight with despair. But something else swirls amidst them, even as the compartment goes up in a blaze of red, and even as the world fades to dark, black void.

The train explodes.

And her eyes haunt me through it.