“I’ve got a torch.” Bobby’s father pulled a Maglite the size of his little finger from his rucksack.
“So do I, but it’s going to get really dark and our flashlights won’t light up more than a couple of meters. I don’t fancy falling into a quarry or breaking my leg in some rabbit hole.”
The others could see her point. The sky was already a deep purple and the fields stretching in front of them were taking on an inky hue.
“Where do you think we should camp?” Gordon bowed to Mary’s superior knowledge of the area. She took a folded map from one pocket and her own torch from another.
“The A91 is a couple of miles up ahead. It’s the last big road between us and the river Tay.” She turned on the flashlight and shone it over the map so the others could see properly. “It’ll be dark when we get there – the best time to cross it without being noticed. Just beyond that is an abandoned rail line. We should be able to follow it, even at night, until we come to the old Pitlour station.”
“That’s in my book!” Bobby’s father, flicked through the pages. “It’s used to load ore from the local mine.”
“Maybe a century ago. But now the mine is gone and the station is derelict. It's miles from the nearest village, so it’s the perfect place to camp.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Gordon raised his hand. “All those for Mary’s idea, say ‘aye’. Those against say ‘I’m a big fat pansy’.”
“You’re obviously a natural born leader,” Bobby grunted.
“Have you noticed something odd about the skyline?” Mary was staring at the horizon. “Doesn’t it seem a strange colour?”
“That’s the sun setting, isn’t it?”
“The sun sets in the west, Mr Berlin.” Mary switched off her torch and they could all see an orange tinge shimmering in the sky.
“The light’s coming from the north.”
She was right. An hour later it was pitch black, apart from the weird glow over the hills, and the trio found themselves stumbling every few feet.
“The A91 must be on the other side of this rise,” Mary said confidently. “I hear cars.”
“Me too.” Bobby stopped and listened. “But they sound funny. As if they’re just revving their engines. Like they’re not… moving.”
“I can hear voices.” Bobby’s father stopped walking as well.
“Are they in your head?”
“Very funny. You sure there isn’t another town up ahead?”
“Not according to the map. Anyway, we’d see street lamps and windows.”
“Put your torches off and stay behind me.” Gordon waved the children back. “Something’s not right.”
The party struggled up the last hundred yards of the rise. Now they could clearly make out the sound of engines and shouting too, though the party couldn’t hear what was being said.
“Stay low.” Bobby’s father crouched down. “Let’s see what the hell’s going on.”
They crawled over the crest of the rise. Gordon gave a horrified whimper.
Below them the A91 was strung end to end with vehicles, bright headlights and red taillights stretching as far as they could see. They were inching along at little more than walking pace.
But that wasn’t the worst part. Threading their way through the slow moving column were groups of soldiers. As they drifted in and out of the headlights Bobby could see they were armed. Behind the nightmare scene, the northern sky still glowed a faint orange.
“What in the name of holy hell is this?” Bobby’s father held back the teenagers. “Is everyone in the bloody world looking for me?”
Mary and Bobby shook their heads uncomprehendingly.
“We can’t get past that,” Gordon said despairingly. “It’s chock a block. Should we wait until morning?”
“If it’s still like this at daybreak we’ll never get by without being seen. Our best chance is to cross now.”
“Excuse me!” Bobby piped up. “Isn’t anybody wondering what’s actually going on down there? Where did all these cars come from?”
“We won’t find that out sitting in the dark.” Mary stood up. “We need to ask the people on the road.”
“Are you nuts?”
“Look. The line is moving so slowly that half the people have got out. Nobody is going to notice another three people in the dark.” She shouldered her rucksack and moved forward. “We’ll mingle with them, find out what’s happening, then take off.”
“This is something to do with me,” Gordon whispered.
“Not this time dad. This is a much bigger deal than hunting for one guy on the run. I hate to say it, but Mary’s right. We need to find out what’s going on.”
Gordon’s eyes darted right and left. Then he nodded a reluctant agreement.
The trio made their way unsteadily downhill towards the road, taking small careful footsteps and clutching each other for support.
They stopped a few yards from the road, still invisible against the black background of the hill. Now they could see the soldiers were British troops. They seemed to be trying to keep the passengers inside their vehicles and the column moving. Some cars had the windows rolled down and they could hear people crying inside. To their left several drivers and passengers had got out and were arguing with the soldiers, but details of their angry conversations were lost in the thrum of a hundred idling engines. The air was thick with exhaust fumes.
“Take our hands.” Bobby reached out to his father. “And remember that one of us is supposed to be an adult.”
By now Gordon was almost rigid with fear. He clasped both children’s hands and squeezed tightly. They moved onto the road.
An officer turned from the argument as they stepped onto the tarmac.
“You three! Where did you just appear from?”
“We needed to go to the toilet sir.” Bobby shouted back. “We were desperate, so my dad took us off the road for a minute.”
“I understand, but please return to your vehicle. We have to keep this column moving.” The officer rubbed his temple, fatigue etched across his face. “If your car holds the line up, you will be towed off the road.”
“Sorry!” Gordon shook himself out of his terrified torpor. “Our BMW is just back there…. eh… somewhere.”
