The Stolen Child (5 page)

The train moved on.  Time blurred, and she felt sleep pulling her back in.  When she awoke again, she wasn't sure how long she had been sleeping for.  She was alone.  She supposed it was late; likely the trains would be stopping soon.  In spite of the noise  booming from the walls of the tunnel, it felt strangely quiet in the empty carriage.  
Small gusts of wind pushed the litter around the floor, as l
ights flickered past in the darkness.

Then
she saw that it wasn't litter, but tiny clouds of golden brown leaves
that danced across the floor of the carriage
.  The more she looked, the more she saw,
covering
the
ground l
ike a field in autumn.  
S
ome unfelt breeze lift
ed
them in tiny clouds and flurries, to weave through the air and scurry over the seats and around the hand-rails.  
S
he reached out to
catch
one.  
Paper-thin
, it crumbled between her fingers.

The voice was barely a whisper.  How she had even heard it over the sound of the train, she could not guess.  She couldn't even
say
where it came from.  
S
he only knew that she had heard one word, whispered close, almost to her ear.

“Rachael.”

The train rolled on.  The leaves continued to dance and play at the air, though she could not feel the slightest breeze,
a
nd the word repeated itself, almost an echo.

“Rachael.”

She clutched her bag to her chest and tucked her knees up close, becoming as small as she could be.  Glancing about the empty carriage, she summoned up the courage to cry out.

“Who's there?”

The only answer was the whisper of her name once more, as if close by.  She looked about wildly, unsure of what she could possibly have missed, but there was not a single person, not one thing out of place, save for the swirling clouds of autumn leaves.

Then the patterns of the leaves began to change.  It was slow, at first.  It took her a while to realise that they were gathering, spiralling gently inward towards a spot at the centre of the carriage.  The cloud
of leaves
began to rise up like a pillar, still swirling in tight spirals.

Rachael watched in fascination as the pillar of swirling leaves grew taller and broader.  Distinct shapes formed at either side, branching away.  Then
she saw that the shapes were not
branches but arms.  
The form of a human figure began to emerge, taking slow steps towards her, one hand outstretched
.  The movements of the leaves grew ever tighter, until they
were gathered
together into a solid mass.  A woman's body with the shape of a simple dress about it, and a face emerging from the pattern of leaves.  
Empty spaces formed eyes
and
a mouth
.  
T
hen, in a voice that was a thousand rustling leaves on a cold autumn day,
a single word
.

“Rachael.”

Rachael
closed her eyes and screamed.

When she finally drew a breath, the thundering of the train seemed to crash in on her.  She heard the sound of voices, and opened her eyes to see a carriage full of passengers, crowded in around her.

As the train pulled in at the station she fled the carriage,
and
collapsed against the tiled wall
of the platform
.  She pulled her knees up and hid her face, as tears stung her cheeks.

T
he woman's face was
still
clear in her mind.  With
trembling
fingers
she struggled to undo the zip on her bag, fumbling in the depths until she retrieved a
small container made of clear orange plastic
.  
Barely a half dozen tablets remained at the bottom of the pill bottle
.  
She fumbled the cap loose and swallowed one.  Then, pressing her thumbs to her temples, she closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing.  Eventually the sound of her heartbeat quietened to a dull thunder.  She could feel white hot
marks where her nails had dug into her palms.  Her hands were still shaking.
 

When she opened her eyes, she
saw
a man watching her from
further down the platform
.  
I
t took her only a moment to realise that
it was the same man she had seen on the train
.  
Still unsteady
, she got to her feet and
waited
just long enough for a large
crowd
to block her from his si
ght
.  
Then s
he slipped out of the entrance to the station, weaving her way through the crowds.  
Before long her pace began to slow, her footsteps feeling lighter and lighter.  She had the strange sensation  that her body was starting to melt, bleeding out into the air around her as she walked.  At each turning she reminded herself to check if she was being followed, but if the man was still tailing her then she could see no sign of him.  She knew it was the drugs making her feel light headed, making her forget which street she was on, or to check for signs of pursuit.  It was hard to keep it all in her head anymore.
 

She kept moving, pulling her hood low to cover her face
as she ducked down into a narrow passageway.  The alley wound it's way between two crumbling old Victorian buildings, shutting out most of the chaotic buzz of the streets.  As she passed another bend in the path, she saw a shape detach itself from the darkness up ahead.  The figure's face was hidden in the shadows, but Rachael could make out a voice, low and soft.
 

“You're being followed.  He was waiting back at the entrance to the alley.”

A cold shiver ran through her as she caught a glimpse of his face.  The boy from the rooftop.  He was wearing the same clothes she had seen in him the day before.  
His long black coat made him look oddly shapeless in the gloom.
 

“
There's another one waiting in the courtyard ahead.  They think they've got you trapped in here.”
 

Barely seeming to notice her confused expression, he turned to nod at the wall to her left.
 

“No… Wait.  You… You weren't real,” she mumbled, mostly to herself.  It took her another moment to realise he was looking at a rusted old iron drainpipe that was bolted to the brickwork.

She glanced back over her shoulder.  Her fear was a dull, muted roar, clawing it's way up through her gut, struggling against the lightness that clouded her thoughts.  She wondered if she really was hearing the sound of footsteps approaching from beyond the last turn in the alley, or if it was just her imagination.
 

“
I saw you on the rooftop.  But you weren't really there.”
 

A look of irritation flashed across his face.
 

“
We don't have time, come on,” he said.
 

“
Why are you following me?”
 

