Tremor

Chapter 2

02

Sometimes, on the rare occasion that Eleanor was able to stay awake for the entire night, she would be able to step out onto her balcony, look across the garden, down the hill and to the back gate at the edge of boundary of the Bio-Dome, and see the world beyond the limits of Moreau Manor – or at least, as far as the thick, brown smog allowed her to see.

It was one of those nights, several weeks ago now, that she noticed that there were rails running just beyond the back gate, and every night– she supposed it was technically early in the morning– a steam train would chuff its way slowly past the gate. Completely mystified, Eleanor had promptly spent the next three nights wide awake, trying to see if there was a pattern in the comings and goings of the train.

She found that there was a pattern - at three am sharp, each morning, the steam train would travel slowly past the gates, with a total of ten carriages, each one sliding silently across the rails.

Eleanor knew, from her arsenal of books, that steam trains usually travelled a lot faster than the pace she had seen the nightly train do, especially the new T-310 models, and it confused her to no end as to why this one always travelled so slowly. It wasn't until after the fourth night, when Eleanor had crept out and camped out by the gate to watch the train that she finally managed to figure out why. She nearly kicked herself when she figured it out – the rails lay at the base of the hill of Moreau Manor, and the curve was too bent for the steam train to travel at full speed. Thus, by the time the train was ten metres away from the curve, the train had slowed down to an almost sluggish pace, and continued to do so for the next twenty seconds before speeding up again.

During the twenty seconds, the train was as slow as a walking person, and Eleanor had stood at the gate, staring longingly at the train, indulging in a fantasy of jumping aboard and leaving behind Moreau Manor. She hadn't, for she didn't have the key to unlock the gate.

Plus, going on an adventure in her dressing gown and slippers was just plain stupidity, and apparently, so was staying up for four nights in a row. The next morning, she remembered waking up in her geography class to the screeching voice of her tutor, but that was the extent of her memories of the day.

But now, clad in a plain black dress and travelling bag slung over one shoulder, Eleanor felt better prepared for her exploit. Eleanor took a trembling breath and held it.

You wanted to do this, remember? She tried to reassure yourself. You need to get out of here, remember?

Steeling her nerves, Eleanor looked at the gate in front of her. Her fingers reached out and touched the force-field in between the metal bars, and watched in awe as small energy ripples flowed from her fingertips. She had never dared to touch the force-field before, despite knowing it was perfectly safe to do so. Eleanor pushed harder, and her fingertips broke through, tingling in the air beyond.

Alright, Eleanor took yet another deep breath, you can do this. Just climb over the gate and you'll be free.

Her fingers wrapped around the bars, and Eleanor tugged experimentally. As she had expected, the gate did not budge, and she knew she was left with no choice but to climb over it. A great deal of huffing and puffing later, Eleanor had managed to clamber onto the top of the gate, and tumbled off it in a tangle of limbs on to the other side.

Picking herself up cautiously, Eleanor straightened her clothes and dusted herself, breathing a little unsteadily in the smoggy air. She half expected to choke on the smog – the thick, rolling clouds of it she had observed in the night, and lifted by day – but instead, the air was surprisingly clear. Eleanor breathed in, and for the first time in her life, tasted the natural air, not the artificial, filtered supply fed into the Bio-Dome from the vents.

There was a faint acrid tang, but not to an unbearable degree; indeed, Eleanor believed she could learn to get used to the scent. Eleanor glanced down the rails, and quickly pulled back into the shadows of the gate when a glimmer of light swam through the haze. The glimmer grew stronger, and soon, the distorted form of a train travelled past, rattling the rails.

Eleanor reached out, then hastily jerked her hand back, suddenly frightened.

Going on the train meant never coming back, and if she gave up now, then she knew she would never work up the courage to do this again, much less get the chance to do so, thanks to her impending marriage – and possible demise, if she was to believe the word of a very rude and blunt Wizard. But by catching the train, all she ever knew and was familiar with would be gone, and she would be thrown into a completely new world.

