by Simon Holt
4
Machen stopped the car in front of the train station. The windshield wipers squeaked back and forth, the blades dull.
“Are you sure you want to do this on your own?” he asked Aaron.
“There’s no reason both of us should waste a day if it turns out to be a false lead. I’ll confirm and return.”
Machen nodded.
“All right. Good luck.”
Aaron pulled his hood over his head and got out of the car. The cold rain pattered against his jacket as he ran up the station steps to the ticket counter. He bought a round-trip ticket to Boston, where he’d transfer to the express to New York, stashed it safely in an inner pocket, then headed out onto the platform. Machen had dropped him off early; the train wouldn’t arrive for another fifteen minutes.
It was one of those chilly, wet October days that signaled the approach of winter. Aaron stayed pressed against the cold brick of the station walls under the roof’s overhang. Everything looked gray under the overcast sky—the platform asphalt, glistening and slick from the rain; the dark overcoats of the few other waiting travelers; even the leaves that hadn’t yet fallen from their trees, still fire-colored but tinged with the browning creep of decay. Only one person seemed unaffected by the depressing weather. A little girl dressed in a pink wool coat, with matching hat, scarf, and mittens, skittered back and forth on the platform, singing to herself, completely oblivious to the world outside.
Aaron watched her, amused. It was refreshing to see some childhood innocence. She stood out on the slate background like a stem of pink cotton candy, wispy and sweet. It was unclear to whom she belonged; there were only a few other men and women on the platform, and no one seemed to be paying her any attention. Aaron’s thoughts turned to what possibly lay at the other end of this trip. If perhaps, this time, they could catch a break…
The clanging of bells signaled the approach of the train. As one, the passengers cowering under the overhang, Aaron included, leaned out and gazed down the track at the blinking lights in the distance. The little girl was jumping in puddles on the platform now, making up her own version of hopscotch and singing softly to herself. She was close enough to Aaron now, though, that he could hear what she sang. It seemed to be some kind of nursery rhyme:
“Little Polly Flinders sat among the cinders,
Warming up her pretty little toes.
Mother came and caught her and whipped her pretty daughter
For spoiling her nice new clothes.”
Aaron almost laughed. It was such a nasty nursery rhyme for a cute little girl to sing, but then, “Ring Around the Rosie” was about dying from the plague.
Hop. Splash. Hop. Splash. She landed alternately on one foot, then two, water droplets spraying up from beneath her shiny black patent-leather shoes. Her once-white tights were soaked now and streaked with dirt. Aaron couldn’t believe one of her parents wasn’t stopping her. Splash. She landed on one foot and wobbled. Her shoe skidded a few inches on the wet pavement.
“Careful!” Aaron called out. “It’s slippery!”
The girl cocked her head at him for a moment, then went back to her game. The bells on the train were loud now; it was just about to reach the station. Then Aaron heard a scream.
All heads whipped toward the girl. She had jumped too close to the edge of the platform and tumbled off onto the tracks. Aaron rushed forward; she was lying sprawled across the train tracks, her foot lodged between two slats. A gash in her head was bleeding profusely, staining her pretty pink coat. She was wailing.
“Help!” Aaron cried. He waved his arms like a madman. “Stop the train! Stop the train!”
But he knew the train couldn’t stop in time—it was moving slowly, but it was too close. No one else on the platform moved; everyone seemed frozen in shock. The girl’s screams were nearly drowned out by the pealing train bell.
“Help me!” she shrieked. “I don’t want to die!”
Aaron glanced frantically around, but there was no rope, nothing to toss her. Not that that would have helped—her foot was still stuck.
“Help me! Please!”
The girl’s terrified eyes bore into Aaron’s, pleading with him. Aaron felt his heart racing. He could hear the clacking, the banging, the whooshing of the train bearing down, but maybe there was enough time. The conductor would have pulled the emergency brake, slowing the train even further. He wouldn’t even need to try to hop back up onto the platform—if he could get down there, get her loose, he could carry her over to the opposite tracks. One more glance at the train confirmed it; it was slowing down. It was far enough away. He could make it. He couldn’t just watch this little girl die.
Aaron took a deep breath and ran the last few steps to the platform’s edge. But as he was about to leap down onto the tracks, something grabbed his coat and yanked him back. Aaron felt wind on his cheek as the train rushed past, missing his head by centimeters. How could that be? He’d just seen it yards away still. He stumbled backward, slipping and falling hard on the asphalt.
“No!” he shouted. “No, the girl!”
He jumped up again and ran frantically along the platform as the train rolled to a stop.
“The girl! The girl!” he kept repeating, but people seemed just to stare at him. The train doors opened, and a handful of people disembarked, apparently unaware of the terrible accident that had just occurred. Aaron scanned the crowd for a conductor.
“We’ve got to help the girl!” he cried, running up to one.
“What girl?” the conductor asked.
Aaron wanted to tear out his hair.
“The girl who just got hit by the train!” he practically screamed in the conductor’s face. The man took a step back, his expression dark and suspicious.
“What are you talking about?”
“This train just ran over a little girl,” Aaron insisted. “Didn’t anyone see? She fell off the platform—she’s under there right now!” He pointed to the tracks.
