Ferryman

by Claire McFall

  The gap was not a large one, but luckily neither was Dylan. Turning sideways, she squeezed her body through the opening. There was a ripping sound as her zip caught between her body and the door, but suddenly she was free and falling towards the track. She felt a moment of fear thrill through her, but her trainers crunched on gravel after just a short distance and the feeling of claustrophobia lifted like a chain that had been cut free from around her throat.

  The tunnel was as dark as the train. The crash must have happened right at the centre. Dylan looked first one way, then the other. It didn’t help. She could see no light, and apart from the gentle sound of air rushing through the enclosed space, there was silence. Eeny, meeny, miney, mo, she thought. Sighing, she turned right and trudged forward. It had to lead somewhere.

  Without a light to guide her, she tripped often and so it was slow progress. Every now and then something by her feet would scurry quickly away. She hoped there weren’t rats in the tunnel. Anything smaller than a rabbit caused outbursts of irrational fear in her. A spider in the bathroom could trigger half an hour of hysteria until Joan could be persuaded to come and rescue her. If anything ran over her shoe in here she knew her flight instinct would kick in. In the dark, though, with the uneven ground, she’d probably fall flat on her face.

  The tunnel went on and on. She was on the verge of turning back and trying the other way when she saw what she thought was a dot of light ahead. Hoping for a way out, or a rescuer equipped with a torch, she stumbled faster, desperate to be outside in the brightness again. It took a long time, but slowly the dot turned into an arch. Beyond it she could only see a little daylight, but that was enough.

  When at last she exited the tunnel it was raining softly, and she laughed with delight as she turned her face up to the gentle shower. The dark of the tunnel had made her feel dirty, and the misty droplets felt like they were cleansing some of the horrors away. Taking a deep breath, she put her hands on her hips and surveyed her surroundings.

  The landscape was empty except for the track, which wound forward across a wild backdrop. She had left Glasgow far behind, she realised. The horizon was ringed with large, imposing hills. Low-slung clouds blurred their edges as they skimmed the highest peaks. It was a muted palette of colours, purple heather fighting for space amongst great swathes of brown bracken. Small copses of trees grew in irregular patterns on the lower gradients of hills dark-hued with evergreen pines. The slopes closer to the tunnel were gentler, undulating mounds coated with long grass. There was not a town or a road in sight, not even an isolated farmhouse. Dylan bit her lip as she studied the scene. It was untamed and unfriendly looking.

  She had expected to see a melee of police cars and ambulances parked at random angles in their haste to get to the scene. There should have been hordes of men and women in different brightly coloured uniforms ready to rush forward and comfort her, check her for injuries and ask her questions. The area just outside the tunnel should have been littered with groups of survivors, ashen-faced and huddled in blankets to keep out the cutting wind. In reality there were none of these things. Her face fell into a mask of confusion and unease. Where was everybody?

  Turning round, she looked into the black mouth of the tunnel. There was no other explanation: she must have gone the wrong way. They must all be at the other end of the tunnel. Tears of frustration and exhaustion sprang up in her eyes. The thought of going back into the darkness, of having to walk back past the train filled with the limp, lifeless bodies of the less fortunate, was excruciating. But there was no going round it. Hacked out from the base of a massive line of hills, the bracken-covered ground rose up on either side, no less insurmountable than a sheer cliff face.

  She looked up towards the heavens, as if pleading with God to change things, but all she saw were the steely grey clouds ambling quietly across the sky. With a quiet sob she turned back to the bleak landscape before her, desperate for some sign of civilisation that would save her from having to return to the dark tunnel. Holding her hand to her forehead to protect her eyes from the wind and the rain, she scanned the horizon. And that was when she saw him.

  Chapter Four

  He was sitting on a hill to the left of the tunnel entrance, his hands wrapped around his knees, and he was staring at her. From this far away all that she could tell was that he was a boy, probably a teenager, with sandy hair that was being tossed around by the wind. He didn’t stand or even smile when he saw her looking at him, just continued to stare.

  There was something odd about the way that he sat there, a solitary figure in this isolated place. Dylan couldn’t imagine how he had come to be there, unless he’d been on the train as well. She waved at him, glad to have someone to share this horror with, but he didn’t wave back. She thought she saw him sit up a little straighter, but he was so far away it was hard to tell.

  Keeping her eyes firmly on him, just in case he disappeared, she slipped and slid down the gravel bank of the train tracks and hopped over a little ditch filled with water and weeds. There was a barbed-wire fence separating the tracks from the open countryside. Dylan gingerly grabbed the top wire between two of the twisted metal knots and pulled it downwards as hard as she could. It dropped just low enough for her to awkwardly swing her legs over. She caught her foot as she pulled her second leg over and almost fell, but she managed to cling on to the wire and keep her balance. The barbs cut into her palm, though, piercing the skin and causing little droplets of blood to ooze through. She examined her hand briefly before rubbing it against her leg. A dark stain on her jeans made her take a second look. There was a large red patch on the outside of her thigh. She stared at it for a moment before remembering wiping her hand to get rid of the sticky stuff on the carriage floor. Realisation made her blanch and her stomach heaved slightly.

