Bullet Train Disaster, Page 2

  ‘I’m all right,’ you say. ‘You?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ She looks back at the open door. ‘Do you think that kid is OK?’

  It seems unlikely. The train had been going very fast.

  ‘I tried to save him,’ you say. It’s the truth, but it feels like a lie. You could have done more.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen.’ The conductor’s voice comes over the PA. He sounds shaken. ‘I’ve engaged the emergency brake. I’m going to have to ask you all to disembark while I inspect the carriage.’

  ‘What?’ the old woman in the silk scarf shouts. ‘We’ll freeze!’

  The conductor doesn’t seem to hear her. ‘In an orderly fashion, please leave the carriage via the forward doors.’

  Grumbling, people start disentangling themselves from their seatbelts.

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ Pigeon grumbles. ‘We should be going back to help that kid, not sitting around scratching our—’

  ‘We can’t go back until they’re sure the train is safe,’ you say. ‘There was clearly something wrong with that kid’s seatbelt, and the brakes took ages to slow us down. Who knows what else isn’t working?’

  Turn here.

  ‘You’re the one the security guard was looking for,’ you say.

  Taylor looks uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘When I was getting on the train, a man asked me if I was Taylor. And he can’t have been a friend of yours, since he clearly didn’t know what you look like.’

  Taylor shrugs. ‘I’ve not the foggiest idea who he was. So, which way shall we go? Up the mountain, or down?’

  He’s trying to change the subject. ‘Why would someone be looking for you?’ you ask.

  ‘I don’t know, OK?’ He throws his hands up in the air. ‘I just wanted to go on a snowboarding holiday like a normal person. Was that too much to ask?’

  ‘What do you mean, “like a normal person”? Are you not normal?’

  ‘Of course I’m normal. It’s my family that’s—’

  He stops talking abruptly. He looks a bit embarrassed, so you decide to go easy on him. After all, your family is kind of weird too.

  When you look down, you see part of his seatbelt lying on the train tracks. The strap looks as if it has been cut with scissors.

  ‘Someone sliced through your seatbelt,’ you say. ‘Deliberately.’

  He looks away.

  ‘Is someone trying to … kill you?’ you ask.

  ‘No, no!’ he says. ‘Nothing like that! Just … kidnap me, maybe.’

  ‘“Just kidnap” you?’ You’re starting to feel dizzy. ‘Who exactly is in your family?’

  ‘No-one.’

  You put your hands on your hips.

  ‘Fine.’ He sighs. ‘I’ll show you a picture of my third cousin twice removed.’

  ‘Your what?’

  How would a photo of a distant relation help?

  He pulls a dollar coin out of his pocket and shows you the design on one side.

  It’s a picture of Queen Elizabeth the Second.

  ‘Are you telling me,’ you ask, ‘that the Queen of England is your cousin?’

  ‘Third cousin,’ Taylor says. ‘Twice removed. I’m eighteenth in line for the throne.’

  You don’t believe him, but he seems to think he’s telling the truth. You rub your eyes. ‘I’m guessing you don’t have a phone we could use to call for help?’

  ‘No phone,’ Taylor says. ‘The servants usually make calls for me.’

  You groan. He believes he’s royalty, and that falling out of a moving train was fun. You’re stuck out here in the wilderness with a crazy person.

  Should you start walking down the mountain and try to get back to the station before you freeze to death? You can’t see it through the falling snowflakes, but it can’t be more than an hour away, and you won’t get lost if you follow the tracks. Or should you wait here and hope the train comes back?

  If you head back down the mountain, go here.

  If you stay where you are, go here.

  ‘OK, “Your Majesty”,’ you say. ‘Let’s head back down the mountain to the station where it’s warm.’

  You trudge downhill, staying off the tracks in case the train comes back at high speed.

  ‘I’m not actually a king, so “Majesty” isn’t appropriate,’ Taylor says pleasantly. ‘You should call me “Your Grace”.’

  You roll your eyes. ‘Sure thing, Your Grace.’

  ‘Now, if I were a prince, or — look out!’

