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Part 1
The sounds of our heavy foot steps on the grass were the only sounds. That and the crickets. We were all silent. It was hot as hell out that night, but that wasn't why we were sweating.
"Fuck" said Pete.
"I know" I said.
"What the fuck are we going to do?" he exclaimed. There wasn't even a hint of calm in his tone. His voice, usually firm and confident, was shaky and afraid.
"When we get to Carrum station those police officers should still be there. We'll tell them what we saw. They will deal with it. They will know what to do. Now all we have to do is stay calm and get the FUCK back to Carrum.".
"Fine" said Pete "but we're moving to Nepean highway the next opportunity we get. I don't feel safe walking by the tracks, man"
"Yeah, I know what you mean, man. Did...did you see her hair?" said James and at that moment he lost his composure and started sobbing. I put my arm around him and we kept walking.
I was brought back from my thoughts by the clunk of the waitress placing five beers down on the table .It was Saturday night. I had gone out to the pub, bar you might call it in some places, with some old friends of mine. Old, old friends. Three guys I had been friends with since primary school, and one guy who was new to the group. He worked with my friend Pete, and Pete had brought him along to meet with us. George was his name. I liked him so far. We had only been there for half an hour, or one beer, but I liked him. He fit in well with us. We all went way back. I was worried that we would be a little to cliquish, but all the other guys liked him as far as I could tell, he was one of us instantly.
So anyway, Pete and I had been friends since prep. I only became friends with the other guys a bit later. Me and Pete were both kind of outcasts in prep (and in later years). We would both sit alone at recess and lunch and in class, until he came up to me one day and asked if he could join me. I said yes. We got along well and started hanging out. And that is how Pete and I became friends. Back when we were both, what? Five? And now we were both 36. He was now a musician - I don't mean he was a famous artist or anything, just that he made his living playing, and teaching music - and I was a psychologist. Me and the other guys often teased him about his profession. We'd joke that it wasn't a real profession. He didn't mind, he was thick skinned.
Pete was sitting at the end of the table that night, with his friend George on his right hand side. To his left was another of our group of four friends - James. James joined our group in grade 3. He moved to our school from a Catholic school. He was not Catholic, and neither were his parents. Why would a non Catholic from a non Catholic family go to a Catholic school? This he could never explain to us. He was new and didn't know any one so Pete and I invited him to play with us. By this point in time me and Pete would hang out behind the shed were the sporting equipment was kept. Most kids liked to play on the playground or play sports on the oval, but we just liked to talk. So we sat behind the shed out of sight of teachers and bullies and talked. Man, we must of talked about near everything.
One common topic was Bill Gates. We loved to discuss what we would do if we had as much money as him. Twenty years on and none of us did. But it was still nice to dream. Again, James got along well with us. We liked him. He had now grown up to be a banker. He had also grown up to be an alcoholic. He knew and admitted this. He was a happy drunk, very mellow and very talkative. It would of been more of a serious problem if he were an angry drunk. I know that it still a serious thing, but it really didn't have a huge impact on his life. I mean, it would probably shave five to ten years off of his life in the long run, but not the ones that count. He just liked to drink. I guess the point I am trying to convey is that it wasn't a huge deal.
To the left of James, opposite me, was Henry. Henry didn't join our group until high school. Year 7. Similar story to the others. He was the only one from his primary school to be going to our high school, so he didn't know any one. So, like the other two, he joined our group of friends. He now worked as a lawyer for Amcor, a big multi national. He got his own office with his own computer facing away from the door. He had always wanted to be an author as a kid, so he spent a large amount of the time he spent in his office writing stories on that computer of his. Fantastic work ethic. His profession, too, was subject to criticism amongst the group.
I suppose none of us were where we thought we would be way back when. We all had big plans. We were all going to go places. We used to talk about this kind of stuff all day. I was going to be a movie star, James was going to be a pro footballer, and Henry was going to be an author. In primary school Pete had wanted to be an astronaut, but in high school he took to playing the bass guitar. He had wanted to be a musician since about year 9. He was the only one of us who had fulfilled our dreams. But we were all happy. All single of course, but all happy. At least, we were now. There were times when we were far from happy. There were times when nothing was okay, but we'll get to that.
Looking around, Pete noticed that his glass was not the only one empty. "Who's got the next round?" he asked. Looking around no one seemed willing. "James?".
"Oh, all right" said James. Sounding all but enthusiastic. "Same as last time?" he inquired. There was a general rumble of agreement and he headed of to grab the beers. I looked at my watch. It was 7:30. This place wouldn't close until one. We had plenty of time to catch up. We hadn't done this for about a month. I tried to make small talk.
"So..." I said "What do you do for a living, George?".
"I am a Builder" He said.
"Yeah?" I asked.