  Shaking her head to rid herself of the sick images that were swirling in her brain, she turned from the fence and fixed her eyes back on her target. He was seated on the slope about fifty metres above her. From this distance she could see his face, and so she smiled in greeting. He didn’t respond. Slightly abashed by this cold reception, Dylan stared at the ground as she made her way up the hill towards him. It was a hard climb and before long she was panting. The hillside was steep and the long grass was wet and difficult to wade through. Looking down, concentrating on her feet, gave her an excuse not to make eye contact; not until she had to.

  The boy on the hill appraised the girl approaching him with cold eyes. He had been watching her since she had exited the tunnel, emerging from the dark like a frightened rabbit from a burrow. Rather than shouting to get her attention, he had simply waited for her to see him. At one point he had been concerned that she would head back into the tunnel, and he had considered calling out, but she had changed her mind, and so he’d contented himself with sitting silently. She would notice him.

  He was right. She spotted him and he saw the relief pool in her eyes as she waved energetically. He did not wave back. He watched her face falter slightly, but then she left the train track and began to approach him. She moved clumsily, catching herself on the barb-wire fence and tripping on clumps of wet grass. When she was close enough to read his expression he turned his face away, listening to the sound of her drawing nearer.

  Contact made.

  At last Dylan reached where he sat and was able to get a much better look at him. Her guess at his age had been spot on; he couldn’t have been more than a year older than her, if that. He was wearing jeans, trainers and a warm-looking navy jumper with the word Broncos written across it in flowing orange letters. Curled up as he was, it was hard to guess at his size, but he didn’t look small or weedy. He was quite tanned, with a line of freckles marching across his nose. His face was set in a hard, disinterested mask, and as soon as Dylan got closer to him, he’d began to stare off into the desolate landscape. Even when she stood right in front of him, he didn’t change his expression or the direction of his stare. It was very disconcerting and Dylan fidgeted where she
stood, unsure of what to say.

  “Hi, I’m Dylan,” she mumbled at last, looking down at the ground. Waiting for a response, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and stared off in the same direction, wondering what he was looking at.

  “Tristan,” he eventually replied, glancing at her briefly, and then looking away again.

  Relieved that he had at least responded, Dylan made another stab at conversation. “I guess you were on the train, too. I’m so glad I’m not the only one here! I must have passed out in the carriage and when I woke up I was on my own.” She said all of this very fast, nervous of his frosty welcome. “All of the other passengers had already got out and apparently nobody had noticed me there. There was this stupid woman with all these bags and stuff – I got stuck under them. When I got out, I couldn’t tell which way everybody had gone, but we must have come out of the wrong side of the tunnel. I bet the firemen and police and everybody else are on the other side.”

  “Train?” He turned towards her and she got her first look into his eyes. They were icy blue and cold. Cobalt. She felt like they could freeze her blood if they were angry, but just now they were merely curious. They appraised her for half a second before flickering to the tunnel mouth. “Right. The train.”

  She looked at him expectantly, but he didn’t seem inclined to say anything else. Biting her lip, she cursed her luck that the only other person here was a teenage boy. An adult would’ve known what to do. Also, although she hated to admit it, boys like this made her nervous. They seemed so cool and confident, and she always ended up getting tongue-tied and feeling like a total idiot.

  “Maybe we should walk back through the tunnel?” she suggested. Although that would mean passing by the train again, it didn’t seem like such an awful proposition with someone else. Then they could meet up with all the other passengers and the emergency services, and she might still be able to salvage her weekend with her dad.

  The boy turned the force of his gaze back on her and she had to stop herself taking an involuntary step backwards. His eyes were magnetic, and they seemed to see through to her very core. Dylan felt exposed, almost naked, under his stare. Unconsciously, she folded her arms across her chest.

  “No, we can’t get through there.” His voice was disinterested, as if he wasn’t worried at all about their current predicament. As if he could quite happily sit on this hillside for ever. Well, Dylan thought, I can’t. After staring at her for another long moment, he went back to glaring at the hills. Dylan bit her bottom lip as she tried to think of something else to say.

  “Well, do you have a phone, then, so we can call someone, like the police or something? My phone died in the crash. And I should probably call my mum; when she hears what’s happened she’ll freak. She’s very overprotective and she’ll want to know I’m okay so that she can say ‘I told you so’…” Dylan trailed off.

  This time he didn’t even look at her. “Phones don’t work out here.”

  “Oh.” She was getting annoyed now. They were stuck here, on the wrong side of the tunnel, with no adults and no way to contact people and he was being no help at all. However, he was the only person here. “Well, what should we do, then?”

  Instead of answering her, he suddenly stood up. Upright, he towered above her, much taller than she would have guessed. He looked down at her, a half-smirk playing on his lips, and started to walk away.

  Dylan’s mouth opened and closed a few times but no sound came out. She was transfixed, motionless and mute, shocked and intimidated by this strange boy. Was he just going to leave her here? She got her answer quickly. He went about ten metres, then stopped, turned, and looked back at her.

