The Beast on the Tracks

by Amy Cross

  “Do you always go around looking at people's boobs?”

  “At -” I pause, trying to realize what she means. “I didn't look at your chest like that,” I add, struggling to keep from panicking. “The badge is right there, it's kind of eye-catching. It drew my attention, but I didn't think about the fact that it was anywhere near your -”

  “Don't sweat about it,” she replies, sliding my change across the counter, and for the first time she's actually smiling. “It's not that big of a deal, but you wanna be careful in future where you let your eyes wander to, 'cause some people might not appreciate it. Do you get me?”

  I nod as I gather up the change. All I want now is to get out of here, but of course I manage to fumble and drop a couple of coins. I crouch down to pick them up, but one is flat against a tile on the floor and my fingernails aren't really that long. Still, I can't just leave the coin behind, because that would seem odd, so I try again and again to get it up until finally I succeed. Then, looking up at the counter, I swallow hard as I realize that although I can't see Victoria, I'm sure she's still up there.

  Should I just leave without saying anything? I'd have to crab-walk out and not look back. That would be odd too.

  Slowly, I get to my feet and come face to face with her again, and to my surprise I find that she's smiling slightly.

  “You live around here?” she asks.

  “I don't know.”

  “You don't know?”

  “I mean, I'm sorta passing through,” I reply, and then I surprise myself with what I say next. “I might be sticking around for a while, though.”

  “Right.” She bites her bottom lip. “Well, maybe I'll see you again.”

  “Definitely. I mean... maybe. Sure, maybe.”

  I pause, but I feel as if the conversation has reached something of a drying out point, so I turn and hurry out of the gas station. As I do so, I look across the street and notice the cemetery that I saw earlier, and I come to a halt at the edge of the sidewalk. Tonight's a warm night, and I'm starting to think that a cemetery might actually be a good place to sleep. I mean, I'm unlikely to be disturbed, and there should be some nice soft ground. Plus, I'm not spooked by ghost stories or anything like that, so it's not as if I'll get scared.

  I glance over my shoulder.

  Victoria's watching me from inside the brightly-lit station.

  I smile at her, and then I hurry along the sidewalk until I'm certain that I'm out of sight. Then I cross the road and, after checking one more time that nobody can see me, I start climbing over the cemetery wall. I've never actually climbed a high wall before, so it takes me a couple of attempts, and I drop my water and my sandwich as I finally tumble over and crash down onto the grass.

  ***

  This is the best sandwich I've ever eaten in my life.

  Sitting on the ground in the cemetery, with my back against the rough cobbled wall, I wolf the sandwich down so fast that at one point I actually bite my left pinky finger. Not hard enough to make it bleed, but hard enough for me to realize that perhaps I should be a little more careful. I should have bought two sandwiches, and I briefly consider going back to the gas station. I know that'd seem weird, however, and I really don't want to freak Victoria out, so I force myself to stay put. I'll just have to buy two tomorrow.

  Tomorrow?

  Sure, I can stick around tomorrow. Not forever, obviously, because living in a cemetery isn't a long-term plan, but another night or two wouldn't be so bad.

  I look up at the top of the wall, and I think of Victoria working in the gas station on the other side of the road. She seems really good at her job, and conscientious too, and very caring. Overall, it's nice to know that there are people like Victoria in the world, and that not everyone is an asshole. Sometimes it can be way too easy to just assume that everyone's mean.

  Hearing a rustling sound, I turn and look across the cemetery. I swear I just heard the sound of someone moving about, but all I see are endless gravestones stretching away into darkness. I haven't even begun to explore the cemetery, which seems pretty huge, but now I'm starting to wonder whether I'm entirely alone. It's not the dead that I'm worried about, of course. I grew out of ghost stories a long time ago. It's the living that scare me.

  I wait, in case I hear the sound again.

  And I do. Hear it, I mean.

