by Jack Heath
You sprint back towards the exit, leaving Taylor to his fate. His screams make you feel terrible—
But not for long. You hear a thump. When you turn to look, the bear has dropped Taylor. You distracted it by running, and now it’s chasing after you!
You’ve been looking over your shoulder instead of watching where you were going. You trip over one of the mine-cart rails and slam hard into the floor, grazing your palms.
The thud-thud, thud-thud of the bear’s paws echo around the tunnel as it catches up to you. You scramble to your feet just as the bear grabs your foot—
But it only gets your shoe. The claw leaves stinging gashes in your ankle as you slip free and dash towards the daylight, one foot bare. The bushes are just up ahead. After that you’ll be out in the open.
If you scattered the pieces of your phone outside the entrance, go here.
If you didn’t, go here.
You clamber off the train and find yourself standing in shallow snow beside the tracks. The wind has died away, and the silence is incredible. You never realised how noisy your home was—traffic noise, neighbours shouting, birds—until now.
Pigeon stamps her feet in the cold. ‘How long before we get moving again?’
‘I don’t know.’ You spot the conductor kneeling down beside the front of the carriage, fiddling with something underneath. ‘Let’s go ask.’
The conductor is muttering to himself when you approach. ‘Reservoir pipe—check. Secondary line—check. Control circuit—’
‘Excuse me,’ you say.
He jolts and bumps his head on the underside of the carriage. ‘You kids should stay back,’ he says. ‘This engine might catch fire.’
‘Is that likely?’
‘No,’ he admits. ‘What do you want?’
‘We were just wondering when we would get moving again.’
‘Five minutes maybe. The question is, what direction will we take?’
‘Won’t we just head down the hill?’ Pigeon demands. ‘To find that boy who fell out?’
‘We could,’ the conductor says, ‘but he might be unconscious. We’d have to go very, very slowly or risk running over him. It might be quicker to go to the top of the mountain and radio for help. Then a four-wheel drive could go up from the bottom and find him.’
He chews his lip. He looks sad—maybe disappointed that the maiden voyage is going so badly.
‘Don’t you have a radio on the train?’ you ask.
‘Only a short-range one,’ the conductor says, ‘and we’re too high up to use it.’
‘I have a mobile phone,’ you offer. It’s the only thing you brought, other than your compass.
He shakes his head. ‘The nearest transmission tower is on the opposite side of Mount Grave. By all means have a go, but at this height, the mountain almost always blocks the signal.’
You take out your phone. Sure enough, the screen says NO NETWORK.
Will you try to convince the conductor to go back down the hill, or to head for the top? Make your choice, and then go here.
The bear hauls you deeper and deeper into its lair. You scrabble at the floor but there’s no way to get free. The beast is too strong.
The mine shaft is full of old bones. A dog’s ribcage here, a bird carcass there—and is that a human skull?
The bear stops. This must be the dining room. Holding you by the back of your shirt, the animal hauls you towards its jagged mouth. You scream as those yellow fangs come closer—
Zap!
The bear stiffens, eyes wide. Those massive claws clench you so tight that it hurts. A crackling sound fills the air and the bear tilts over backwards like a chair with a broken leg. It hits the ground with a mighty thud, trapping you under one of its forelegs.
What just happened? For a crazy second you think the bear is actually fake—a robot, and its software just crashed or something.
Then you hear the voices.
‘It’s down, it’s down.’
‘You got it?’
‘I got it. Come on in.’
Two security guards trudge into view. You recognize one of them—the beak-nosed ticket checker from the train. She’s holding a stun gun. She must have electrified the bear. If your feet had been touching the ground, you might have been shocked too.
‘Wow,’ she says. ‘We should call the zoo. They’d probably love to get a specimen like this—hey! There’s someone underneath!’
You try to call out, but the bear’s leg has pushed all the air out of your lungs.
‘Give me a hand!’ The two security guards pull you out from under the stunned bear. ‘You OK, kid?’ the woman asks.
You nod. ‘Thanks. Is Taylor all right?’
‘That boy you were with? Yeah, he’ll be fine. They’re keeping him warm and giving him something to eat in the train.’
‘How did you find us?’
The woman frowns. ‘Funny thing. There was all this broken glass and plastic outside the entrance to the tunnel. A girl named Paige saw it from the train window.’
You smile. It looks like you saved the day—with a little help from Pigeon.
You survived! There are ten other ways to escape the danger—try to find them all!
It’s impossible to escape from the bear’s mighty grip. No matter how much you struggle, it doesn’t even seem to notice. The dirt scrapes your palms and your knees.
A foul stink fills the air. Worse than the bear’s breath—it smells like rotten meat. The bear slows down, and you get a chance to peer around at the dim passageway. Dark splotches spatter the walls. The floor is littered with the remains of animals. Old bones. Things the bear has brought here to eat.
And now it’s going to eat you!
‘Noooo!’
You scream and belt at the bear’s muscly hide. But it’s useless. Under the matted fur it may as well be made of steel. The bear stretches open its terrifying jaws and hauls you in, head first.