  Taylor grabs the hood of your jacket just in time. You jerk backwards, away from the deadly ravine. The snowstorm is so thick you nearly stepped right into it. The walls are sheer and jagged rocks fill the valley below. Just the thought of falling in makes you feel sick.

  ‘Thanks,’ you say, breathing heavily.

  Taylor raises his thin eyebrows.

  ‘Your Grace,’ you add.

  He beams. ‘But of course. We can cross over there.’

  You walk on the train tracks to get over the ravine. The ground on the other side is lumpy beneath a thin crust of snow. You have to move carefully—a twisted ankle could leave you stranded up here. Taylor doesn’t look strong enough to carry you.

  He’s still babbling about how cool it was, falling out the back of the train. He doesn’t seem concerned about the kidnapping attempt. Maybe he really is royalty, and this happens all the time.

  ‘Lucky I was wearing my ski gear,’ he says. ‘It’s a bit chilly out here.’

  ‘Just a bit,’ you say, teeth chattering. ‘Also, if you weren’t wearing it, the landing might have killed us both.’

  ‘All this walking,’ he says, ignoring you. ‘How much further is the station?’

  You shrug. ‘You don’t like walking?’

  ‘I usually have a driver. If I want to walk, I have to be surrounded by my security detail.’

  ‘Of course you do. Where was your security detail on the train?’

  ‘One guard was seated next to me,’ Taylor says, ‘and the other was across the aisle.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ You remember the man sitting next to Taylor, trying to grab him as he fell. Is it possible that he’s telling the truth?

  ‘Hey.’ Taylor stops walking. ‘Do you hear that?’

  You listen to the distant hum. At first you think the train is coming back, but then you realise the sound is coming from further down the mountain.

  ‘A truck!’ Taylor cries. ‘My uncle Myron is in town—he must be here to rescue me!’

  ‘Rescue us,’ you say.

  ‘Quite.’ Taylor looks embarrassed. ‘That’s what I meant.’

  The truck appears, driving up the train tracks towards you. It’s a Hummer—a gigantic kind of four-wheel drive—painted white to match the snow.

  They probably haven’t seen the two of you yet. You grab Taylor’s arm. ‘What if it’s not your uncle? What if it’s the people who tried to kidnap you?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Taylor says. ‘This is obviously him and his security escort.’

  If you trust Taylor and stay where you are, go here.

  If you drag him out of sight behind the nearest tree, go here.

  ‘We stay here,’ you say. ‘The train will be back any minute. If we head down the slope, we might freeze before they find us.’

  ‘We might freeze anyway,’ Taylor points out. ‘Not a lot of shelter out here.’

  You look around. He’s right. The cold breeze sweeps down the barren mountain towards you. The bare trees shiver. Even the clouds look crystalline, like fairy floss.

  ‘What did you say?’ Taylor asks.

  ‘I didn’t say anything.’

  ‘You made a sort of growling noise.’

  You grit your teeth. ‘I didn’t make any noise.’

  ‘Then what did?’

  You look around at the rocks and snow. You can’t see anyone or anything. What could live up here?

  ‘Perhaps I imagined—’ T
aylor begins, but the sound interrupts him. This time you hear it too. Rrrrrrrrrrrr.

  ‘Maybe it’s a lost dog,’ you suggest.

  ‘There are no houses for kilometres. Who would lose their dog up here?’

  ‘Maybe it’s a sled dog that got loose.’

  The growling—or whatever it is—has stopped. The only sound left is the howling of the wind.

  ‘It must be in there.’ Taylor points at some distant bushes clustered next to an outcropping of stone. ‘Nowhere else to hide. I’ll check it out.’

  He tromps through the slush towards the outcrop.

  ‘Are you crazy?’ you demand. ‘Why would you go towards a growling wild dog?’

  ‘I’m good with dogs,’ he calls back over his shoulder. ‘My third cousin keeps them.’

  ‘Those are corgis!’ you shout, but he ignores you. You think about yelling some more, but you don’t want to be too loud. The noise might trigger an avalanche.

  If you follow Taylor to the bushes, go here.

  If you stay by the train tracks, go here.

  The Hummer slows down as it approaches you and Taylor. It rolls too close—so close you take a step back—before it stops.

