The Stuff of Nightmares (3 page)

‘Perry, I’m going to deck you if you don’t shut the bloody hell up!’ said Joe harshly.

‘OK, Joe. Calm down,’ said Steve, with mild surprise.

Seems I wasn’t the only one who had unpleasant things on my mind.

‘Well, he gets on my nerves.’ Joe scowled. ‘He’s worse than Jon – and that’s saying something.’

The last thing any of us wanted was to get Joe
started
on the subject of his twin brother, Jonathan. I’d met Jon just a few times. There was smug, then there was arrogant, and then there was Jon.

‘So how is your twin anyway?’ Perry asked on a deliberate wind-up.

‘The less said about him the better,’ Joe snapped.

‘Joe, what’s up with you and your brother? In primary school you guys used to be so tight,’ said Steve, ever the peacemaker.

‘Used to be,’ Joe said pointedly.

‘Joe, maybe you should let it go,’ said Steve as gently as he could.

‘Steve, maybe you shouldn’t go there,’ I warned.

‘Let
what
go?’ asked Joe, the tone of his voice giving all of us frostbite.

But for once Steve wasn’t going to take any kind of hint. ‘OK, so Jon passed the entrance exam and got into Peltham College and you didn’t,’ he said. ‘Is our school really that bad? Are we really so terrible?’

‘That’s not the point,’ said Joe.

‘Then what is?’ asked Steve.

I must admit, I’d been wondering the same thing.

‘The point is,’ Joe said, exasperated, ‘that had our positions been reversed, I wouldn’t’ve gone to Peltham College without Jon.’

‘Bullcrap!’ Perry barely let Joe close his mouth before launching in. ‘If you’d got into Peltham and your twin hadn’t, it would’ve been “
hasta la vista
, brother” – and you know it.’

‘I’m telling you, I would’ve turned the place down,’
Joe
insisted. ‘I wouldn’t’ve gone to a school that didn’t take Jon as well.’

‘Well, if you’d turned down a place at one of the best private schools in the country just because they didn’t take your twin brother, then you’re an arse,’ said Perry, tactful as ever. ‘Which is probably why you didn’t get in. Your brother obviously has all the brains in your family.’

‘Uh-oh!’ Steve muttered.

Joe was a nanosecond away from going nuclear. The scowl he gave Perry spoke volumes. And anyone but Perry would’ve shut up.

‘What’s that look about? Stressy much?’ asked Perry. ‘Or is it your time of the month?’

Joe launched himself at Perry. It took both Steve and me to pull him off.

‘Enough! Joe, you need to take a chill pill, and Perry, you need to change the subject,’ said Steve firmly. ‘Unless you want Miss Wells to split us up.’

‘He said—’ Joe began furiously.

‘We all heard what Perry said,’ said Steve. ‘But what he meant was that maybe it’s just as well it wasn’t your decision to make.’

‘Meaning …?’ Joe frowned, his attention now directed at Steve.

‘Meaning I know you and your brother are inseparable – or rather, you were – but sooner or later you both had to go your separate ways and do your own thing. That’s just the way life works. Maybe Jon realized it before you did, that’s all.’

Joe sat so far back in his seat, I’m surprised he didn’t fall through it. Each of us got a look that was pure daggers before he turned to look out of the train window.

‘What did I say?’ asked Perry, rubbing his arm where Joe had managed to get a punch in.

‘Leave it, Perry,’ I said.

‘I can’t believe all this started just ’cause I asked Joe about his worst nightmare,’ said Perry petulantly. ‘It didn’t even have to be about his brother. My worst nightmare is being buried alive. See? I’m happy to share! So what’s the problem? Kyle, what’re
you
most afraid of?’

Perry obviously wasn’t going to shut up.

‘Oh, come on, Kyle,’ he wheedled.

‘I thought we were dropping this subject,’ I tried, knowing it was futile.

‘I’m only asking,’ Perry persisted. ‘So what is it? Or don’t you ever have nightmares?’

‘Of course I do,’ I said impatiently.

Perry looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to carry on. When I didn’t, he turned with an exasperated huff to Steve. ‘What about you, Steve? What’re you afraid of?’

‘Disappointing my dad,’ Steve replied immediately.

Perry nodded, with no smile or witty, snitty comeback for once. Enough said.

‘And you, Joe? What frightens you?’

‘Me …’ said Joe, his eyes burning into Perry’s.

‘Huh?’

‘I frighten myself,’ said Joe, the merest hint of a smile twisting his lips. ‘So what must I do to the rest of you?’