"Yeah, I was always better with my hands than my head" he went on. "Not exactly the academic type. I mean I am not an idiot, just not a scholar or anything". I smiled. "Being a builder requires a certain level of intelligence. Unlike some professions" I said, then coughed the word 'lawyer'. We all laughed, even Henry. He, like the rest of us was thick skinned. I drifted off with my own thoughts again while James was getting the next round.
She was a pretty girl. Thin. She would of been about twenty, by my figuring. She was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. The jeans were dirty and the shirt ripped. She was lying motionless on the ground. Pete checked her pulse. She was dead. She was bleeding, or at least had been bleeding, from one of the larger gashes on her shirt. A large portion of her once black hair had been turned a dark red. Her lips no longer smiled, as I'm sure they once did. I doubt they smiled any time recently. This poor girl looked like she had been through quite an ordeal. We all stood, silent, looking at her. All shaking. Afraid. After about two minutes Pete broke the silence: "That gash on her shirt...it looks...it looks like a knife did it. I mean, I thought at first that she'd probably been hit by a train, but now I don't know man. I think maybe she was murdered."
At this point it all became very real for us. If she had been murdered, where was the murderer? And was she really murdered. Of course we all tried to tell our selves she hadn't. "She was probably just hit by a train" said James shakily.
"If she was hit by a train don't you think the driver would of FUCKING reported it!? If she was hit by the train then the driver wouldn't keep going like nothing happened. She wouldn't be left here for US to find. The ambulance would already be here to take her away! She was killed, man! Some body fucking killed her!" Pete yelled.
"Oh fuck, dude," I said.
"I know" said Pete.
"No dude...A train driving past...the driver would be able to see her, right?"
"Yeah, I guess" said Pete. "Why?".
"She's been here less than twenty minutes"
"...Oh FUCK!" exclaimed Pete. "When did the last train pass?" I asked.
"I don't know, like 2 minutes ago, maybe less...oh shit. Let's go back to Carrum station. Now" said Pete.
"Why Carrum" I asked.
"Because there is police officers their! They can help. Plus, we just came from there, and we didn't pass any people, so he must of gone THAT way" he said motion in the direction away from Carrum station.
"Okay" I said, and we started walking. Fast.
I was once again brought back to the real world as James got back with the beers. He set them down on the table and we each grabbed one. Now, I mentioned that James was an alcoholic, but what I didn't mention is that none of us (I don't know about George) where much better. This was just the tip of the ice burg.
"So, you guys all went to school together?" asked George. By this point he was comfortable with us and making small talk.
"Yeah" said Pete "High school at least".
"Hey, remember that bitch Mrs. Richards? I swear, I still have nightmares about her" said James and we all laughed. Mrs Richards was our primary school principle. She was and angry and scary old lady. Lucky for us they didn't believe in using the cane at our school.
"Man, she was no where near as bad as Miss Howard. Now THERE was a bitch of epic proportions! Somebody defiled my diary once. She yelled at ME and threw it in the bin!" exclaimed Henry. Miss Howard was our year 7 Japanese teacher. We all hated Japanese, and we all hated her. We used to hum the imperial march when she was approaching our class room.
"She was hot though" said James. Henry considered this then agreed.
"Hey remember that time in geography when we tried to see how many chairs we could get out of the window before the teacher noticed?" I asked and they all laughed.
"How many did you get out?" George asked me.
"Ten" I said. "Our geography teacher was a bit slow. Well, she wasn't exactly an idiot, but we could of brought a fucking elephant into the classroom without her noticing" I explained, noticing the surprised look on George's face. "When ever she left the classroom we would lock the door, and pretend not to see her when she came back. She would keep trying the handle, it was hilarious. Man I miss high school".
"You know who was a great teacher?" asked James.
"Who?" we all humored him.
"Mr's Tripp" he said.
"Oh yeah, that crazy old bat" I said. "She was our home economics teacher" I told George.
"Yeah" continued James "We would hide her stuff when she was cooking and she would go ape shit trying to find it. She was crazier and older than Mrs. Jepson". We all laughed again. It was good to reminisce like this.
But there was one thing in the back of all our minds. It had always been there. It had never left, but now it was getting uncomfortably close to the surface. A dark period of our groups history that we had pushed way back into the recesses of our mind. Trying to lose it amongst the childhood memories and stories of incompetent teachers. But I thought about it from time to time. It wasn't the kind of thing that ever left you. Some dark sleepless nights it would return to me. God how I wish I could forget about it, but I can't. I think about far more that I would like to. And I don't doubt that the others did too. And now, we were all sitting in a pub, drinking, and telling stories. We all knew that this one would eventually come up. I think it might do us good to talk about it, to get it out. Maybe it isn't healthy to bottle these things up inside. But still, it was the last thing I wanted to do. I drank the remaining quarter of my beer then stood up. "Who needs another?" I said. There was a general rumble of agreement as they all went back to their thoughts.
I returned about two minutes later with 5 beers, placed them on the table and sat down. "You guys have some pretty odd stories" said George.
