Fear: 13 Stories of Suspense and Horror (25 page)

The man wasn't standing at all. In the brief time Ray had turned his back, the
creature
—Ray couldn't think of a better word for it—had clearly decided it would be easier to climb the walls than learn how to walk on two feet. It still came slowly but its movements were more confident. Fingers spread, it moved along the wall like a spider, legs splayed as it crawled forward.

Ray considered dropping the briefcase, making a mad dash for the exit, but the car was too narrow. He was stuck unless the creature decided to let him go.

Ray scanned the long tables, searching for something he could use as a weapon. Plastic forks and knives, white bread and cold cuts. Chocolate balls. Not a steak knife in sight. His gaze shifted to the windows, where a frantic blur of trees and telephone poles passed by.

The creature flexed its jaw as it crept closer, exposing a forked tongue that squirmed like an angry worm.

Ray started moving before a plan even formed in his mind. He took off his belt. Quickly he looped it through the handle of the briefcase, then slung it over his shoulder, wearing the case like a messenger bag. And before the creature closed the gap between them another foot, Ray was opening the nearest window.

The rush of air almost knocked him backward, and it took all his strength to lean outside. He held his breath and pushed, squeezing his upper body through the top half of the window, twisting as he dragged the bag behind him. A small ledge ran across the top of the window to deflect rain or any debris, and Ray could just reach it if he stretched.

His eyes started to water, and the reflection off the glass made it almost impossible to see clearly into the car. But Ray knew he didn't have much time. He pulled his left leg outside and pressed it against the window ledge.

Then he felt a damp cold wrap itself around his right ankle and almost lost his grip. As he pressed his face against the window, his worst fear was confirmed. The creature's jaw had unhinged, the forked tongue tickling Ray's calf as the head slid forward. Its rubbery hand was holding his right leg like a drumstick.

Ray gripped the railing in both hands and twisted sideways, swinging his left foot through the open window and catching the creature on the chin. The jaw snapped back, bottom teeth tearing across Ray's calf like broken glass. A searing pain followed by a release of pressure as the creature loosened its grip.

 

 

Palms sweating, Ray kicked frantically against the side of the train, trying to boost himself up. His right leg was on fire, a river of blood soaking through his pants.

The rushing air was blinding. Now that they were away from the city, the train seemed to be moving even faster. The track below was an angry blur. Ray thought he might pass out.

Pull!
He got an elbow over the railing but slipped. Ray cried out as his body floated away from the train, gravity failing, until he realized they must have hit a turn. He adjusted his grip, one hand at a time, and tried to swing his legs sideways.

That's when he saw a green hand claw its way through the window. It swept to the right, searching blindly. Ray gritted his teeth and swung to the left.

His leg hooked the railing and he rolled onto the roof of the train, facing back the way he had come, toward his compartment and his dad. But it was a long car. Hand locked around the railing, he slowly inched his way forward across the roof, wiggling back and forth on his belly, his face grazing the roof of the train. He felt the cool metal against his forehead and fought the urge to stop and close his eyes.

Ray was almost at the front of the car, near the ladder. Just another three feet. He could feel the weight of the briefcase, the strap biting into his shoulder. He felt weak and wasn't sure he could climb the ladder between the cars. He took a deep breath and risked a glance backward, his eyes following the red trail of his own blood.

The creature was following the same trail from the other direction.

The wind didn't seem to bother it. It lay perfectly still, eyes unfocused until the impossible tongue emerged between stalagmites of teeth to sample Ray's blood. Then its head pivoted toward Ray as the yellow eyes narrowed. It might be nearsighted, but it had found the scent.

C'mon, Ray, you can do this.
Ray tore his gaze away from the creature and—

—
gasped
. They had rounded a bend, and straight ahead was the gaping mouth of a tunnel. The front of the train had already disappeared inside. Ray didn't know how much clearance there was between the train and the ceiling of the tunnel but it wasn't much. He only had seconds left.

Ray lurched sideways and spun so his legs dangled between the cars. His right foot found the ladder first, and he grimaced at the pain. Fingers numb, one rung at a time till he hit the platform, hard.

There was a heavy
thunk
overhead, followed by a rolling, tumbling sound. Then the roar of the tunnel filled Ray's ears until he was deaf.

Heart beating like a jackhammer, Ray groped in the darkness until he found the door handle and pulled with all the strength he had left.

 

 

“Lock that door!”

Ray's father caught him as he fell across the threshold. The conductor stepped forward and turned a key into a square hole at the side of the metal door, then tested the handle.

“Nobody's coming through there.” The conductor was a stout man with a walrus mustache, and he looked angry. “I don't know
what
is going on with this train, but I intend to find out. Some businessman in first class claims somebody stole one of his suits, and the woman in the compartment next to him says her briefcase is missing. And now you folks claim—my God, son, what happened to your leg?”

“He fell.” Ray's dad answered for him, his face grim.

Ray held on to his dad like a drowning sailor and kept his mouth shut. The conductor stalked over to the bathroom and emerged a moment later with a first-aid kit.

“Give me that.” Ray's dad took the red-and-white box and half-carried his son back to the bathroom, where he expertly cleaned the wound. It hurt but wasn't as deep as Ray had feared, just a series of ugly furrows carved across the back of his leg. He'd done worse on a mountain bike. Once his dad had wrapped the cuts tightly in gauze, Ray saw a red pattern emerge but then slow and finally stop. No blood was soaking through. He'd have a scar—several, in fact—but he wasn't going to bleed to death.

The conductor poked his head through the door. “I'd suggest you folks lock yourselves in your compartments till I return—I'm going to check on the other passengers. And remember, there's an emergency call button in every car.”

