The Fright Train

The Glow Part 7

"That's twelve," muttered Detective Laszlo, snaking her fingers to twist a few stray threads of blond back into her bun. It wasn't one of her normal gestures. Letting her hair mutate into a mess after a few hours work was her own way of reminding herself exactly how big her job was. Bigger than those petty feminine assets which she had always criticized Louisa for nurturing.

Except every hard- ingrained habit was falling apart now, piece by piece, as she inspected the mangled corpses of an innocent fourteen year old, and a woman that could have been easily been his grandmother. Who'd taken whom?

There were no witnesses this time to the sanguinary spectacle; no one to see two bodies pitch over a twelve- foot drop, or hear the desperate screams of at least one strained voice, begging to be released from a ghastly marionette's handhold. Both had lost their lives to the coal- choked earth at the very moment of collision. A matter of mere milliseconds.

And God knew how many more were losing their lives by the minute.

Verity Laszlo had never been afraid of anything before. Not female- thirsty psychos, or nefarious serial killers, or madmen who used their own blood to tattoo 'V.L' all over their arms in a sign of undying love towards her.

But despite her outward composure, and an evident non reaction to the bloody, cracked skulls which graced her with blazing blue eyes, she had to acknowledge that she was badly scared right then. Something she wouldn't admit to the green- faced cops encircling her in a subdued, tense ring. It was for their own good. The poor men had probably never faced anything beyond a local kidnapping or the gory aftermath of a familial rivalry. She had.

She'd handled matters greatly surpassing any of those in severity. Psychos and serial killers and lovesick nutcases, she'd dealt with. Her own best friend's terrible death, she'd dealt with. But lifeless bodies endowed with an Antarctic temperature and eyes which retained a fluorescent blue glow, post being burnt to a crisp.....that......that was too much for her to manage.

And, frankly, too much for any other mortal force on the planet.

She rubbed her temples in an effort to drag herself out of the bottomless quagmire of questions. Questions which were heaping up and taunting her ceaselessly, making no attempt to disclose their answers.

"Can it be a disease? " she thought suddenly. Her notes had made it clear that the condition was transmitted by touch. Always by touch. So it could be some contagious flu, couldn't it?

She snorted almost immediately into her overtired mind, wondering what other stupid notions it would begin harboring next. A contagious flu, sure. A flu which left you with freaking glow- in- the- dark eyes.

"Detective," a male voice called out from the far side- one of the cops who must have been awaiting her verdict on the case laid out in front. A pretty impatient one too, by the looks of it. Detective Laszlo let her gaze swivel around weary, part- terrified faces framed by countable strands of wispy grey until it met an intelligent, youthful one somewhere near the edge of the circle.

"You. Come here." She beckoned to the boy- cop, who eagerly pushed his way out to the front until they were standing face- to- face, and the only other human flesh in close proximity was frozen and blood- splattered. He looked at her with a mixture of respect and awe that novices mostly employed to gain her favor, before looking down quickly." Well?" she prompted.

"Um....actually.....I've been thinking about......well, I've been thinking about....."

"What's your name?" Laszlo questioned gently, putting a pause to his nervous stutter. She was quite aware that the tangle of carcasses wasn't the whole reason for it.

Fidgeting with his thumbs now in place of his words, the boy- cop answered," Lucas Brixton."

The detective had a momentarily strong impulse to shove the boy's restless thumbs into his trousers where they wouldn't be prominent enough to irritate her." You came here to say something, right, Lucas? Try it without stammering this time," she suggested.

Lucas blushed red as a beet, but he finally spoke again. Keeping a steady eye contact, into the bargain." I was thinking we should meet the schoolgirl."

"Ally Mason?" Laszlo raised her eyebrows at him doubtfully." She already told us that she knows nothing."

"She did," agreed Lucas. Then he smiled a victorious, philanthropic smile." But she'll know soon enough. First- hand. She touched one of the Glowers, didn't she?"

Detective Laszlo felt her own lips curling up at the edges in an approving motion, while most of the cop crowd fixed their eyes onto Lucas' back. Her puzzled brain had been groping the magic piece in the dark, after all. It was true that the girl had placed her hand on one of the puppets- Glowers, what an apt name- and tried to pry it off her victim. Always by touch.

It rapidly dawned on Verity Laszlo what she needed to do now. Before it was too late.

"Who's the Superintendent?" she asked aloud, craning her neck to look at the rest in the vicinity. An old man with a humongous paunch shuffled to separate himself from his tribe." Me. I'm the Super," he croaked out. Fitting, thought Verity.

"Get Brixton here promoted," she said. " I need two of your men for interrogating Ally Mason. Meanwhile, the remaining can get this mess cleared up and see to the families of the newest victims." Her voice had taken on a no- nonsense tone- the popular Verity Laszlo inflection- and the Superintendent probably realised it, because he nodded without a word.

Verity caught Lucas' grateful smile as she maneuvered the rope around her waist and started inching her way up the jagged edge, followed by two lanky, middle- aged cops. It was only when she had clambered over to the quarry's side, exhausted, that she actually saw the glow. A familiar, luminescent blue glow.

There was an old, snowy- haired man- maybe dead Grandma's husband?- who stood facing her, his eyes misty and unseeing. Even without any contact, she knew how the man's skin would feel to the touch. Refrigerated.Touch and go. Touch and die.

As Verity's eyes locked with his unforgiving, azure blue ones, a strange kind of terror twisted her insides, compelling her to back away towards the precipice. The man held a pale, shuddering hand out to her." S-s-she needs," he whispered in a feeble voice." I need."

She shrank away from his touch in haste, staggering drunkenly to the corner of the cliff instead- the only prospective victim who knew what came of succumbing to the 'need'. Her heel teetered on the edge of the cliff. Below, the two men continued their climb, blissfully oblivious to the incident taking place centimetres above their heads.

Veering away from the fixed Puppet Script just as his palm reached the side of Verity's wrist, the man hissed out one last thing." St- st-stay away from those we have c- c- claimed. They b- belong to her. She needs."

Verity tipped off the edge, screaming, seconds before his touch could force her to.