by Tim O'Rourke
I knew Lilly would understand my conflicting feelings – she was a wolf after all. I wondered how many she had killed in her life – or had she managed to beat the curse? Killing is like crack – you do it the once and spend the rest of your life chasing that original high. Now wasn’t the time to ask. I had to get my demons in check if this mission was going to be a success. I couldn’t risk everything by going on a killing spree on the other side of the cracks and holes Noah and the photographer had been making. But those thoughts – cravings – just wouldn’t go away; they never truly did. Killing to me was as natural as breathing air. The cravings were always there, sometimes weak, other times, strong. It was like they rippled over me in waves. As I stood in line, those waves of desire to kill had grown suddenly strong, and like always, I didn’t know how long it would be until they faded again. The quickest way for them to go was to make a kill – but I didn’t want to do that anymore.
“Are you sure you’re okay to do this?” Lilly asked, her hand soft against my arm.
I looked down into her sparkling eyes. She smiled at me, her lips red and full, snow white hair jostling about the curve of her smooth neck and shoulders. I looked away. I didn’t want her to see in my eyes what I was seeing in my head. I didn’t want her to see how much I wanted to take her – hurt her. Wolf or not, killing her would be so fucking sweet.
“Stop it,” I told myself again, opening and closing my hands. They felt hot and clammy as I drove away the images of tearing open her white fur coat and enjoying myself on what lay beneath.
“You did say something?” Potter said, swivelling around to look at me again. “I know this is like a really dumb question, but are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I growled down at him. “I just want to be left alone.”
“That’s fine with me,” Potter said, looking front again.
With Potter’s back turned to us, Lilly touched my arm again and said, “Jack, I don’t think this is such a good idea. I don’t think you should go back.”
I brushed her hand away, I couldn’t bear her touch. It made my heart race way too fast and created those pictures in my head. Although I enjoyed seeing those images of me and Lilly together, I couldn’t risk looking at them for too long, or the mission would be over for me and Lilly.
“Don’t touch me,” I whispered.
“I want to help you,” she whispered back.
“No, you don’t want to help me,” I said. The only help she could give me right now would be to let me take her then kill her. “I don’t need your help, Lilly Blu. I’ll be fine to go back through the cracks.”
“If you’re sure,” she said, looking at me.
Without looking down and meeting her stare, I said, “Is there a chance that any of my victims could be here, trying to get back?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
“These are dead people, right?” I said.
“Sure,” Lilly nodded.
“So is my brother, Nik here someplace?” I said, not wanting to talk about those women I had once killed.
“I don’t know,” she said. “He could be anywhere.”
“Is anywhere like nowhere?” I asked, and this time I did risk looking at her.
“There are smaller stations that people travel through,” Lilly said, her eyes growing wide as they met with mine.
I looked quickly away as I saw myself yank open her fur coat in my mind. “So I might never see my brother again?” I asked. “He might be dead to me forever.”
“Yes,” Lilly said softly.
“He was all I had left,” I said. “Nik was good for me. We helped each other. He is the only family I had left.”
“You have Kiera,” she said.
“She won’t want to know me, if and when this is all over,” I told her. “Kiera is too good for me. She’s better than me.”
“Do you know for certain that’s how Kiera feels?” Lilly asked me. “You need to ask her.”
“I need to keep away from her,” I said, still unable to bring myself to look at Lilly. I just wanted those images and thoughts that plagued me to stop. “I will just end up destroying her.”
“You need to tell Kiera this…” Lilly started.
Then, reaching into the back pocket of my jeans, I pulled out a crumpled envelope and thrust it into Lilly’s hands. “If I don’t come back… if I fuck up or something goes wrong… give this letter to Kiera for me.”
Not giving Lilly a chance to say anything, I looked back at the line as Potter reached the ticket booth.
Chapter Twelve
Potter
I peered through the glass partition at the wrinkled old black guy. His eyes twinkled like stars beneath a set of overgrown white eyebrows. His face was a map of deep, ragged lines. They spread out from the corners of his eyes, down the sides of his ancient face, and formed what looked like a spider’s web around his mouth.
“And what is your destination, Potter?” he asked with a brilliant smile.
“Where do you suggest?” I shot back at him through the glass.
Noah brought a dusty-looking Coke bottle up to his dry-looking lips and took a sip. The red and white label around the centre of the glass bottle was faded and peeling away. “Have you not checked the departure board for destinations, Potter?”
I glanced to my right and scanned the hundreds of boards with their twinkling orange lights. One board seemed to be lit up more than the others, as if drawing my attention to it. I checked out the destination. Very cute, I thought to myself with a half-smile. Looking back through the glass at Noah, I said, “I’ve heard the Hudson River can be very nice at this time of year.”
“Did you say Hudson?” the old guy asked, bringing an arthritic-looking hand up to his ear.
“Yeah, that’s the place,” I said.
Noah punched me out a ticket and pushed it beneath the glass partition. “Have a safe journey, Potter, and I hope your stay at the Hudson River is a productive one.”
