Night Train

by David Quantick

“Just towers,” said Garland.

  “Wait,” said Banks. “I think I can see –”

  * * *

  A few metres away, parallel to them, something long, and brightly burning.

  * * *

  “– a train,” Banks said. “A burning train.”

  “Looks like we’re in the right place for once,” said Poppy, and went back to punching the ceiling.

  She paused to rip away some wiring.

  “Nearly through,” she said.

  * * *

  Now they had the burning train as a landmark, they could see that they were definitely coming to a stop now. As before, it was a long, slow stop. A platform appeared out of the darkness, thick with deep, undisturbed ash.

  “Been snowing ash for a while here,” Banks said.

  “No footprints or signs of anyone clearing it,” said Garland.

  “Can you only speak when you see something interesting?” Poppy shouted, her body half in and half out of the roof. “It’s really hard to concentrate.”

  * * *

  The train was so covered in drifts of ash that it was hard to see anything at all.

  * * *

  “A sign!” shouted Banks.

  Garland peered out. Banks was right. Visible through a gap in the rising mist was, not a sign as such, but a raised piece of stone with carved letters set upon it. Some of the letters were missing, others smashed beyond legibility, but most of them were intact. Intact enough to read, anyway.

  “INGCOS,” Banks slowly spelled out. “What’s that?”

  “Don’t ask me, I don’t even remember my own name,” said Garland.

  Poppy appeared from inside the ceiling, covered in grease.

  “Ingcos,” she repeated. “Never heard of it.”

  “Still, that’s where we are,” Banks said.

  * * *

  As imperceptibly as it had begun to slow down, the train stopped. One minute it was moving and one minute it wasn’t.

  * * *

  They sat there for a moment, then Poppy jumped up.

  “No time to lose,” she said, burrowing back into the ceiling.

  After a moment, she reappeared.

  “Skis,” she said.

  * * *

  “That’s something you don’t see every day,” Banks said to Garland as they watched Poppy drag and bang the skis against the wall.

  “Don’t help,” said Poppy.

  “Back in a moment,” Garland said, and she and Banks got up and left the compartment.

  * * *

  The door to the platform didn’t budge.

  “Which we expected,” said Banks.

  Garland put a hand on his arm. “There’s a light flashing,” she said.

  “There was,” Banks replied. “It stopped.”

  They looked at each other. Then Garland reached out her hand, gripped the lever, and pushed.

  The door opened.

  “Hold it there!” Garland shouted.

  * * *

  She stepped back into the carriage. Poppy wasn’t there.

  “Poppy!” she shouted. “Poppy!”

  After a moment or two, Poppy’s head appeared through the hole.

  “You better not be telling me the door opened,” she said.

  “Sorry,” said Garland.

  Poppy swore, and dropped her skis back through the hole.

  * * *

  They all stood on the platform. Drifts of ash were heaped up everywhere, glowing faintly in the light of the high neon lamps that dotted the platforms. There seemed to be an endless array of platforms, spread out as far as the eye could see.

  “We should split up and explore,” said Poppy.

  “We should get back on the train,” said Garland.

  “The door!” said Banks, and stepped back onto the train again. “You look around,” he said. “If it looks like the train’s about to go off again, I’ll shout and hope you can hear me.”

  Poppy nodded. “Yeah, but what if you get, you know, ripped apart and eaten?” she said.

  “I’ll just hope you can hear that too,” said Banks.

  * * *

  “I think we should have stayed with Banks,” said Garland as they made their way up the platform.

  “Look, a footbridge,” Poppy said.

  “We shouldn’t get too far from the train,” Garland said, but Poppy was already sprinting up the platform to a thin metal bridge that crossed the tracks.

  * * *

  Garland, slightly out of breath, joined Poppy on the top of the footbridge.

  “Good God,” she said.

  “Pretty much,” Poppy agreed. “Just look at it.”

  Below them, on almost every platform, were trains. Some were long and luxurious, plated in silvery chrome. Some were filthy and functional, stumpy tenders with great hooks or coal containers on the back. A few were relics from the past, some were futuristic, but most of them were just trains, lowering in the night.

  “We’ve spent all our time in that one metal tube,” said Poppy. “And all the time this has been here.”

  “You’ve seen one train, you’ve seen them all,” Garland said.

  “Let’s go and get a close-up view.”

  Garland shook her head.

  “I really don’t want to stray too far,” she said.

  “That’s true,” Poppy replied. “You don’t.”

  And she leapt down the stairs, three at a time.

  Garland suppressed a bad word, changed her mind, said the bad word, and followed.

  * * *

  “This one’s got a thing,” said Poppy, pointing.

  “A destination board?” suggested Garland.

  “That’s the one.” Poppy twisted round to the front of the train to look.

  “Ingcos,” she said, disappointed.

  “Makes sense,” said Garland.

  “We need more names.” Poppy strode up the platform.

  “We haven’t got time for this.” Garland followed her.

  “You might not,” Poppy said. “I do.”

  They stood opposite one another. Garland found she had her hands on her hips.