  Getting to my feet, I start to realize that maybe I should get out of here. After all, I'm really not that much of a tough guy and I don't want to end up in a fight, so I'm already starting to try to figure out where I should go. I could run for the gate, but that's exactly what some crazed killer would expect me to do, and besides I'd run the risk of getting spotted by Victoria. I could try climbing the wall again, but I wasn't so good at that before and I might get caught. My other option is to try to find another way out of this place, perhaps another gate. After all, if the cemetery's really as big as it seems, that shouldn't be too -

  Hearing another rustle, I turn just in time to see a figure lumbering toward me through the darkness. I hear a snarl, too, so I immediately turn and run across the bumpy grass, heading out far into the cemetery. I almost bump into several gravestones, but I force myself to keep going until finally I start gasping for breath. Realizing that I'm not as fit as I once was, I stop and turn to see whether I've lost my pursuer, but a moment later I spot the same figure coming this way.

  So I keep running.

  The cemetery seems endless as I run between the gravestones, but I don't dare stop, not even as I feel a burning pain in my side, not even as I almost stumble a couple of times. My out-of-shape body is begging me to give up, but I can't, not even as I hear my father's voice ringing in my ears:

  “You're nothing but a slob, boy! You can't even catch a ball!”

  He wanted me to be some kind of superstar lawyer football player. He wanted me to be like him.

  “Look at you! You can't even outrun a hobo in a cemetery!”

  Every time he looked at me, I saw the truth in his eyes. He was disappointed.

  “You might as well just stop and let the murderous bastard kill you. You're worth more as meat than as a living, breathing -”

  “No!” I scream, and at that moment I stumble and fall.

  I slam hard against the grass, before slithering down a shallow incline and thudding into a gravestone. I let out a pained cry as I feel a cracking sensation in my left shoulder, and then I roll onto my back just in time to see a dark figure making its way toward me.

  In an instant, I know that there's no point trying to run anymore.

  The figure stops a short distance away, still shrouded in darkness. I can see that it's a man, or at least I think it's a man, and the long end of a coat flaps gently in the breeze.

  “What do you want?” I gasp, flinching at the pain in my shoulder. “Whatever it is, just get on with it!”

  The figure hesitates, before stepping closer. Finally his face comes into view, and I realize that he's just some old, withered hobo. He looks painfully thin and terribly dirty, and his mouth is hanging open to reveal just a couple of teeth still poking out from his gums. He looks like the kind of guy who absolutely stinks, and after a moment he takes a faltering, slightly unsteady limp toward me.

  “See?” I hear my father's voice saying. “You got caught by a guy who can't even walk properly. You got chased down by a goddamn cripple.”

  The hobo takes another step forward. His eyes are blazing with anticipation, with hunger, and a slow grin is spreading across his face. He looks utterly demonic, and for a moment I fear that I've come up against something I can't possibly understand. I've never been one for believing in shit like this, but in an instant everything changes and I'm convinced that I'm facing someone – or something – from the pits of Hell.

  “No, please,” I whimper, turning away to cower as the hobo takes another step closer, “don't hurt me.”

  “Don't hurt you?” a voice growls, twisting in the night air. “Don't hurt you?”

&nbs
p; I squeeze my eyes tight shut.

  “Oh, I'll hurt you alright,” he continues, and now his voice twists again, until he sounds exactly like my father. “I'm not gonna be done hurting you for a good long while yet.”

  I open my mouth to cry out, but at that moment something hard and sharp crashes into my curved back. I scream, and as I do so I feel myself getting whipped again and again, and I realize that I've felt these exact same lashes before. Somehow my father has come back, and he's giving me the flogging I so deeply deserve. That's why, even as the pain becomes intense and as I press my weeping face against the gravestone, I don't even bother to fight back. I know that this was always going to be my fate, and that killing the bastard would never be enough.

  “You're gonna take this for the rest of your life, boy,” he continues, hitting me again and again before finally stopping. “Now look at me.”

  “Don't stop!” I sob. “I need more!”