"We got more" said Pete.
"Oh?" he replied.
"Yeah, which to tell, though". We all gave Pete the same look. It was a look that said 'give us a few more beers first'. Pete grinned at this, and gave us a smile as if to say 'Okay'. At this point we all took large, uneasy gulps of our beers. Pete shrugged. "Lets leave the stories behind for a bit. We can always come back to them". I excused myself and went to the bathroom.
I walked quickly across the sticky beer soaked floor of the bar and darted into the toilet, and straight into a cubicle. I sat on the closed toilet seat and buried my face in my hands. It was all coming back to me now. Dear god how I wish it wouldn’t, but every now and then it did. You think it would get easier. You think that time might help heal my wounds but it doesn’t. It is as hard today as it was when I was 16. How naïve I was back then. ‘I’ll get over it with time. Sure it will hurt for a while, but I’ll get over it’ I thought. God damn it. If I had known just how wrong I would be…I don’t know what I would of done. If I had known how it would be today I am not sure I would still be here. My eyes were watering, but I wasn’t crying. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t lying when I said we were all happy. We were. We got along just fine. But that doesn’t mean that our past didn’t fuck us up royally. We were all messed up on account of what we witnessed. But you can be messed up and happy. I thought about, about once every month. Well, I thought about it more, but usually I am able to suppress it. It is once a month that it gets to me. It is once a month that it all comes back to me. And it was all coming back to me now. I can still remember the news paper the next day.
Young girl murdered. Body discovered by the tracks.
Yesterday, a tragedy occurred. Samantha Howell, aged 23, was brutally murdered in Carrum Four young boys, who wish to remain anonymous, discovered the body while walking along the tracks. She had a large knife wound along her side, and she was bleeding from the head. Police believe the killer hit her in the head with a blunt object. Perhaps even hit her head on the train tracks. This was believed to be the fatal blow.
Police are baffled by the lack of clues. The killer was an expert, and left no evidence what so ever. Police are still on the look out, but warn everyone to not walk by the tracks, or any other secluded areas alone at night. Preferably not even with a group. They also request that everyone remain alert, but not alarmed.
I lifted my face from my hands and wiped the tears that had begun to flow from my face. I tried o gather my composure but started crying even harder. So I sat for a few minutes until I felt a little better. I left the cubicle and splashed water on my face. Then I went back to the table. I hoped none of them saw the stress in my face.
Then we sat, and we talked about anything that came to our heads. Sports, woman, work. We talked shit for about an hour. Talking about everything, while thinking of nothing else. I knew that we were all thinking about it. All of us barring George that is. We had made an art of avoiding the subject. The four of us had spent countless hundreds of hours talking to each other since it had happened, but had never once mentioned it. Kind of sad that something could have such a huge impact on our lives, but never come up in conversation. I guess it was for the best, mostly.
Finally Pete broke the chain of bullshit with
"Fuck it. Should we tell him?". George looked around confused. We all nodded reluctantly. George looked inquisitively at Pete.
"Well..." started Pete "There is one story that we all want to tell you, but kind of don't. If you know what I mean." George shook his head. "Well, it is something that happened to us when we were 19. It is a kind of dark story. The kind of shit horror movies are made of. None of us have talked about this, at least not to each other, since we were 20". "So, why are you talking about it now?" asked George. "I really don't know. We've avoided it for so long. But maybe we should talk about it, you know? I guess we are using you for our own therapeutic purposes" replied Pete. George smiled. "So do you want to hear it?" asked Pete. "...Ah sure" said George. Pete looked around, a little uneasily. "Shall I begin?". We all nodded. He took a big gulp of beer and began.
Part 2
It was a stinking hot day. At least, it had been. Thirty nine degrees celcius it had gotten to. By this time of night though it had sunk to a nice cool 25 or so. Henry, James, Lee, and I had been hanging out at James' place in Carrum. You know, listening to some music, drinking some beer, playing some pool. Just relaxing and enjoying the holiday. Henry and James had just finished a game of pool.
"What do you shit heads want to do now?" asked Henry. He had a habit of swearing a bit to much back in those days.
"I don't know. Watch a movie?" I asked. Everyone seemed to agree with this idea. "What movie?" I added.
"Oh! I have the greatest movie back at my place." exclaimed Lee. "Jesus Christ: Vampire Hunter" Everyone stared at him. "It's about Jesus and a Mexican wrestler fighting vampires to protect the lesbians of Ottawa, Canada" he went on. Everyone burst out laughing.
"Fuck yeah! Let's go watch that!" said James. We all gather our crap and started for the door.
"Wait," said Henry. "Shouldn't we take some beer?"
"Oh yeah" said James. He slapped his head and grabbed on of the many slabs of beer we had purchased that particular weekend. James' mother reminded him to take his inhaler. He went and got it, then picked the beer back up. We all said good bye to James' parents and headed out the door.
