“Here?”
“What have you seen in the eyes of the passengers we’ve met?” Raya looked directly at him. “They all seem so happy and grateful to be on this train, but are they?”
Q narrowed his eyes. “You don’t believe that they want to be here?”
“Like you said, comfort can trick people into being content. What’s more comfortable than a train that lets you leave all your troubles behind and allows you to live forever in a magical paradise without paying rent?”
Q shook his head. “That’s different.”
“Is it? I genuinely want to know what you’ve seen on their faces because for as many wonders as this train has surrounded us with, this train car has given me just as many reasons to doubt that the Elsewhere Express is what it presents itself to be.”
“Why? Because Olly got lost here?”
“Because in all that time that Olly was gone, not a single person on this train thought to look for him here,” Raya said. “No one cares if this department exists or not because no one here misses anything or worries about things they’ve lost or left behind. But look outside, Q. Look at the sheer number of thoughts people devote to thinking about things that have gone missing from their lives. It’s part ofbeing human. How can passengers spend an eternity on this train and never once think about loss? How much of them really remains after they drink Mr. Goh’s remedy?” Raya locked eyes with Q. “Are they as happy as they claim to be or are they smiling because they’re as hollowed out as the Echoes and no longer have anything they care enough about to feel sad?”
Q walked ahead, unable to give Raya an answer. Apart from Lily and Raya, he had not looked at anyone closely enough to see anything other than what he wanted to see. Olly did not count. Wherever he was behind his eyes, he was too far away.
Q had broken his own cardinal rule. Never had he been so willing to be lied to. The train had given him his sight back. If not questioning it was the price of his ticket, he was happy to pay it in full. Painting within the lines did not seem so terrible if it allowed him to see the colors on the page. He stopped in front of the dresser and reached for its top drawer.
Raya inhaled sharply.
“What is it?” Q looked her way.
“The wall.”
Q’s gaze flew to the wall behind the dresser. Scratches that had not been visible from afar covered every inch of it like the marks left by fingernails in damp dungeon cells. Q traced the dents.
“I wonder if it happened gradually or fast,” Raya said quietly.
“What did?” Q withdrew his hand from the wall.
“The way Olly lost his mind. Did it drag out or did it drop on top of him like a downpour of coins?” Raya turned her hand over, exposing the knot on her palm. “I can’t decide if it’s better to go mad before the knot unravels or after. And if it makes any difference.”
Q clasped her shoulders. “Look at me, Raya. We’re going to find a way out of here long before that knot comes undone.”
“Are we? We don’t know that.” Raya backed away from him. “We don’t know anything about this place, this tree house, or even this stupid dresser.” She pulled the dresser’s top drawer open a sliver and shoved it shut. She sank to the floor. “I don’t want it to be empty, Q. It can’t be.”
Q sat on the floor, leaning his head against the dresser. Though it wasn’t a box, the dresser wielded the same magic any box that was home to Schrödinger’s cats did. For as long as it remained closed, the dresser contained three custom-made and dust-free pieces of hope, the exact shape and size of its three drawers. Apart from hope, they could also hold anything Q wished. He filled the first drawer with the exact directions to the train car’s exit, the second with two sturdy umbrellas, and the third with a flashlight. He threw in his favorite pork belly buns because he was hungry and added a bottle of Shiraz and two glasses to his imaginary stash. “Have you tried gua bao?”
“Pork belly buns? Yes. Why?”
“They’re my ultimate comfort food,” Q said. “If you could fill these drawers with anything, what would you put inside them? So far, I have a map of the valley, umbrellas, flashlights, some gua bao, and a bottle of wine.”
“Sour gummies. Candy bars. Cake. Any kind. And chocolate chip cookies. Chewy ones with big chunks.”
“They do teach you about diabetes in medical school, right?” A smirk dimpled Q’s cheek.
“Blame Jace. He used to help me steal—” Raya hugged her knees.
“I’m sorry about what happened to your brother.”
“White or red?” Raya said without looking at him.
“Sorry?”
“What kind of wine did you put in the dresser? White or red?”
“A Shiraz.”