  “You'll get plenty,” he sneers, “but right now, you're gonna look me in the eyes.”

  I hesitate, convinced that I can't, but then slowly I turn my face and open my eyes, and I let out a gasp as I see my father towering above me. He's holding a belt – the same belt he used against me in his worst moments – and he's grinning as if he's been waiting his whole life for this moment.

  “You thought you could get away from me?” he asks, silhouetted against the bright, starry night sky. “No such luck. And this time, you're gonna do exactly what I say. Because Pappa's hungry, boy. Pappa's hungry and he needs you to go get him something to eat!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Richard

  Today...

  “Mmmm... mmmmmmmm...”

  As I stand on the tracks and listen to the rustling wind, I realize I can hear Milly starting to stir nearby. My first thought is that I should knock her out again. Indeed, I reach into my pocket for the canister, before realizing that I've already given her three doses. That's way more than I've ever administered to a single individual before, and I really don't want to give her an accidental overdose. Besides, we're out here now and there's nothing she can do to escape. I've bound her wrists and ankles together, and I've gagged her mouth.

  It's all just a waiting game.

  “Mmmmmm...”

  Turning to her, I see that she's still not quite conscious. She's on the ground, tied to the tracks, and after a moment she lets out a low groan. Her eyes flicker open, and she briefly stares up at the sky before starting to look around. It takes a moment, but finally she looks straight at me.

  Her eyes widen with shock.

  “It's okay,” I tell her, my voice sounding so crisp and clear in the cold night air, “I know what you're thinking. This isn't how you expected your evening to go.”

  She continues to stare at me, as if she genuinely can't believe what's happening.

  “I'm sorry I don't have time to explain it properly,” I continue. “It's just that, when I met you at the party, you seemed so perfect. And then I lost you, I thought I'd never see you again, but you showed up at the cemetery and I took that as a sign. You have to understand, it was as if the universe was telling me that you're the one. So, really, I didn't have a choice.”

  She stares at me for a moment longer, before wriggling for a moment and trying to sit up.

  “You're tied to the tracks,” I tell her. “I'm pretty good at knots.”

  She struggles some more, and I don't really have the heart to tell her that it's pointless. She'll figure that out for herself, even if it's only at the last possible moment.

  “Are you cold?” I ask. “Don't worry, that won't last long. He'll be here soon.”

  “Mmm...” she says, her words muffled by the gag.

  “Do you ever come out into the forest, Milly?” I continue, stepping around her. “It's a beautiful place, really it is, and there's such a special atmosphere here. I don't know about you, but I can almost sense that strange things happen on the edge of Sobolton. I'm sure you've lived a nice, neat life, I'm sure you've ignored the forest and all its -”

  “Mmm! Mmmmmm!”

  I turn to her.

  “It's okay,” I explain, “that's all about to change.”

  “Mmmmmmmmmmmmm!”

  “Your reaction is to be expected,” I tell her. “You must have lived a very sheltered life here in Sobolton.”

  She tries to kick me. Even though her ankles are tied to the rails, she seems absolutely determined to break free. They all struggle, of course, but Milly seems to have a little extra oomph about her. I have to admit, I might have underestimated her just a little, and now she's struggling wildly to get free from her restraints.

  I like using old-fashioned words like oomph.

  “You've got spirit,” I continue, “that's good, it means you -”

  Suddenly the rail shudders again, and this time Milly and I both look over. The metal is visibly shuddering, and I can't help smiling.

  “He's coming,” I explain, unable to hide the sense of anticipation in my voice. “It won't be long now. When he gets here, he'll need to feed.”

  “Mmmmmm.”

  “I can't explain it,” I continue, figuring that she must have a lot of questions. “As far as I know, my father was never a cannibal when he was alive. And why would a ghost be hungry, anyway? Like, I've tried to figure out the physiology of the whole thing, of how a ghost even eats, but I guess all of that is way above my understanding. I realized a while ago that there's no point going mad trying to get it all sorted out, so I'm just going to let things wash over me now. This is my destiny and -”

  Before I can finish, I spot my father in the distance, over by the trees. He's watching, and I swear I can almost sense his hunger.

