Ghost of a Dream, Page 2

  Happy used to take an awful lot of pills, potions, and special medications, mixing and matching as necessary to keep the world outside his head. Because both the real and the hidden worlds were full of things he didn’t want to think about. He was trying to do without his little chemical helpers these days because they got in the way of having lots of sex with Melody. Happy and Melody were something of an item; and it would be difficult to decide which of them was more surprised. The things we do for love. Love, or something like it.

  “I really don’t like that sign,” said JC after a while. He indicated the Bradleigh Hell sign with a jerk of his head. “That sign speaks of well-established phenomena, ghosts and hauntings and general weird shit, seen by far too many civilians. As in, ordinary everyday people completely untrained or unused to dealing with bad things on the move. I say we withdraw and nuke the whole place from orbit. It’s the only way to be sure.”

  “If I hadn’t seen your lips move, I would have sworn I said that,” said Happy.

  “We all know you don’t want to be here, JC,” Melody said carefully. “We’re worried about Kim, too.”

  “I’m not,” said Happy. “I mean, come on; it’s not as if she’s in any danger, wherever she is. She’s a ghost! She’s dead! What else can happen to her?”

  “For you, tact is something other people do, isn’t it?” said Melody.

  “What?” said Happy.

  “Mouth is open, should be shut.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Somebody has her,” said JC. “Somebody took her from me. And if they have the power to hold a ghost against her will, who knows what else they can do? I swear…I will move Heaven and Earth with a really big stick to get her back. I’m only staying with the Carnacki Institute so I can make use of their resources.”

  “I don’t trust the Institute any more,” said Happy.

  “You never did,” said Melody. “In fact, you are famous for never trusting anyone or anything, including yourself.”

  “And I was right!” Happy said loudly. “I was dangerously paranoid even before we found out the Institute had been infiltrated by Big Bads from Beyond! Imagine my shock when all my worst dreams were proved true. I was so much happier when I only thought I was crazy…”

  “Let us all concentrate on the mission at hand,” said JC, not unkindly. “Since we all have so many things we’d rather not be thinking about…it’s best to keep occupied. And hopefully come across something here so sufficiently nasty we can justify kicking the shit out of it in the cause of justice and therapy. I feel like hitting something.”

  “Never knew you when you didn’t,” muttered Happy.

  JC led the way down the steep, grassy slope, leaping and bounding along with cheerful abandon. Happy followed after, far more cautiously. And Melody brought up the rear, lowering her trolley of piled-up special scientific equipment foot by foot while filling the air with foul language every time something inevitably fell off, and she had to stop and put it back on again. She glared after the others, but knowing better than to ask for help. JC and Happy could break delicate equipment merely by looking at it the wrong way. Bradleigh Halt loomed up before them, still and silent, holding shadows and secrets within. It didn’t look any better as it got closer.

  “Talk to me, my children,” said JC as he descended. “Tell me things I need to know.”

  “Starting with, what the hell are we here for?” said Happy.

  “Just once, I wish you two wouldn’t leave it to me to read the briefing files,” said Melody. “We all spent hours on the train getting here…”

  “I had some important dozing to be getting on with,” said JC.

  “And you know I don’t like to read anything scary,” said Happy. “It gives me nightmares. And wind.”

  Melody sighed, loudly and pointedly. “All right. One more time, for the hard of thinking at the back. This one seems straightforward enough. Until very recently, Bradleigh Halt was another run-down, long-time-closed, small-time railway station. One of the many shut down by Dr. Beeching, back in the sixties. But, the halt was due to be renovated and reopened, by the Bradleigh Preservation Trust—a bunch of old-time steam-train enthusiasts. The volunteers had only started work here, rebuilding and repairing and generally putting the place in order for a Grand Reopening…when they started seeing things. And hearing things. All the usual disturbing supernatural phenomena…More than enough for the volunteers to down tools and run for the hills. Somebody in the Preservation Trust knew enough to get the bad news to the Institute, and somebody at Carnacki apparently loves steam trains, too…So here we are.”