“Then get going. And stay inside it from now on.” The officer turned back to his men and Gordon heaved a sigh of relief.
“Let’s get right across and out the other side,” he hissed.
“But we still don’t know what’s happening.” Bobby let go of his hand. “You two head back down the line a bit and cross the road. “I’m going to talk to the driver of one of the cars and then catch you up.”
“Then hurry, for God’s sake.”
Bobby.” Mary nodded her head in the direction of the soldiers. “Look out.”
The officer had stopped talking to his men, and was staring at them. He pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket, unfolded it and held it up. His expression changed.
“Excuse me sir!” he barked at Bobby’s father. “Are you Gordon Berlin?”
“Dammit!” Gordon almost jerked Mary off her feet. “Run!”
“Mr Berlin!” The officer moved towards him, waving for his men to follow. “Please. Stop now!”
Gordon ignored him, dodging round cars, still gripping Mary’s hand. Bobby cursed silently to himself and scuttled after them.
As Gordon and Mary reached the edge of the road, a soldier rose up from one of the vehicles where he had been talking to the occupants. Leaping forward, he spread his arms wide to block their path.
“I’ve got him sir!”
Bobby’s father swung Mary away. The girl sprawled across the asphalt, skinning her hands and knees. Gordon deftly sidestepped the oncoming soldier, grabbed the man’s wrist, and jerked hard, slamming the surprised assailant into the side of the nearest vehicle. The soldier reached for the gun slung over his shoulder but Gordon elbowed him viciously in the face. The man fell back against the car again
and slid to the ground, blood spurting from his broken nose.
Bobby ducked behind a black Nissan and fumbled in his rucksack. The officer and his men were only a few feet away now, one or two sliding across the bonnets of cars in their attempt to get to their quarry.
His father’s face had contorted into a mask of rage. Raising his boot, he brought it down on the soldier’s chest with all his strength. Still running, the officer fumbled for the revolver holstered at his waist. Gordon lashed out with his foot again, his eyes filled with a terrible fury.
There was a deafening report from behind the Nissan and the soldiers skidded to a halt. Gordon’s head jerked up, teeth bared, like a cornered animal.
Bobby was holding a pistol, the smoking barrel pointed into the air. Before the soldiers could react he levelled the gun at the officer.
“Let my dad go, or I’ll shoot.”
“Don’t be stupid, son.” The officer held up his hands. “We just have to talk to your father.”
“No. He said the authorities were looking for him!” Bobby backed towards the side of the road. “And I didn’t believe him!”
Gordon staggered towards Mary, his eyes still wild. He reached down and pulled the girl to her feet.
“We just want a word with your dad,” the officer said gently. “There’s no need for this.”
“Don’t trust him Bobby!” Gordon snarled maniacally. “Make them let me go!”
“Then get moving!” The boy’s voice was ragged. “Run!”
His father turned and dragged Mary forcibly off the road and into the darkness. Bobby backed after them, still pointing the pistol at the officer. When he reached the edge of the road he turned and bolted down the incline. One soldier yanked a rifle from his shoulder and took aim.
“Don’t you dare.” The officer slapped the weapon up. “He’s hardly more than a child. Send a group of squaddies after them and get me a radio. Use extreme caution and I don’t want to hear any shooting.”
“I don’t think we’ll find them sir. We were rushed out here so fast, we weren’t issued with night vision equipment. We’ve only got three flashlights between the whole squad.”
“Dammit!” The officer slammed his hand on the bonnet of the nearest car and the frightened occupants recoiled in terror. “Let them go then.”
“Sir?”
“I doubt Gordon Berlin would be useful to us anyway. I got a call from top brass earlier and, according to the local police force, he’s lost his memory.”
“Talk about bad luck, eh sir?”
“Bad luck is breaking a mirror.” His superior stuffed the paper back into his pocket. “This is a damned catastrophe.”
“It is for him.” The soldier shouldered his rifle. “He and those kids are heading right towards the danger zone.”
“I know,” the officer replied resignedly. “But there are only three of them. We’ve got hundreds of people to save right here.”
“Yes sir.” The soldier beckoned to two of his companions. “Gutsy kid though.”
“Aye. He is.” The officer looked at the orange tinge over the northern hills.
“But that won’t help where he’s going.”
-34-
Gordon and Mary raced through the night, hand in hand, stumbling and falling every few feet.
“Stop, will you?” the girl pleaded. “Stop before we break our necks!”
“They’re not going to catch us!” Gordon tugged the girl forward again.
“Mr Berlin, you’re hurting me!” Mary dug her feet into the soft ground. “Please! Please! Look behind you. There are no torches anywhere! Nobody’s following us!”
With an effort she shook loose the man’s grip and Gordon sank to his knees.
“Why not?” he gasped, trying to quieten his staccato breathing. “You saw what happened! They almost had me!”
“Calm down!” Mary grabbed the man by the arms. “Try and think logically!”
“I’m too scared!”
“The soldiers were there to keep that line of cars moving, that’s all. They haven’t come after us!”
