Dust

by Angela Nock

  He reached up and held my hand. 'Having Death play around with you, using you in a sick game between her and Hyperion? Being dragged into the fight to save mankind? The fight to stop the Apocalypse? Or the pain that tears through me every time I birth my wings?'

  'At least you have wings.'

  'No, I haven't suffered at all, have I?'

  Silence fell upon us, heavy and thick and brooding.

  Sophia turned the engine back on and slowly pulled off.

  We arrived at Wroclaw early in the evening, too late to catch the train to Walbrzych. Instead, it was decided that we'd eat, then pick up a few provisions for the trip, the following day, to the blown train tunnel. At a local hardware store, we picked up a spade, a pick-axe, a torch and a large black plastic sack. All items they didn't need, Sophia had said as we grabbed them, because they were angels. I wasn't. They had strength, and light, on their side, she said. I didn't.

  She didn't need to tell me I had nothing to offer. I knew I was a liability, a weak human, and I was slowing them down. What could I do, compared to a fallen angel and an Angel of Death?

  The bald-headed guy behind the counter eyed us with suspicion as everything was placed before him at the till. He looked at Josh, then at Sophia, before shouting something in Polish to someone unseen out the back. I felt his eyes rest on me. I fidgeted. I felt guilty. I don't know why though. I had done nothing. Yet.

  But then we were buying stuff that made us look like we were about to murder someone and hide the body. I smiled at the guy as I imagined what was running through his mind. He didn't look impressed. Then I thought about what we were about to do, and I began to feel anxious again, and guilty, and hot, and sweaty. And consequently, I looked even more suspicious. We paid for the stuff and left, quietly.

  We spent the night in the jeep, on the railway carpark so that we could catch the train to Walbrzych early the next day. I awoke to the sound of a siren as an ambulance raced past, its blue lights flashing. I was exhausted, right through to my bones. My shoulders throbbed and my neck ached from sleeping awkwardly in the car, but I knew I couldn't show it; Sophia was waiting for me to break.

  Wroclaw, with its Gothic architecture, and multi-coloured Baroque facades, shone like a jewellery box full of precious gems gilded in the early morning sun. The air was chilly, but not cold, perfect for a walk in the woods, or hunting for hidden treasure.

  Sophia grabbed the large plastic sack full of tools from the jeep and slung it over her shoulder like it was nothing more than a rag doll. I had the feeling that she was trying to prove something, although I didn't know what, or to whom. It certainly wasn't to me, but I didn't think the show was for Josh either. I couldn't help but wonder what her story was, and why she had been cast from heaven, but I didn't have the guts to come out and ask her. Not again, not when she'd blanked me the first time.

  The station was a vast ochre building, its entrance looking more like a castle with two tall clock towers either side of it and a parapet running along the top. Inside was light and airy, the vaulted glass roof flooding the station with natural light. I grabbed breakfast from McDonald's as Sophia and Josh purchased our tickets.

  It was nine-twenty-one when we boarded the half-full train. There were plenty of seats available, so we slipped into four chairs arranged around a plastic table close to the doors. I sat next to the window, Josh by my side. He seemed tense, and on edge, but then, so was I.

  He reached out to hold my leg under the table, but his cold hand, although welcome, did little to ease the tension hanging over us. His edginess fed my nerves. I felt for my silver chain around my neck, found the small silver key, and placed it in between my teeth as I tried to calm down and not think about where we were going or what we were about to do.

  Sophia sat opposite us in silence, her hair tied up in a ponytail that hung out of the back of her baseball cap. She bit her lip as she keyed in the location Hass had given her into her GPS, the black bag of tools on the seat next to her.

  It wasn't long before the colourful architecture of Wroclaw was replaced by rolling fields of greens and browns, with the skeletal outlines of trees lining the edges of the railway tracks.

  I kept glancing at Sophia. She was avoiding eye contact, keeping her gaze fixed on the GPS in front of her.

