This was supposed to be her way out. She didn’t know how, of course—most of this required a fair amount of improvising in the end. It always does, the play of the helpless one. The mask of weakness. Just keep the two boys focused on each other, fly under the radar, and, sooner or later, she would have an opportunity to act. All she needed then was to seize it. They underestimated her, all of them did. Her aunt, Jay, even Billy sees in her someone that needs saving.

Ash is a failure in many ways, but one thing she has always excelled at is survival.

She leans back from the kiss, looking at his face. Eyes still closed, Billy lingers a bit longer in the moment. It’s not like she lied to him since they found it each again back in the restaurant. She meant every word. That’s what makes work, after all.

“We’re almost at the end of the train,” she says, forcing Billy to return to the moment. “Then what?”

Billy shakes his, looking for words. He turns his head around to look toward the front. “Shit.” He points at the window in each section door, where Jay’s outline is rushing from car to car closer toward them. He’s being slowed by the tight corridors and heavy car doors, but he’s already within sight now.

“We need a plan, Billy.” Ash has yet to tell him about the 9-1-1 call she made earlier, that the next station is surely overrun with authorities by now. And so far, Jay is the only one they’d be after, given his gun and the remote detonator in his possession. She decides to keep that little detail close to her vest, for now.

Billy says, “I don’t really like rushing even closer toward the bomb, but maybe it’ll give him pause to blow it up in some fit of anger.”

They start moving again, but before they reach the next car, Ash has an idea. “The restroom.”

“Don’t exactly have time for that, right now.”

“No,” she says, pointing at the restroom of this car. “You had inside of it. I go to the next car and wait for Jay.”

“Are you out of your mind?” His voice, the serious concern carrying his words, does make her heart go faster.

“It’s you who he wants. And if he truly wants to impress the Boss, he won’t harm her niece.” She ushers him toward the door as she speaks.

“You don’t know that.”

“No, but I know him. His kind. He’s desperate, he wants to be in control, despite this recklessness on the outside. Go, hide. Once he runs past you, you come out from behind him and overwhelm him.” It’s a bad plan, of course, but better than both of them stuck at the end of the train between a bomb and a man with a gun and a grudge.

If she’s right, they’re close to the next station now—it’s not nearly as far a distance as the last stop was. Just stall Jay long enough, give Billy a chance to stop him, and let the cops do the rest.

“Right,” says Billy, and hides before it’s too late.

And then, she is alone.

Jay’s coming closer and closer, crashing through door after door, from car to car, until he catches up with her. His movements are irregular, staggered. Like he hit his head something bad earlier. Concussed, disoriented, driven more by pure rage than reason. Ash simply waits in the middle of the next car, patiently. There are maybe two or three cars left before they reach the end of the train, reach the bomb.

Jay moves right past Billy’s hiding spot, his focus solely on moving to the back as fast as he can. Once through the final door, he raises his gun arm, points at Ash

“Where is Bill?” he asks, not coming any closer. He holds the remote in his other hand, squeezing it tight with stress and rage.

Ash holds up her hands. “He went to the back, Jay. Didn’t want me any closer to the bomb. I think he wants to disarm it.” Lying, when the situation warrants it, comes as natural to her as breathing.

“Stop it, Ash.” He takes a step toward her. Behind him, Billy steps out of the restroom, slowly. If he wants to make it into this car, he needs to be extremely careful, and Jay needs to be even more distracted.

She keeps her hand before her, making herself look as non-threatening as she can. A crack in her voice, she says, “Stop what? I’m not the one pointing a gun at my friends.”

Another wide step, he’s halfway toward her. “Fuck my friends. Don’t think I can’t see right through you. You’re a snake, just like your aunt.”

With a mounting anxiety, she takes a step back. “What are you talking about?”

He waves the gun before her, now that he’s just a couple of feet away from her. “Oh, I noticed all these little tricks you play. The distraction, the hesitation, and yet always observing, reacting. Said so yourself, you’re good at scamming your marks. And Bill is the prime mark, isn’t he?”

“What, do you think I wanted any of this to happen? That this is somehow my fault?” Keep up the mask, by time.

“Shit, what do I know? Either way, you’ve been making every effort for us to not take you seriously. Just for us to give you all the power. But you fucked up, Ash.” She takes one last, small step, and stands now right before her. The gun’s so close to her face, she can smell the oil and the burned powder from when it went off not that long ago.

“Whatever you think is going on here—”

“Just stop it, I said.”

Behind him, Billy managed to get into the car without making a sound louder than the train itself. Jay’s focus is solely on Ash. Her heart’s beating in her ears, while her stomach sinks deeper and deeper.

“What do you want from me, Jay?” She’s crying now, tears forming in her eyes and rolling down gently. This time, Jay’s not feeling any sympathy for her.

“I want you to get to Bill and tell him to give me the phone.”

“The phone?” Fainting ignorance doesn’t work this time. Her voice and eyes give her surprise away in an instant.

Jay catches it, too. “That’s what I thought. Boss called me, see? Told me to get the phone from Bill, that you and him made some sort of deal with her. Way I see it, I get the phone and bring you both in. Should set me up all fine and good.”

Billy is nearly behind him, but he’s moving slowly against the inertia of the train, and in an effort not to give himself away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Even she doesn’t believe her words at this point. As Billy comes up behind Jay, she can’t help but lock eyes with him.

A mistake, one that Jay catches as well.

“You fucking bitch!” Jay spins around, just moments before Bill was ready to tackle him unawares. In a strange repeat of the last time the three of them were together, the two men are locked in a violent dance, struggling to get a hold, or stay out of the way, of the gun.

Then, another shot rings out. Billy staggers backward, drops onto a seat. He holds his side, blood soaking through his clothes. Jay points the gun at him, shaking. Now it’s him with tears in his eyes, his resolve wavering after shooting his best friend. Billy looks up at him, confused, in shock.

The train lurches, then starts slowing down. As they all stagger with the sudden shift, Ash, more out of reflex than conscious effort, throws herself at Jay. Just like the last time. He falls to the ground, the pistol sliding several feet on the ground away from him. He groans, tries to push himself up, but collapses under his own weight. The concussion from earlier catching up with him.

Soon, the cops will find them, unconscious, perhaps dead. With them, they’ll find the gun that shot Billy, the detonator to the bomb in the back of the train. But no trace of her.

Ash kneels before Billy, who’s lying back on the seat. His breathing is shallow, the blood dripping from his hand to the floor, already collecting in a small pool.

“Lee…” he tries to reach her with that bloody hand, barely touching the side of her face with a reddened finger. His eyes try to find hers, but come up empty.

The train slows to a near stop.

He can’t prevent her from reaching into his coat pocket to take out her aunt’s phone. Billy struggles to speak, but the look on his face tells her all.

“I’m sorry, Billy.”

Ash looks at him a last time, then gets up and moves to the back of the train. To the platform at the end, just past the door Jay left open. The duffel bag is still tied to the door, covered in ice and snow. A blinking red light is all that gives away the explosive device under all of it.

The train is slow enough, but the last cars are not inside the station just yet. So she jumps into the undisturbed, perfect snow. The last few commercial cars drive past her, as she pushes through the fresh snow, away from the station. Away from it all.

For what it’s worth, she meant what she said.

She really is sorry.

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