  “Yes,” JC said patiently. “Got that. But what about the details, Melody? All the helpful little details, so we can figure out exactly what we’re dealing with here? What exactly did the volunteers see and hear? Revenants? Poltergeists? The Blair Witch on a Broomstick?”

  “I don’t know,” said Melody. “Nothing in the briefing. Only a note to say that we are to be met here by one of the volunteers from the Preservation Trust. Who will hopefully tell us what we need to know.”

  “Wouldn’t put money on it,” growled Happy. “Civilians…Always more trouble than they’re worth.”

  “Oh hush,” said Melody. “You know you love the chance to feel superior to someone.”

  “Almost as much as you love a chance to lecture us,” Happy said sweetly.

  They looked at each other and exchanged a smile. Shared emotions were unfamiliar territory for both of them; but perhaps it takes one broken soul to mend another.

  “I can hear you two smiling at each other, and I do wish you wouldn’t,” said JC, not looking back. “You know your entire relationship creeps me out big-time. Young Ghostbusters in love. The horror, the horror…”

  “And this from a man in love with a ghost,” said Melody. “At least Happy and I can touch each other.”

  “And we do,” said Happy. “Often into the early hours…”

  “And you call my relationship unnatural,” said JC.

  “The living and the dead aren’t supposed to get that close,” said Melody. “For all kinds of worrying and unsettling reasons.”

  “It’ll all end in tears,” said Happy.

  They reached the bottom of the grassy slope pretty much at the same time and stepped carefully down onto the end of the waiting platform. JC peered easily about him, pretending to look the place over, giving Happy a chance to cough up half a lung getting his breath back, while Melody counted all her precious bits of equipment, twice, to make sure she hadn’t left anything important behind. It had to be said: the Station Halt didn’t appear particularly welcoming. Some attempt had been made to clean up the place, but with only limited success. Soap and water and industrial-strength detergent can only do so much in the face of decades of dust and grime and disinterest. Various rubbish and debris had been brushed roughly to one side of the platform; but the standing structures, the original station buildings…looked distinctly uninviting.

  The old stone walls, sourced from local quarries, were stained and discoloured the exact shade of old piss, and the wooden facings, shutters, and doors were all pitted and rotten, looking almost diseased in the limited light. Newly replaced glass windows gleamed brightly enough in the gloomy surroundings, and a few new doors stood proudly open, showing only darkness within. Freshly painted signs hung here and there, saying Ticket Office, Waiting Room, and the like, in clear but still traditionally old-fashioned lettering. No-one had done anything for the buildings on the opposite platform. The slumping, single-storey structures across the tracks looked dim and distant, as though they were miles away.

  It was all very still and silent, without even the bird-song and insect buzz from above to add a sense of life to the place. At the bottom of the valley, between the two steep slopes, it all seemed so much darker; as though the light had to struggle to reach so far down. The wind seemed stronger, though, gusting along the open platform with sudden loud murmurings, like a hound on the trail of
a scent. The pit between the two platforms was choked with weeds run wild though efforts had been made to clear a short length of track. It seemed to JC that efforts to clean up the halt had stopped and started several times before something drove everyone away…

  “First impressions, Happy?” JC said brightly, on the grounds that someone had to be bright and cheerful before they all burst into tears.

  “Nothing obvious,” said Happy, glowering about him. “I’m not picking up any manifestations, no stone-tape imagery…But it does seem a lot darker and gloomier down here than it should, as though we’ve left the evening behind, up above, and come down into the night. Look up. Does that look like an early-evening sky to you? Wait a minute, hold everything, drop the anchors. Did anyone else hear that?”