James lived about 500 meters up the road from Carrum station. It doesn't take long to walk five hundred meters, but I still hated it. So after about 3 minutes we arrived at Carrum station. There was a police car parked out the front.
"Fuck," said henry "Somebody go check it out". James jogged up to the station and slyly and quickly looked around the corner. Then he ran back.
"Theres two police officers standing by the machine you use to validate your ticket...the...fuck, I don't know what it's called. They must be cracking down on fare evaders."
"Shit" said Lee "We're fair evaders! Well, none of use have money for a ticket, and we can't exactly walk passed a couple of cops with a slab of beer. What are we going to do? Walk along the tracks?"
"Yeah" said James "We'll walk along the tracks".
"Wait a minute" said Henry "I don't want to walk along any seedy fucking train tracks at night. Who knows what kind shit drug addicts and murderers are doing along the tracks. Why don't we just go back to James'?"
"Why don't YOU harden the fuck up?" said James
"Yeah, quit being a homo" I added.
"Oh man." said Henry "Fine! I'll walk along the fucking tracks. But don't blame me when we all get fucking gutted!". Typical of males, doing something they don't want to do simply because somebody insinuated they were gay. Anyone who was ever a male teenager will tell you that if you ever want a guy to do something, all you have to do is tell him to stop being a big girls blouse.
We went past carrum station at a jog to reduce the risk of the police seeing us. Three of us ran to the right of James to hide the slab. Then we cut across the road and headed down the tracks. It was dark by this time of night. Really dark. We could hardly see a thing, but we could make out the tracks well enough to follow them. And so we did. The only sound was the grass under our feet and the chirping crickets. That and the occasional train. Every now and then an owl would hoot. I watched the moon as we walked. It was a peaceful summer night. We were all silent. None of us talking as we walked along the tracks.
I don't know exactly what our plan was. Had we meant to get on a train at the next station? Were we going to walk the whole way to Lee's house. We never did discuss it. We never really got that far. I guess in the scheme of things it really doesn't matter. We just kept walking, not thinking about how were going to get to Lee's. All we knew was that we were going to go drink some beer and watch a dumb movie. Well, we drank more beer that night, A LOT more, but I never did see Jesus Christ: Vampire Hunter. The story of Jesus and the Mexican wrestler.
Mexicans wrestlers and ass kicking sons of a gods aside;
"Train!" yelled James, and he and Henry who was also walking on the tracks jumped off and waited for it to pass before resuming walking on them. James had always had a habit of spitting. On this particular occasion his spit hit my shoe.
"Don't spit on my shoe you fucking gomer!" I yelled at him. Mostly joking. He grinned
"Don't call ME a gomer you transvestite" he replied and gave me a push. I stumbled to the side an tripped. At that moment my life changed. It is at this moment I realized how fragile life is. How quickly things can change. How random sequences of events lead to greater things. How even the most insignificant of details can change a life. It still amazes me how this simple and innocent exchanging of words could irreparably fuck my life up. How a little bit of horsing around and the worst luck in the history of everything ever had destroyed a great deal of my sanity. What if he had pushed me a second later? What if his spit had missed my shoe? How could that tiny bit of saliva from my friends mouth change my life in such a huge way. Change all of our lives. If that spit had been a few center meters off then I wouldn't be telling this story. Why the fuck did it happen. Was it fate? Personally, I don't believe in fate. It was coincidence and shitty luck. Plain and simple. That or there IS a god and he fucking hates us.
I hit the ground hard. "What the fuck was that!?" I yelled angrily looking back at the spot where I fell. I'm told by the other guys that the color drained entirely from my face. I don't doubt it for a second. It was the single most terrifying experience of my life. I could feel my heart throbbing in my head. I crawled backwards to the track. Trying to get as far away as I could. They all looked startled and for some reason I still cannot comprehend were looking at ME. Trying to get out of me what was wrong. I was incapable of speech so instead pointed at what I had seen, and what I had seen was the body of a girl.
She was a pretty girl. Thin. She would of been about twenty, by my figuring. She was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. The jeans were dirty and the shirt ripped. She was lying motionless on the ground. I checked her pulse. She was dead. She was bleeding, or at least had been bleeding, from one of the larger gashes on her shirt. A large portion of her once black hair had been turned a dark red. Her lips no longer smiled, as I'm sure they once did. I doubt they smiled any time recently. This poor girl looked like she had been through quite an ordeal. We all stood, silent, looking at her. All shaking. Afraid. After about two minutes I broke the silence: "That gash on her shirt...it looks...it looks like a knife did it. I mean, I thought at first that she'd probably been hit by a train, but now I don't know man. I think maybe she was murdered."
At this point it all became very real for us. If she had been murdered, where was the murderer? And was she really murdered. Of course we all tried to tell our selves she hadn't. "She was probably just hit by a train" said James shakily.
