The Stuff of Nightmares Read Online Free PDF Page A

up slowly, trying not to make any sudden moves that would make the train pitch again. Why had we dropped? It didn’t make any sense. And then, all at once, it did.
    Horrifying, terrifying sense. The train had flipped over all right, but not onto the adjacent track. It had fallen in the opposite direction. Part of the crunching sound I’d heard before had to be the side of the railway bridge being demolished by the impact of the train carriages. Some of the train had to be hanging over the edge of the bridge. And with no barrier to hold us and the train on its side, what was to stop the whole thing plummeting onto the street below?
    That’s when the contents of my stomach erupted up through me like a fountain. I vomited violently, half ashamed of myself for letting fear turn my stomach inside out, but the shame wasn’t enough to stop me retching wretchedly again. The puddle of sick began to slide downwards, following the slope of the carriage.
    And all I could think was,
What if the train falls?
    What will happen to me and my friends if the train falls?
    There were a few groans. Someone (Kendra?) was sobbing her way through a bout of the hiccups. A murmur of ‘Help, someone, please help me’ tried to puncture the shocked silence in the carriage. But those words just made the underlying quiet worse. And it looked like I was still the only one on my feet. I had to get out. I had to get my friends out. I had to get everyone out. But how?
    How?
    The windows and doors were either directly below us, lying against the tracks, or directly above, pointing at the sky. How was I going to hoist one person, never mind the whole carriage-full, out of a smashed window at least one and a half metres above me? And even if, by some miracle, I did manage to manoeuvre one of my friends out, the movement might send the entire train tipping over the side of the bridge.
    What should I do?
    I couldn’t just stand here like a waxwork and do nothing.
    To my left there was a middle-aged black woman, a stranger, wedged between the underside of a seat and the floor, although with the carriage on its side it took a few moments to realize exactly where she was. She had a few drops of blood on her camel-coloured coat and her head was slumped forward. I started towards her, only to stop. All around me were people who needed my help. Steve, Joe, this stranger. I felt totally overwhelmed. I didn’t know where to begin, which way to turn. Each view brought new horrors. People moaning. One man was sitting up, rocking, his eyes wide, staring into nothing. Bodies twisted in grotesque, impossible angles. And the smell of rusty nails was getting stronger. Only it wasn’t nails – it was blood. I could see little splashes of red up and down the carriage. Just little splashes … nothing too bad. Just blood from a nosebleed here or a cut head or arm there. Strangely enough, the sight wasn’t so bad, I could just about cope with that. But the smell … that smell was making my stomach heave. I wanted, I
needed
to shout with anger, frustration.
    Words erupted from me with a force thatimmediately made my vocal cords ache. ‘
Someone, help us …
’
    The coughing fit that followed at least eased the tension in my throat.
    ‘
Kyle …
’ My name floated towards me, barely more than a whisper. I spun round but could see no one who looked even remotely able to answer me. It had to be the help I’d cried out for, but who was calling me?
    ‘
Kyle …
’
    There it was again. So soft and quiet it was almost like a thought in my head. But it wasn’t. I knew it wasn’t. Unless I was hallucinating. Could I be hallucinating? I made my way back to my friends. What else I could do? Perry must’ve regained consciousness then passed out again because he was in a different position, sitting up, his head leaned back. Part of me envied my friends their oblivion. Perry’s eyelids began to flutter. And his eyes beneath his eyelids were flickering like he was in the middle