“Son, that’s really not funny. I think you better get on or move along.” The conductor turned his back on Aaron and climbed aboard.
Aaron cupped his hands over his head, confused and exasperated. And then he heard a voice that made his blood turn to ice.
“Little Polly Flinders sat among the cinders…”
He turned slowly to see a little girl in a pink coat hopping in puddles, not ten feet away.
“Aaron!”
Aaron whirled around to see Quinn.
“What the hell was that? Do you have a death wish?” he demanded.
“What?”
“You were about to jump in front of that train!”
Realization dawned on Aaron.
“You were the one who pulled me back.”
“Of course I did. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“I thought… I thought I saw…” Aaron began. He looked down the platform again. The girl was still there, still oblivious.
Hop. Splash. Hop. Splash.
“Aaron, are you okay? What’s going on?”
“She fell. She fell on the tracks. I saw her fall.”
“Who, that kid? Obviously not.” Quinn shivered. “God, it’s freezing out here.”
Aaron looked at him sharply.
“You’re feeling chills?”
“Uh, yeah, it’s October in New England.”
Aaron grabbed Quinn’s shoulder.
“Are you sure it’s just that? Or is it like you’re losing heat? Like it’s being sucked out of you?”
Quinn raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, the second one, I guess. I was fine when I left my house this morning, but now I just can’t get warm.”
“Shit,” Aaron muttered.
“What’s the matter?”
“We’ve got to get out of here now.”
Aaron ran toward the train just as the doors were closing, Quinn on his heels. The whistle sounded and the train lurched forward.
“Shit,” Aaron said again. He stepped back
as the train picked up speed and rumbled past them, out of the station. His brain was on full alert now. He’d just seen something that wasn’t real, and now Quinn had the shivers. The Vours were here.
He looked up and down the platform. It was empty but for him, Quinn, and the hopscotching girl. The girl with no apparent parents.
“Mother came and caught her and whipped her pretty daughter,” she sang.
“Let’s go,” Aaron whispered to Quinn.
But men had begun to appear, one by one, in the doorways leading back into the station. They all stood nonchalantly, checking their wristwatches or reading the paper, but there was no way to get out without pushing past them. One of them tightened his scarf around his throat.
Another bell rang out in the distance; a train heading the other direction was approaching. Quinn rubbed his arms vigorously.
“God, I am so cold. Maybe I’m getting sick.”
“You’re not sick,” Aaron said, glancing at each man in turn, then the little girl, who continued to play and sing. All the exits were covered now. They were trapped.
“We’re in danger, Quinn.” He kept his voice low but tried to appear as if he were having a normal conversation. “Right now. I don’t have time to explain, but those men are here for us. You were right, about Reggie and me being involved with what happened to you, and this is part of it. I’ll tell you everything, but now we just need to get out of here.”
“Okay, but how?” Quinn’s eyes were wide. Aaron was just thankful he was accepting their predicament without question.
“Do you have a car here?”
Quinn nodded.
“Where’s it parked?”
Quinn started to raise his hand in the direction of the parking lot on the opposite side of the station, but Aaron grabbed it.
“Don’t point. It’s over there? Which one?”
“The black Toyota by the B sign.” Quinn inclined his head, pretending to scratch his ear.
Aaron casually scanned the station once more. There were a handful of people on the opposite platform now, as well, though he couldn’t be sure which, if any of them, were Vours. The northbound train was nearly there, its lights flashing through the rain.
“On the count of three, we’re going to jump and run. Can you make it?”
Quinn glanced at the track as if making a mental calculation.
“Yes. Can you?”
“Let’s hope. One…”
The men standing in the doorways began to saunter toward them.
“Two…”
The little girl stopped hopping and looked straight at Aaron. Her hair and coat were soaking from the rain, and her face glistened with a deathly pallor. Aaron thought he could see black lines spreading down from her eyes across her cheeks. She’d been out in the cold too long. Still, a smile played on her ghostly lips, and she raised a finger, pointing at Aaron and Quinn.
“GET THEM!” she screeched in an earsplittingly high-pitched voice. The men rushed forward. The first car of the train passed the edge of the station.
“Three!”
Aaron and Quinn ran and leaped down onto the tracks. Quinn came down solidly and raced ahead, hoisting himself up onto the opposite platform. But Aaron stumbled on the landing, and his boot caught on an uneven slat. He rolled forward into the flashing lights of the oncoming train. People on the far platform screamed, and the train’s whistle blew again and again.
“Aaron, come on!” Quinn shouted. “Move your ass!”
Aaron jumped up and staggered forward, his ankle throbbing with pain at every step. Quinn crouched on the platform, his hand extended. Aaron reached for it, and Quinn started to pull him up.
“Hurry! They’re coming!”
And then, again, something caught Aaron’s jacket. One of the Vours had him. He heard a hiss in his ear.
“Sorry, kiddo. You’ll never be the action-hero type.”