Eleanor hesitated. Staying meant security, and living the rest of her life out as some sort of ornament to decorate Lord Wright's arm, once again, assuming she lived long enough to. Leaving, on the other hand…

Oh, you know, the tiny voice in Eleanor's head provided snidely, the great unknown, no place to live, no place for you to go… seems like a bad idea doesn't it? But…

Eleanor leapt forwards, grabbed the hand rail on the carriage,

you

she threw her travel bag on board,

will

and pulled herself up, kicking off the damp ground

be

before swinging her legs up and over the edge of the carriage

alive.

…

Eleanor jolted awake as the train rattled, shaken by a tremor in the ground.

The tremors, Eleanor knew, had been happening as long as she could remember. Most denizens of Oakston had accepted it as natural, and none viewed the tremors with fear, as the quakes never led to anything beyond a few shakes.

Regardless, Eleanor was momentarily overcome by a horrible vision of being shaken off the carriage and crushed under the train. Heart thudding loudly in her hears, Eleanor scrabbled for a handhold on the carriage before finally relaxing a little when she persuaded herself that she was not about to meet her end at the tender mercies of a train.

Rubbing her eyes blearily, she wondered just how long she'd been asleep before catching sight of the orange and golden streaks starting to stretch across the smoggy sky.

Dawn.

Then, Eleanor mused, I must've slept for two hours. Definitely far enough from Moreau Manor.

Eleanor sniffed cautiously. The air smelt different – a salty tangy smell. Was that what the ocean smelt like?

She squinted into the smog beyond, but could not see much further than a few metres. If she was by the ocean, then there was no visual confirmation for such an assumption.

The train jolted again, and Eleanor felt the train slowing.

The train was slowing… "Oh!" Eleanor realised out loud. "Oakston docks. That's why we're stopping. Must be one of the trade lines."

Then she clapped a hand over her own mouth. Talking to herself. What was she, mad?

Before Eleanor could come to any further horrified revelations on her sanity, the train pulled to a stop. For a moment, Eleanor sat frozen by fear again. Where was she to go now?

Fear, funnily enough, was the same thing that galvanised her into action seconds later, when a guttural hoarse voice echoed somewhere from the head of the train.

"I did as you said. Now pay up."

Eleanor squeaked in surprise and fell off the carriage's edge, travelling bag dropping unceremoniously into her lap.

"What was that?" the same voice asked.

Footsteps sounded in her direction, and Eleanor scrambled to her feet, slinging the travelling bag over her shoulder again as she darted away from the voice and around the back end of the train.

And bounced back with an 'oof' as she ran into a wall. A living, breathing wall who also happened to be a human, and also happened to be less than impressed with Eleanor.

…

Inspector Felix Wallis did not care much for the smog. For one, it smelled mildly unpleasant, and two, it lowered his visibility greatly, and allowed for such things, such as running head on into the street urchin in front of him, to happen.

The street urchin, for her part, watched with wide frightened eyes.

Felix blinked. The face was startlingly familiar. Emerald eyes, blonde hair, a face recently splashed across the newspapers-

Felix Wallis was a police inspector, and a gentleman also. That was how he barely refrained from cursing in the presence of a lady. Instead, he hissed in horror, "You!"

Eleanor Moreau, if Felix wasn't mistaken, looked just as horrified as he felt, and was already on the verge of scrambling back to her feet and running off into the smog. Thinking quickly, Felix grasped her by the forearm, tugged her to her feet and clapped a hand over her mouth, cutting off the scream of terror.

"Quiet!" Felix whispered, then jerked his head in the direction the voices Eleanor had heard earlier were coming from. "Wait until they've left."

"You sure you heard somethin', Apples?"

"I coulda sworn…" Apples trailed off, and the pair moved slowly away again.

When Felix was sure he could no longer hear the two men, he released Moreau. "What are you doing here?" He demanded.

Eleanor opened her mouth, and instead of offering a story, she blurted, "'Apples'? What sort of name is 'Apples'?"

Unamused, the man folded his arms. "The criminal sort. What are you doing here?"

