Dark Light Book Two

by Rob Shepherd

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  Last Train

  London, England

  By Luke A. Pollard

  It is 23:50, the man in the dark hood is looking at me again; he has not stopped looking at me since he got on the train at East Croydon. I have not exactly made eye contact with him but I can tell that he is looking at me every time I look at the time, every time I look out to the black on the other side of the train window and even when I blink.

  “Purley, the next stop is Purley,” the train announcement calmly says. I look out the window as the train rolls up to the station and I know he is looking at me I can feel it, taking his chance. Two people step off of the carriage and walk into the black abyss beyond the platform and one woman gets on, a blonde woman. She is very young and quite pretty; if I did not have my Mummy then I would highly consider talking to her but the man in the dark hood beat me to it. Finally someone else he can stare at and not me.

  My mummy loved me and has always loved me, which is why I never wanted to leave. The attic was warm, the attic was clean and the attic was home even if Mummy did not know I was living up there. I used to spy on Mummy’s daily routine of waking up and going to work from nine till five which is when I got free reign of the house. I could eat whatever I pleased and wash my plates as mummy had taught me and to watch the TV. The CBBC had always been my favourite channel because my Mummy would not want me to watch adult channels. Sometimes Mummy would forget to turn the hot water off so I would have a nice warm bath.

  The creaky stairs had always scared me but on this day it scared me even more. I was just stepping out of the bath when I heard them getting closer and closer.

  “Coulsdon Town, the next stop is Coulsdon Town,” the train announcement echoes. It has been ten minutes and the man in the dark hood is still talking to the blonde woman. I think they exchanged names but I was not paying attention but I did notice him whisper in her ear and I know what he said I am sure he had told her to stare at me when I blink. He’s turning her against me. A woman that I have never met has been turned to hate me and stare at me whenever I am not looking. I find myself not breaking eye contact from either of them I did not even notice a man in a fancy suit get on the train until he blocked my line of vision. I bet they have taken their chance to stare at me now while I cannot see them but I am sure that they can see me.

  I did not mean to hurt mummy but she screamed too loud. All I wanted to do was to cover her mouth because she was hurting my ears with her loud voice I swear I did not mean to push her. I closed my eyes and covered them with my hands just to make sure and chanted LALALAL! As loud as I could try to cover up the sound of her screams and her bones breaking but it wasn’t good enough.

  I stared at mummy’s limp body as it lay on the hallway floor. There was no sign of blood. Mummy would have gone scatty if there was; Mummy hated blood that’s why she never took me to the hospital or did not want to look at me if I cut my finger because she would always be sick. I tried to shake her but she would not wake up, I tried to lift her eyelids open to see if she could see me but all they did was twitch. I placed my head on her chest and I could hear her heart beat so she had not gone to see daddy play snooker with god (at least that’s what mummy used to say) but I still did not know why she would not wake up.

  “Chipstead, the next stop is Chipstead,” by now these announcements had just become an annoyance. I think that the man in the dark hood and the blonde woman had had an argument because she was now getting off the train and looked very angry as well. Maybe she got bored of staring at me and wanted to go home like me and maybe the man did not like that and tried to make her stay because when she wanted to get up he held her arm but she slapped him to make him let go. Which I guess also made him angry because he started saying bad words. In the back of the carriage I saw the man in the suit get up and walk to the next carriage. He did not look like a fun man, and I know this because fun men are young and not old. So he probably got bored of the game to stare at me.

  I was now alone with the man in the dark hood for the first time on this train journey and I did not like it. I could read his mind and how he was planning to look at me the next time the train lights flicked. I just wanted my Mummy to be here she would stop the man from looking at me.

  I did not want to leave my mummy alone on the floor but I saw the blue lights flashing through the curtains in the living room and it scared me so I ran to my room. The first thing I heard was men shouting “She’s in here, She’s in here I can she her lying on the floor.” A loud bang on the door with the sound of word cracking followed.

  The two men were saying about how she fell down the stairs and that she was unconscious and to take her straight to Mayday Hospital. I remember that hospital because Daddy used to take me there all the time before he became snooker buddies with God.

  “Sorry about this ladies and gentlemen, but we are stuck at a red signal we will be on the move as soon as we can” that must have been the train driver in his grungy voice over the intercom but being stuck did not bother me, the man in the hood looking at me bothered me. He may look like he is asleep but I would bet anyone a million zillion pounds that he is just pretending so he can catch me off guard. Wait what if he is pretending to be asleep so I would not think that he followed me all the way here. What if he knew what I did, what if he followed me from the hospital. I knew someone was following me I could feel it in my bone and my body kept shaking. My Mummy said if that happens it means that someone is following me. This was bad, this was very bad. I just want to go home.

  Goodbye, I whispered to my Mummy in her ear. I did not want her to tell the doctor people that I had hurt my mummy; they may take me to the bad place she always said evil people go too. I raised my pillow and slowly placed it upon my Mummy’s face. Goodbye Mummy.

  She struggled a bit at first but she slowly drifted into a long sleep to go see Daddy and maybe even help him play snooker, Daddy never was that good.

