Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #13 April 2015 | Page 183

I
Claire was already in trouble up to her hips, and if she
missed this train her parents would ground her for life.
After sneaking out to go to a ‘Bleeding Black Hearts’
gig, everything had gone horribly wrong. Now, she
was barely half-way down the stairs when she heard
the rails start to sing. The train was already coming in,
and there was a good chance it was the last one of the
night. She leapt down the rest of the steps three at a
time, hung desperately onto the handrail as she swung
around the corner, and ran out onto the platform. Her
head spun, but the train was already there and she
heard the familiar ‘pop-hiss’ of the doors starting to
close. Diving through the nearest opening, she tripped
and fell to her knees. The doors slid shut behind her
with a clunk and the train moaned away into the tunnel.

the far end. It seemed she was the only person on the
train. Her eyebrows shot up. There ought to be somebody else, even if this was the last train.
Her eyes opened wide. Maybe she had jumped onto
some special engineering unit, like a test train, or a
vintage train being used for a film shoot. Something
‘period’. The smile faded as she realised she would get
into trouble for spoiling the shot. It seemed whichever
way she turned she was finding bother.
The train slowed and Claire hoped it was pulling
into the next station. She could get off. Hopefully it
wouldn’t be where they were shooting and she could
wait for the right train. Looking through the windows
as the train burst out of the tunnel she realised the
station looked wrong too. Like the train, there were no
bright strip lights, just lots of old bulbs that looked as
though they weren’t getting enough power. Everything
looked the same smoky yellow.

She stood and looked around. Her cheeks were burning and she quickly checked her knees to make sure
she hadn’t holed her tights. A glance in either direction A sign flashed past but Claire was just able to read it.
showed she was alone in the carriage, but the sigh of
Fiddler’s Green? There was no such station; at least,
relief caught in her throat. She looked again.
she didn’t remember one, and she was usually quite
geeky about such things. It must be the film set. She
Dim bulbs ran along either side of the ceiling instead
stepped back from the door and sank down onto a seat,
of bright strip lights, and everything had a yellow tint
waiting miserably for an irate director to yell ‘cut’ as
to it. Leather loops rather than plastic-coated tubes
burly security people threw her off the train and out of
hung down for people to hold, and the window frames the station.
were wooden, not metal. The floor was set out in parallel slats, with lots of little plugs of something stuck
With an ear-torturing screech the train came to a halt
between them.
and the doors opened. Somebody in a long, dark coat
leapt inside, looking away from Claire and down the
The train even sounded wrong when it pulled away,
tunnel the train had come from. Claire stifled a squeal.
creaking and groaning as though everything was too
She hadn’t seen anybody waiting on the platform. The
much effort. It stank, not with the usual faint whiff
doors pop-hissed closed, and the person turned.
of armpits and damp clothes, but with a stale smell
of burnt tar and it took Claire a moment to realise
It was a girl, two or three years older than Claire,
the little plugs in the floor were actually cigarette
dressed in an outlandish collection of clothes that
butts. That’s why the train smelt so bad. People had
started with a leather aviator’s cap and finished with
been smoking. Inside. Claire’s nose wrinkled as she
heavy biker’s boots. Beneath the long coat, either
frowned.
leather or waxed cotton, Claire glimpsed an equipment
belt festooned with little pockets and gadgets, a tight
The sounds of the motor and the wheels rattling on
fitting black top, and trousers with a black and grey
the rails were nowhere near as frantic as she was used camouflage print. Around her neck hung a pair of old
to, and the carriage wallowed from side to side. It felt flying goggles with blue-tinted lenses, and in her right
slow. Claire looked through the window of the door at hand she held something that looked like a ray gun

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