Ray felt the hairs on his arm stand up and suddenly the cabin filled with a brilliant blue-green light. The center of the canister was glowing like a miniature sun.
Ray looked away until his dad twisted the two ends back to their original position. A tickling sensation ran down his spine, then everything returned to normal. Ray tried to blink away the spots in his eyes.
“Cool.” He didn’t know what else to say. And he did think his dad’s work was cool, even though he sometimes wished his dad would get as excited about his life as he did about his life’s work.
“Thought you’d get a kick out of that.” His dad held the thermos like a trophy. “The antimatter in this container could power an electric car for ten years.”
“And it’s safe?” Ray trusted his dad implicitly, but the image of a hungry black hole had made an impression.
“Perfectly safe—unless you believe in string theory, but most physicists have moved on.” His dad looked almost embarrassed. “The stuff of science fiction, not science fact.”
“Tell me.”
His dad made a dismissive gesture but kept talking. Ray knew once you got Phil Gunstein talking about his work, the real trick was getting him to shut up. “Some people think there are other dimensions, other worlds.” He spread the fingers of his right hand and waved them in front of Ray’s eyes. “Places where people like us might be moving around, right here, in the spaces in between things.” He closed his fingers into a fist, one by one. “Harness this kind of energy, then theoretically you could open a doorway.”
“And the people there could reach over here?” Ray shifted in his seat and pocketed the iPhone, neglected on his lap. This was getting interesting.
“Nobody knows.” His dad made a face. “That’s one of the problems with string theory. Some think only energy could pass through, but if matter and energy are the same, why not something solid? It would be like moving from two dimensions to three, or from three to four—why not five or six? But even fringe scientists admit no living creature could survive the journey. . . .” His voice trailed off as he shook his head at his own foolishness.
“But what if something could come across?”
“Something, as opposed to someone?”
“Maybe a weapon.” Ray shrugged. “Or psychic energy. Or a message . . .”
“Maybe aliens?” His dad smiled. “You’ve been reading too many comic books.”
“They’re graphic novels,” said Ray, his turn to sound impatient.
That’s when they heard the scream.
It was a high-pitched yell followed by a curse, which preceded a blur that transformed into a girl. A girl in a hurry. She dashed into the corridor as Ray jumped to his feet and almost slammed into her.
“Have you seen my gecko?” The girl didn’t miss a beat, just looked frantically past Ray, down at the floor, searching. She was Ray’s age, give or take, with reddish hair and eyes that looked brown under the fluorescent lights. She was cute—more than cute, actually. She waved a hand in front of his eyes, then snapped her fingers, and Ray realized he was staring. “A gecko . . . hello?”
“Sorry, no.” Ray shrugged apologetically.
“It’s a lizard, a little green lizard,” said the girl. “Name’s Greeny.”
Ray held out his hand. “Ray.”
“My gecko’s name is Greeny.” She smiled and took a breath, as if really noticing Ray for the first time. “My name is Amanda.” Her eyes radiated warmth as they locked on his face. When she blinked the connection was broken and Ray felt a pang of regret. His last girlfriend was a distant memory.
“Sorry about your lizard.”
“Not your fault.” Amanda looked back toward the neighboring compartment. “I’m traveling with my aunt—Aunt Edith—and she . . .” Amanda took a step closer and lowered her voice. “ . . . has a dog.” She made it sound like her aunt’s dog ownership was a source of great embarrassment.
“I always wanted a dog,” said Ray, loud enough for his dad to hear, though it wouldn’t be the first time he’d heard it.
“This isn’t a real dog,” said Amanda dismissively. “It’s alive, of course, but it’s a lapdog. One of those yappy little things. Do you know why lapdogs were bred, back in Europe during the late 1600s?”
Ray shook his head.
“To attract fleas.” Amanda nodded. “It’s true. People didn’t have running water, and they didn’t bathe much.” She wrinkled her nose. “So the idea was that if you had a lapdog, the fleas would jump off you”—she reached forward and pressed a finger against Ray’s chest—“and onto your dog.”
“Did it work?”
“Got me.” Amanda shrugged. “But that dog is a menace.”
“How come?”
“Because lizards are afraid of dogs!” Amanda puffed out her cheeks. “Guess I should have thought of that before letting Greeny out of his box.” She scanned the corridor again. “I think he ran toward the dining car.”
“Let’s go look.”
“Aren’t you the gentleman.” Amanda gave Ray an appraising glance. He felt himself starting to blush, so he looked over his shoulder. “Dad, I’m going for a walk.” His dad waved absently, his head already hidden behind his laptop.
The train rocked back and forth as they moved toward the next car. Ray scanned the carpet but the light in the corridor was dim. The doors to the other compartments were all closed. No geckos.
They came to the end of the car, a sliding door with a round window.
“You been in there?” Amanda jutted her chin toward the door.
Ray shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Dining car.” Amanda smacked her lips. “Let’s go.”
“What about Greeny?”
