Dead Push (Kiera Hudson Series Two#7) by Tim O'Rourke Page B

like Noah had, but before I’d the chance to say anything, he was striding away on his long, spindly legs towards the platform where the train for The Rose Garden was departing from.        
           Lilly looked at Jack stride away and said to me, “Are you ready to go, Potter?”
    “I guess,” I said.
    Then turning to face me, she said, “Don’t change anything. Just find this photographer and come back.” Lilly leant forward and kissed me gently on the cheek.
    I watched her trot off across the concourse after Jack.
    “How do I get back?” I called after her, waving the ticket in my hand.
    “Find a station,” she said, glancing back with a smile. Then she was gone, heading down the escalators after Jack and onto platform 12.
    “What freaking station?” I muttered, looking down at the ticket I held between my fingers. Sliding it into my coat pocket, I made my way across the concourse and towards platform 56. I stepped onto the escalators and travelled below ground. About halfway down, I looked back and the concourse was nothing more than a pinprick of light above me. I looked front and could see what appeared to be a well of darkness opening up beneath me like a set of jaws. But it wasn’t total darkness down there. There was a murky kind of orange light. Reaching the bottom, I stepped off the escalator and onto platform 56, which was lit by a series of gas lamps. There was a draft as the flames in the lamps flickered back and forth. There was no one else on the platform other than me. I looked left and right and there was a tunnel at either end of the platform and both were thick with darkness. Water dripped from the ceiling and the walls were stained green with damp. A rat scurried out of the darkness and clambered over my boot. I kicked it away and onto the tracks.
    Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flicker of movement at the far end of the platform just before the opening of one of the tunnels.
    “Hello?” I called out.
    Whoever it was made no reply.
    “Do you want to see my ticket?” I shouted, fishing it from my coat pocket. The sound of my voice echoed off the surrounding walls. As my voice faded away, I heard the sound of wind blowing through the tunnel. It was strong and cool, blowing my hair back from my brow. As the rush of the wind grew stronger and louder, so did another sound. The platform began to tremor and the tracks made a hissing sound as a steam train headed out of the darkness of the tunnel. It was black and it raced forward, looking like a giant beetle in the darkness. Clouds of thick, grey smoke poured from its funnel. The windows of the cab were black so I couldn’t see in and get a glimpse of the driver. Jets of steam spat from beneath the wheels as the driver – if there was one – put on the brakes and the train shuddered to a stop in the platform. The enclosed platform soon filled with the smoke that still poured from the funnel of the engine. I glanced to my right and saw that figure again, like a shadow amongst the smoke.
    “All aboard,” I heard a voice come from deep within the smog. The voice was childlike, and I was sure I heard whoever it was snigger excitedly.
    “Who’s there?” I said, squinting into the thick smoke. “Don’t you wanna see my ticket?”
    “All aboard,” the childish voice said again, and this time whoever it was did giggle, the sound was unmistakeable and chilling.
    With gooseflesh breaking out like a rash all over me, I reached out and tugged at one of the carriage door handles. I climbed inside, pulling the door closed behind me with a thud. Just like Lilly had described, the inside of the carriage looked like something you would see in a museum. The seats were covered in a thick purple cloth with a gold trim. The frame of the carriage was made of a dark coloured wood. I fell into my seat as the train suddenly lurched forward, then left and right. The driver blew on the horn, and the sound was deafening. This was