“
To keep you safe.  From them,” he said, glancing nervously back down the alleyway.
 

The sound of approaching footsteps grew louder.  With no time left to think, she grabbed the drainpipe and started to climb.  Shifting her weight over the parapet, she rolled clear as the boy vaulted over just behind her.  Before she could speak, he turned to her with a finger pressed to his lips.  With his other hand he
pointed down at the street below.
 

Rachael slowly peered out, just enough to glimpse what was happening below.  She saw a tall, heavily built man in a tan coat walking past.  From the other direction, another man approached him.  Rachael shuddered as she recognised the dark skinned man in the black leather jacket.
 

As both men looked about the vacant alleyway, Rachael ducked back into the cover of the rooftop.  When she dared to risk another peek, the taller man was holding something in his hand.  It might have been a phone, or a walkie-talkie.
 

“
Sorry boss, we lost her,” he said.  Then he tucked the device away in his pocket, and the two men walked on.
 

Rachael pulled herself back from the edge a little.  The boy kept watching with keen eyes, until the men were out of sight.  Then he sat back against the low wall around the rooftop with a look of relief.
 

Slowly, Rachael got to her feet, and took a step back.
 

“
OK, what the hell was that all about?”
 

Scarcely seeming to pay her any attention, the boy started rooting around in his satchel.
 

“
I'm serious, what's going on here?  Why were you following me before?”
 

“
I told you, because of those guys.  They're some sort of gang or something, I guess.  They've been snatching kids.  You know, young girls, like you.  There's this big Greek looking guy with a scarred head.  I think he's their boss.  I caught some of them tailing you, a few days back, figured you where their next mark,
right?  Didn't want to see you get hurt.”
 

The boy finally stopped sifting through his bag, and pulled out a pair of bright purple crisp packets.  He held one out to her.
 

“
Monster Munch?”
 

For a moment she just stared
at him, as his outstretched hand hovered before her.  Finally she snatched the packet from his hand, and sat down.
 

“
So you didn't think of just telling me all that?  Like, 'hey, there's this gang of bad dudes planning to kidnap you'?”
 

He looked away, almost as if he was embarrassed.
 

“
Yeah, I did.  But… I dunno.  I mean, you're not exactly approachable.”
 

Rachael frowned.
 

“
Gee, wonder why?” she said.
 

“
And I guess… I kind of liked just watching you,” he added, still staring out across the rooftops.  “You know, when you're out running, or when you're drawing and stuff.
 

Rachael felt herself blush.  She looked down at the crisp packet in her hands.  The purple plastic split with a loud pop.
 

“
They're pickled onion,” he said.  “Hope that's OK.”
 

She shrugged.
 

“
Food's food, man,” she said, digging in.  
She pulled
a
half empty water bottle from her bag and took a mouthful.  She held the bottle out to the boy.  He tipped it back, taking a long gulp.  A little spilled down his chin.

“Thanks,”
h
e said, passing the bottle back.  Then he smiled, and
held out his
hand.

“I'm Justin,”
h
e said.

“
Rachael,” she said, though she made no move to take his hand.
 

For a
moment
they
ate
in silence.  When the bag was empty she licked the foil clean.  
Finally she crumpled up the empty packet and let it fly away on the breeze.  Leaning back on her elbows, she stared up at the overcast sky.  Her head was starting to clear a little.
 

“I should go,”
s
he said.

“Why?”
he said, with an almost childish curiosity.
 

“
I dunno.  Because.”
 

“
They're probably still looking for you,” Justin said.
 

“
Yeah, well, I can look after myself,” she said, begin to feel a little irritable.  “Now I know what I'm dealing with and all.”
 

She turned to pick up her bag.
 

“
Why do you want to leave?” he said.  She stared at him as he got to his feet and checked the buckles on his satchel.  She honestly couldn't say if it was anger or curiosity she was feeling, as she found herself reaching for words that she couldn't find.
 

“
Come on,” he said, “There's a baker's nearby, gets really busy about now.  You do it right, you can lean over the counter and snatch up some pasties while no one's looking.”
 

He looked so at ease, so relaxed as he stood there smiling at her, brown eyes warm and friendly.  It was only when she looked at his hands that she saw they were shaking, just a little.
 

She smiled.  It was a strange feeling.
 

“
OK,” she said.
 

In the end they struck out at the bakers after Justin tried to slip a whole loaf of bread under his coat.  They barely escaped, pilfered sandwiches scattering across the tiled floor as they ran.  In the end they bought hot-dogs from a street cart, and when the balding man wasn't looking Rachael helped herself to the contents of his change jar.  They ate in a park, drinking water from a guttering old fountain that had a coppery tang, and they pissed behind an overgrown laurel bush in the shrubbery, taking turns to keep watch.  
 

Eventually, they found themselves sitting on a rooftop, overlooking the railway tracks, where nearly two dozen lines gathered together into the chaotic tangle of King's Cross Station.  They sat with their legs over the edge of the roof, heels knocking against the wall.  The rumble of the trains mingled with the constant buzz of noise that filled every part of London's streets.  She ran her fingertips over the brickwork, feeling the rough texture as a prickling sensation against her skin.  The world was beginning to feel brighter and sharper, every sound a little clearer.
 

“
Do you ever wish it was you?” Justin said, nodding at a passenger coach.  “Y'know, sitting on one of them trains.  Going home?”
 

She shook her head.
 

“
Not really.  Home is here, you know?  Lived in London my whole life.”
 

“
Where abouts?”