"If she was hit by a train don't you think the driver would of FUCKING reported it!? If she was hit by the train then the driver wouldn't keep going like nothing happened. She wouldn't be left here for US to find. The ambulance would already be here to take her away! She was killed, man! Some body fucking killed her!" I yelled.
"Oh fuck, dude," said Lee.
"I know" I said.
"No dude...A train driving past...the driver would be able to see her, right?"
"Yeah, I guess" I said. "Why?".
"She's been here less than twenty minutes"
"...Oh FUCK!" I exclaimed. "When did the last train pass?" I asked.
"I don't know, like 4 minutes ago, maybe less...oh shit. Let's go back to Carrum station. Now" said Pete.
"Why Carrum?" asked Lee.
"Because there is police officers their! They can help. Plus, we just came from there, and we didn't pass any people, so he must of gone THAT way" I said motioning in the direction away from Carrum station.
"Okay" said Lee, and we started walking. Fast. My heart still beating in my head. It was going rapidly. I thought I would have a heart attack if it went any faster. I was trying to figure out how long it would take us to get to Carrum station. How long had we been walking before we had found the body. Had to of been ten minutes. So it would take that long to get back, right? Of course not. We were walking three times faster. I kept TRYING to figure things out but the image of a bloodied and beaten girl kept penetrating my thoughts. I couldn't stop imagining her murder. The way it happened in my head was that she, like us, had been walking along the tracks to avoid buying a ticket. Suddenly a dark figure lunges from the shadows. He grabs her by the throat and sinks his knife into her side. She let's out a surprised and horrified gasp. She frantically tries to turn so she can see her killer. But he throws her to the ground.
Her head smashes on the tracks, and at the moment she is dead. He stands, watching her, until he hears a train which will be coming around the corner soon. He picks her up and slings her over his shoulder, as carelessly as a man picks up a backpack. As if it weren't a person he was dealing with, but just an object. Then he slinks back into the shadows and waits for the train to pass. Once it is out of sight he throws her onto the ground by the tracks. He looks at her for a bit longer, with god knows what intention. Suddenly he is interrupted by the distant sound of a beer can hitting the tracks. He once again slinks into the shadows.
This disturbing vision made me even more frightened. If we had been a few minutes earlier would we have been killed. This once again got me thinking of how fragile a life can be. If James were just a LITTLE bit better at pool we might all be dead. Hell, if James' mum would quit bitching about that fucking inhaler we might all be six feet under. You couldn't even say that those cops, in their attempt to crack down on ticket evaders, cost a woman a life. Of course, I can't be sure on that one. Point is: It doesn't matter how small or insignificant something may seem at the time. It can change your life.
I tried to stop thinking about that crap. It just made me depressed. For the first time in my life I felt mortal. I was young and stupid and I thought I was invincible. It took this close encounter with death to make me realize how fragile every life is. How easily our existence on this planet can be terminated if the powers that be decide that it is 'our time'. As I think I have already mentioned, I don't believe in any of that crap. I think it is just luck - something I only really began to understand that very night.
I guess I eventually learned to deal with the fragile nature of our existence. There is no point constantly obsessing over how much time you have left. You have to learn to get over that and just enjoy how ever much time you may have. If you are always thinking about the fact that you may die then you are going to lead an unhappy existence. Everybody dies. There are no exceptions. Most of us cannot choose when we die. Those of us who think to much about when we will die invariably end up choosing for ourselves to take the pressure off. You don't know when you will die. You never will. So why do you care. Get on with your life!
Tangents aside, we had to get to Carrum station, and we had to do it quickly. I was trying to calm down, but the young, pretty girl just kept getting murdered in my head. And the bushes would NOT stop rustling like someone was following us, and maybe somebody was. I told myself that there was no one there but us. But who knows. There could of been someone following us. There probably was. But I pushed that out of my head and kept moving, because the police were in sight. If the murderer was following us there was no way he or she would keep going towards the police.
Part 3
"Jesus Christ" said George "You guys found a dead body as teenagers!? Wow"
"Yeah," I said "That was unequivocally the worst night of my life."
"Yeah," said George "I can imagine. That must of been terrifying. Did you get to Carrum station alright. I mean, you didn't see the killer or anything?"
Pete laughed "Hold your horses, we'll get to all that. We still got plenty of time. But for now, who wants a beer?" Everyone nodded. I was once again free to drift with my own thoughts. Usually I like letting my thoughts drift, but on this particular night it was a terrible thing. That was the first time Pete had ever told me how he imagined it happening. Of course, I saw it differently. I'm pretty sure we had all imagined it at some point or another. Pete didn't know how lucky he was. The way it was in my head was more vivid. More disturbing. Darker than just a chance encounter.