  Josh was resting his head on the back of his seat, his eyes closed, although the rhythm of his breathing told me he wasn't asleep. He grabbed my hand under the table, holding it firmly in his and I snuggled into him. There was something hypnotic about the rocking of the train. My eyes were sore, and they were drooping. I really wanted to close them and go to sleep. But even if I could, I knew my brain wouldn't let me. My mind was buzzing, and a big ball of nerves was rolling around in my stomach.

  Who knew what ghosts lay buried where we were going?

  The trees on either side of the railway line began to thicken, plunging the train into darkness. Rain spattered the glass. Wheels clacked against the metal rails. The wind whispered secrets that I couldn't catch. I thought back to Hass, in Madrid, warm and well, unlike the Jews he had sent to the chambers of death.

  I fidgeted in my seat. Anger burned deep inside me, joining my anxieties.

  How could we have just left him there in his apartment? Surely we should tell the authorities? I let my head rest against the cold glass. I would. I would report him when this was over. He had to be punished. His victims deserved justice.

  Sophia pulled the cap on her head forward slightly and sighed. She stared out of the window at the rolling landscape. There was a shadow, a ghost of something, hanging over her face. She shuddered, glanced at me briefly, before slumping back into her seat, her eyes back on the GPS in front of her.

  Josh squeezed my hand. I looked up at him, and into his crystal eyes. He was smiling, but it was a sad smile that seemed only for me, as if he were trying to cover something up, or make me feel better. There was a pain in his eyes that worried me. But I didn't say anything, well aware I was already the weak link.

  Shadows stretched across the carriage as we rocked from side to side. The rattling of the tracks filled the quiet, the space, between us. Silence can hold the answers if we listen carefully, but my mind was too wired to catch what was being said. The wind whistled past the carriage, and the voices began to whisper.

  'He murdered us. How can you let him live?'

  I looked over to the guy across the aisle. He was wearing a navy hoodie, with a bright red baseball cap. He had his earphones in. He wasn't speaking or singing and I couldn't even hear the murmur of his music. There was a man in a grey suit opposite him, reading a newspaper. As far as I could tell, no one was looking at, or talking to me.

  'How can you let him live?' the voices repeated.

  I turned to Josh. 'Did you hear that?'

  'What?'

  'I can hear voices. I think I'm going mad.'

  'Don't be stupid,' said Sophia, cutting in, 'no one said anything. You're just tired.'

  Josh cast a furtive glance at Sophia.

  She reclined back in her seat and stared at the GPS. 'We're nearly there,' she said, massaging the side of her head with her free hand.

  'You heard them, didn't you?' My words sounded accusatory and I regretted their harshness as I said them.

  'No,' she replied, with a force that made me suspect that the opposite was true.

  A brooding silence fell upon us again. The air around us became heavy, and oppressive, and foul. My skin crawled like I had ants scuttling across my skin.

  Evil's sticky thumbprints were all over the forest. Men had died there. Of that I was sure. The dark spoke of evil deeds, of forgotten treasure, of death, and greed and destruction. We were very close. I could feel it.

  'We're here,' said Sophia, jumping out of her seat. She grabbed the black sack, containing the tools.

  I looked out the window, straining my neck to get a good look outside. 'But we're not at a station.'

  'No shit,' she hissed.

  'Hey, come
on Sophia,' said Josh, leaping up from his seat, 'there's no need to speak to her like that.'

  I stood up. 'It's okay,' I said, placing my hand on his arm. I knew that he was trying to help, that his protection of me was coming from a good place, but, that wasn't for him to do. She didn't trust me; that was obvious. And I didn't trust her either. Josh couldn't change that, however hard he might try. That was down to us to solve. If we wanted to.

  Sophia strode over to the door and slammed her hand on the red button at the side of it.

  The train screeched to a halt.

  She prised the door open, pulling the two bits of metal apart. When the gap was wide enough she jumped through it onto the edge of the tracks.

  There was angry shouting coming from the carriage, the sound of shoes pounding on metal.

  Josh grabbed me. 'Come on,' he said, pulling me through the gap. My heart was racing, beating against my ribcage.