‘Very funny,’ said Perry. ‘I’m serious. What scares you, Joe?’

Joe shrugged and smiled. Perry gave up on him.

‘Your turn, Kyle. What’s your weakness?’

‘I’m afraid …’ My mates were watching me. I could feel my face glowing warm. I changed my mind and decided not to confess to the thing that scared me the most. I plumped for one of the things that still made me … anxious; had always made me anxious. ‘I’m afraid of ghosts.’ One look at my friends’ faces and I instantly regretted the admission.

‘Are you kidding me?’ Perry scoffed. ‘There’s no such thing as ghosts.’

I shrugged. ‘As the saying goes, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Perry, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”’

‘Where’s that from?’ asked Perry. ‘
Star Wars
?’

‘Shakespeare’s
Hamlet
, you moron,’ I replied.

‘My name’s in
Hamlet
?’ said Perry, astounded. ‘Cool!’

I opened my mouth, only to snap it shut again. Joe looked at me and smiled ruefully. At least he wasn’t angry any more. The train finally began to move. ’Bout time too!

‘Go on, Kyle, have a go,’ said Steve, trying to thrust his game console at me again.

‘No, thanks,’ I said, exasperated.

‘Why’re you being so dry?’ he asked.

‘I’m not. I just …’

Steve regarded me, eyebrows raised.

‘Give it here then,’ I said with a sigh.

I’d barely got my hand on it when all at once there was a colossal bang like nothing I’ve ever heard before. So loud, it was like the whole world exploding. And beneath the bang there came the sound of metal twisting and crunching and crushing, like the train carriage ahead was being chewed up and spat out.

Our train had been hit. Hit hard.

Our carriage was slammed backwards, then began to tilt up sharply. I pitched forward, then fell back. Joe and Perry opposite fell towards me as the train was pushed up at a sharp angle.

That’s when the train began to turn.

To actually flip over.

2

WITHOUT WARNING, THE
train smashed back down on its side again. And the noise … Glass shattering, crashing and smashing, and metal bolts popping. My body flipped and flopped like some kind of rag doll. I might have been a piece of paper caught up in a tornado for all the control I had over it. My head slammed against something hard; after that I couldn’t see anything, hear anything, think anything above and beyond the ringing in my ears and the fireworks exploding behind my eyes. The sky, the train, the carriage disappeared and the world was just a wash of pain and darkness. I groaned; then I disappeared too.

The day of the letter began the same as any other. I went to school, I spent about an hour at Steve’s house, playing his latest computer game and listening to some tunes, then I went home. I’d like to say that the moment I set foot in the hall I knew something was wrong. But I can’t say that, ’cause it’s not true
.

‘
Mum?’ I bellowed as soon as the front door was shut
. ‘Mum?’

No answer. Maybe she was in the shower or the garden or something. I couldn’t smell anything cooking either, which was more unusual. I ran upstairs to my room, taking the stairs two and three at a time. I glanced into Mum and Dad’s bedroom as I passed. The envelope taped to the dressing-table mirror had me backing up. And even when I saw it, it still didn’t click. I walked over to the dressing table
. Anthony
was written on the envelope in Mum’s bold, upright writing. And that’s when the hollow feeling inside me first appeared, tiny and still, but definitely there. Anthony … Mum never called Dad Anthony. Our surname was Fitzwilliam so Mum always called Dad Fitz, or Tony if she was really annoyed with him. I pulled the envelope off the mirror. It was tucked in, not stuck down at the back, so I opened it. There was one sheet of plain, white A4 paper inside. I unfolded it and began to read
.

Dear
Anthony
,

This is a hard letter for me to write but it’s been a long time coming. I’m going away. Please don’t try to find me. You’ve spent most of our marriage telling me that I’m nothing, I’m useless without you. Maybe you’re right. Maybe that’s true. But I need to find out for myself before I’m too old or too afraid to leave and have some kind of life of my own. You never listened to me when I tried to tell you
how
I felt, but hopefully you’ll listen to this. Don’t try to find me, Anthony. I don’t love you any more. I realize now that I stopped loving you a long time ago. It’s taken me too long to admit it. Kyle can stay with you until I sort myself out. I’m no good to him or anyone else the way I am now. I hope you can understand that if nothing else
.