“You heard the officer. He knew who I was!”
“Yes he did. But he seemed to be the only one.” She gripped Gordon’s arms tighter, trying to stop him rising to his feet. “I don’t understand what’s going on, but it’s obvious that the army’s priority is that traffic jam. It looked like some sort of evacuation.”
“Can we crawl for a while? Just a few hundred yards.”
“We can’t see our hands in front of our faces! If we are being chased, the soldiers will have less chance of finding us if we stay absolutely still.”
“You’re right. Sorry. Sorry for knocking you over too.” The man began to cough, hand clutching his chest. “I kind of lost it back there.”
“I’m all right. My knees sting a bit, but that’s all.”
“What about Bobby? Where is he?”
“I don’t know.” Mary’s sounded less confident now. “He’d probably spot us if we turned on our torches, but so would the soldiers.”
“That was so cool the way he saved us.” Gordon’s voice was filled with admiration. “Where did he get a gun?”
“Yes.” Mary’s tone was altogether less complimentary. “I’d like to ask him that too.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, surrounded by blackness, listening. They could still hear engines idling in the distance but nothing closer disturbed the stillness. No troops. No Bobby.
“I’m getting cold.”
“Me too.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Well we can’t go back, not now your son’s declared war on the whole British Army.” Mary reached out and took Gordon’s hand. “But Bobby knows where we were going to camp. Let’s find that railway line and follow it to the station.”
“Will he think of that too?” Gordon sounded doubtful.
“He hasn’t done anything right so far,” Mary replied contemptuously. “But we can live in hope.”
Like so many of the choices she’d made in her long life, Baba Rana had no clear idea why she opted to walk to Dundee, rather than take a train. But she had never set foot on one, as far as she could recall, and she wasn’t about to start. There was just something about them…
Rana wasn’t particularly confident of being able to catch up with two healthy teenagers, though. Even if Gordon Berlin was with the children, slowing them down, he was still thirty years her junior.
The old woman had simply felt, deep inside, that this course was the right one to take.
Now she was regretting that decision.
Baba Rana was used to walking everywhere, but a full day’s trek over open countryside had taken a terrible toll. Her back and legs throbbed after hours marching across uneven terrain, climbing dykes and slogging up and down hills. By the time darkness fell, the rests she needed to catch her breath and ease the pain in her chest had grown longer and more frequent. A throbbing ache pulsed behind her eyes and she was swept by waves of nausea.
With night approaching, common sense told the old woman to stop, but that would let the trio get farther ahead. Instead, she switched on her flashlight and doggedly kept going, shining the light directly at her feet to stop herself tripping.
Rana had one advantage. She was more familiar with Fife than her granddaughter and had begun following the abandoned rail line to Wormit much sooner than Mary. The southern part of the line didn’t run a straight course but twisted and turned to avoid hills, which was why she was sure her granddaughter wouldn’t join it until after it crossed the A91. But the ground where the tracks had been was flat and free of obstacles and the route, by its very nature, avoided steep inclines and cut a swathe through wooded areas. This made using it far swifter and safer than a more direct course, especially in the dark.
Where the line intersected the A91 it went underneath the road. The engineers who had built the thoroughfare had erected a small bridge over the railway, and most commuters who swept acros
s didn’t even notice the abandoned tracks beneath them.
Baba Rana heard the commotion on the A91 long before she saw it. Out of the darkness came the sound of revving engines, commands being bellowed and people crying.
She switched off her flashlight and walked uncertainly towards the din, a little old lady lost in a great dark gash, invisible to the melee above. Soon she could see soldiers with guns lining the road, waving a slow moving column of vehicles by.
Baba Rana gave a small cry. Stumbling to the side of the embankment, she sank to her knees, folding herself deeper into the shadows.
She had seen this before.
She couldn’t remember how or when, but she had. Lines of people hounded and herded along a darkened road towards a rail line by uniformed men.
The old woman got up and staggered through the darkness until she was under the bridge. Here the sounds were muffled, but that made them all the more sinister. She placed her palms flat against the crumbling, moss sodden brickwork and inched her way under the road. She shuffled forwards, edging her way through the night. With agonising slowness she moved further and further from the chaos on the road, hopelessly trying to shut out the furore.
The shouting rose dramatically and she looked back.
Fifty yards to the right soldiers were running towards a lone figure who was struggling with one of their number. The figure slammed the man in uniform against a car and then struck him. A shot was fired.
The assailant and a smaller form, maybe a girl, leaped off the road then disappeared into the darkness. Baba caught a glimpse of a boy silhouetted against the glow in the sky, arms windmilling, racing into the night behind them.
The old woman bit down on translucent white knuckles.
A fight. A man beaten to the ground. Shots being fired. Children running into the darkness.
She had seen this all before.
She bit harder, feeling the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. Even the orange glow in the sky was familiar.
She had witnessed a glow like that before.
A fiery halo over a burning town.
-35-
Gordon and Mary inched through the blackness, arms stretched in front of them. The sound of the engines gradually faded away but, after half an hour, they still hadn’t found what they were searching for.
Waiting For a Train That Never Comes Page 11