  We landed on the grey ballast at the side of the tracks. The rain was coming faster now, and the air was cold. There was more shouting coming from behind us. Sophia had already disappeared up the litter-strewn embankment. Josh clasped my hand tightly and pulled me up it, and, before anyone could attempt to find us, we'd vanished into the darkness of the forest.

  Chapter Seven

  The rain was quickly turning the ground beneath our feet to mud. The wind whipped through the pine trees, and the limbs of the oak trees shivered and groaned. There was a stream nearby, bubbling and babbling, and the air smelled of damp earth and moss.

  A crow called from deep within the trees.

  There was a coldness in the forest, a dark feeling that was seeping through to my skin. I pulled my hoodie in around me, trying to protect myself against the rain, the cold, and whatever else was lurking out there.

  Sophia led at the front, with Josh at the back, and me sandwiched in between. The weak one. The one that needed protection.

  The flat ground began to climb upwards. Underfoot, tree roots snaked through the mud, making me slow and clumsy. Brambles twisted across the path, slim fingers of thorns grasped at my feet and legs. I slowed down, taking extra care with every step, aware that falling over would make me look even more stupid, and even more in need of babysitting. And I tried to ignore the voices, the ghosts that murmured to me from the forest.

  'There,' she said, pointing to a crumbling concrete block, around ten metres away, smothered in weeds and brambles. 'There it is.'

  As we approached the block the GPS began to bleep excitedly.

  'Okay,' said Sophia throwing the black sack and the GPS on the ground. 'Somewhere beneath us is the abandoned train, so let's get digging.'

  We grabbed the tools from the sack and began to hack at the earth and weeds that had built up like a defensive wall around the entrance. Despite the rain, the earth around the block was well compacted and took over fifteen minutes to clear. I was hot and sweaty, and my arms burned as I hacked at the vegetation, but I continued anyway; I would not let Sophia see my pain.

  Once we'd cleared the earth away we could see that the concrete block was actually part of a much bigger structure measuring around a metre by a metre, and stuffed full of earth.

  'It looks like a ventilation shaft,' I said, amazed that I was uncovering a part of our history that had lain hidden for over seventy years. I remembered learning about how the Nazis built underground factories connected by a series of tunnels at school. 'I remember seeing something like this in a video for history.'

  Sophia rolled her eyes.

  'Move over,' she said. I moved away. Her eyes were wild and frightening.

  She began to chop at the earth with a pick-axe, until finally, it gave way with a sigh and crumbled down into the shaft below, leaving behind a gaping mouth of darkness.

  The voices had fallen quiet, but now a strange feeling fell over me; of strange eyes watching our every move. I glanced around but saw nothing but the trees shivering in the wind. I heard a twig snap, a rush of wind. My nerves were shot, and every little movement or sound now crawled across my skin.

  'I won't be able to fly down there, it's too narrow, we'll need the rope,' said Josh.

  'I'll go down.' I said, surprised at the words escaping from my mouth. I wasn't sure if I was more afraid of being outside or down the hole, but as the words were already out, I couldn't go back on them.

  Sophia threw me a look. 'Josh can go down with you. I'll stay here. We need someone strong to pull you back up.'

  Josh rested his arm on my shoulder. 'You sure about this?' he asked, 'you can stay…'

  'No. I'm going.'

  'Are you sure? You've got nothing to prove. No one will think any -'

  'Oh for God's sake,' snapped Sophia, 'she's not going to break. She can think for herself. Stop mothering her!'

  Josh raised an eyebrow but made no comment.

  I shrugged. 'What's the worst that could happen?' Immediately I regretted my words. I didn't actually want to think about the worst that could happen in that damp, dark, ghost-filled place.

  Josh tied the rope around my waist. My knees were shaking and my legs were like jelly as I climbed onto the edge of the concrete shaft. I looked down into the darkness. I felt sick.

  Why the hell was I doing this?

  'Take this,' he said, passing me the torch, 'give the rope a yank when you reach the bottom. I'll be after you as soon as I can, okay?'

  I nodded, and before I could think about what I was about to do, I was lowered into the shaft.