Crunch!
THE END.
To try again, go here.
You claw your way through the bushes. Part of you is hoping the train will be waiting right outside and you can hide on board. Could the bear tear open the carriage?
It doesn’t matter. When you emerge from the bushes, the train isn’t there. Just snow and rocks and empty rails on the mountain slope.
The bear is right behind you. You sprint away from the mine shaft as fast as you can—
But a piece of your broken phone gets stuck in the sole of your bare foot.
‘Ow!’ You stumble and fall, hitting the snow face first. How could you have forgotten about the phone?
The bear roars. Your eardrums throb under the strain. You roll over just in time to see the beast pounce like a gigantic dog. It hangs in the air above you for a split second, blocking out the sun, about to crush you with its weight.
You don’t even have time to scream.
Wham!
THE END.
To try again, go here.
You haul yourself through the bushes, twigs scratching your arms and your bare foot, before you stumble out into the snow. You had hoped the bear would be reluctant to leave its cave, but you can hear it snuffling and grunting behind you. It isn’t going to give up the chase.
You dash across the snow towards the train tracks. A small pile of stones is on the other side. If you can get to them, maybe you can defend yourself.
Usually it would be a very bad idea to throw rocks at a bear. But it’s angry at you anyway—you figure things can’t get much worse.
You run across the tracks to the rock pile. But when you’re almost there your bare foot sinks into a hole hidden under the snow.
‘Argh!’ You flop forwards onto the ground. Pain shoots up your shin. When you roll over, you see the bear crossing the tracks towards you, a hungry grin on its shaggy face—
Wham!
The train carriage seems to come out of nowhere, slamming into the bear and sending it flying. The emergency brakes wail and the trai
n stops almost immediately, perhaps because it wasn’t going very fast, or perhaps because the bear absorbed most of its momentum. The bear hits the ground with a thump and makes a baffled groan.
The carriage doors pop open. Pigeon jumps out and runs over to you. ‘You’re alive!’
‘My leg hurts,’ you grumble. But she’s right. You are alive—you survived falling out of a train and getting attacked by a bear, all in the space of thirty minutes.
In the distance, Taylor is limping out of the mine shaft. ‘You saved my life!’ he shouts. You wonder if he knows you did it by accident.
A security guard gets off the train, talking into a radio. ‘Yep, found them both. But we’ll need a doctor,’ she says, looking at your leg.
The bear groans again.
‘And a vet,’ the guard adds.
You survived! There are ten other ways to escape the danger—try to find them all!
You sling the belt outwards. It scrapes along the side of the train and—
Yes! It catches on the edge of the running board, just below the doors.
You barely have time to congratulate yourself before the train wrenches you off your feet. You cling desperately to the belt as the train drags you down the slope behind it. A freezing wind blasts your face. Your flailing legs leave twin trails through the snow. Ice fills up your shoes and your fallen pants, both of which eventually tear off. Your bare feet turn blue in a matter of seconds.
But it’s working. The train accelerates while the avalanche slows down and peters out. Soon you’ve left the deadly wall of sliding ice behind.
But more danger lurks ahead. The rails are about to leave the snowy part of the mountain and speed onto the rocky plains. When the train gets there, you won’t be able to keep skating alongside it. Your legs will break on the stone.
The train’s brakes shriek. Someone must have seen you clinging to the side. But it’s not going to stop in time to save you.
You let go of the belt. The train flings you clear like a bull throwing off a rider, and you slam into a nearby snowdrift. The powder isn’t as soft as it looks—the impact jars every joint and ligament in your body.
But you can lift your head. Your spine is OK.
The train squeals to a stop over the rocks. The doors hiss open and someone sprints back towards you.
It’s Pigeon.
‘Hey!’ she screams. ‘Are you all right?’
You roll over and groan. ‘I’m OK. Taylor, the other kid—he’s in a cave up the hill. Someone should go get him.’
Pigeon helps you to your feet. ‘We’ll find him, don’t worry.’ She beckons over some of the other passengers, who are stumbling out of the train in a daze.
You take a deep breath. You can’t believe you survived.
‘I have to ask,’ Pigeon says, ‘where are your pants?’
You survived! There are ten other ways to escape the danger—try to find them all!
‘OK,’ the conductor says, when everyone is seated.
‘I’ve inspected the train, and everything seems to be in good shape. We’re going to head back down the hill, nice and slow, and try to find our missing passenger. I’d appreciate it if you all took a look out the windows for signs of him.’
The train starts sliding down the mountain. It’s alarming to roll backwards on such a steep slope, but at least the conductor did what you said.
Pigeon buckles herself in. ‘I’m glad we’re going back,’ she says, ‘but it’s a shame we won’t get to see the top of the mountain.’
‘Maybe we will,’ you say. ‘One time I went to the movies and the projector broke down, so they gave us free tickets for another session.’
‘You’d take this train a second time? If they give me a free ticket, I’m selling it online.’
You shrug and look out the window, searching for the lost passenger. A noise is getting louder. It takes you a moment to recognise it—the helicopter has come back.