  Just then a voice came half-sliced on the wind.

  “Quick!” shouted Banks.

  Garland gave Poppy a look and ran for the bridge.

  “It’s not moving,” Garland said.

  “I know,” Banks replied. “Come here.”

  Poppy followed them back into the carriage.

  “What is –” she began.

  “Listen,” said Garland.

  There was sound coming from the speaker grille.

  “Music,” said Poppy. “Great. Are they playing your request, then?”

  “It’s not like the other songs,” Banks said.

  “It’s not a song,” said Poppy.

  The music was all bleeps and whooshes. There were odd drums that sounded like they were spinning.

  “What’s that?” said Poppy at one point.

  “I think it’s a guitar,” Banks said.

  “It’s wonderful,” Poppy said. “Now can I go?”

  Garland looked at her.

  “You can do what you like,” she said. “I thought we agreed about that.”

  Poppy looked hurt. Then her face broke out in a broad grin.

  “I guess so,” she said. “You going to see me off or what?”

  The music had faded out. Banks held the door open for them to get out.

  “This is it, then,” said Poppy.

  “Wait,” Banks said.

  “What for?” said Poppy.

  “A lot’s happened since we last stopped.”

  “Like mystery killing machines and clone soldiers?” said Poppy. “I’m out of here.”

  “What about you?” Banks said to Garland. “Poppy’s right, the train isn’t safe.”

  Garland hunched her shoulders and looked around. “Where is?”

  She touched Poppy briefly on the shoulder. Poppy flinched, but not much.

  “I hav
e to stay,” she said. “I have to find out what happened. To me, to everything.”

  “I’m cool with that,” Poppy said. She touched Garland’s hand with her fingers.

  “Who says ‘cool with that’?” said Banks.

  “Goodbye, Banks,” said Poppy, shouldering her skis. “Goodbye, Garland.”

  * * *

  Banks kept the door open as Garland got back onto the train.

  * * *

  Poppy hoisted the skis higher on her back and walked down the platform back to the footbridge.

  Once back on top of the bridge, she was able to survey the surrounding landscape and consider her options. She quite fancied seeing the silver train close up first. She didn’t know if she’d get on it though, just maybe have a look at it: she’d spent enough time cooped up lately. Maybe she’d just have a look and then head for the way out.

  She heard a sound, like a hooter. It was a hooter, sounding back where she had come from. The train that Garland and Banks were on was giving off clouds of steam as its engines began to warm up again, sending flurries of glittering ash into the night sky.

  * * *

  “Now what?” Banks said, yet again.

  “As we were,” said Garland. “Sit down and wait for this thing to start moving again.”

  “What if it doesn’t? What if this is it?”

  “It will. This isn’t it.”

  They sat down. Banks found some juice.

  “Got one for me there?” asked Garland.

  * * *

  Poppy watched as the train wheels began slowly to rotate.

  “Nice knowing you,” she said, giving the train a smart salute.

  * * *

  “You won’t be able to see her, you know,” said Banks, as Garland peered out of the window into the billowing mist.

  “Maybe it’s not her I’m looking for,” said Garland.

  “There’s nobody else out there,” Banks said, and sucked the last of his juice.

  * * *

  Poppy waited until the train was definitely moving out before she picked up her skis again. She could see the carriage they’d been in – the hole she’d made was leaking enough warm air to make the ash on the roof dance – and wondered if they could see her.

  “Probably studying that fucking map,” she said, and noticed that her voice sounded wistful rather than harsh.

  She took one last look at the train, which was when she saw something move along the roof.

  * * *

  “I hope she’s going to be all right,” Garland said.

  “She’ll be fine. She can pull the ceiling out of a train,” said Banks. “Which I wish she hadn’t done, because it’s getting cold in here.”

  “We’ll be out of here in a minute,” Garland said.

  “Updating your map of where we’ve been?” Banks asked.

  “Like she said,” Garland replied. “You never know.”

  * * *

  Poppy estimated it was bigger, and heavier, than a human being from the way it cleaved to the roof, keeping its centre of gravity flat and low. It was slow, hindered by the wind, but it was moving steadily forward. She estimated it would only be a few minutes before it got to the carriage Garland and Banks were in. The carriage with a hole in the roof.

  She began to run towards the train.

  * * *

  The thing on the roof was not overendowed with intelligence but it had an excellent sense of smell, an almost industrial digestive system and teeth that had never known what it was like to not sever something at the first attempt.

  It had no real emotions, in the more complex sense of the word, but it had basic needs and feelings. Right now it was hungry, and it was cold.

  It wasn’t particularly worried about this, however. It was sure that slightly ahead of it was the solution to both problems.

  It crawled on.

  * * *

  Poppy ran so hard she could feel her feet jarring against the concrete platform.

  * * *

  “Did you hear something?” asked Garland.

  Banks shook his head.

  “I expect it’s the wind coming through that hole,” he said pointedly.

  Garland gave him a look.

  “Nearly done,” she said.