  They all moved closer together and stared down the long platform. A light had appeared in the window of the furthest building, the Waiting Room. It was a warm, golden glow, calm and cheerful and quite out of place in the generally forbidding atmosphere. The light moved out of the Waiting Room and quickly revealed itself to be an old storm lantern, held high in the hand of a dim figure. JC looked sharply at Happy, who shook his head and mouthed the word civilian. The figure came walking slowly down the platform towards them, taking its time, holding the lantern out ahead. The advancing golden glow quickly revealed an old man, in comfortable clothes and sturdy working-man’s shoes. He finally swayed to a halt in front of the Ghost Finders and looked at them. He didn’t give any impression of being particularly impressed. He squared his old shoulders, lowered the storm lantern some, and nodded brusquely.

  “About time you got here,” he said, in a rough, worn-out voice. “Ronald Laurie, representing the Bradleigh Preservation Trust.”

  “Here to help us of his own free will,” murmured Melody. “Try not to frighten him.”

  Ronald Laurie was a tall but stoop-shouldered old fellow, well into his seventies, in a battered tweed suit of a kind that men of a certain age like to wear when gardening, or doing odd jobs, until their wives decide they can’t stand the sight of it any more and drop it off at a charity shop when their husband’s out and can’t object. Laurie wore a battered cloth cap on a bald head, troubled here and there with a few wispy grey strands. He had a deeply lined face, a pursed mouth, and piercing steel grey eyes. He managed a small smile, for each Ghost Finder in turn, but didn’t offer to shake hands. He still held the lantern high as though to be sure he was spreading the light as far as he could. And he took his time looking the Ghost Finders over, as though he wanted to be sure they were what they appeared to be.

  He’s seen something, thought JC. What have you seen, old man?

  “So,” Laurie said finally. “You’re the experts, are you?”

  From the way he said the word, it was clear he didn’t take much assurance from it. In his world, experts were people who came down on orders from the bosses to meddle in things they didn’t understand.

  “That’s us,” said JC as positively as he could. JC was usually the one who got to talk to civilians and put them at their ease, as much as was possible. Happy and Melody didn’t have the knack. Or the inclination. JC offered Laurie his hand, but the old man nodded brusquely again.

  “You took your time getting here,” he said. “It’s late. Getting dark. But then, we’re a long way from anywhere. These days.”

  “We got here as soon as we could,” JC said smoothly. “Hope you haven’t been waiting too long. It was good of you to agree to meet us and help out.”

  “Aye. Well,” said Laurie. “Didn’t seem right to let you just walk into this ungodly mess without at least a warning.”

  “I want to go home,” said Happy. “Right now.”

  “So this is a bad place?” Melody said to the old man. “Nice to have that confirmed. What have you seen here?”

  “This is Melody Chambers, girl scientist and plain speaker,” murmured JC. “That cheerful soul is Happy Jack Palmer, professional worrier. Don’t get too close or try to feed him. And I am JC. I lead this team, for my many sins. Let us all play nicely together, people. We’ve a lot to discuss and not much time before night falls. It would help us a great deal, Mr. Laurie, if you could fill us in on exactly what’s been happening here. We do have official reports, but we prefer to get our information from first-hand sources, wherever possible. From people who’ve actually experienced the events in question. Whatever they may be.”

  “Details,” said Melody. “We want details.”

  “And you can leave the rumours and gossip at home,” said Happy.

  “Hush, children,” said JC. “Daddy’s working.”

  “Who are you people?” said Laurie, looking back and forth between them. “All I was told was to expect some experts. Are you with British Rail?”

  “Not in any way, shape, or form,” said JC. “We are all experts in the field of unnatural situations. We investigate bad places, determine what’s going on, then do something about it. We are here to help, Mr. Laurie.”

  “Aye. Maybe.” Laurie still didn’t look convinced, but he made a clear effort to be reasonable and get along. He tried his brief smile again, then looked up and down the long, gloomy platform. A low murmuring sound issued from the tunnel-mouth at the opposite end, and they all turned to look. There was nothing there. Only the tall, brick-lined arch, the deep, dark shadows, and a few leaves blown back and forth by the breeze. Laurie looked back at JC. He seemed suddenly older, even fragile.