It was Friday night. Samantha Howell had gone out to a local club with three friends. They danced the night away. Having a good time, enjoying the music, having a few drinks. But they grew tired after a while, so they sat down at a table. They were approached by a young man. He asked if he could sit with them. He was a charming man. They all took an instant liking to him. Especially Sam. It was obvious to the rest that Sam was the one he was after, so they decided they would go dance a bit more and give the two some space.
"So..." said the charming young gentleman who would soon end Sam's life. "Enjoying your night?" he asked her.
"Yeah" she said "It's good to go out with friends from time to time. Takes a bit of the stress away from Uni, you know?"
"Yeah. I know what you mean." They sat awkwardly in silence for a little while before he resumed speaking. "Glad you're enjoying yourself. But you know what would be more enjoyable?" he asked and started stroking her hand.
She was a little surprised by his bluntness but went with it all the same. "What?" she said, shyly
"How about you come back to my place?" he asked her
She considered this for a moment. "Okay, sure" she said. She had had a few drinks and wouldn't mind some company. Besides he seemed trustworthy enough. "Just let me go tell my friends that I'll be heading off" she said then stood up and walked over to her friends. The second her back was turn he smiled. It was a sly and blood curdling smile that made me sick. She came back after a minute. Okay, let's go" she said
They walked out to the front of the club and walked through the car park.
"This is mine" said the man who was already plotting how the rest of the night would go in his head, pointing to a car. They both got in.
Driving down Nepean highway the man turned into a dark carpark by the beach. It was empty. No cars, no people.
"What are you doing?" said Sam. "Where are we?". He turned to her and gave her that terrifying grin.
"Lee?...Lee!". I was brought back to the present by Pete who had just got back with the beers. "You alright?"
"Yeah, fine" I said "Suppressed memories is all". He nodded. I suppose he knew what I meant. He went through it too. By this point in time I was beginning to feel the alcohol. This was a good thing. I am a coward and I did NOT want to do this sober. I would have to tell parts of the story at some point or another. It wouldn't be easy. Hell, it isn't easy listening to PETE tell it. But we had already started. No sense in turning back now. I guess it was a kind of therapy. This was the first time we had really told anyone what happened since it happened. I had no doubt it would be the last too. I wanted to get it all out. But once I got it all out I never wanted to think about it again. I wish the thoughts would just go away. I wish I had never suggested we watch that dumb B grade action movie and just stayed at James'.
I wiped the sweat from my brow and took another large gulp of beer. I probably should of seen a psychiatrist after it was all over. But I never did. I don't know if the others did either. I am a reasonably normal person. I am not depressed. Over all I am pretty happy. But the events that happened way back when fucked me up royally. I became an insomniac after it happened. Most nights I can't get to sleep before three in the morning. Sometimes I lay awake in bed and think about it. I try to shut it out but it just won't go away. So mostly I sit at my computer until all hours of the night, watching YouTube videos to take my mind off of it. I try to think about anything but what happened. But it has a way of just creeping back into my head. You try forgetting something like that. It's not easy. Is it any wonder James is an alcoholic? It is sad to say, but alcohol is one of the few things that ease the pain. Practically the only LEGAL thing that does. I guess you could try vikodin. You do what you can to get by. Alcohol worked for James.
"So then, where were we?" I said, and looked around.
"I believe you were about to tell the next part of the story" said Pete.
"Me!?" I replied.
"Yeah. I already told some!" he said crankily.
"Okay. Don't get your panties in a knot." I said "Where were we in the STORY then?"
"Police at Carrum station are in sight."
"Right." I said. I took another large gulp of beer. I tried to begin, but I just couldn't not yet. "Will you excuse me while I go to the toilet?" I said
Pete looked concerned at me. "You alright? Do you want someone else to go first?"
I shook my head "I'll be fine. I'll tell it when I get back." I said then hurried off to the toilet. When I got into the seedy mens room of the pub I quickly darted into one of the cubicles and closed the door behind me. I sat heavily on the seat and buried my face in my hands. Shit. Thinking about it was one thing. But I had never talked about it with anyone. I've never even tried. This would be a huge step for me. Maybe if I could talk about it tonight then I could start seeing a shrink, because to be honest one of the main reasons I didn't see a shrink was because I didn't think I could talk about it. But here I was, about to talk about it. I sat back against the toilet and closed my eyes.
"Hey, watch it buddy" somebody said from outside of the cubicle. But what I heard was "Hey, you kids watch it! Are you trying to get hit by a train?". Suddenly the room began to spin and their I was stuck in the past again.
"Mister! We need your help! Somebody has been murdered!" Pete shouted back at the police officer.
"What? Take it easy kid, come here, tell us what happened" We all jogged up to the station and climbed onto the platform. The two police officers walked up to us. "What are you talking about?" one of them asked.
I tried to speak "We...theres...a girl" I said pointing back down the tracks.
Pete interrupted speaking much clearer than me. He always was the stronger one of the group. "We found a body. A dead girl, probably about 20. She has a big gash on her side and she's bleeding from the head"
"What!? Where?" asked the cop.