Yolanda

I read the letter twice and then a third time, my heart trying to punch its way out of my chest. I folded up the letter and put it back in the envelope, exactly the way I’d found it. I opened the fitted wardrobe on Mum’s side. The emptiness within was only sporadically broken by a few bare hangers and the odd dress or two that would no longer fit. I opened up the chest of drawers, second drawer down. Empty. Just torn brown paper lining the bottom
.

Mum …

She didn’t love Dad any more
.

She’d left Dad
.

She’d left me
.

I went to my room and pulled on my trainers and my sweats. Grabbing my keys out of my school trouser pocket, I walked out of the door and headed down the road. I had no idea where I was going. It didn’t matter. I didn’t want to be home when Dad came in from work. I didn’t want to be home when Dad found the letter. I started to run
.

* * *

… is this what it’s like? … how it feels? … stillness and silence after a world of noise and pain and panic? is this what it was like for him? did he gently slide or was it more of a screaming fall? why have I never considered the moments – the moments just before and during and just after? guess I was too busy considering the method to think about the manner. am I dead? this is no way to die, not like this … this isn’t fair … my head hurts … pain … that’s a good sign – right?

The dead don’t feel pain … Do they?

Open your eyes, Kyle.

I can’t. Each eyelid weighs a ton.

Open your eyes, Kyle. Open them now
.

Slowly I opened my eyes. Train seats stood to attention on either side of me like oppressive sentinels. My heart was thundering.

Now I was terrified of closing my eyes in case I never opened them again.

You’re OK, Kyle
, I told myself.
You can still think, so you’re all right
.

I had to force my eyes shut so I could focus on bedding down the panic ripping chunks out of me. Surely neither Heaven nor Hell nor any stage in between would be furnished with blue-clothed train seats? Or was it possible to be dead and not even know it? I opened my eyes again and this time it was a little easier. My hand flew to my head. No blood, surprisingly, but it hurt like hell.

‘Joe? Steve?’ Did I shout that out loud or was it just in my head? I couldn’t tell.

Where was Steve? Was he OK? I tried to stand but it was hard to tell which way was up. The train lurched suddenly, to come to a juddering halt on its side. And the silence that followed was like nothing I’d ever heard before. Or wanted to hear again. A silence so deep it was as if all my senses had suddenly shut down and each thought rang clear and loud in my head like some enormous pealing bell.

Someone began to sob. Low, irregular sobs of total terror.

‘Are you all right?’ I tried to call out, although I didn’t know who I was talking to and it was such a ridiculous question. I just wanted to hear something besides that sobbing. But my voice sounded cracked and weak and barely above a whisper.

Someone was groaning now from just behind (above?) me. My eyes were beginning to focus again.

I tried to stand up, but Steve and Perry were sprawled on top of me and Joe was dangling over the side of one of the chairs. I couldn’t move. I was on my side, with Perry lying over my feet and Steve over my arm and hip, his head dangling down in front of my chest. I couldn’t see Perry’s face but Steve’s … Steve’s eyes were closed and his skin looked almost grey. Drying blood decorated his cheek like a Rorschach ink blot. That’s when what’d happened to us hit me. Hit me hard. I shoved at Steve, close to panic as I tried to shift him. But he didn’t budge.

I had to get out of here.

I took a deep breath to brace myself and then
pushed
at Steve again while kicking my legs up with all my might. This time it worked. Both he and Perry fell off me in a heap. I scrambled to my feet, feeling wrung out and queasy, like being seasick. My eyes were sending duff messages to my brain because everything around me was wrongly orientated and I still hadn’t wrapped my head around it. The opposite train window was now directly above me and the rain was relentlessly washing in. I stood on what used to be the side of the train, between two smashed windows. The chairs that were still bolted down were now on their sides. I bent to try and pull Joe free but it was no use. One of his feet was wedged in the underside of the chair at an impossible angle. Steve’s eyelids were fluttering now, but he didn’t open them. I looked around for help. There was no one. I was the only one standing. My head was swimming.

‘Focus,’ I muttered. ‘Just look at something real and focus.’

So I looked up. Above me, I could see nothing but dark grey sky and rain falling like a shredded curtain through the shattered windows. I let the rain wash over my face. I took one deep breath followed by another before I could trust myself to look around again. Squatting down, I forced myself to take Joe’s wrist so that I could feel for a pulse. I couldn’t detect one but told myself not to panic over that. I was probably checking the wrong part of his wrist. Perry’s eyes were closed but he was groaning softly. Occasionally his eyes would flutter open, only to close
immediately
, as if the light or the sight was too much for him. I stumbled around, trying to find our teacher. Elena grabbed my leg as I passed her.