going to pot!” she says.
“What do you mean?” Gabby asks.
“Look at this Facebook community post!” She flashes her phone. “They’ve closed the train station.
Closed
it. Why isn’t this public knowledge? Why isn’t there a sign? Why did I have to find out on freakin’ Facebook from some guy called Chris? It’s common decency to tell the town the station is closed. It’s not even in the newspaper!” She storms off, her heels clacking against the concrete.
“It isn’t closed,” I whisper to Gabby. “I bet somebody bought it out.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I honestly don’t know. Just a feeling.”
We glance at the clock which has stopped at midday. The tunnel is cold and goosebumps prickle up Gabby’s arms. The vending machines are empty, and old newspapers litter the floor. It’s like nobody has been here for weeks. There wasn’t even anybody at the ticket booth. We slipped right in.
“Something’s wrong.” I fidget anxiously. Did the police take my call seriously? Is that why no one’s here? But it looks so much more deserted than that.
“Everything’s fine,” Gabby says, without much conviction. She smooths out her pants and sits up with her nose in the air. “It has to be. Maybe someone bought the station and they’re renovating, so no trains are doing their thing?”
“It doesn’t look like anybody is renovating… Gabby, I’m sorry, but that’s a silly idea.”
“At least, I’m
trying
to be optimistic!” she snaps. “The last few months have been seriously screwed up!”
“I’m aware of that.” It’s hard to keep my voice soft. “Gabby, your parents are missing. Kids we know are missing. Why do you have such faith in the professor? What could he possibly do?”
She chews her bottom lip and stares into the distance. “I don’t know. But I just know he can…” On the verge of tears, she tenses up, so I know she’s finished with the conversation. Blasted train can’t come soon enough.
The hinges in my knees keep locking with the seat, so I curl my legs up against my chest, resting my chin on my knees. Waiting.
SUCKS
.
“Hey, Gabby? Do you ever worry about the epidemic?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, do you ever worry it’ll come back and you’ll get sick again?”
“Pfft, no. Grandpa will just turn me into a doll again. He’s basically made you immortal, hasn’t he? Besides, they think they eradicated it.”
“Nothing’s ever eradicated though. They just call diseases by different names.”
“Shh. You don’t know what you’re talking about. The train’s coming,” Gabby whispers, as if worried she’d chase away those faint far rumbles that are rolling up. “Grandpa is here.”
The train veers around the corner, its brakes squeaking. I try to catch a glimpse through the windows, but I can’t see anyone. The cars shudder to a complete stop, followed by a noise that resembles a mother hushing her child. The doors swing open automatically, so Gabby picks me up and places me on her lap.
We wait, but nobody exits the train. We wait some more… but still nothing.
“Nadie está en el tren…” Gabby’s voice is hoarse, tight. She grips my waist. “Ella, Grandpa isn’t on there.”
“Maybe he’ll be on the next one.” I pause. “I have a bad feeling.”
“But you can’t feel.”
“No, but I can sense it. There’s something wrong.”
“You don’t have to sense anything. It’s a ghost train! Of course something is wrong!” Gabby points at the train.
“Exactly. We should leave.”
“No. We should investigate.”
My jaw drops open, and I splutter incoherently for a moment. “Gabby! Are you crazy? You’ll go missing, too! Don’t be a sadistic!”
“You mean statistic.”
“Whatever! We’re not going on there!”
Gabby shoots me a defiant look and props me on her shoulder. Inhaling through her nose, she walks steadily towards the train.
“Gabby, no!” I squeal, tugging on her hair. Maybe if I
“What do you mean?” Gabby asks.
“Look at this Facebook community post!” She flashes her phone. “They’ve closed the train station.
Closed
it. Why isn’t this public knowledge? Why isn’t there a sign? Why did I have to find out on freakin’ Facebook from some guy called Chris? It’s common decency to tell the town the station is closed. It’s not even in the newspaper!” She storms off, her heels clacking against the concrete.
“It isn’t closed,” I whisper to Gabby. “I bet somebody bought it out.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I honestly don’t know. Just a feeling.”
We glance at the clock which has stopped at midday. The tunnel is cold and goosebumps prickle up Gabby’s arms. The vending machines are empty, and old newspapers litter the floor. It’s like nobody has been here for weeks. There wasn’t even anybody at the ticket booth. We slipped right in.
“Something’s wrong.” I fidget anxiously. Did the police take my call seriously? Is that why no one’s here? But it looks so much more deserted than that.
“Everything’s fine,” Gabby says, without much conviction. She smooths out her pants and sits up with her nose in the air. “It has to be. Maybe someone bought the station and they’re renovating, so no trains are doing their thing?”
“It doesn’t look like anybody is renovating… Gabby, I’m sorry, but that’s a silly idea.”
“At least, I’m
trying
to be optimistic!” she snaps. “The last few months have been seriously screwed up!”
“I’m aware of that.” It’s hard to keep my voice soft. “Gabby, your parents are missing. Kids we know are missing. Why do you have such faith in the professor? What could he possibly do?”
She chews her bottom lip and stares into the distance. “I don’t know. But I just know he can…” On the verge of tears, she tenses up, so I know she’s finished with the conversation. Blasted train can’t come soon enough.
The hinges in my knees keep locking with the seat, so I curl my legs up against my chest, resting my chin on my knees. Waiting.
SUCKS
.
“Hey, Gabby? Do you ever worry about the epidemic?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, do you ever worry it’ll come back and you’ll get sick again?”
“Pfft, no. Grandpa will just turn me into a doll again. He’s basically made you immortal, hasn’t he? Besides, they think they eradicated it.”
“Nothing’s ever eradicated though. They just call diseases by different names.”
“Shh. You don’t know what you’re talking about. The train’s coming,” Gabby whispers, as if worried she’d chase away those faint far rumbles that are rolling up. “Grandpa is here.”
The train veers around the corner, its brakes squeaking. I try to catch a glimpse through the windows, but I can’t see anyone. The cars shudder to a complete stop, followed by a noise that resembles a mother hushing her child. The doors swing open automatically, so Gabby picks me up and places me on her lap.
We wait, but nobody exits the train. We wait some more… but still nothing.
“Nadie está en el tren…” Gabby’s voice is hoarse, tight. She grips my waist. “Ella, Grandpa isn’t on there.”
“Maybe he’ll be on the next one.” I pause. “I have a bad feeling.”
“But you can’t feel.”
“No, but I can sense it. There’s something wrong.”
“You don’t have to sense anything. It’s a ghost train! Of course something is wrong!” Gabby points at the train.
“Exactly. We should leave.”
“No. We should investigate.”
My jaw drops open, and I splutter incoherently for a moment. “Gabby! Are you crazy? You’ll go missing, too! Don’t be a sadistic!”
“You mean statistic.”
“Whatever! We’re not going on there!”
Gabby shoots me a defiant look and props me on her shoulder. Inhaling through her nose, she walks steadily towards the train.
“Gabby, no!” I squeal, tugging on her hair. Maybe if I
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