  After a pause, the passenger-side window rolls down. A head emerges. Tufts of grey hair stick out from under a brown golf cap. A small, carefully shaven chin jiggles. ‘Taylor, my boy! What are you doing out here?’ Yet somehow the man looks only mildly surprised to see his nephew on the tracks.

  ‘Uncle Myron!’ Taylor cries, and sprints towards the Hummer.

  You run after him, cursing yourself for being so paranoid. What if you had dragged Taylor into hiding? You might both have frozen to death. Still, something is bothering you, although you’re not sure what.

  ‘Get in here before you catch a cold!’ Myron shouts. His head disappears and the window rolls up.

  The door on the other side opens and the driver climbs out. He’s a tower of muscle in a tight business suit. He has a brow like a caveman and ears that stick out.

  ‘Hello, Derek,’ Taylor says.

  The driver doesn’t respond. He opens one of the rear doors and motions for the two of you to get in.

  ‘Taylor,’ you say.

  He pauses with one foot inside the Hummer. ‘What?’

  ‘If they were trying to kidnap you, why would they sabotage your seatbelt? You could have died, and then there would be no ransom.’

  The driver’s eyes narrow.

  Taylor stares at you. ‘You’re worried about how the kidnappers planned to make money? What is wrong with you?’

  He clambers up into the Hummer. You follow him. The driver closes the door behind you.

  The inside of the vehicle is divided into two sections, one for the driver and one for the passengers. A pane of tinted glass separates the two. The passenger compartment is luxurious, with leather upholstery and a little built-in fridge. A canvas backpack is stuffed under one of the seats, slightly unzipped. Through the gap you can see a phone.

  Your phone is still broken, and you’re not sure you trust ‘Uncle Myron’. Maybe you should borrow this one—you could use it to call for help, later.

  Myron has chosen to ride up front with the driver. Neither is looking in your direction. Taylor is rummaging through the bottles in the mini-fridge.

  Do you reach into the backpack and take the phone, or do you leave it? Make your choice, and turn here.

  You haul Taylor into the prickly bushes surrounding a big tree nearby. He swears at you and tries to struggle free, but by the time he does, the vehicle has already swept past.

  ‘Uncle Myron!’ Taylor shouts, waving his arms. ‘Wait!’

  The Hummer doesn’t stop. It roars away up the hill, leaving you and Taylor alone in the freezing wind. There’s another distant rumbling, like the one you heard at the station. The Hummer’s engine, maybe?

  ‘Fabulous,’ Taylor says. ‘What are we supposed to do now, genius?’

  You’re not sure. You didn’t think this far ahead.

  ‘We keep walking down the hill,’ you say. ‘Towards the station.’

  ‘And if we die of hypothermia before we get there?’

  You say nothing. You’ve spotted an object half-buried in the snow. No, two objects; one of the wooden railway sleepers has split down the middle into two rough planks and been abandoned beside the tracks.

  You pick the planks up. They’re not especially heavy—years of rough weather have worn away much of the wood—but they still feel quite strong.

  ‘I have an idea,’ you say. ‘Maybe we could—’

  Another rumbling interrupts you. This time it gets louder and louder, shaking the earth beneath your feet.

  ‘What is that?’ Taylor shrieks.

  BOOM! The mountain peak explodes behind you.

  Rock and ash blast upwards, turning the sky black. Chips of stone rain down. Mount Grave is a volcano!

  ‘Run!’ you yell, but Taylor is already sprinting down the hill. You dash after him. It’s not cold anymore. A deadly heat is rising behind you. A river of melted snow trickles past. Your heart is pounding.

  You could run faster if you dropped the two planks—but they might come in handy.

  Do you keep the planks, or leave them behind? Make your choice and then turn here.

  A few seconds later, Taylor turns around with two bottles in his hands. ‘Would you care for some water,’ he asks, ‘or perhaps juice?’

  ‘Thanks,’ you say. ‘Water, please.’

  He passes you the water bottle and settles back into his seat. He puts the seatbelt on very carefully, checking that the straps aren’t damaged. You buckle up and sip your water. It’s cold from the fridge—you wish there was something hot. Maybe there’s a microwave somewhere in here? It doesn’t seem unlikely.