  As I slowly walked out of the hospital all the people gave me very bad looks like I had been a bad boy. I am not a bad boy I only wanted to help my Mummy. I started to walk a bit faster and they all kept giving me mean looks. Stop looking at me. STOP LOOKING AT ME! STOP LOOKING AT ME! STOP LOOKING AT ME!

  Tadworth. The next stop is Tadworth, this train will terminate here. “I’m sorry ladies and gentlemen this train will terminate here due to late night works on the line.” The Train driver said. This was my stop anyway, It is almost half past midnight I hope mummy left the key under the mat for me otherwise I will have no way of getting in the house and it is quiet cold out tonight. Lucky I wrapped up warm in my puffy green winter coat with the fluffy hood.

  I think the man in the hood is waking up I better get off this train quick before he sees me getting off. BEEP, BEEP, BEEP. I think the train doors must have opened all by themselves because I did not even press the ‘open door’ button. I quickly stepped off of the train and onto the platform. I like this station because it does not have any of those silly ticket barriers so I can just run straight home.

  I can hear footsteps behind me. The footsteps are not mine, what if it is the man in the hood. What if he is following me home? I quickly look over my shoulder and I can see him. He is only a few feet behind me. He better not get any closer. I have my special flicky knife on me for protection. It was my Daddy’s special knife, he used it for everything from cutting his apple to opening what he used to call his electric soup bottle, but when he went I found it in his special naked lady magazine draw and kept it all for myself.

  Oh no I forgot that there is a dark alley from the train station to my house. I used to hate having to walk down this alley at night while holding Mummy’s hand, the trees used to give me bad looks and follow me while the wind would whisper nasty stuff in my ears “Daddy’s dead, why don’t you die to?�
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  I’m halfway down the alley now the man in the hood better not follow me or I will have to get angry. I do not like the dark but the man in the hood is right behind me still. I can feel the nice flicky knifes cold blade against the palm of my hand in my pocket.

  I’m gonna start to walk a bit slower now and let him catch up to me, maybe I can catch him off guard and he will no longer want to stare at me. I can hear his footsteps getting closer and closer and closer. This is my chance, I raise the flicky knife from my pocket and turn around to face the man in the hood and release the shiny blade from its home and into its new home, the stomach of the man in the hood.

  I stare into the eyes of the man in the hoods and can see the pain he feels. I bet he wished he did not stare at me now. This is how it feels to stare at someone, to feel their agony. This is how it feels. His eyes are slowly closing so I pull the knife out and put it back into him again. I can see his eyes again now. I can feel his blood flow down the knife handle and onto my hands, it’s kind of warm and as I look down it sparkles in the moonlight like a beautiful scarlet gem. I am going to have to wash my hands when I get in because I do not want blood to get all on Mummy’s carpet. I look back up into his eyes, the eyes of a naughty man.

  This. Is. How. It. Feels.

  Two people go into an alley how many people come out?

  Family Reunion

  By Susan Burdorf

  Grant Holvern tried to keep the smile from his face, but found it hard to contain his mirth. The raven-haired girl, struggling with the overlarge suitcase, was just too amusing to ignore. The vision of her dressed in a skin tight black dress, cinched at the waist by a thick leather belt with brass accents, thigh high boots (revealed when the slit in her skirt opened) and tight red corset out of which her breasts spilled in a delightful fleshy cascade that any nursing child would crave, was captivating.

  Nestled between her rounded mounds was a crystal that glowed with a brilliant rose color. Its facets, reflecting the light from the lamps lining the sides of the airship, caused a warm glow to surround her like an aura. Grant blinked, momentarily drawn to the pendant against his will. He felt a gentle mental tug, as if someone were inside his mind. But that was not possible; he had long ago learned to protect his thoughts from casual invasions. He shook his head to free himself from the fog that had clouded his thoughts and passed a hand over his eyes. This trip had taken more out of him than he thought; that he should be so weakened by a good looking girl.

  Feeling his knightly tendencies rising, as well as other parts of his anatomy, he offered to assist, and was roundly chastised for his chivalric attempt.

  “Just because I’m a girl, you think I’m too weak to do this?” she baited him, her black rimmed lips unsmiling at him, her dark lined eyes snapping at him, he threw up his hands in mock surrender and laughed as he backed away.

  “Sorry. Just trying to help, Miss…?” he waited for her to fill in the blank.

  Instead of answering she turned, put on her goggles, and grabbed the cumbersome suitcase as she departed the airship ahead of him. He stood there watching the show for the next few minutes until she was lost to view down the long corridor.

  He sighed, hefting his duffel bag onto his shoulder, he made his way to the exit point of the airship.

  Back to business.

  And this business was not going to be much fun.

  His mother’s summons, received in the form of a terse message by handtalker, had only fueled his imagination based on its brevity. Demanding he stop whatever he was doing, and return home immediately, he had sensed the unspoken urgency of her request. Trying to contact her to get further details had not revealed any more helpful information.

  “Just come home…now,” she had said, and in her voice he had sensed the unshed tears. His mother was not prone to strong emotion, so he knew immediately something was very wrong.