"Just a bit further down the tracks." said Pete, likewise motioning.
"Are you sure she's dead" he asked.
"Yeah, I checked her pulse."
The toilet in the cubicle in the toilet next to me flushed and I was brought back to the present. I flushed my own toilet and washed my hands to at least make it LOOK like I was in there for a genuine purpose. I went back to the table.
"You alright, man?" asked Pete.
"Yeah, fine" I said, and I started to tell my part of the story.
Part 4
We were all so relieved to finally see the police. They were insight. We could see them and they could see us. We were safe. The killer would have to be crazy to attack us now.
"Excuse me!" Pete yelled at the police officers.
"Hey, you kids watch it! Are you trying to get hit by a train?" one of then called back.
"What? Take it easy kid, come here, tell us what happened" We all jogged up to the station and climbed onto the platform. The two police officers walked up to us. "What are you talking about?" one of them asked.
I tried to speak "We...theres...a girl" I said pointing back down the tracks.
Pete interrupted speaking much clearer than me. He always was the stronger one of the group. "We found a body. A dead girl, probably about 20. She has a big gash on her side and she's bleeding from the head"
"What!? Where?" asked the cop.
"Just a bit further down the tracks." said Pete, likewise motioning.
"Are you sure she's dead" he asked.
"Yeah, I checked her pulse." he said.
"Shit" the cop said reaching for his hip. I jumped to the conclusion that he was drawing his gun, but he picked up his radio. "Dispatch, this is unit 107, do you copy?"
"Roger" said the crackly voice coming from his radio. "What is your situation?"
"We are at Carrum station. Four juveniles are reporting a murder. They claim to have stumbled across a body by the tracks." Then, taking his finger off the button on his radio he said to Pete "How far down the tracks did you say it was?"
"About ten minutes" he replied.
"They claim the body is about ten minutes down the tracks. Can you have the helicopter check it out." he said into the radio.
"Roger. Stand by for further instruction," the voice came back.
"Ten-four" he said.
We heard the lady he had referred to as "Dispatch" tell the helicopter to check it out. About five minutes later the helicopter flew over head. After a few minutes searching the pilot radioed in saying that he had found the body. "Now searching the area he said".
"All available units report to Carrum station and patrol the surrounding areas. Ask anyone you see what they are doing, and if anyone is suspicious detain them. We all stood silent. Shocked.
"You four just stay here with us," said the cop who had yet to speak. "Some people are going to want to ask you some questions. Do you think you can handle it?". We all nodded slowly, and I slumped to the ground at sat silently staring at it. A million thoughts raced through my head. None of them good. I was wondering, of course, if the killer had seen us. If he had, he knew what we looked like. What was he going to do about that. He knew we hadn't seen him, so he had no reason to kill us, right? Then again, I didn't know if he even had reason to kill that girl. Surely there was a motive, right? There had to be. The killer was going to leave us alone. We had no idea what he looked like, we were no threat to him.
Unfortunately at this point in time I wasn't much for rational thought. I preferred to panic and assume that he was going to kill us. I don't doubt I was in shock. I was fucking terrified. Well, I was safe for the time being. There was two armed cops with me, and dozens more patrolling the area. We could already hear the sirens. The killer would be on his way home by now. He wouldn't stick around until the police got there.
Shit. Why did WE have to find him. Couldn't she of been spotted by the next train? Why US? What had we done to deserve this? This was a horrible situation. There was a very tense mood in the air. The cops hadn't even mentioned the beer. I guess they decided that under the circumstances they could let us keep it. I'm sure when we were asked questions later they would ask why we were walking by the tracks. Should we make up a story? Nah. Those cops wouldn't leave us alone long enough to come up with a story. What was I even thinking about? Did I actually think that the police would be interested in fare evasion? Not the biggest issue right now.
James opened the slab of beer and opened one.
"Dude, theres two cops right there!" said Henry.
"Fuck off!" said James and skulled the entire can. The cops who had been talking turned and looked at him for a moment, then looked at each other, shrugged and kept talking. We all saw this and grabbed a beer. I guess you could say that started our life long tradition of using beer to deal with our problems. So we sat, silently, drinking. All of us shaking. I don't know about the rest of them, but I was listening to the police radio. They had taken photos of the body, scoured the area for evidence, then taken the body away. They had also apprehended three possible suspects. Of course, at this point suspect basically meant a suspicious person. The police were fucking clueless. I don't mean to criticize the police, I just mean they had nothing to go by so they had to detain any one who looked the slightest bit shifty.
Another three police officers came onto the platform now and walked towards us. They had very serious looks on their faces. They were young cops, it is quite possible it was the first time they had ever experience something like this. Maybe they were as scared as us? No. I wouldn't go that far. They had guns strapped to their waists and they probably hadn't seen the body. Even if they had they would of been expecting it, and would of been viewing it with the knowledge that the killer was long gone. That and they weren't intoxicated. But they were nervous all the same.