  The Hummer starts rumbling up the mountain again. The tyres are so big that the ride doesn’t feel bumpy, even though the vehicle is driving on train tracks.

  ‘Why are we going up?’ you ask. ‘Shouldn’t we be heading back down to the station?’

  Taylor looks at you like you’re crazy. ‘My snowboard is on the train! We have to meet it at the top so I can get it and ride the slopes down.’

  ‘Haven’t you had enough excitement for one day?’ you ask.

  He pumps his fist in the air. ‘Never!’

  A royal adrenaline junkie. Now you’ve seen everything. You turn to the thick window. The Hummer is about to pass the gigantic ravine, which is much less scary from the safety of the car.

  Taylor knocks on the glass that separates you from the driver’s compartment. It buzzes as it rolls down.

  ‘Everything OK, sport?’ Uncle Myron asks.

  ‘I was just wondering how far we were from the top,’ Taylor says.

  ‘We’ll be there soon, don’t you worry.’

  ‘You must be wondering why we’re not on board the train,’ you say.

  Myron nods. ‘I was just about to ask.’

  ‘We fell out the back while it was moving!’ Taylor says. ‘It was incredible.’

  ‘You should probably call someone at the station and tell them we’re OK,’ you say.

  ‘Oh, well, I already did,’ Myron says. ‘They were most relieved.’

  ‘But they didn’t tell you what had happened?’ you ask.

  Myron changes the subject. ‘Are you kids warm enough back there?’

  ‘Fine, thank you,’ Taylor says.

  You have a very bad feeling about this. ‘Are you really royalty?’

  ‘Indeed,’ Myron says. ‘Eighteenth in line for the throne.’

  ‘No, I’m eighteenth in line,’ Taylor objects. ‘You’re nineteenth.’

  ‘Of course, of course,’ Myron says. But there’s a dark sparkle in his eyes.

  The Hummer slows to a halt beside the deadly ravine.

  ‘Why are we stopping?’ Taylor asks.

  If you took the phone earlier, go here.

  If you didn’t, go here.

  Keeping the phone hi
dden from Taylor, Myron and the driver, you dial emergency services and tuck it back into your pocket. Hopefully the call goes through, and the operator can trace it to your location.

  Myron and the driver get out of the Hummer. The driver opens your door with one massive hand. Myron opens Taylor’s.

  ‘Don’t do this,’ you say.

  ‘Do what?’ Myron asks. ‘I’m simply showing my nephew the amazing view.’

  Myron unbuckles Taylor’s seatbelt and pulls him out of the car. The driver does the same to you.

  You all stand there in the freezing cold on the edge of the ravine. Snowflakes tumble down, down, down into the darkness. Pigeon’s voice echoes through your head. The tallest mountain in the world … by how long it takes to hit the ground if you fall off the top.

  ‘Uh,’ Taylor says, ‘the view’s great. Can we get back in the car?’

  ‘Myron’s going to throw you off!’ you hiss. ‘So he’ll be closer to becoming king!’

  Taylor laughs. ‘Don’t be silly.’

  Myron and the driver don’t smile.

  ‘That’s a very serious accusation,’ Myron says.

  ‘You got someone to sabotage Taylor’s seatbelt,’ you say. ‘And since he survived that, you’re going to push him over this cliff, to make it look like he died when he fell out of the train.’

  ‘You’ve gone mad!’ Taylor tells you. ‘Right, Uncle Myron?’

  Myron turns to the driver. ‘Push them both off.’

  The giant driver lunges at you. Taylor screams. The driver grabs your collar with one hand and Taylor’s with the other. He drags you towards the cliff …

  Turn here.

  ‘They’re going to kill us!’ you shout.

  Taylor boggles at you. ‘Pardon?’

  ‘What utter nonsense,’ Myron says, grey eyebrows rising.

  ‘Don’t you see? There was never any attempted kidnapping! Myron sabotaged your seatbelt. If you die, he’s one step closer to the throne!’

  ‘You’re insane!’ Taylor says. ‘Uncle Myron—’

  But Myron is already raising the glass barrier back up. He and the driver step out of the Hummer and close the doors behind them.