  Although the rain had stopped, the excess water from above ground was bleeding through the crumbling walls of the shaft, as it had done for decades, turning the weakened concrete black with mould. Tree roots probed like fingers through the gaps and the air smelled of wet earth, oil, grease and rust.

  After about six metres, the ventilation shaft opened out into a great arching tunnel around twelve metres high, and six or seven metres wide. I dropped onto the rubble-strewn floor. I stuffed the torch under my arm and untied the rope around my waist.

  'Okay,' I shouted, pulling on the dangling rope. My voice sounded strange; dull and muffled when it should've echoed.

  I swept the torchlight across the tunnel, keen to make sure nothing was lurking in the darkness waiting to pounce. The walls were surprisingly smooth, except for rusty bolts jutting out from the brown water-stained concrete. Two rusty tracks ran in parallel lines, across rotting wooden sleepers, down the length of the tunnel. In some places, the sleepers had cracked or had been gobbled up by the water-filled holes that had opened up beneath the metal. Large linen sacks spewed their sand-filled innards out over the floor like guts, and wooden boxes were lined up against the walls, the words “Lebensgefahr! hochexplosiver Sprengstoff!“ sprayed in red on their sides.

  Josh dropped down beside me. He looked smaller down here, more folded in on himself, and his face looked strained, maybe even worried.

  'You okay?' I asked.

  'Yeah, I just….'

  He was interrupted by Sophia shouting from above. 'You down there yet? Is the train there? What's happening?'

  'Nothing yet.' Josh's voice sounded dead, and not as it should be.

  'You'll need to look around. The train's there somewhere,' shouted Sophia, 'it's definitely the location Hass gave me.'

  'Okay,' shouted Josh.

  I turned to him. He was glowing gold in the darkness. 'What if Hass was lying?' I said, 'What if this was his way of getting rid of us?'

  He didn't answer.

  'Which way?' I asked, looking in both directions; they were equally dark, with no obvious sign of which one held the abandoned train.

  He shrugged. 'It could be either way, so let's get going in case we need to come back on ourselves.'

  There was something about the place that gave me the creeps. The shadows reached out with sticky fingers, touching my skin like ghosts. I shuddered as they brushed against my flesh. It felt like death.

  Although time had worn away at the interior of the tunnel, it had
also stagnated. Unlike the doll's factory, nature hadn't reclaimed the tunnel, instead, it was like a time capsule, slowly rotting away as the water dripped and spilt from the world above.

  We walked on, unsure of how long we'd been travelling in this place where time ebbed and flowed in a strange way.

  There was a scratching sound. I jumped. Little feet scuttled across metal.

  'Shit, what was that?' I stopped still, my heart banging against my ribcage.

  'Only rats,' he said.

  'Only rats,' I repeated. I gave a strangled laugh.

  We began walking again, but my nerves were on edge. My skin was hot and clammy. The dark tunnel, with its wet, crumbling walls, was making me feel trapped. Unsafe.

  Something in front of us caught my eye. I pointed my torch at it. It was a dull metal object that lay on the tracks, about twenty metres in front of us. It looked like a curved metal shed, over four metres in height.

  'Is that?'

  'The train? I think so,' he said. His voice was flat. He seemed tense, and not how I expected him to be. He squeezed my hand.

  As we got closer, I could see it wasn't a train at all, but an armoured truck with large gun turrets all along its length.

  I dropped Josh's hand and pulled at the neck of my tee-shirt. My hands were ice cold as they touched my skin, but I was hot. My clothes were clinging to my skin, and sweat was pooling in the small of my back. The air was tight, and full of dust, making it difficult to breathe.

  I wanted to run.

  My legs were shaking. I didn't think I'd make it even if I did run. There was nowhere to run to anyway.

  Two large doors were open at the side of the truck, a gaping mouth into which I didn't want to climb. I shone the torch inside, not really wanting to see its contents but still being drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. There was a ghoulish, almost fluorescent green tinge to the space that reminded me of ghosts from z-class horror movies. Boxes were stacked up haphazardly inside the truck, their contents – guns, ammunition, statues and artwork – spewed out all over the floor.

  And...

  I stopped.