The Vour yanked Aaron back and they both fell to the ground. The train was bearing down on them. The Vour began to drag him back across the tracks where the others waited. The little girl was there, clapping her hands and shrieking with delight. Aaron struggled, but the monster was too strong. And then, in a flash, Aaron unzipped his coat and slacked his arms, letting the jacket slide off. The Vour fell backward, surprised by the sudden give. Ignoring the pain in his leg, Aaron bounded toward the opposite platform and leaped, catching Quinn’s hand. In one motion Quinn pulled him up just as the train passed, plowing into the Vour, still prostrate on the tracks. Smoke billowed up from where the body lay under the train and rushed away into the rainy sky, but only Aaron seemed to notice that in the ensuing chaos.
He lay on the platform, his breath coming too fast to control, his brain a blank mass of adrenaline. He barely heard the screams all around him, the running feet, the incessant howl of the whistle, or felt the arms pulling him to his feet.
“You are one psycho son of a bitch,” Quinn said, panting equally heavily. “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.”
Aaron nodded and, using Quinn for support, limped down the stairs heading to the parking lot. He knew the Vours would be circling around from the other side, and police would be descending upon the station to investigate the accident. They had to get to the car first.
“Faster, man, come on,” Quinn urged. They emerged from the stairs onto the pavement, and Quinn began to run, practically dragging Aaron along behind. He pulled a keychain from his pocket and unclicked the door locks on his car. He threw Aaron into the front seat, then raced around to the driver’s side, and within minutes they were peeling out of the station parking lot to the music of approaching emergency vehicle sirens.
5
“So where are we going?” Quinn asked once they had put some distance between them and the train station.
“Are we being followed?” Aaron asked curtly.
“I—I don’t know,” Quinn answered. “I don’t think so. But it’s not like that’s a skill I learned in driver’s ed.”
“Okay.” Aaron sat forward and rolled up his pant leg. He massaged his leg and ankle—he wasn’t an expert, but it didn’t seem to be broken. Probably just a bad sprain.
“Where do you want me to take you?” Quinn asked again.
“I was going to go to New York—”
“Great. That’ll give you four hours to explain just exactly what the hell is going on.”
“You’re going to drive me to New York?”
“Would you rather wait around for the next train?”
“Not really.” Aaron leaned back in his seat, and finally his body began to relax, warmed by the air spraying from the heaters. “Why were you even there, at the station?”
“I followed you,” Quinn said, a bit guiltily. “I was going to try to get you to talk to me again. Luckily I saved your life—twice—so you owe me.”
“Actually, that makes us even.”
“Okay,” said Quinn, drawing out the word. “I guess we’ll get to that. But first, why were you going to jump in front of that train? The first time, I mean, when I pulled you back.”
“It was like I said, I saw that little girl—who, it turns out, is not just any little girl—fall onto the tracks. I was going to try to save her.”
“Hero complex, huh?”
“Something like that. But what I saw, I think it was just a vision that she sent me.”
“Sent you?”
Aaron sighed. There was no avoiding the conversation now.
“Look, it’s better if I start from the beginning. You’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you, but you’re just going to have to deal for the moment, okay?”
“Sure.”
“I’m serious, Quinn. You can’t freak out, you can’t steer the car into a tree, or start screaming, ‘It’s not true, it can’t be true!’ It’s all true, but you are out of the worst of it now.”
Quinn seemed to notice that he emphasized the word you. He glanced sideways at Aaron.
“I woke up in a homele
ss shelter with no memory and two missing fingers. I’ve been pretty certain for a while now that whatever happened to me was bad.”
Aaron nodded, then started talking. He filled Quinn in on the whole truth of the Vours and how Reggie had brought him back from the fearscape. Aaron didn’t sugarcoat any of Quinn the Vour’s diabolical actions; in fact, he took some small pleasure in relaying them: how Quinn had tried to drown them last December, and then, when he returned, how he’d betrayed Reggie and nearly gotten her killed again. Quinn’s fingers seemed to tighten on the steering wheel during those parts of the story, but he kept calm and didn’t interrupt. Sometimes he even nodded slightly, as if Aaron was giving him missing pieces of a puzzle, and he was finally able to put it together. Still, by the time Aaron finished, Quinn had gone very pale.
“So there are such things as monsters, and I was one of them.”
“Yep. A pretty nasty one.”
Quinn swallowed.
“I feel sick.”
Aaron refrained from pointing out that how Quinn was feeling was below his radar of caring.
“Good. That’s a pretty human reaction—I’d be worried if you didn’t.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve had… thoughts… about murder… and torture…. They’ve been trapped in my head, and I didn’t know where they were coming from. I really thought I had gone crazy! Like I had a split personality and one of them was a psychopath.”
Aaron grunted noncommittally.
“But then, on the other side, there are these memories of the most horrible things. Fear and pain and death and dread… I just… I didn’t know if they were real or all bad dreams or what. And it turns out that everything was real—all of it—they’re just memories from my two different… lives.”
“Look, I can’t give you a handbook on how to deal with this,” said Aaron. “Henry, Reggie’s little brother, has experienced some of what you’re talking about, remembering things from both worlds. I think it’s just a part of you now.”
“So I’ll always have a little bit of psychopath in my head?”
“Maybe. It’s up to you not to act on it.”
Quinn sighed. He looked stricken.