You search the sky out the window. You can’t see it, but it must be close. The sound of the blades is making the walls shudder.
‘Bandits!’ the conductor yells. ‘Everyone fasten your seatbelts.’
The train accelerates down the mountain. It feels like being in a lift which is descending too fast.
‘What’s going on?’ Pigeon demands. ‘I thought he said we had to go slow?’
‘It’s like he’s trying to outrun the helicopter,’ you say.
‘Why? What does he—’
Something crashes down on the roof. The ceiling buckles inward. The lights fizzle out. The carriage fills with screams as it rocks from side to side.
The helicopter has landed on top of the train!
The window next to Pigeon explodes, showering you both with tiny cubes of shatterproof glass. At the same moment a window bursts on the opposite side of the carriage. Grappling hooks shoot through the gaps and latch onto the frame.
‘What’s going on?’ Pigeon shrieks.
‘They’re attaching the helicopter to the train,’ you shout. ‘So we can’t shake it off.’
‘But who are they?’
If you move away from the windows as fast as possible, go here.
If you stay where you are and try to dislodge the grappling hook, go here.
You dash down the mountain as the avalanche gains momentum behind you. But it’s hard to run downhill at the best of times, and the ground is shaking. Your shoes keep slipping on the jolting, shuddering rocks.
You turn your head to look at the approaching wall of ice. It’s catching up, and it’s not just snow. It’s a growing tidal wave of stones and trees, crashing down the slope towards you—
And the train!
The train is hurtling down the rails just ahead of the avalanche, like a surfer riding a breaking wave. The engine screams. It must be going at top speed.
You can’t outrun the avalanche, but maybe the bullet train can.
You swerve sideways, sprinting towards the tracks.
‘Hey!’ you yell, waving your arms. ‘Slow down!’
It doesn’t. And you can’t get on board while the train is moving. But maybe there’s another way to get to safety.
As you run, you unbuckle your belt and wrench it out of your trousers. They start to fall down almost immediately, leaving you shuffling like a manacled prison inmate, but you’re almost at the tracks. The train is bearing down on you, the wall of snow right behind it.
You grab both ends of the belt in one hand, bending it into a loop. You fling the belt towards the train, hoping to snag something, anything.
It’s a fifty-fifty shot.
Go here …
or here.
The cascading ice roars closer and closer. You dash after Taylor into the darkness of the cave, just in time—the snow smashes down behind you, piling up and up outside the entrance. Had you hesitated just a second longer you would have been crushed.
‘Are you OK?’ you ask.
‘Fine.’ Taylor is breathing heavily. ‘You?’
You nod. ‘But we’re trapped!’
‘No.’ Taylor points. ‘Look.’
The snow hasn’t completely blocked the entrance to the cave—the sky is visible through a little gap at the top. The wind whistles through the hole.
You’re not going to suffocate. You might even be able to dig your way out. You pick up a rock, ready to start breaking through the snow.
‘Ouch!’
Something stings the back of your hand. You look down and see a spider scuttling up your wrist, just like the ones on Taylor’s face.
But on closer inspection, it’s not a spider at all.
It’s a huge tick!
You slap at it, and miss. It disappears into your sleeve.
‘Taylor!’ you cry. ‘There’s a—ow!’
Another sting, this time on your leg. You look down in time to see two more ticks crawl over your boots and up your trouser legs.
‘Help me!’ you scream. But the words don’t come out properly. Your
swollen tongue gets in the way.
Taylor is scratching himself all over, as though he’s covered in itching powder. Bloated red lumps are growing on his face.
The ticks bite your thighs, your belly, your neck. You can feel their tiny claws all over you.
You run over to the wall of ice and start hacking away at it with the rock, but it soon slips out of your fingers. Your hand has gone purple and inflated to twice its normal size.
‘Mmmnff!’ you mumble. Your vision blurs. Your legs slide out from underneath you. You barely feel yourself hitting the ground.
Your last thought is of Pigeon. She would be so jealous if she knew you had found the legendary ticks.
THE END.
For another try, go here.
You hover by the train tracks as Taylor disappears into the bushes. Soon the leaves stop jiggling and the echoes of his footsteps fade away, leaving you completely alone. It’s as if he never existed.
You look up the mountain. No sign of the train. When you turn the other way, you can’t see anyone coming from the bottom of the mountain either.
Is this how you die? Not in a car accident, not in a hospital bed, but on a frozen slope, waiting for the Queen’s third cousin to come back while your blood slowly turns to ice?
Taylor has been gone a long time now. Maybe the growling thing has eaten him. But surely that would have been noisy? There’s been nothing but silence from the bushes since he disappeared.
‘Taylor?’ you call out.
Your voice bounces off the distant rocks, coming back again and again, quieter each time.
There is no response.
You step away from the tracks and start walking towards the bushes. Taylor might need your help. He might have tripped and knocked himself out. You can’t just leave him.
As you get closer to the bushes, you think you hear a noise. It sounds like someone—or something—breathing heavily.
