There exists a common train between the port city of Mombasa and Nairobi. It is a wood-burning affair, and organized by class. As such, Enala was given a second-class spot in the older car, while Ludwig and McCloud had spots in the back, in a much nicer car. I myself was relegated to the front flat, with no protection from the elements or seating. Our places reserved, we took them and boarded, although I suddenly noticed something suspicious as Enala was about to leave for her seat - a man towards the back of the crowd, familiar, with dark hair and darker eyes, in a turban... He was watching us. As my eyes met him, he realized he had been seen, and melted into the crowd before I could tell where he'd gone.
"Enala, did you see the man back there?" I pointed where he was to the old woman.
"No, I did not," she replied, confused. "Was it that Indian man again?"
"Yes, I believe it so. Be cautious. I feel he may board your car, and if that is so..."
She searched me with her eyes, and I did not have the heart to worry her further. I did not, in truth, have proof it was the man we saw before, but his gaze made me very nervous all the same.
"Perhaps, it is his brother, Ahja," I faltered, "But all the same, I do not feel right about any of this. If you see him, keep close watch upon him... Please."
She nodded, smiled, and assured me I was right to trust my instincts, then boarded. Lacking any other recourse, I took my leave and boarded the flat as well.
I am no stranger to the way my people are treated by the white man, and I am not envious to have returned to it, but sitting with my people did provide me one thing - much-needed connection with my fellows, many of them from my own tribe or tribes with which my family is friendly. I had not realized how homesick I had been, nor how desperate for companionship from those who understand the old ways, until a kindly old woman shared her blanket to sit upon with me. She told me her husband had woven it, as in the traditional way, for her to take on long journeys. There were those who had brought food also, homemade mandazi and chai to drink with them, amongst other snacks. There was singing of traditional travel songs and much conversation, and for the first time in a very long time I once more felt at home and at peace.
That is not to say that all was well. Far from it. For even in our times of rest and relaxation, it seems, the Red-Tongued One is watching and seeks to cause us great chaos and strife - or at the very least, his agents are. It was long after night had fallen - the train is quite slow to run - when Enala came to the flat, ignoring the porters in the luggage car, and called to me. She said it was urgent and that something had gone very wrong, that McCloud needed to speak with me. I went, of course, and it was in the second-class car I found my fellows appearing very nervous.
"Muuzaji, something is not right," Enala whispered. "I saw the man in the turban again, he was as you predicted, in this car. Then he excused himself and has not come out of the bathroom since. Ludwig knocked on the door to check on him, but he said he was fine. I am not convinced."
"You're sure this is the same guy?" McCloud asked, an eyebrow raised in skepticism. "And you're sure it's not just some really bad curry?"
"My heart tells me no," she replied, and I was immediately on alert. She had not been incorrect before in trusting her instincts on these things, and I stood by that. Then, disaster struck.
"Begging your pardon, ladies," said McCloud, sniffing the air, "But do either of you smell... smoke?"
"Well of course, the train burns wood," was my response, but he put a hand on my shoulder and gave a grave look.
"Not that, Chief. That other smoky smell, it almost smells like something's burning just outside the car..."
I was about to reply when Ludwig suddenly turned in shock from the window, a reddish glow from behind him and a terrible warmth beginning to seep into the cabin.
"Fire!" He exclaimed, "Mein Gott, the train is on fire!"
This was as far as we got before the train car's occupants exploded into panic, and a sickening shrieking from the flat hit my ears. Looking out the window, we saw both the flat and the Dining car were ablaze, two curious specks of light hovering around with a strange intellect as they leapt about, seemingly searching for something and burning people in the process. With little time to waste, McCloud and Ludwig ran to aid those in the dining car... but not before kicking down the door to the bathroom, and finding the turbaned man gone.
"Where the hell did he go?!" McCloud exclaimed. "No time, grab those buckets and fill them, give 'em to Chief!"
Buckets in hand, Enala and myself ran to help those trapped on the flat, and what we found horrified us. The sparks I'd seen before had gone absent, and in their place was a blaze spreading quickly across the flat, consuming anyone in their path. The conductor was panicked, tossing buckets of water and sand onto the platform to prevent the spread, but he was fighting a losing battle. The most we could do was toss our own buckets, then get those still alive out of the way of the flames. It was arduous work, but soon we made quick work of it. We only later learned that those who had not jumped from the flat or burned to death were few and far between, and that even some of those who had survived were heavily injured. My own burn scars from back in Yirrimburra stung in empathy, seeing these poor souls so hurt and ruined, but I could do nothing to help. Ludwig was the only doctor I knew, and he was currently occupied in the dining car.
It was at this point, conveniently, that we heard the others scream for help from the dining car, and ran there. There were no barriers now that chaos had ensued, so we entered freely to find out precisely what had made them so frightened. We could not have imagined what we found, but it did explain those strange sparks we saw earlier. An entire wall of windows was ablaze, and the two men were cornered. Ludwig had a bucket of what appeared to be sand and old cigarette butts, and McCloud had found the seltzer sprayer behind the bar. Both were furiously attacking what appeared at first glance to be two small points of light, no bigger than one's fist, but on closer inspection, the lights had eyes... and teeth, and many small tendrils. They looked somewhat like jellyfish, hovering and afire, and they moved nearly too fast to see with a malevolent purpose, spreading flames wherever they touched. Ludwig tossed the sand on one, and it shrieked in agony before flying back at him in a rage. Terrified, the German ducked, narrowly avoiding being hit, and the bucket fell from his hands.
