The Beast on the Tracks

by Amy Cross

  And then, as I look back toward Richard, I realize I can see a hint of light starting to catch the tops of nearby gravestones.

  “Is this for real?” I whisper.

  “What's happening?” a voice murmurs, and I turn to see that Debs has started to wake up. Her eyes open, and after a moment she lifts her head and looks at us. “Where am I?”

  She tries to pull on the ropes, but of course Richard has made sure that they're far too tight. I watch as she tries again and again, and her growing sense of panic is very clear. The light's getting stronger and stronger, and a moment later I hear the distant whistle of an approaching train. I flinch, because only now do I realize that I've heard that whistling sound before. I heard it on the day my father died, and I think I heard it a few other times while I was in the forest. How did I never realize before?

  “What are you doing, you freaks?” Debs yells, pulling harder and harder on the ropes.

  “This is really happening,” I whisper, before turning to Richard. “Wait, won't the driver notice her in time and stop?”

  “He never has done so far.”

  “But he'll feel that he went over something, won't he?”

  He shrugs.

  “He can't just not notice,” I point out, before thinking back to something else that Richard mentioned earlier. “Wait, did you say that in your version of tonight, you tied me to these rails?”

  “Um, yeah,” he says sheepishly. “Sorry. I didn't really know that I liked you then.”

  “But I didn't die.”

  “No! Somehow you got free and ran off.”

  “I did, huh?” I consider that possibility for a moment. “Yeah, that sounds like something I'd do. There's not a knot in the world that I couldn't slip out of.”

  “HELP ME!” Debs screams.

  “And the driver won't hear that?” I ask.

  “I figure maybe the engine's too loud,” Richard replies, as Debs continues to yell as she struggles with the ropes. “Maybe the driver's sitting too low to be able to see properly. Sometimes there's mist, too. Listen, I don't know exactly how it keeps happening or how the train always seems to arrive just after I tie someone down, but it's all totally real.”

  “I believe you,” I say, before looking past him and seeing the astonishing sight of the train racing this way through the cemetery. “Holy -”

  I take a couple of steps back as the ground rumbles more and more. I'm momentarily overwhelmed by the sense of something hugely powerful coming this way, and I watch as Debs struggles harder and harder with the ropes. She's clearly panicking, and now the metal rails are starting to hum, but I feel no compunction to go and help her. Instead, I simply want to watch, and I'm filled with the sense that what's happening is completely correct. All the chaos of my life has settled, and I was always destined to be standing right here, right now, with Richard, watching as the train thunders toward Debs.

  “No!” she screams. “Get me out of here! Help me! Help -”

  Suddenly the train roars past, crashing straight through her body.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Milly

  Debs' body shudders as the train's wheels continue to slice through her. After a moment, her left arm is sent flicking away with such force that it thuds against my waist before falling to the ground. And then, in an instant, the train rushes out of view and I'm left looking at the mangled remains of my friend.

  She's still alive.

  As the sound of the engine roars into the distance, Debs' scream rises to fill the air and I finally flinch. In an instant, I realize that we should have tied her down with her neck on the rail, so that she's be killed instantly. I still can't quite believe that she's conscious but, as Richard takes a couple of steps forward, I realize to my horror that Debs' torso remains in the middle of the track while her arms and legs have been scattered to the sides. And there's blood. There's so much blood.

  Richard turns to me, but he looks utterly helpless, as if he's waiting for me to tell him what we have to do next.

  “She's screaming,” he stammers finally. “Milly? She -”

  “I know,” I reply, as the awful sound continues.

  “Will people hear?” he asks, and now his voice is trembling. “Or will something kind of... stop that?”

  I stare at him for a moment, before realizing that I need to end Debs' misery. There's a part of me that wants to run and keep running forever, but instead I force myself to step forward until I get a better view of Debs. Her torso is twitching, settled in a pool of blood, and her head is tilted back as she screams into the night sky. After a moment I realize I can smell something metallic, and I tell myself that it's oil from the train even though deep down I can't help but think it might be blood.

  I look along the railroad and see the last light of the engine disappearing into the distance.

  “Milly?” Richard says, as Debs' scream continues. “What should we do now? They've never... I mean, I didn't think, but none of them have ever survived before.”

  I turn back to Debs.

  “She won't survive much longer,” I murmur.

  “So you think we should just wait?”

  I flinch again as the scream becomes more shrill, and then I start looking around for something I can use. Quickly spotting a broken chunk of stone on the ground, I head over and pick it up, and by the time I get back to Debs I'm already figuring that I have to put her out of her misery. She has to bleed out pretty soon, but perhaps I can at least save her from two or three extra seconds of agony. Then again, can I actually do this? Can I crack her head open with the stone? And would that be an easier death for her, or a more painful way to go?

  “Why didn't you make sure it went over her head?” I snap, turning to Richard.

  “I don't know!” he replies. “I guess I panicked. I usually put their necks right on the line, but this time I did it differently. I don't know why, I just did.”