  I feel good.

  I feel fine.

  I feel like I'm doing what I'm supposed to do, like I'm fulfilling my destiny.

  “There's gonna be a train coming through soon,” I tell Milly, as she continues to struggle. “Don't worry, it all goes real quick. I mean, I'm sure there's some pain, but I bet there are way more horrible ways to die.”

  “Mmmm!”

  “Like drowning.”

  She pulls harder and harder against the rails.

  “Or bleeding to death.”

  “MMMMM!”

  “Or getting torn apart by wild animals.”

  She strains so hard, I actually worry she might hurt herself.

  “Or acid,” I continue. “I bet acid really hurts.”

  I step back as the ground begins to rumble, and as the lights of the approaching train start catching the tops of nearby gravestones. Sure enough, mist has appeared as if from nowhere, and I know there's no danger of the train's driver seeing Milly strapped to the tracks. She's fighting so hard to get free, really straining, and I genuinely admire her refusal to surrender. At the same time, the inevitability of this moment is utterly clear, and I know that there's no way she can change her fate.

  “Sorry,” I murmur, as I turn my back to her.

  I don't want to see the moment when she dies. I never like to see the moment when they die.

  “MMMMMMMM -”

  The train roars past behind me, and I flinch slightly as I imagine its wheels slicing straight through Milly's body. The ground is shuddering and I can hear metal rattling, but I force myself to focus on the simple fact that I've once again fed my father. He'll get the meat he wants, and everything else is irrelevant. I might not have been the greatest son in the world when Dad was alive, but I'm paying for my sins now. And as I look up at the vast, starry sky above, I feel a sense of satisfaction at the realization that I might finally be making my father proud.

  All it took was for him to become a god.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Richard

  Five years ago...

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “Busy evening?”

  “The usual. What do you want?”

  I pause for a moment, wondering exactly what to say. The gas stati
on is deserted tonight, but Victoria's here and she looks just as pretty as she looked when I first met her yesterday. My heart is pounding and my chest is tightening with anticipation, and I hate myself for what I'm supposed to do. I just hope that my plan works, and that I can persuade him that Victoria's worthy of life.

  “I was just wondering what time you get off work tonight,” I tell her.

  “Why?”

  “Um, because I thought maybe I could walk you home.”

  She stares at me. That's all. I wasn't exactly expecting her agree instantly, but I figure she'd at least say something. This staring, though, is really quite unnerving.

  “What are you,” she asks finally, “some kinda knight in shining armor?”

  “No,” I reply, “I'm just a guy who... I guess I'm a little old-fashioned, and I was in the area anyway and -”

  “You were in the area?”

  “That's right.”

  “Near a gas station on a deserted road, next to a fucking cemetery?”

  I force a smile, even though I can tell that she's extremely skeptical.

  “Huh,” she says, “that might be the dumbest thing I've ever heard. And you're kinda creepy, did you know that? The way you read my badge last night was weird.”

  “You're still wearing it tonight,” I point out, looking at the badge again.

  “Stop staring at my boob.”

  “Sorry.” I meet her gaze, and I notice that her expression seems to have softened a little. “I won't do that again.”

  “You're cute,” she replies. “Kinda. I guess.” She pauses, and then she sighs. “I finish at four in the morning, which is still four hours away. I'm fully capable of walking home without some kinda chaperone, but if you happen to be around...” Her voice trails off for a moment, as if she's still wondering whether this is a good idea. “I guess I don't mind you tagging along,” she adds finally. “Just make sure you don't try any funny stuff.”

  “I won't.”

  “And no more looking at my boob. It's creepy.”

  “I'll be here at four,” I tell her, struggling to hide the fact that I feel so excited. “I promise.”