The Buccaneer Chronicles:
Ghostwalker
Written by Tony Gallichan. Plot by Karen Dunn and Tony Gallichan
Chapter Seven - Ghost Train Boogie
The meeting was just about to come to order when Macfadyan, Blanche and Cre'at silently crept into the back of the large hall. The room was packed with Islanders, all determined to have their say over the proposed redevelopment of the La Hougue Bie burial mound.
As the meeting progressed, various speakers came forward and gave their thoughts free reign. On the podium sat Caroline Saracin who affected a look of interest, though in reality she considered the meeting a total waste of time, as she knew that no matter what people said the development was already planned and no amount of public outcry would change her mind.
Also on the podium was a small, unobtrusive man, whose bookish air marked him out as the speaker from the Jersey Anti Development Committee.
Feeling ran high and there were more then a few heated exchanges.
All the while, Macfadyan sat quietly. Waiting. Watching. Feeling.
And at La Hougue Bie, something stirred.
When Fort Regent is open it is a wonderfully exciting place. People mill around unsure which of the delights to sample next. When it is closed, it becomes a dark, forbidding place, shadows slowly stretching until the place is in darkness.
Nothing normally moves here at night. However tonight was different.
Brian looked around quickly to make sure that the Fort security wasn't around and motioned to his mates to follow. The bloke in the suit had certainly given them a job to do. Breaking into the Fort had been easy. All they had to do was to hide out until the place shut, give it an hour or so for everything to calm down then emerge and run riot.
Brian raised his can of spray paint and the first obscene message appeared on the side of wall of the old Sea Cadet building.
This, he thought, was going to be fun.
Back at the Parish Hall, the small, bookish man had begun to speak. He had first introduced himself to his audience as Marc La Plan. And he was VERY opposed to the development plans. Behind him Caroline gave a sniff of disapproval. Marc heard her and decided that this was the time to raise the temperature of the debate.
" I suppose, Miss Saracin, that you would say the redevelopment would benefit the whole island? Yes?"
"Well, of course I would. Now the BBC has stopped filming Bergerac, tourism has suffered badly. This development will offer a brand new style of attraction. La Hougue Bie will become a Mecca for tourists. Imagine it! The rides alone... "
"Rides?" spat Marc, incredulously. "Rides? This is an incredibly important archaeological site and your talking of building a roller coaster through it?"
And the meeting deteriorated from there.
It moved through the countryside, a strange mist around it. It could feel the life around it. Life. LIFE. Hope. Anger. Hatred. Longing. Life.
Macfadyan watched the two verbal combatants. He could feel it. The energy, the emotion. Almost, he thought. All it would need... He stood up.
"What about the wildlife?" he asked loudly.
The meeting became an angry mess.
Yes! He thought. Now we're getting somewhere.
A figure took the stage, dressed in a sombre suit.
"Ladies and gentlemen." It called. "Ladies and gentlemen, I must ask you to calm down. This bickering is going to get you all nowhere." It was no good. The noise of the crowd drowned him out. He jumped off the stage and walked to a fire alarm. He reached inside his jacket and removed a short, stubby metal object, then used it to smash the alarm. The bells started to ring.
"No!" shouted Macfadyan. "Not now! Of all the..." he moved through the crowd towards the man. Slowly the crowd began to realise that something was wrong. An announcement came over the public address that an alarm had been triggered and could everybody please evacuate the building in a calm and orderly manner. The crowd began to move towards the main door and the fire escape.
It sensed a great feeling of anger... perhaps it could...no. No, the feeling was fading, becoming blurred with the cacophony of other emotions that had began to emerge. Perhaps elsewhere, then? Yes. There was somewhere. Somewhere where it could.. feed? Was that what it was doing? It wasn't sure. In fact, it wasn't sure of anything. Just it's need.
"Just what do you think you were doing, young man?" said a very irate Macfadyan.
The man in the sombre suit looked Macfadyan in the eye.
"Calming things down, sir. Sometimes people let their emotions get the better of them."
"Just who are you, hmm? Who are you to determine what is best for people?"
The man reached in his pocket and produced a small wallet.
"Lieutenant Curtis, sir. U.N. " Macfadyan looked in the wallet and found a rather official looking pass.
"Not just the U.N. But UNIT no less. Hah! Just what we need!" Macfadyan smiled.
"We need to have words."
"Really, sir?"
"Oh yes."
It was all going so smoothly, Brian thought. No security had bothered them and they were having fun!
They had moved down the East Ditch fairground spraying J.A.D.C. slogans over everything. Now they stood next to the ghost train.
"Hey Brian, why not do the inside?" said Terry, the eldest of the three.
"Heh, yeah. Why not?"
Brian moved up to the door of the ride and after a quick look realised that it wasn't locked. He opened it and looked in.
"It's a bit dark." He said. "But we should be alright." He led the way in. After fumbling around he located a switch on the wall. Flicking it produced very subdued lighting. They split up, each moving down a different tunnel.
It was uncanny, Brian thought as he sprayed yet another message, but being in here brought back memories of his childhood. He couldn't believe that the place had scared him. Scared him rather badly if he remembered correctly. He shivered as the memories washed over him. His breathing increased. His heart raced. He moved quickly through the dim light and the mist.
Mist? Inside the ghost train? Instinct started to take over and he began to panic.
From one of the other tunnels came a scream.
From the third tunnel came another. He ran, desperate to get out. It was coming for him.
Must get out, must leave, must get out, get away, away from it. Away. It was coming. Coming for him.
Then his world was just one loud, piercing, heart-rendering scream.