  “You can’t trust anything around here. Can’t turn your back on anything. You know why no-one else from the Trust is here to meet you? Because I’m the only one who’ll come here any more. None of the rest of them’ll set foot here, for love nor money. Not after what happened.” He looked sadly at JC. “Must be nice, to be an expert. To be a scientist and understand everything, so there’s nothing left to scare you.”

  “Don’t you believe it,” said Happy, immediately.

  “It’s only sensible, to be afraid of things that are dangerous,” JC said carefully. “But you can’t let it stop you from doing what needs to be done. We are all of us trained to deal with…extraordinary situations. Please tell us what it is that’s happened here, Mr. Laurie.”

  “I never used to believe in the supernatural,” said Laurie. “Or ghosts.”

  “That’s all right,” said JC. “They believe in you. In fact, that’s pretty much the definition of supernatural—things that insist on happening, whether you believe in them or not. Have you seen ghosts here, Mr. Laurie?”

  “I want this taken care of,” said Laurie. “I want this unholy mess dealt with, forced out of here, so I can take it easy again…and the Trust can get on with opening up the station. Used to be a fine old place, this, back in the day. Always liked it here. Nowhere else I’d rather be.” He glared quickly about him, as though defying the shadows to do anything. “I’m the only one who’ll come here now, and I can’t stay. Not once it starts getting really dark. No-one will stay here once it starts getting really dark. I’ll tell you what’s what, show you where everything is; but then I’m gone. You’re lucky I stayed to meet you, this late in the day.”

  “But what is it?” said JC. “What is it that scares you, Mr. Laurie?”

  “We thought it was kids, at first,” said Laurie. “Teenagers, with nothing to do, nothing to occupy them…messing about, making trouble. You saw the sign, up top—Bradleigh Hell? Aye. That was them. The last thing they did, before they ran away. They used to come here after dark, you see, to do all the things their parents didn’t need to know about…but you couldn’t drag any of them back now. Not after what they saw.”

  “What did they see?” JC said patiently. “What happens here once it gets dark?”

  “I think maybe…everyone sees different things,” Laurie said slowly. “I think maybe this place shows you whatever it is that scares you most. Because that’s the best way to get rid of you. The volunteers woke something up; and it wants us gone. You’ll see. All of you. Whether you want to
or not. Come with me. I’ll show you where everything is, then I’m out of here.”

  “Please don’t rush off, Mr. Laurie,” said JC. “Stick with us for a while. You’ll be perfectly safe, with us. After all, no-one knows this place better than you.”

  Laurie managed his small smile again. “Aye. Maybe I have been here longer than most. I can still remember when Bradleigh Halt was a going concern, and the old trains came through here regular. Marvellous it was, the sight and sound of a steam train coming into the halt. My old dad used to work here, in the Bookings Office. I used to bring him his lunch every day, when I was a kid, along with a bottle of beer now and again.”

  “Do you ever see your father among the ghosts?” said Melody.

  “No, lass,” said Laurie. “I would have liked to…but it’s not spirits, as such, you see. I’m not sure whatever walks here now has anything human left in it. Whatever’s not finished with this place, it’s nothing to do with human needs or human business. No…Something bad is coming. And it’s getting closer all the time.” He broke off abruptly to glare at JC. “Why in God’s name are you wearing sunglasses at this time of night, boy?”

  “Sensitive eyes,” said JC. “Work-related injury. You know how it is.”

  “Hello!” Happy said suddenly. “That’s new. That’s…really quite nasty, actually.”

  He’d moved away on his own, staring into the dark tunnel-mouth. He was frowning hard as though trying to focus on something he couldn’t quite identify or pin down.

  “Excuse me a moment, Mr. Laurie,” said JC.

  He moved quickly over to join Happy and laid a heavy hand on the telepath’s shoulder.

  “What is the matter with you, Happy? I was starting to get some useful information out of the old man! Have you been indulging yourself with mother’s little helpers again?”