“I’m sure it will be,” I said, taking the ticket and turning it over in my hands. And just like I guessed it would be, the ticket was blank. “Thanks…” I started, looking back at the booth.
“Next!” the old guy shouted over me.
I stepped to one side so Jack could approach the ticket booth. Jack arched his skinny back, stooping so he could look through the glass at Noah.
“What is your destination?” Noah asked Jack, just like he’d asked me.
“You tell me,” Jack barked.
Easy, tiger, I thought to myself.
Still smiling, the old guy peered at Jack from inside the booth and said, “Can’t you see any place you would like to go to?”
Stooped at the waist, Jack turned his head and glanced over at the departure boards, then looked over at me. “What did you say Isidor’s girl was called?”
“Melody Rose,” I told him.
Looking back through the glass at the old guy, Jack said, “I’ll take the train that’s departing from platform 12.”
“And where is that train heading?” Noah asked, screwing up his eyes and peering up at the boards.
“The Rose Garden,” Jack said.
“Sounds very picturesque,” Noah said, punching out a ticket and sliding it towards Jack. “Lots of beautiful pink roses.”
Jack picked it up with his long, tweezer-like fingers and inspected it. “Who said the roses were gonna be pink?” Jack grunted.
“I’ll wager they are,” Noah smiled brightly back at him.
Without saying anything, Jack turned away from the booth. And instead of Noah shouting the word ‘Next’ like he had so many times before, he called after Jack and said, “Be careful of the roses, Jack, they can have thorns. Make sure you handle them with care.”
“I’ll be careful not to cut myself, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jack said over his shoulder.
“It’s not you I’m worried about, Jack,” Noah said, his smile fading. “Make sure you don’t
hurt one single petal on any beautiful roses you might find.”
Jack fixed the old guy with a knowing stare, then looked away again. Turning the ticket over in his fingers, he joined me and Lilly.
“What’s that crazy old fucker going on about?” Jack said.
Looking him straight in the eye, I said, “You know exactly what the old guy means, and don’t forget it, Jack.”
Jack broke my stare, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. Was sending a fucking serial killer back to watch over a fourteen-year-old boy and girl the sanest thing in the world to do? I wanted to warn Jack not to hurt either of them, just like Noah had, but before I’d the chance to say anything, he was striding away on his long, spindly legs towards the platform where the train for The Rose Garden was departing from.
Lilly looked at Jack stride away and said to me, “Are you ready to go, Potter?”
“I guess,” I said.
Then turning to face me, she said, “Don’t change anything. Just find this photographer and come back.” Lilly leant forward and kissed me gently on the cheek.
I watched her trot off across the concourse after Jack.
“How do I get back?” I called after her, waving the ticket in my hand.
“Find a station,” she said, glancing back with a smile. Then she was gone, heading down the escalators after Jack and onto platform 12.
“What freaking station?” I muttered, looking down at the ticket I held between my fingers. Sliding it into my coat pocket, I made my way across the concourse and towards platform 56. I stepped onto the escalators and travelled below ground. About halfway down, I looked back and the concourse was nothing more than a pinprick of light above me. I looked front and could see what appeared to be a well of darkness opening up beneath me like a set of jaws. But it wasn’t total darkness down there. There was a murky kind of orange light. Reaching the bottom, I stepped off the escalator and onto platform 56, which was lit by a series of gas lamps. There was a draft as the flames in the lamps flickered back and forth. There was no one else on the platform other than me. I looked left and right and there was a tunnel at either end of the platform and both were thick with darkness. Water dripped from the ceiling and the walls were stained green with damp. A rat scurried out of the darkness and clambered over my boot. I kicked it away and onto the tracks.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flicker of movement at the far end of the platform just before the opening of one of the tunnels.
“Hello?” I called out.
Whoever it was made no reply.
“Do you want to see my ticket?” I shouted, fishing it from my coat pocket. The sound of my voice echoed off the surrounding walls. As my voice faded away, I heard the sound of wind blowing through the tunnel. It was strong and cool, blowing my hair back from my brow. As the rush of the wind grew stronger and louder, so did another sound. The platform began to tremor and the tracks made a hissing sound as a steam train headed out of the darkness of the tunnel. It was black and it raced forward, looking like a giant beetle in the darkness. Clouds of thick, grey smoke poured from its funnel. The windows of the cab were black so I couldn’t see in and get a glimpse of the driver. Jets of steam spat from beneath the wheels as the driver – if there was one – put on the brakes and the train shuddered to a stop in the platform. The enclosed platform soon filled with the smoke that still poured from the funnel of the engine. I glanced to my right and saw that figure again, like a shadow amongst the smoke.
“All aboard,” I heard a voice come from deep within the smog. The voice was childlike, and I was sure I heard whoever it was snigger excitedly.
“Who’s there?” I said, squinting into the thick smoke. “Don’t you wanna see my ticket?”
“All aboard,” the childish voice said again, and this time whoever it was did giggle, the sound was unmistakeable and chilling.
