Flash Fiction: Murder on the 912 to Frisco

Lyla tried to stop the bleeding, but once it started trickling from between his lips she knew he was as good as dead. That wasn’t going to keep her from trying to save his life.

Sitting back on her heels, she offered the stranger what she hoped was an encouraging smile. She had only met him an hour ago when she got on this train. Nick? Was that what he had said his name was? He’d said that he was getting married this weekend and was traveling to the city to finish up some work before his big day. The knot in her stomach tightened until she thought she was going to be sick.

She had been in the bathroom when the screaming started. By the time she got the nerve to step out, most of the other passengers had crammed into the remaining cars, leaving Nick to bleed out on his own.

Lyla’s eyes scanned the train car. Whoever had done this had either melded into the chaos or jumped to his death. She glanced outside — snow still fell in heavy clumps. She shivered. Even if someone had managed to survive the jump, it would be a long, cold walk to civilization.

She blew her bangs out of her face, ignoring the blood — his blood — on her hands. “Who did this?” She wasn’t sure if Nick had seen his attacker, but she had to ask. Peter would be waiting for her on the other side of this hellish ride and any information she could provide would make it easier for him and his team to solve the crime.

Nick attempted to shrug a shoulder but grimaced instead.

“Hold on, Nick.” The 912 to Frisco was only an hour and a half trip. They should be arriving in the terminal at any moment. “We’re almost there.”

Nick shook his head from side to side. “Can’t hold on … it’s you.”

Her? What was her? “Nick, what are you talking about? Of course, you can hold on. You have to. You’re getting married this weekend.” Lyla grabbed a discarded cloth napkin and pressed it to Nick’s chest. She chuckled. “Your fiancé is gonna be pretty upset if you don’t show up.”

Nick grabbed her arm an urgency in his voice. “They were here for you.” He fell back to the ground, head lolling to the side.

“Nick?” Lyla felt for a pulse. It was there, but barely. The napkin was already soaked through. She reached for Nick’s coat, hoping that it would work better.

A slip of paper floated to the floor. Her seat number was scribbled in blue ink along with words that made Lyla’s blood run ice cold.

“Lyla must die.”

The air sucked out of the cabin. Lyla couldn’t breathe. A chill made its way down her spine, and she glanced over her shoulder.

Nick sucked in his last shuttering breath. She couldn’t wait to get off this train.

There had been a murder, and she had the sinking feeling she was next.