"Chief, the bucket!" McCloud cried, aiming at the other flying flame, and I wasted no time. I grabbed it, and thinking fast as the thing flew at me, I managed to ensnare it in the upside-down container. It would not hold for long, however - I could already feel the bucket heating up, burning my hands.
Enala got a look on her face, one of determination, and she grabbed a nearby wine bottle, uncorking it, and sprayed it on the flames before I could tell her to stop. Surprisingly, it was carbonated - a champagne - and the flames were discouraged by the spray of foam and liquid. Had that alcohol been a bit more potent, it would have surely only spread the fire, but thanks to Enala's lucky break and quick thinking, the flames were driven back. Ludwig got the hint and found several bottles of seltzer water, shaking them before throwing them to break on the flames and extinguish them. McCloud, using his military training, took aim at one of the skittering sparks, and sprayed, killing the thing near instantly before squishing it like an insect beneath his prosthesis.
"Mm... Smells like the stuff we fuel the plane with. Really brings back memories, eh, Chief?" He smirked, and turned to me.
"It smells like you needing to help me with this bucket, McCloud," was my grumpy reply, "I cannot hold onto it forever, it is getting too hot!"
"Let it out on my count," he replied, focusing and aiming at the bucket. "Ready? Count of three, one... two... three!"
I lifted the bucket and let the being out, and it rapidly curved towards me. I nearly thought it would light me ablaze for a second time when McCloud's aim held true, and he soaked both me and the creature with seltzer water. It shrieked, and I cried in alarm, but it worked. The two skittering, living embers were dead, little more than disgusting pools of something that smelled of kerosene.
"What were those things?" asked Ludwig, poking one of the dead ones with the edge of a butter knife. "They are unlike any living thing I have seen before... and certainly, they are not natural!"
"I don't know," McCloud responded, "But they reminded me a bit of ghost lights back home. See, sometimes when the swamps give off gas, the gas ignites, and it looks just like that. But this... this is different. This is no swamp gas..."
I thought deeply, and a sudden thought occurred to me. It was a strange sort of sudden recognition, as if I had accessed something deeper and unintended for the likes of man, and that recognition made me shudder.
"They serve the Burning God," I murmured. "They are beings of living flame, they come from the stars themselves..."
McCloud gave me a stony look, as if something about my response reminded me of his own sudden recognitions before, and I soon understood. He had experienced the same as I, and took it with grave seriousness. The others seemed baffled as to how I had known this, doubly so when I explained that, no, the Burning God was not a god of my peoples. It was, in fact, not any god I knew of, but a living star... an idea which further frightened me, and which I dare not consider further. We, after all, had a fire to put out.
With the seltzer water trick, the fire quickly became much less of a threat. Those still alive were soon moved into the available non-damaged cars, and the train rolled into Nairobi in the late evening burned and worse for wear, but intact. We of course were stopped by a Lieutenant from the African Rifles, one Montgomery, who took statements. It was Ludwig who noticed the Lieutenant seemed shaken about the entire incident, and with Enala's help we were able to obtain further information.
"It's something about the story you're telling, you see?" He admitted, eyes saddened. "It was like how my old partner, Selkirk, died... he burned just the same way, you see? I had to... recover the body."
"I'm sorry to hear that," the good doctor responded, "I cannot imagine the pain you must have felt, to lose a close friend like that."
"It's not the worst the African Rifles have seen, let me tell you," he responded. "Why, my partner Bumpton over there, he was involved in a rather difficult murder case..."
"Murder case?" I echoed, eyebrow raised. "It would not happen to have been the Carlyle Expedition slaughter... would it?"
Lieutenant Montgomery's moustache twitched in slight surprise, but he was otherwise stony-faced. "Why yes," he admitted, "That was the case, I'm surprised the news spread to the locals..."
"Could we talk to Bumpton about it?" McCloud asked, turning on the charm. "See, we're here doing some research about it for a friend of ours, and a personal statement might be just the angle he wants."
There was some hemming and hawing for a bit, but somehow we convinced the men to give their tale of how they found the Carlyle Expedition. Sergent Bumpton shakily explained how he had led a group of men into a certain burnt-out clearing in the Aberdare Forest, following up a lead concerning a local having found the scene of some sort of terrible accident. They found pieces of human bodies scattered around, destroyed, half-eaten, and ripped to shreds. It was as if a massive creature had killed them all. Their personal effects identified the remains as the members of the Carlyle Expedition, opening a murder case. Eventually, four locals were caught as being the culprits, and they hanged for their crimes, closing the case.
However, we knew this was wrong - the members of the Carlyle Expedition had lived, and we told him this. The Sergent seemed alarmed as we explained that many of them had turned up dead in other locations, seemingly dropped there at random. How they got there, we didn't know... The officers left us alone after that, half-believing us mad and otherwise having the information they needed. Once more, McCloud's lying ability has saved us many more uncomfortable questions and possible strife.
We have arrived in Nairobi and I have managed to convince the hotel owner there, with McCloud's aid, to allow us all to stay in the hotel. He was not happy about this, but I am nothing if not persistent and intimidating. We saw no further trace of the turbaned man, but his presence clearly indicates he had to have been behind this entire terrible thing. I just know he was. No man disappears into the bathroom that long, then escapes without ever using the door. And I know it is unwise to trust madmen, but cannot help but think back to the words of those cultists on the plane.
"There is a dangerous man in Nairobi, an Indian man... I do not trust him. You would be very wise to follow suit..."
"Be very careful, especially with the Tea Man. He is dangerous..."
Could this man in the turban be the very man they meant? If so, perhaps we are in more danger than I thought. Perhaps it is time we start asking better questions - the right questions...
-- Muuzaji, Burned One Too Many Times (September 4th, 1928)