With his knife, Church slit his thumb and dropped a spot of blood onto the rails. Within a moment they began to sing, and soon after the Last Train emerged out of the heat-haze, a mirage gradually taking substance. It stopped next to them in a cloud of steam and smoke. The door in front of them opened silently.
Church hesitated before he stepped aboard. In the dry desert heat, the damp, vegetative aroma of the interior was much stronger than before and slightly unsettling.
‘If you’re going to do it, do it,’ Tom barked.
Hands clasped, as if with excitement, Ahken waited just beyond the bright square of sunlight projected onto the floor, as if it troubled him. His eyes were hard and brittle and there was no humour in his smile. He appeared subtly changed from the last time Church had seen him, perhaps a note crueller, a degree more satisfied.
‘Welcome once again,’ he said.
‘We need to go east. China. The Forbidden City. Can you take us?’
‘Of course. The Last Train stops everywhere.’
Shavi and Tom boarded behind Church. ‘Ah, True Thomas. So good to have you back. I thought of all our passengers you would be the last to return.’
Tom didn’t meet Ahken’s gaze. ‘Just pay him and be done with it,’ he said to Church.
‘He didn’t ask for payment before. It’s free.’
‘That was the first time. There’s always a price, you idiot.’
‘We can negotiate that later,’ Ahken said with a bow. ‘For now, enjoy all that the Last Train has to offer.’
He moved silently out of the carriage. Once he was gone, the doors closed with a hiss and the train moved steadily off.
Church rounded on Tom. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you’d travelled on here?’
‘It wasn’t relevant.’
‘What else are you keeping from us?’
Tom stormed up the carriage and disappeared behind one of the brown leather seats.
‘Leave him,’ Shavi said. ‘I sense he is troubled. He will tell us when he is ready.’
Through the windows, it looked as if they were sailing on a sea of yellow as the sands rolled out to the horizon. Soon the desert gave way to the flat-roofed buildings of eastern Egypt and then the scenery passed so fast it made Church queasy watching it.
They dozed intermittently, making the most of the opportunity to rest. Every now and then Shavi would rub his alien eye ferociously.
‘Does it hurt?’
‘I cannot feel it. But sometimes I see things, flashes, shapes passing by, colours, landscapes.’ Shavi’s face became drawn. ‘Sometimes I see things from other worlds, sometimes from the past, sometimes the future. They are the worst. And once I saw my old boyfriend Lee, as bright as when he was alive.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’
Shavi watched the scenery. ‘He said the dead are waiting for me. For all of us. And that we would see them soon.’
‘They lie, you know, all those things we deal with. They lie and they twist and they manipulate. If the eye’s causing you trouble, take it out.’
Shavi shook his head. ‘We need what it offers me. The hints, the information I can call forth-’
‘But look at the price you’re having to pay.’
Shavi laughed, and his face regained its bright hopefulness. ‘You sound so surprised! We have all paid a great price to do what we do, Church. You shoulder your burden, Laura hers, Ruth hers. Why should I be any different? This is what we do! We were chosen to achieve great things. Our lives and our hopes and our dreams were all lost the moment we accepted the Pendragon Spirit.’
‘We should get T-shirts printed:
‘As long as I can have mine in pink with blue letters.’
‘You’re a fashion wasteland, Shavi.’
‘We do not need happy endings. Of all the people on the planet, we have been allowed to see the most wonderful things. We have been allowed into the greatest secrets, that there is meaning in even the tiniest thing, the erratic path of a butterfly, or the numbers of passing cars. We have learned that every single small thing we do is important. No gesture, no hand of friendship, no word of support is meaningless, for even the smallest thing can change the world. Is that not the greatest gift of all?’
‘I wish I had your optimism, Shavi.’
‘Ah, but that is why I am here, see.’ He clapped Church warmly on the arm. ‘The five of us each bring something important that is lacking in the rest of the group. Together we make all of us better.’ He laughed. ‘What we do here affects everyone and everything for all time. Who needs happy endings? Who needs the future and the past when the now is so potent?’
‘You should write that down. You might get a self-help book out of it.’ Church sat back and closed his eyes. ‘Okay, you convinced me. No happy endings.’
6
Miller slept, curled up like a dog on the seat of the carriage. It had been a long, hard journey from Egypt, through India to their current location high up on Tibet’s snow-covered plateau. Ruth observed Veitch, gripped by the view through the window of the hostile yet beautiful frozen landscape and the majestic sweep of the Himalayas.
‘You’re a long way from South London,’ she said, reading his thoughts.
‘Never thought I’d see anything like this,’ he replied dreamily.
She followed his gaze. Lhasa was long behind them, Qinghai Province ahead. ‘They call this the “roof of the world”. We must be near the highest point now — more than sixteen and a half thousand feet above sea level.’
Veitch rapped the window. ‘That why this train is all sealed up like a plane?’
‘We’d get altitude sickness if it wasn’t.’
He poured her a coffee from the flask in his haversack. ‘Least I showed you the world, right?’
‘Shame I’m a prisoner,’ she replied tartly.
‘Are you?’
She didn’t know how to answer, and changed the subject quickly. ‘Do you think Church is behind or ahead of us at this point?’
‘Don’t talk about that tosser — you’ll ruin my mood.’
‘He’s not going to give up, you know.’
‘I know. That’s what he does — carries right on to the bitter end. And I’m looking forward to him turning up again. Really. I owe him some payback, of the painful kind, and this time I’m finally going to get some satisfaction.’
‘Don’t hurt him.’
Veitch looked sullenly out of the window. ‘When we were belting round the UK in that old van of Shavi’s, he used to tell me about some ancient black and white movies he liked. Two old funny men on the road.’
‘Bob Hope and Bing Crosby?’
‘Yeah, that’s it.
The memories played out on Veitch’s face, other aspects of his nature emerging from the hateful surface persona. Ruth was surprised to see a powerful hurt there.
‘So here we are, then,’ he continued. ‘This business is one big fucking joke, isn’t it? Road to Hell. Which one do you want to be? The one with the peanut head or the one who sang?’
‘Can you sing?’
He shook his head.