"I- Ah…" Eleanor searched for a reason, and came up with none. She was spared the indignity of coming up with a reasonable lie by the arrival of yet another man behind her. Upon hearing the soft scuffle of a shoe against cobbled pavement, Eleanor whirled around and backed up into the blond man who had so recently demanded to know why she was where she was now.

If it had not been for the newcomer's unmistakable constable uniform, Eleanor may have screamed again.

"Wallis," the newcomer grinned through his moustache, "there you are. I've been looking for you."

"I could say the same for you, Parkes," Wallis offered dryly, then gestured loosely at Eleanor. "As you can see, we have a problem."

The grin dropped. "Oh, dear. We do have a problem."

"And it's about to get worse," a snide voice suddenly rang out of the smog, and without warning, a stumbling figure fell against Parkes.

"Stay behind me," Wallis ordered Eleanor and dove forwards into the fray to pull the shoddily dressed man off Parkes. "Parkes? Parkes!"

"He bit me!" Parkes scrabbled backwards, one hand pressed against his arm, and Eleanor blanched to see blood leaking past his fingers.

With great effort, Wallis flung the man away from Parkes and into the smog. A moment later, Eleanor heard the sounds of the man slowly climbing back onto his feet and stumbling back towards the three with an odd, uneven gait.

And Eleanor watched, horrified, as a half decomposed thing with eerie glowing blue eyes ambled out of the smog. What she had originally believed to be worn clothing was in fact tattered strips of skin dangling off bleached bones.

Eleanor was going to be sick. If she wasn't absolutely terrified out of her wits.

"Jiminy Cricket," Parkes gaped. "Wallis, you were right about the cemetery."

"I won't say I told you so," Wallis seemed less concerned with the approaching horror and more with Parkes. "How's the arm?"

"It'll be right-"

Eleanor wondered if she was going insane. "Is nobody worried about that thing?!"

The undead lumbered closer – and Parkes pulled out a revolver and shot it through the head. To Eleanor's horror, Wallis bent down to the fallen creature and prodded the mouth of it carefully with a flat wooden stick of some sort, and dropped the stick into a glass test tube.

"Parkes? Look," Wallis held the test tube up to the slowly growing daylight, obviously looking at the sample of what-ever-it-was he had picked up from the ghoul's mouth. "I think we have our smugglers. Parkes?"

Parkes hadn't heard – the man was suddenly doubled over and groaning in pain. "My head… feels funny…"

"Parkes?" Wallis, eyebrows furrowed in a frown, rose to his feet and placed himself between Eleanor and the constable.

Parkes raised his head, and the same eerie blue glow illuminated his eyes. Eleanor, frozen with fear, could only watch as Parkes let loose a furious snarl and lunged forwards.

"Parkes? Snap out of it-" Wallis grunted as the constable collided with him, and the two were sent tumbling to the ground. "Snap out of it, man. Fight it!"

Parkes paid no attention to Wallis' words, and was shoved unceremoniously to one side by Wallis a moment later. The possessed man rolled to his feet, and the blue gaze found another target.

Eleanor gulped. Oh, dear.

Parkes lunged forwards, jaws snapping. Eleanor shrieked, her arms up protectively around her head, and when she realised she hadn't been mauled by the rabid constable, she cautiously lowered them to look.

Wallis had barely managed to snatch the constable back, and hurled the other man away from Eleanor. Parkes, far from being deterred by being flung around like a ragdoll, returned with dogged determination to maim.

"Parkes," Wallis yelled at the man, "I have no wish to hurt you, but if you persist, I shall be forced to-"

Parkes, being a snarling, drooling monster, did not pay heed to Wallis' words, and continued on his course. Wallis sighed.

And then he punched the moustached man in the face.

Parkes' head snapped back with the force of the blow and the man crumpled to the ground.

Eleanor's hands flew to her mouth. She was definitely going to be ill. "Oh my goodness." She'd just watched a man die in front of her-

Parkes sat up with a groan. "Wha- what happened?"