  “You coming?”

  “Coming where?” Dylan asked, reluctant to leave the site of the train crash. Surely staying here was the most sensible thing to do? How would anybody find them if they went wandering off? Besides, how did he know where he was going? It was already late afternoon and it would be dark soon. The wind was getting up and it was cold; she didn’t want to get lost and have to spend the night roughing it.

  But his self-assurance had her doubting herself. He seemed to see the indecision in her face. He gave her a patronising look, his voice dripping with superiority. “Well, I’m not just going to sit and wait. You can stay here if you want.”

  He watched that comment sink in, gauging her reaction.

  Dylan’s eyes widened in fear at the thought of being left alone, waiting. What if night fell and nobody came?

  “I think we should both stay here,” she began, but he was already shaking his head. Looking as if it was extremely inconvenient, he walked back over and stared at her, so close she could feel his breath on her face. Dylan looked into his eyes and felt her surroundings fade away. His gaze was compelling; she couldn’t have looked away if she’d wanted to. There was no other word for it; she was mesmerised.

  “Come with me,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. It was an order and he expected her to comply.

  Her mind strangely blank, it did not occur to Dylan to disobey. Nodding numbly, she stumbled forward towards him.

  The boy, Tristan, didn’t even wait for her to catch up before he was off again, striding up the hill, away from the tunnel. He had been surprised at her wilfulness; there was inner strength in this one. Still, one way or another, she would follow him.

  Chapter Five

  “Wait, stop! Where the hell are we going?” Dylan huffed to a standstill and cemented her feet to the ground, folding her arms across her chest. She’d been blindly following him, but they had been marching for twenty minutes in total silence now, going in who knew which direction and he hadn’t said a word since the curt, “Come with me.” All of the questions, all reasons for staying at the tunnel mouth that had inexplicably vanished from her head when he’d ordered her to follow had returned, now with full force. Walking randomly like this was just stupid.

  He continued on for a few strides, before turning and looking at her with his eyebrows raised. “What?”

  “What?!” Dylan’s voice rose an octave with incredulity. “We’ve just come out of a train crash where everybody else seems to have disappeared. I have no idea where we are, and you are marching us halfway across the middle of nowhere, away from the place where they are going to be looking for us!”

  “Who do you imagine is looking for us?” he asked, that arrogant half-smirk sneaking back onto his lips.

  Dylan frowned for a moment, confused by the strange question, before launching into her argument once more. “Well, the police for one. My parents.” Dylan felt a little thrill at being able to say that in the plural for the first time. “When the train doesn’t arrive at the next station, do you not think the train company might wonder where it is?”

  She raised her eyebrows here, secretly pleased with the strength of her line of reasoning, and waited for him to respond.

  He laughed. It was almost a musical sound, but underpinned with a hint of mockery. His reaction confounded and infuriated her again. Dylan pursed her lips, waiting for the punchline, but it didn’t come. Instead he smiled. It changed his entire face, warming his natural coldness. But there was still something not quite right about it. It looked sincere, but it didn’t stretch to his eyes. They remained icy and aloof.

  He walked over to Dylan and ducked down slightly so that he could look into her eyes, shocking blue into startled green. His closeness made her a little uncomfortable, but she stood her ground.

  “If I told you you weren’t where you thought you were, what would you say?” he asked.

  “What?” Dylan was totally confused, and not a little bit intimidated. He was maddening with his arrogance, making fun of her at every turn and coming out with nonsense statements like that. What could be the point of his question except to bamboozle her and make her doubt herself?

  “Never mind,” he chuckled, reading her expression. “Turn around. Could you find the tunnel again if you had to?”

 
; Dylan looked over her shoulder. The landscape was empty and unfamiliar. Everything looked the same. Stark, windswept hills as far as the eye could see, dipping down into gullied valleys where vegetation grew voraciously, soaking up the moisture and revelling in the shelter from the constant gales. There was no sign of the tunnel entrance or even the train tracks. That was weird; they hadn’t gone very far. She felt a tightening in her chest as she realised that she had no idea what direction they had come from, that she would be completely lost if Tristan left her now.

  “No,” she whispered, grasping how much trust she had put in this unfriendly stranger.

  Tristan laughed as he watched the realisation trickle across her face. She was at his mercy now.

  “Then I guess you’re stuck with me.” He grinned wickedly and began marching again. Dylan stood motionless, torn, but as the distance began to open up between them, her feet seemed to act of their own accord, afraid of being left alone. She scrambled over a small cluster of boulders and jogged through some short grass until she had bridged the gap. He continued to stride out, his long legs and loping gait allowing him to outstrip her easily.

  “Do you even know where you’re going?” she panted as she hurried to keep up.

  Again that irritating smirk. “Yes.”

  “How?” Matching his pace was reducing her to one syllable questions.

  “Because I’ve been here before,” he replied. He seemed supremely confident, and had taken control of the situation – and of her – completely. Though she hated to admit it, unless she wanted to wander helplessly around on her own, she had little option but to trust him. He continued to storm up the hill and Dylan’s legs, unused to exercise, were already burning.