Sharing Nightmares

S.S. Long || Beneath the Tracks

"Maybe we should have a look," Ben said, finally, mouth still filled to almost overflowing with eggy bread and spice.

"At what?" I asked, in confusion as I tore off a huge chunk of my own eggy, spicy toast.

"The hole," Ben said, in the tone of voice that indicated that that should have been obvious and I supposed that it should have been.

"What on earth would we want to do that for?" I asked, in surprise.

"To see where it goes, of course," Ben replied, with a laugh. "I mean, what's down there? Seriously?

Aren't you curious? Why does it keep opening up?"

"Ooooohhh, Ben, I sense fodder for a new horror story, there," I intoned, playfully. "Beneath The Tracks - the new supernatural thriller by Ben Reagan."

Ben was a horror novelist, and quite a good one, even to my biased, loving eyes.

"First character to die - Dylan Emerson," Ben said, as he kindly showed me his middle finger.

"Thanks ever so much, dear," I said, pretending to be hurt by his choice of name. "Taking my name in vain."

He merely winked at me, and tried not grin. He largely failed at that, as ever. I laughed, enjoying our usual easy exchange of jokes and banter over the dinner table.

"Seriously, though, Dylan, aren't you curious about what's laying under there?" he asked, before he took a sip of his apple juice. "There could be treasure. Gold. Money. We could be rich, one way or another."

"I guess," I said, with a shrug. "It'd be nice to find something, I suppose. But isn't it dangerous? I doubt we'd be able to see much or go far, even if we could get in there. They must have some security measures or something, over there. Stop the kids getting in, and whatnot."

"We'll go at midnight. No one will know. And we'll have torches," Ben pointed out. "Don't worry about any security measures. I'm sure they'll either be minimal or easy to skirt. Come on. It's for Halloween.

Loosen up."

I sighed, knowing that I would never dissuade Ben from an idea once said idea had occured to him. The fact that I always went along with each hare-brained scheme of his said something for our relationship - he was the mad one, and I was the sensible one, watching out for him just so that I could fish his mischievous butt out of whatever fire he'd gotten himself into.

"Dylan," Ben prompted, slowly, pleadingly, as he began to grin.

He knew he'd won even without me having to say a thing. He knew me too well; he also knew that he had me wrapped around his little finger. The sad thing was, I was happy to be there. I would have done literally anything for him, as I knew he would for me.

"Midnight, you say?" I asked, with a deep and melancholy sigh.

Ben nodded, giving me one of his irrisistible dimple-filled grins.

"Good job it's a day off for me tomorrow, then, isn't it, Benjamin dearest," I said, and Ben's grin grew wider, more exultant as I, predictably, gave in.

****

"It looks bloody dark down there," Ben said, as we stood at the edge of the hole that had appeared beneath the tracks.

It looked nothing short of a small sink-hole, where the ground and the gravel had given way to leave nothing behind but a vacant space beneath the sleepers. The security measures I'd been so worried about earlier proved to be little more than a sheet of plywood and a couple of pieces of barbed wire strung on plastic horses, easily pushed away. Even the security guards had been watching some kind of horror film in their little Porta-Kabin, laughter and loud chatter indicating they were making fun of whatever was happening on the screen.