Wallis rubbed his knuckles with his other hand, trying to soothe the grazed skin. "You weren't yourself. A blunt trauma to the head seems to resolve the problem."

Parkes tried to stand, only to stumble drunkenly and was only saved from an impromptu nose-dive thanks to Wallis, who slung one of his arms over his shoulders. "Easy, Parkes."

Now that the two men were somewhat steady, they finally took notice of Eleanor.

"Sorry you had to see that, Miss," Parkes tried to doff his hat at her, and only succeeded in losing his balance.

Eleanor had less reservations for pleasantries. "What on earth is going on here?"

The two men exchanged a glance.

"Police business," Wallis answered at the same time Parkes replied, "Drug smuggling and magic."

Eleanor fought the urge to fall into hysterics. It would hardly help matters. In addition, a tell-tale blue had emanated from behind the two men.

Wallis, perhaps sensing that Eleanor's speechlessness had less to do with his and Parkes' blunt explanations, and more to do with something behind him, looked over his shoulder in time to see another four deceased – but by no means immobile – human figures creep out of the smog.

"Oh dear," he said mildly.

Eleanor stepped backwards – and tripped over the rails, which had been previously hidden in the smog. Even from her spot on the ground, she could see the behemoth of a man appearing out of the smog behind the four undead, towering over Wallis and Parkes. A more normal sized man stood next to the giant.

"Told you there was someone here, Weasel," the large man grinned maliciously.

All Eleanor could think was, What very odd names they have.

Weasel smirked, and indeed, Eleanor was suddenly reminded of a particularly nasty rodent she'd found in Moreau Manor's garden some weeks ago.

Weasel held up an intricately carved amulet – silver? – and ordered, "Kill them."

Outnumbered, Wallis made a very wise decision. "Run! Head down the rails!"

Eleanor did not need to be told twice even as a shrill whistle sounded somewhere in the smog. Eleanor glanced back to see Wallis and Parkes behind her, barely in front of the approaching undead.

"It's the five o'clock freight!" Wallis explained, then pulled Eleanor off the rails just in time to avoid colliding with the steam train head on. "Hold on!"

Eleanor yelped in surprise as Wallis picked her up and threw her onto the train before hoisting Parkes onto the carriage and climbing up himself. With little warning, the freight train picked up speed and shot pass the wide-eyed and surprised Weasel and Apples.

"Stop them!" Weasel screeched, and the four half-decomposed beings latched onto the carriage in front of the three.

"Get onto the roof!" Wallis ordered even as the train shot out of the docks and into the wilderness.

…

Oakston was a monstrous suburban sprawl of a city, with railways leading to both the docks and further out to the manors in the Bio-Domes far from the city. The railways that ran from the docks to the city had only one particular feature that could have either been described to be a help or a hindrance – the train travelled viciously fast, running from the docks to the city in under ten minutes.

Although Wallis was sure there was something else to the railways, he focused on the matter at hand – namely, the ten minutes. Ten minutes, Wallis found, was not really enough time to fight off four undead creatures while keeping two otherwise helpless people alive at the same time. Parkes could hardly see straight, let alone fight. Wallis doubted Miss Moreau had any experience in fisticuffs, much less experience with handling the undead.

Regardless, Wallis noted out of the corner of his eyes, Miss Moreau did not appear to be entirely helpless and was currently in the process of helping Parkes further down the tail of the train, and away from the revenants.

Good. Wallis returned his full attention to the three zombies climbing onto the roof. Wait. Three?

Wallis whirled around in alarm in time to hear Miss Moreau scream. And in time to see her kick the fourth undead off the train and into the underbrush.

Definitely not entirely helpless, Wallis amended.

"Mr Wallis!" the girl suddenly cried out. "The tunnel!"

And Wallis remembered the other thing about the railways as he threw himself flat onto the carriage's rooftop.

The railway ran through a series of tunnels in the last five minutes of the trip, and judging by the unmistakable sounds of snapped spines emanating from the general direction of the undead, Wallis decided that maybe he didn't need the full ten minutes to dispose of his foes after all.