  “You need to finish her off,” I tell him, holding the stone out for him to take. “This is your screw-up, you need to put it right.”

  He starts frantically shaking his head.

  “You need to finish what you started!” I hiss, before storming over to him and trying to force the stone into his hands. All that happens, however, is that it drops helplessly to the floor. “Do you seriously expect me to do it?” I snap. “I know her!”

  “The train has been fed,” he replies. “That's all that matters.”

  “The train has been...”

  My voice trails off as I try to work out what, exactly, he meant by that.

  “You said there's no train on this line,” he continues, “but you just saw it for yourself. It comes when it's called, when it senses someone trapped on the line. It's like a spider that feels its web starting to shake, except it's not a web at all, it's a railroad and -”

  Before he can finish, I slap him. Before I can stop myself, even. He turns away, and then he seems to freeze as if he simply can't bring himself to do or say anything more.

  “We'll figure out where that train came from later,” I tell him, as Debs continues to scream, “but right now, one of us has to get over there and finish her off. I can't believe she's still screaming, but we have to stop her.”

  I wait, hoping against hope that he's going to do the right thing, but finally I realize that I'm going to have to be the one who puts an end to Debs' suffering. I hesitate for a moment longer, and then slowly I turn and see that Debs' torso is still shuddering on the railroad as she cries out.

  I reach down and pick up the stone, and then I start walking – with such heavy steps – toward the side of the railroad.

  “Hey,” I say, still trying to summon the courage that I'm going to need for this, “it's going to be okay. Okay? I'm going to make the pain go away.”

  She splutters something, but I can't make out any of the words. Her mind must be so far gone, she probably doesn't even know where she is. There's a lot of blood pooled beneath her body, which I guess means tha
t it's not blood the train wants. I'm still not even sure where I stand on that wild claim by Richard, but after a moment I realize that I'm once again delaying the inevitable. For every second that I take the cowardly way out, Debs endures another second of pure agony.

  I slowly crouch next to her and raise the stone. One firm blow to the side of the head should do it. Two at most.

  I'll count down.

  Ten.

  Nine.

  Eight.

  She turns and looks up at me, and I instinctively hide the stone behind my back.

  “I saw them!” she gasps, as blood runs from her mouth.

  “Debs, I...”

  “Didn't you see them?” she gasps, as if something has absolutely terrified her. She looks very pale in the moonlight, but I guess that might be caused by the massive loss of blood.

  “I saw the train, honey,” I reply. “That's -”

  “There were hundreds of them!” she hisses. “Thousands!”

  “I don't know what you -”

  “They were all there, on the underside of the train as it roared over me,” she continues. “How could you not know that they were there? There were so many faces, all crying out, all lost souls stuck to the underside of the train as it goes along! They were just faces, and they were wailing and moaning, they were lost in agony and... I'm going to be one of them, aren't I? The train took my soul and I'm going to join all those others!”

  “I don't know what you're talking about,” I reply, “but -”

  “I can feel it!” she sobs, tilting her head back again. “I'm already there! I just need my body to die and then I'll join them forever!”

  I raise the stone again, but I still can't quite bring myself to smash it against the side of her head. What if I miss? What if I only hurt her more, and she's still alive? I was so sure that I could do this but now, as she sobs again and continues to go on and on about faces on the underside of the train, I just don't have the strength. I turn the stone around, hoping that by some miracle I'll manage to get the job done, but if anything I'm getting weaker by the second.

  “They were all there!” she sobs. “All the ones who've died on these rails! And now I'm going to be one of them! I'll be trapped on that train forever as it searches!”

  “Searches?” I hesitate, hoping that she'll explain. “Searches for what, Debs?”

  She turns to me.

  “For the -”

  Before she can finish, something slams down against her skull, cracking her head open and forcing blood to spray out of her nose and mouth. Startled, I fall back, and it takes a moment before I realize that she was just killed by a large chunk of a headstone. I blink, and then I turn to Richard and see that he finally finished Debs off.

  “I'm sorry,” he says, “I just... I couldn't listen to her pain for a moment longer.”

  “Me neither,” I reply, before looking back down at Debs and seeing that thick, dark blood is running from a crack in her skull. Richard must have hit her real hard, because I think part of her brain is exposed. “At least it's over for her now.”

  “What did she means about faces on the underside of the train?” he asks. “I never heard anything about that before.”

  “I have no idea,” I tell him, “but I think maybe there's something pretty messed-up about this train. And I think it might have been messing with our lives for longer than we realize.” I take a deep breath, and then I turn to him again. “We need to find out exactly what happened on this railroad.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Milly

  Morning light streams across the town square as Richard and I stop at the end of an alley. After what felt like an eternity, the long night is over and another mundane day is starting in Sobolton. I watch for a moment as people shuffle about, and there's a part of me that wants to scream at them and make them understand that something really fucked-up happened last night. Then again, would they believe me? And if they did, would they care?