"These the juveniles who found the body?" one of them asked, as the reached us.
"Thats them" one of the first cops we spoke to said.
"We just want to ask you a few questions, is that okay?" We all nodded again. "Okay, how did you find the body?" We all looked at Pete.
"I-I tripped over her" he said painfully. "He pushed me" he said pointing at James. The police officer raised his eyebrows and Pete nodded. He scribbled on his note book.
"Did you hear or see anything else?"
They all shook their heads. I said "Well, when we were walking back here I kept hearing rustling in the bushes, but I was probably just being paranoid". Once again he took notes in his note book.
"So you couldn't tell me what the killer looks like then?"
"No" we all said.
"Okay, I am going to need all your details so we can contact you. Do you need a lift anywhere?"
We all looked at each other "No," said James "I just live 500 meters that way".
"Well my two partners here will escort you. If you'll excuse me, I need to talk to these two gentlemen." He walked to the two cops we spoke with first and began talking with them. The other two walked us home then got all our details. He told us that a police car would come past to check on us every now and then , then let us go.
We all went inside James house sat down. None of us said anything for the rest of the night. James' parents were already asleep. We just sat in silence drinking. I guess we were aiming to not remember it in the morning. After about an hour James put on a CD. The Wall, Pink Floyd, if I recall. We all loved Pink Floyd. I think we listened to Dark Side of The Moon after that, but I don't really remember too well.
I tried not to get lost in my thoughts. I tried to just pay attention to the music, but it was difficult. Every now and then my thoughts would run away from me. I was still terrified that the killer had seen us. That he was going to try and find us. I thought we would end up just like that girl had. Sorry, I didn't catch her name. I kept getting a mental image of the killer crouched in the bushes following us. Stalking us. He considers killing us, but backs off when he sees the police. Thank god for police. Then over and over I would imagine him killing her. It was horrible. I didn't want to see that. Why had he killed her? Was he perhaps her boyfriend? Had she been cheating? Or maybe he want to be her boyfriend and killed her in a jealous rage. Maybe it was a girl who wanted her boyfriend. And shit, how was I going to tell my parents what I had seen. They would want me to see a psychiatrist's. I don't want any quack 'doctor' telling me I'm crazy. I'll live without one thank you very much.
There was still sirens outside. Everywhere. You could see police cars passing all the time. The helicopter was still flying around the area. When it got close you could see it shining the spotlight in peoples back yards. It was a pretty scary scene. I'm sure there were a lot of folk wondering what was happening. I couldn't help but wonder where the killer was. Was he home by now? or was he miles away, searching for another victim away from the police. That only sparked more thoughts. I hadn't yet considered the possibility of the killer striking again, other than to take out me and my friends. Then I had a horrible thought: Maybe he was watching us. The image of the killer lurking by the window, watching us sit, haunts me to this day. I laid down on the couch and hid my face with my arms and tried to go to sleep. But sleep would not come. That was the longest night of my life.
Part 5
I stopped, having gone as far as I could go. I suddenly realized that I had tears in my eyes and wiped them away. The rest took notice. I guess the understood. Somebody gave me a pat on the arm. I couldn't tell you who, I wasn't really there at that point in time. My mind was wondering off to the next part of the story, but I snapped out of it. No reading ahead. I was going to wait for somebody to tell the next part. For now we all sat in silence.
I felt a little sorry for George. He came out with us thinking he was going to have a relaxed night of drinking and talking shit, and he got THIS. Oh well, at least it was entertainment. I wish people would tell me stories more often. But I couldn't help but wonder if he believed us, I mean, it was quite a story, and he had only heard the beginning of it. Well, I figured that he could tell from the looks in our eyes, hell, the TEARS in our eyes, that we were telling the truth, or at least THOUGHT we were. And I suppose that was a possibility: Maybe he thought we were crazy. I wouldn't blame him if he did, really.
"So then..." I said. "Who's going next?" I looked around. No one looked keen. I nodded and gave it some more time. "Well, I'll be right back then" I said "Don't start without me. Anyone want a drink while I'm up?" They all nodded. I headed to the bar. I bought five beers and 3 packets of chips. I got a bowl to put the chips in then went back to were we were seated.
It was a pretty cozy spot where we were sitting. Their was two couches, with a coffee table in between them. At one end there was an arm chair, at the other, a fire. We all had some chips and got comfortable. It was going to be a long night, after all. I had my doubts that we would even fit the whole story in tonight. We wouldn't if we didn't push on soon, but for now I just sat and listened to the crackle of the fire.
James eventually broke the silence. "Fuck it! I'll tell the next bit he said". The others who were yet to tell any breathed a sigh of relief. We all looked at him. He took a big sip of beer, sighed deeply, then began.
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Whoopsies