With gooseflesh breaking out like a rash all over me, I reached out and tugged at one of the carriage door handles. I climbed inside, pulling the door closed behind me with a thud. Just like Lilly had described, the inside of the carriage looked like something you would see in a museum. The seats were covered in a thick purple cloth with a gold trim. The frame of the carriage was made of a dark coloured wood. I fell into my seat as the train suddenly lurched forward, then left and right. The driver blew on the horn, and the sound was deafening. This was followed by the sound of a whistle being blown on the platform.
Leaning forward in my seat, I pulled down the window set into the carriage door and peered out. Again, I could see the murky shadow of that figure shrouded deep in the smoke billowing from the train. From within the clouds of smoke slid a small white hand. The tiny hand waved at me, as that childlike voice whispered from the smog, “Goodbye, Potter.”
I sat back in my seat, my heart suddenly racing and the sound of giggling fading away behind me on the platform. Even before the train had reached the confines of the tunnel, I felt my eyelids become heavy. I tried to stop them falling shut over my eyes, but it was impossible. I closed them for just a second and snapped them open again. The carriage was now in total darkness and the motion of it swaying from side to side had stopped. The train must have come to a sudden halt in the tunnel. But there was something else. It took me a moment to realise what. There was someone in the carriage with me.
“Who’s there?” I asked, half expecting to see that paper white hand slide out of the darkness.
“I could ask you the same thing,” someone said back.
A light came on and I snapped my eyes closed at its sudden brightness.
“Potter!” the voice gasped. “Where do you get off breaking into my apartment after what you did to me?”
I opened my eyes to find myself looking up into Kiera’s hazel eyes. Before I’d had the chance to say anything, she had rolled her fist back and punched me straight in the face, just like she had so many times before.
Chapter Thirteen
Jack
I stepped onto the escalator, then felt someone tug my arm. I looked back to find that Lilly had caught up with me. I eased my arm free of her grip. Those cravings to kill had eased a little. But still, I didn’t want her to reignite them. I looked at her, knowing that she wouldn’t see anything other than my crazy yellow stare.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked me.
“Yes,” I nodded. “I have to.”
“Are you doing this for Kiera?” Lilly said.
“No, I don’t think so, not really,” I said thoughtfully.
“For who then?”
“Me,” I told her.
“Why?”
“It’s not often someone as evil as me gets to go back and put something right,” I said, turning and heading down the escalator. It made a chugging noise beneath me as each step cranked around on a rusty chain.
“Jack!” I heard Lilly call to me one last time.
I glanced back over my shoulder at her.
“Be good,” she smiled, then turned her back on me and disappeared amongst the crowds on the concourse. Turning to look down into the approaching darkness, I knew I couldn’t promise to be good, but I would certainly try. If I didn’t make it back, I was content to know that Lilly had the letter I had written for Kiera.
I stepped onto the platform. It was dark, and I could only make out the edge of the platform because of a strip of fluorescent lighting overhead. It made a fizzing sound as it flickered off and on like flashes of lightning. Moths fluttered about the blinking light. The walls of the platform were constructed from a rusty coloured brick. There had once been posters attached to the walls, but all that was left were strips of faded paper. There was a wooden sign hanging from the wall. All but one of the screws fixing it had come loose. So the sign which read ‘The Great Wasteland Railroad’ hung lopsided from one corner. Shouldn’t that have read ‘The Great Western Railway’? I wondered. I couldn’t be sure. I couldn’t be sure of anything anymore. All I knew was I couldn’t afford to fuck this
journey up. I had to get through it without killing anyone or thing. Lilly had made it clear that I wasn’t to interact with anyone or change anything other than unmask the photographer. Maybe if I could do this without killing, then I would start my own journey towards beating the curse that caused so much pain, not only to my victims, but me, too.
I caught sight of someone further up the platform. I couldn’t see them clearly, it was too dark. The strip of lighting above me flickered on and off, and the person, whoever it had been, was gone again. A humming sound filled the tunnel to my right, sounding like a swarm of angry wasps heading my way. A single light appeared deep within the tunnel and got bigger with every passing moment. The humming sound grew louder as the light got bigger. A train raced out of the tunnel. It wasn’t a steamer like Lilly had described. The train was electric, although I couldn’t see any overhead cables or third rail running alongside the tracks. The engine was made of metal and was pointed like a snow cone at the front. Its once-white body was now covered in sheets of flaky rust. The cab windows were so cracked, they appeared frosted. It was impossible to see who the driver might be. I stepped towards the carriages and could see that each of them, like the engine, looked weather-beaten and old. There was a whooshing sound as the carriage doors slid apart.
“All aboard,” someone said.
I looked to my right to see a woman crawling up the platform. Peering into the gloom, I realised that she wasn’t crawling at all, but clawing her way along the platform on her belly. She had no legs, and a stream of black blood and entrails dragged behind her where she had been ripped in half. She looked like she was wearing a tattered and torn wedding dress.
“Climb on board,” she gargled on a throat full of blood, which spurted over her lips and onto the platform. Her hair looked black, or was it simply coated in blood? I couldn’t be sure.
“Do I know you?” I asked her.
“You killed me, Jack, on my hen night,” the woman gurgled.