  “So what do we do now?” Richard asks.

  “I need to go to the library,” I say, turning to him, “and then I need to sort a few other things out.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like stuff,” I reply, before realizing that maybe I'm being a little harsh. I place my hands on his chest as I try to figure out how to tell him what he needs to know. “It's complicated,” I continue, “but I think we're in deep here, and I think we should find out as much as we can. Can you keep yourself busy for a few hours?”

  He hesitates, and then he nods.

  I almost lean close and kiss him, but at the last moment I hold back. I'm pretty sure that we're gonna kiss soon, and probably do a whole lot more as well, but right now I think we need to stay focused. And that means, firstly, that we have to find out the truth about the abandoned railroad that runs straight through the heart of Sobolton.

  “Meet me back here at five o'clock this evening,” I tell him. “Don't be late.”

  ***

  I always knew there was a reading room at the library, but I never came here until today. I guess I just never had a need to go through the archives of old newspapers before. Fortunately, the lady at the desk was very helpful when I asked about the railroad, and she suggested certain places where I could start looking. Now, turning to another page in a newspaper from 1975, I see that she was absolutely spot on.

  “Train disaster hits local town,” I whisper.

  Immediately, somebody nearby clears their throat. I turn to my left and see a man studying some other papers. I might be wrong, but I have a feeling that he didn't appreciate the fact that I said something out loud.

  I guess I don't want to attract attention.

  Once I'm sure that nobody's looking at me now, I start reading the article. The print is a little fuzzy in places, but I quickly manage to get the story:

  SOBOLTON, TUESDAY – Thirty-eight people are confirmed dead following a deadly rail crash in the small town of Sobolton. Officials say a locomotive took a bend too fast and came off the rails, quickly careering straight into a series of marquees that had been set out for the town's summer festival. The victims included thirteen women and nine children, as well as the driver of the train.

  News of the accident has already provoked fresh debate over the future of the line. Stretching from coast to coast, the A11 Ringborn Line is mostly used for freight these days, but its route through Sobolton has long been controversial due to the fact that it runs straight through a cemetery. Nationally, the line is also somewhat unpopular, having witnessed an astonishing ninety-seven fatal accidents since it was opened in 1874. It's for this reason that the route is often referred to by campaigners as the Line of Death.

  Further controversy has also been stirred by news that the locomotive involved in the latest accident is the same train that has been involved in many of the accidents so far. Although the line's original steam trains have long since been phased out, some historians even claim that parts of the old trains were repurposed when the current engines were being rebuilt. Bosses at the rail company insist, however, that all engines working the line are safe, but critics have dubbed the offending engine 'the beast' due to the large number of lives that it has claimed.

  I read on, but the rest of the article is stuffed with quotes from various local people arguing about the future of the railroad. I quickly skip to another of the issues recommended by the librarian, and sure enough I find an article from 1985:

  SOBOLTON – Campaigners in Sobolton have welcomed the news that a controversial railway line is to be shut down. The A11 Ringborn Line, which links California to Rhode Island, runs through a local cemetery, and has also been involved in multiple fatal incidents since it came into operation in the mid-1870's. Now officials say that the line is to be decommissioned with immediate effect.

  In a lifespan of almost 150 years, the A11 Ringborn Line has seen a total of ninety-seven separate fatal accidents, claiming the lives of more than two thousand individuals. Dubbed the Line of Death and
the Line of Blood by critics, the route is widely regarded as one of the bloodiest in the country. And it's not only Sobolton that has seen problems, with demonstrations having recently been staged in many towns that are impacted by the line.

  Now critics are going to get their way, although there's a catch. Due to disagreements between several operating companies, it's unclear how or whether the existing lines will be removed. So while the trains might no longer be running, the tracks themselves might continue to cut through communities for many years to come.

  As I flick through more stories, I'm struck by the fact that I've never heard much about the line. I mean, sure, everyone in Sobolton knows that it's there, but for the most part it gets ignored. I guess maybe people just relaxed once they discovered that there'd be no more trains passing through. Either that, or everyone senses that there's something wrong.

  Taking my phone from my pocket, I start searching for some of the words from the news articles, and I quickly discover a page from a few years ago. Apparently some kids in Nevada investigated their local stretch of the A11 Ringborn Line and claimed to have heard the sound of a ghostly train passing the edge of a town.

  FORNHAM, NV – When they set out on a ghost hunt, local boys Travis Hunt (15) and Michael Nair (16) never expected to actually capture proof of the paranormal. But that's exactly what the boys claim that they have, and earlier in the week they played their spooky recordings exclusively to this newspaper.

  “We only went out for a bit of fun,” Travis explained as he set the recording up to play. “We'd heard stories, but we didn't think there was anything in it.”

  “We were totally wrong,” Michael interjected. “There's a ghost train that passes the edge of Fornham sometimes. It goes really fast. I don't understand how other people don't notice it.”