  * * *

  The thing on the roof could smell them now. There were two, and they were warm, and they would provide hot blood and bones to break.

  It began to move more quickly.

  * * *

  Poppy tried to keep pace with the train as it sped up but her legs, while powerful, were not designed for speed and she began to fall behind.

  * * *

  “I heard a thump,” Garland said. “Just down there.”

  She got up. Banks stood as well.

  “There’s no need for you to come,” said Garland.

  “Nevertheless,” said Banks, and went round her.

  * * *

  The thing could see the hole in the roof now, if ‘see’ was the right word, and it nearly was. It could detect the warmth of the carriage below, and its sense of smell, which was almost entirely weaponised, was almost in a frenzy at what waited for it down below. Sometimes its makers gave it frozen meat to eat, offal and old eyes, but this was better. Much better.

  With renewed effort, it dragged its bulk closer.

  * * *

  Banks touched Garland’s arm.

  “I think,” he said, “it’s going to come through the hole in the roof.”

  “Run,” said Garland.

  They ran.

  * * *

  Poppy made a decision. She veered to her right, leaped blindly into space and let her hands grope the air. They met first with flat metal, slipped down for a moment, and then found a handle.

  Half dragged, half flying, Poppy held on to the handle, raised a hand up and groped for another.

  There wasn’t one.

  * * *

  The thing found the hole and slid over it. Then it just let itself fall.

  * * *

  “Did you hear that?” shouted Banks as he grappled with the compartment door.

  “Just get the door open,” Garland said.

  “It’s stuck,” Banks said.

  “You’re fucking joking,” Garland said.

  * * *

  The thing got up.

  * * *

  Garland turned around. What she saw pushed the air from her lungs. She was looking at something her mind could barely process.

  It was almost three metres tall and appeared to be standing on all fours, except it didn’t seem to have legs. It was covered in a brownish hide, hard rind-like plates stippled with tumps of hair and grey and green bumps that reached down to the ground. Where its head should be was a large mass of darker grey plates, under which something liquid like a black jelly moved.

  Its mouth was easy to see, a wide collection of teeth set in a dark slash below the head. The teeth were yellow and long and some of them, improbably, were serrated like hacksaws.

  None of this was pleasant, or comforting, but what distressed Garland the most was not the animal aspect of the creature. What upset her, down to the very core of her being, were the aspects of the creature that were not remotely animal.

  There was, for example, something resembling a limb that extruded from one side of its body, long and muscular and ending in a cluster of sharp claws. This was worrying enough itself, but made worse by the fact that the limb and its claws did not appear to be entirely organic at all, but rather a kind of mash of metal and bone and raw muscle, as though someone had decided to create a part-machine animal, and had done so, not by grafting but by somehow growing metal and bone and muscle together.

  Worst of all, though, were the parts of the creature which resembled nothing else at all. Near the top of its shoulder, Garland saw, was an area which at first she thought was made of some kind of shiny metal or plastic. It was not. As the creature moved, preparing itself, she saw the place by the shoulder ripple.

  “It
’s liquid,” she said. “Part of that thing is liquid.”

  “That’s impossible,” said Banks, “an animal can’t be liquid.”

  The creature opened its mouth, or the place where its mouth was, and let out something like a howl. It sounded like amplified static. It sounded like frying steel. It sounded terrifying.

  Garland said, “I don’t think it’s an animal.”

  * * *

  The creature was moving now, slowly.

  “It knows we’re not going anywhere,” said Garland.

  Banks said, “We should run.”

  Garland said, “What’s the point? It might not have any legs, but we can’t outpace it.”

  “Are we just going to stand here and let it eat us?” asked Banks.

  “You run, I’ll try and stall it,” Garland said drily.

  “I’m not leaving you now,” said Banks.

  Garland looked at him. She smiled.

  “I’ll remember that,” she said. “You know, in the last few seconds.”

  * * *

  The creature opened its mouth wider.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Garland said.

  In the middle of the creature’s mouth was something like a tongue. It was red, and soft, except for its edges, which were yellow, hard and sharp.

  “A tongue with teeth,” Garland said. “Now I’ve seen everything.” She turned away from the tongue, which was now clattering itself against the creature’s other teeth.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” she said to Banks. “Let’s run.”

  They ran.

  * * *

  The creature reared up. It screamed static and metal.

  * * *

  Banks shoulder-charged the door but he couldn’t unstick it.

  * * *

  The creature began to move slowly towards them, like an enormous armour-plated slug.

  “Let me try,” said Garland. She tugged at the door, but it didn’t move.

  * * *

  “I think,” said Banks, as the creature got nearer, “that this is it.”

  “I think you’re right,” said Garland.

  “You don’t sound scared,” Banks said.

  “No point,” said Garland.

  * * *

  They faced the creature.

  * * *

  “Never did get to the front of the train,” said Garland. “That’s my only regret.”

  * * *

  There was a thump. The creature turned slowly around.

  * * *

  “Never say never,” said Poppy. “Ow,” she added. “My fucking leg.”

  * * *

  The creature hissed, and sprang at her.