Amanda looked down at the floor, along the walls, up at the ceiling. “He’s run away before but always comes back.” She sighed. “Truth is, I usually don’t find him until he finds me.”
With a hard pull, she yanked open the sliding door. Fresh air and train noises washed over them. Instead of the clack-clack-clack of older trains, the wheels hummed, almost at a subsonic level. Ray could feel the vibrations through the soles of his shoes.
Carefully they stepped between cars. With another pull, they found themselves in the dining car. Ray heard a rumbling and realized it was his stomach. His dad always forgot to eat once absorbed in his work, and Ray had lost track of time. Lunch had come and gone, but the dining car never closed. Along the right side of the car, small tables were covered with cold cuts, bread, condiments. Enough food to stop a famine.
“This is sick,” said Ray, building himself a sandwich.
“Nuh-hmm-umm-huh?” Amanda smiled broadly, her mouth already full. She had moved left, where a long table covered by a white tablecloth held the desserts. Chocolate balls stacked in pyramids like cannonballs on a pirate ship. A chocolate cake carved into triangle slices, the whole thing bigger than a large pizza. Enough cookies to crush a whole troop of Girl Scouts.
“Sorry?”
Amanda swallowed whatever she was eating in one huge gulp. “I said ‘Not bad, huh?’”
Ray smiled and looked across the tables. “Not bad at all.” The afternoon train was half-empty, most commuters preferring the morning express, so they had the car to themselves. But ten minutes later Ray had to get out of there. His stomach was bulging and an ache was on its way. An all-you-can-eat buffet and a sixteen-year-old male was a dangerous combination under any circumstances.
Amanda nodded her agreement when he said, “Let’s go find your lizard.”
Dizzy from the sugar rush, they lurched across the connecting platform into their car and almost collided with a man standing just on the other side of the sliding door.
“Oops.” Amanda was first through the door. “Excuse me.”
The man said nothing. He was tall, much taller than Ray, and his skin had an unhealthy pallor. He wore a baggy suit, white shirt, and gray tie, and in his right hand he held a stainless-steel briefcase. His eyes were conce
aled by a pair of mirrored sunglasses.
Ray could see his own reflection in the lenses. He started to step aside to let the man pass, but for the second time that day, Amanda’s scream locked his feet to the floor.
In the confined space the noise startled both Ray and the stranger, who stumbled backward and dropped his briefcase. Ray instinctively bent down and grabbed it, ready to apologize, thinking Amanda must have seen her gecko, that’s why she screamed. But as he leaned forward, Ray caught her expression and looked more closely at the man in the sunglasses.
“Amanda,” he said in a voice he didn’t recognize as his own. “Run . . . now!”
The sunglasses now sat askew on the man’s face, exposing one eye. An eye unlike any Ray had ever seen. Deep yellow, with a vertical slit for a pupil. The kind of eye you’d find on a cat or a snake, not a human being. The stranger blinked, and an eyelid the color of sour milk slid sideways.
Then he reached for his briefcase.
Ray gazed at the man’s hand, the skin of his forearm as the jacket pulled back. Skin that had looked jaundiced in the weak light was, up close, really a dull green. This wasn’t a man at all.
Amanda was on the balls of her feet, standing to the man’s left. Ray was on the right, still holding the briefcase. He couldn’t chase them both.
Ray made a decision. Taking a step backward, he pulled open the door that separated the cars.
From the corner of his eye Ray sensed the man reaching, a peripheral vision of a moss-colored hand and yellow eye, but Ray was already gone, leaping across the platform into the dining car. He sprinted the length of the car and didn’t look over his shoulder until he reached the far end.
The good news was the stranger hadn’t chased Amanda. The bad news was that he was chasing Ray.
Chasing wasn’t exactly the right word, because the man walked as if he had all the time in the world. His movements were deliberate, the legs stiff, his knees not bending the way they should. Step by painful step he advanced, as inexorable as the tide. As relentless as the monsters that hide under your bed.
The sunglasses were back in place, and for an instant Ray tried to convince himself it had all been his imagination. A full stomach, a pretty girl, a trick of the light. But any hopes were shattered when the man opened his mouth and his face tore itself in half.
The jaw wasn’t hinged like a human mouth but was set farther back, so the top half of his head swung open like the tailgate of a truck, exposing row upon row of conical teeth. They glinted in the diffuse light of the car, each a white spear dripping with saliva. Ray didn’t need a written invitation. He turned around and yanked the door handle with all his strength and lurched forward.
Only to smash his face against the glass. The door was locked.
Ray jerked the handle again, peered across the platform at the next car. Where is the conductor? He banged on the window but nearly broke his hand, his fist making a dull thud against the thick glass. Did the creature come from this side of the train and then lock the door? Is there anyone in the next compartment, or are they all dead? Either way, Ray was trapped. He felt the blood drain from his face as he turned to his captor, wondering if the man would be standing right behind him.
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.
Yeah, right.
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 windows!
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.
You have to do this.
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.
Blackness.
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?”