Ray let his dad gently nudge him along the corridor. Amanda emerged from her compartment, smiling bravely, then ran forward and gave Ray a hug. His hands started shaking from the adrenaline crash. Ray's dad gave his son another squeeze and helped him sit. Then he lifted the belt from around Ray's shoulders and said, “This a souvenir from your adventure?”

Ray nodded.

“Okay then, let's take a look inside that briefcase.”

Amanda and Ray sat next to each other, across from his dad. Unconsciously she rested a hand on Ray's thigh, as if the danger had drawn them closer. He felt light-headed and wondered if it was just the loss of blood.

His dad popped the latches on the metallic case. The inside was empty of the usual things a briefcase would hold—no papers, pens, or folders—just five identical objects. They looked like crystals, long and narrow with angular surfaces. And trapped within each was a viscous solution, a green liquid that almost glowed.

“What are they?” asked Ray.

His dad didn't answer. Instead he picked up the first crystalline vial and held it close to his face. They were still inside the tunnel, so their window was a gray-black blur, the only light coming from a single bulb set into the ceiling.

Phil Gunstein almost dropped the object. Taking a deep breath, he steadied his grip and set the vial back inside the briefcase. He had a grave look on his face.

“Dad, what is it?”

His dad picked up the other vials and examined them one by one. Ray noticed for the first time that the bottom of each narrowed to a point, like a syringe.

“See for yourselves.” Ray's dad lifted the first crystal vial so they could see the reflections moving across its surface.

Ray gasped. Inside the crystal was a perfect hologram of his father.

Every detail of his face, right down to the crow's-feet around his eyes. He raised the next one and Ray recognized the face immediately—one of the women working with his father on the antimatter project.

Five vials for five scientists. Each with a perfect image of the recipient. His father had been first in line.

“What does it mean?” asked Amanda.

“I think these vials were meant to—”

“Kill you?” Ray blurted his worst fear.

His dad squinted at the vials. “Or make us forget.” He looked at his son and forced a smile. “But thanks to you—
Ray Gun
—they failed.” He paused and then added. “Whoever or whatever
they
are.”

“But won't they—
it
—try again?”

His dad shook his head. “I don't think so—once we hold our press conference, they'll have no reason to come after the scientists.” He paused, drew a breath. “I guess anything is possible—we opened a doorway by accident. They saw it first and slipped some
thing
into our world.” He shrugged. “Maybe they're afraid of us.”

“Afraid of
us
?i” said Ray.

“Maybe they're afraid of what we'll do if we visit
their
world. After all, we haven't always done the best job with ours.”

Ray visualized the creature on top of the train. It hadn't looked like it was afraid of anything.

“But if we opened the door,” his dad continued, “we can keep it closed.”

Ray looked up. “But that means abandoning your life's work.”

“I won't give up, just change direction.” His dad forced a smile. “Besides, I'm
looking
at my life's work.” He placed a hand on Ray's shoulder.

Ray felt himself blush. He turned toward Amanda to see if she'd noticed.

“Ray Gun?” she said. “You're not serious.”

Ray started to reply but was blinded by a burst of sunshine as they emerged from the tunnel. Everyone blinked and glanced outside. Ray could see rolling fields with horses and cows, speeding past like an out-of-control carousel. Amanda opened her mouth to make another remark, but Ray never heard her, because her voice was drowned out by a thousand pieces of glass exploding into the car.

The creature was still alive, and it was climbing through the broken window.

 

 

It moved like a folding chair, knees bending in the wrong direction as they extended through the window frame.

Ray's dad pulled them back toward the door. They could run to the next car, but they couldn't all climb onto the roof like Ray did, and he was too weak to try it again. The thing in the window wasn't going to stop.

His dad stared in disbelief but had enough presence of mind to push Ray closer to Amanda. Their eyes met, and Ray noticed for the first time that her eyes weren't brown at all but were dark green.

Green like a gecko.
That's when he got the idea, and Ray knew from her expression Amanda was already there with him. She held his gaze for another second before dashing to the next compartment.

Amanda returned carrying a large plastic box with a wire mesh door. Ray could see a white furry ball with a wrinkled face, watery brown eyes. Amanda gingerly opened the door and made kissing sounds as she produced the smallest dog Ray had ever seen.

Amanda shielded the dog's eyes as she stepped across the compartment. Ray's dad was trying to position himself to shove the creature at just the right moment, but Ray knew the creature would be too strong. It had survived the tunnel, and a kick to the jaw had barely registered. It might not be graceful, but it was powerful.

Ray figured they had less than five seconds before the creature got far enough inside that it would be impossible to force it out again. He started counting in his head.

One
. Ray's dad reached into his bag and produced his antimatter gadget. “Maybe this will scare it,” he said through gritted teeth. “Stand back.”

Two
. Amanda ignored him and squeezed in close to the window. She still had her hand over the dog's eyes, but the wind blew fiercely into the cabin, and the dog was growling deep in its throat.

Three.
The creature's face became visible as it slid down from the roof. Its yellow eyes were glaring at them.

Four.
Ray's dad started to twist the two halves of the stainless-steel container.

Five.
Amanda thrust the terrified dog through the open window.

Amanda held on tightly as the dog barked furiously, clawing Amanda's arms in a frantic scramble to get back inside. She winced from the pain but didn't let go.

Ray watched as the creature's slit pupils narrowed in fear. Then a green light exploded in the cabin and Ray couldn't see anything at all.

 

 

Ray blinked the spots from his eyes and saw his dad leaning out the window.

When he was satisfied the creature was gone, Phil Gunstein pulled his head inside and dropped the metal canister onto the table. “I thought I'd try to blind it.” He nodded at Amanda. “But I think your dog scared it silly.” He petted the dog, which was still trembling.