  “I have made the arrangements for you to fly home on the Stargazer, they leave in three hours,” she said brusquely, “please be on time.”

  Before he could ask anything else, she had ended the call. He had put his handtalker back into his pocket. Packing had taken only a few minutes. He still maintained a room fully stocked with clothing and other essentials back at his mother’s home. He really only needed to gather his immediate necessities - his goggles, weapons (something told him he would need them), and other tools of the trade that he never went anywhere without, and he was ready to go.

  A car hired by his mother met him downstairs. As he had closed the door the steam powered engine of the vehicle roared to life. With the exhaust vapor billowing behind him like a long charcoal scarf he was raced to the airstrip where the Stargazer hovered overhead as if waiting for him, which, it turned out, it was.

  Having been raised in a household where such luxuries as airships were the normal means of travel, it had not seemed strange to him to be sent home on one.

  Grant knew the first order of business was to let his mother know he was back in town. If she did not know already, that is. That woman had ESP when it came to where he was and what he was doing.

  He got to the front of the ship, made his farewells to the crew and captain, both friends of his family, and found Montague waiting for him with his usual calm detachment. His mother’s ESP on target, as usual.

  “Here sir, let me get that for you,” Montague reached for the duffel bag on Grant’s shoulder. Opening the trunk he tossed it in where Grant spied a familiar bag.

  “You have a guest this weekend, sir,” Montague said gesturing to the car.

  Grant got in with a big grin, ready to greet the girl with a witty comment, which promptly died on his lips when he saw the angry look on her face.

  “You!” she spat out, and turned her face away.

  “Are you always this intense?” Grant asked, laughing, as he settled himself in the seat.

  The girl did not answer, instead she moved as far away from him as she could.

  They passed the half hour ride to his mother’s home in silence. Well, she was silent at least, while Grant, on the other hand, was trying hard to engage her in some kind of conversation, but failing miserably.

  When the car stopped in front of his house the girl leaped from the vehicle before Montague could open the door and raced up the steps to the entrance. She reached for the knob, then stepped back when the door was opened by Lady Agatha Holvern herself.

  Grant stepped from the car more slowly, taking time to look at his mother he was immediately concerned by her appearance. Usually impeccably dressed, every hair on her head in its appointed place, she was in such disarray that Grant knew instinctively she was in distress.

  “Mother?” he said, then ran to her when he saw her falling to the ground in a faint. Unable to reach her in time, he was certain she would injure herself. The girl, seeing what was about to happen leaped into action, catching Lady Holvern before she would have fallen down the stairs.

  “Thank you,” Grant said to her, as he picked up his mother who was light as a feather in his muscular arms. He carried her inside, setting her on the red velvet divan in the front parlor. Looking up he gestured to Maura, the maid who had come running at his call, to get his mother something to drink.

  “Here,” said the girl from the car who handed him a glass of Brandy. The look on her face was one of tender concern.

  In a few minutes, coughing from the strong taste of the Brandy, his mother sat up. She gasped a couple of times as she regained her composure and her breath, and then squeezed him weakly on the shoulder in greeting.

  Had her hands always looked that fragile? Grant thought as he grasped one of her hands between his own. Cold, they were so cold. He rubbed the hand he held until he felt some warmth returning to it.

  His mother smiled gently at him, rubbing the side of his face with her other hand, her hand taking a moment to rest on his thick ginger colored moustache. “So like your father’s,” she whispered before shaking her head.

  “I’m so sor
ry to have to bring you back to this,” she continued softly.

  “To what, mother? Care to tell me why you have summoned me home?” Grant asked, kneeling below her and gazing up into her tortured face.

  “Not now,” she said after a moment, “we can talk after dinner. Take your things to your room. I need to talk to Elizabeyta.”

  The girl, Grant realized with a smile, really had a name. And his mother knew her, had summoned her here, as well as summoning him. He wondered what was going on, but when he tried to speak, his mother motioned him from the room.

  Noticing she was still weak he nodded, time enough to argue when she got her strength back he decided as he left the room. Montague met him in the hall with a worried expression. Putting his finger over his mouth to signal silence he pointed up the stairs. Grant followed him, and nodded a greeting to the rest of the silent servants who stood in the hallway watching him as he made his way up the stairs.

  They all seemed to be looking at him with hope. He was not sure what was going on, but he was sure he was not going to like it.

  And he was right.

  “Come again, Monty. What is going on?”

  Montague sighed. He turned away from Grant and walked to the window facing the East. He started again.

  “It was last winter, I believe. You had been away for many months at that time, and your mother missed you. She invited Trey, your college friend, to come for a weekend visit. You remember Trey, right? He lives in the North in one of those tiny villages nestled in the mountains?”

  “Yes, I remember Trey.” Grant remembered a short, brilliant, dark-haired young man who had always seemed to have money, and ideas on ways to have fun. Most of them involved a risky trip to places that usually got them in to trouble.

  Grant had taken him under his wing and tried to get him to focus more on his studies than on the married women in town. He had usually failed. Trey was never one to listen to reason if there was fun was to be had elsewhere.