Runaway Train by Kathy Lee

Author:Kathy Lee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scripture Union England and Wales
Published: 2011-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11:

Sounds in the night

It was 20 minutes to midnight. I crawled out of my sleeping bag, rubbing my eyes and wishing I hadn’t agreed to go on this stupid ghost hunt.

“Shhh,” said Dylan. “We have to be really quiet. I think Laura’s still up – the kitchen light’s on.”

“Then why don’t we wait until she’s gone to bed?”

“That might not be till 2am. And midnight is the best time for ghosts.”

“Oh, all right. May as well get it over with.”

As quietly as we could, we crept round the back of the base to where the bikes were kept. Then we had our first setback. My front tyre was as flat and soft as a fried egg.

I thought this might change Dylan’s mind, but he whispered, “We’ll walk, then. It’s not that far.”

“We won’t get there before midnight,” I said.

“We will if we hurry.”

Silent as shadows, we slipped down the side of the house and out through the front gate. The street was deserted. In most of the houses the lights were off. The only things moving were a couple of cats, out on their own night’s hunting.

It was a chilly night. The sky was covered in thick, dark clouds, lit with an eerie glow by the lights of the town.

“Hurry up,” Dylan whispered.

“I am hurrying. Why are you whispering?”

“Don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never been out this late on my own. It feels spooky.”

“We can go back, if you like,” I said hopefully.

“No way. Not now we’ve got this far.”

We didn’t go through the town centre. Dylan said there might be too many people about. He led me around the outskirts of the town, through quiet roads where we saw hardly anyone. At last we reached the edge of the industrial estate. But we couldn’t get in – there was a high fence, topped with barbed wire.

“It is like the Great Escape,” I said. “Where are the guards?”

“That’s a point. There probably is a security guy somewhere about. We’ll just have to be careful.”

“Why? We’re not breaking the law.”

“No, but I bet we look as if we’re up to something. Kids our age, out this late – people get suspicious.”

Faintly on the wind came the sound of a church clock striking midnight. I counted the solemn sounds. They stopped at last, and the only noise was of distant traffic on the bypass.

We followed the edge of the industrial estate until we reached the main road. In spite of the barbed wire fence at the side, there was no gate or anything at the front. Anyone could walk or drive straight in, along a wide road designed for huge delivery trucks.

Different factory units had their own security gates, and some had CCTV cameras that rotated like searchlights. We weren’t trying to get into any of the factories – we were heading for the car park by the old railway bridge. All the same, the cameras made me feel nervous.

“I hate that feeling of being watched,” I muttered.

“I bet half these cameras are fakes,” Dylan said.

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