“Come on, Ashley! Let’s go home already, class finished ages ago!”

Her friend grabs her arm and tries to move her.

“Huh? O-Oh, I didn’t notice the time. Sorry!”

She whips her head from the window and hastily apologizes. The other girl leans over her and curiously looks outside.

“Hm? Who’s that?”

Ashley feigns ignorance. “Who’s what?”

“That boy down there. He looks really serious.”

The boy in question is running intervals of four hundred metres on the school oval, collapsing onto the ground after each lap. However, the moment ninety seconds pass between each lap, he gets back on his feet no matter how tired he is. Sweat pours down his back and onto the grass. With the way he gasps and pants for air, hunched over on his knees, there can be no doubt that he’s running with everything he has.

“Is he an athlete or something?” her friend asks.

“No,” Ashley replies. “He’s trying so hard because he failed the fitness test.”

“Huh? No way!”

“He’s been doing this every day for a year now. I’m sure he’ll make it this time.”

Her friend shakes her head. “That dedication… every day, you say?”

“Yep. I’ve seen him doing it in the rain, the blazing heat, even the snow. I don’t think he’s going to stop until he passes this year’s test.”

The boy’s small legs finally give way beneath him and he lies on the oval, chest heaving. It’s a pain watching him struggle to stand up.

“You admire him, don’t you?” her friend declares.

Ashley doesn’t respond.

***

“It’s starting to get dark,” Ashley says as she approaches his lifeless form.

The boy turns his head, just as she dangles a bottle of water in front of him. It disappears from her hand in a second and he downs its contents in one breath.

“Why do you try so hard?” she asks, curious. “What lies at the end of your path?”

The boy sits up and shrugs. “There’s nothing else to do,” he says simply. “Mum needs some time alone. Dad’s gone, and my sis is in hospital. Running just helps take my mind off things, I guess.”

There’s something else he’s not telling her, but she doesn’t know it.

“But you do it with so much dedication. If you run, why not run at an enjoyable pace? It would be easier too.”

The look he returns her is a completely blank look, one that tells her he’s never even considered this possibility. She almost takes a step back at the words he says.

“If I’m going to do something, why wouldn’t I try my hardest? I started this because I failed the fitness test last year, and I’m going to do my best until the very end. I don’t want to live with regrets.”

With that, he picks himself back up and slowly begins to head back into the school. Ashley watches as his already small back disappears into the distance.

A few days later, right after passing the fitness test, that boy stopped running – and he began to turn up to class with cuts and bruises along various parts of his body. It was also around the time he began to lose focus and sleep at school.

***

“I guess this is it,” I say as the train begins to pull in. Alice still has my jacket wrapped around her, even though the underground subway is far from cold.

“Take care of yourself,” Leo says.

Ashley stands in front of us, just watching as the carriage doors open. People begin to flood out, heading home from work. The sound of their footsteps, chatter and the announcements ringing across the platforms seem strangely disconnected, as if I’m still in denial at our departure.

“I’ll miss you,” she says. “Make sure you come back.”

I firmly nod. “Thanks for everything you’ve done for me.”

She moves in and her arms wrap tightly around me. I try not to make eye contact with any of the passersby, or Leo’s smoldering gaze.

“Bran, I…”

I already know what she’s about to say.

“It’s okay,” I cut her off. “I know.”

I gently nudge her away. It pains me to do this, but there’s no other way.

“I’m sorry.”

With that, I board the train with Alice. There’s a look of total despair on Ashley’s face as the doors close.

I’m sorry, Ashley. I just can’t return those feelings.

Leo nods at me as his sister turns around to hide her face. The whistle blows and the train begins to move. The fluorescent lights of the station give way to the darkness of the tunnel walls, and the sounds of civilization are swallowed as well.

“You turned her down,” Alice says.

“Yeah. I just don’t think she belongs in the world that I live in.”

“Do I belong in that world?”

I half snort, drawing the attention of the passengers around me.

“Alice… you pulled me into that world.”

***

It was a long ride. The first half was almost completely in the darkness of the underground, with no sights or sounds to distinguish whether we were even moving or not. There was only the soft lulling of the carriage, which eventually drew me into a half sleep. I would blearily open my eyes every so often only to see the same carriage, with maybe a few different passengers. At some point, Alice also fell asleep and her head eventually found itself onto my shoulder. She desperately needed the rest, so I left her be.

At the end of the line, I reluctantly woke her up. We switched to a different platform, one which quickly led to the over-world and a completely rural landscape.

The sun’s almost completely down by now, and I find myself mindlessly staring as the fields pass by. The rail line has literally been planted down in the middle of acres of farmland and there’s nothing to see except crops, rice paddies and the occasional herd of farm animals. The sunset makes for a great view though – without the tall spires of the city or the dark haze of light pollution, there’s nothing obstructing the red orb of light in the sky. It’s such a beautiful object, yet so disadvantageous to us.

At some point I become aware of breathing close to my ear, and realize that Alice is staring out the window past me. She seems mesmerized at our surroundings.

“Where are we?” she asks.

I shrug. “Somewhere in the countryside. We’ve still got quite a ways to go.”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

She continues to stare, watching the animals in the distance feed and go about their daily – or nightly – business.

“What’s the matter? Never seen a farm before?”

She nods.

“Want to swap seats then?”

Another nod. I stand up and give up my window seat to her, before heading out into the main aisle. Taking this opportunity to stretch my legs, I head down the train checking out the passengers.

Barely any people are on the train – most of them are tourists or travelers, loaded with massive bags of luggage. There’s a family of foreigners sleeping, and what looks like a homeless person passed out on one of the seats. I don’t go too far away, mostly because there aren’t that many carriages in the first place.

How easy it would be to feed on these people. I could incapacitate them, drink a bit of their blood, dispose of their bodies…

I shake my head. What am I thinking?

This does pose a problem, though. I guess we’ll have to feed on farm animals or something at night, to quench our thirst. I’m just beginning to realize how many more details we have to go through, due to our non-existent planning. Where will we get money for living expenses? Ashley’s grandparents wouldn’t go as far as to feed and clothe us – letting us board for free is enough as it is. We’ll probably have to work.

But where are we headed? Not physically, but in the grand scheme of things? Will we just be hiding here, living day by day until Dracula finds us? Are we going to save up more money and then run elsewhere?

So many questions. My head is already pounding from overthinking.

By the time I get back, Alice has fallen asleep again. That was fast… I’d expected her to get bored of the countryside, but not this quickly.

She looks so much younger and unburdened when she’s asleep. It strikes me that this must be her face if she had grown up as a normal girl. When she’s awake she always has a cold, distant expression plastered across her features. In fact, I can’t even recall if I’ve ever seen her smile or laugh, or show any emotion at all.

What does Alice look like when she’s happy?

This is what I think before I close my eyes and drift off.

***

“Bran.”

I awaken to Alice’s gentle shaking. It’s bright outside again – I must have slept through the entire night.

“I think we’re here.”

I rub my eyes and look outside. We’ve stopped by a small two platform station in the middle of nowhere – literally. There’s a single road leading from the railway which curves off into the distance, and nothing but long grass for miles around. A worn, faded out sign next to one of the benches reads ‘Port McAubourne.’

“Let’s go then,” I mutter, prying myself from the leather seat.

We step onto the platform – aside from us, only two other people get off. They both quickly disappear into two cars waiting by the side of the road and are driven off. The train behind us leaves at the blow of a whistle, chugging off into the distance.             

“I thought this was supposed to be a port,” I say to the conductor, who’s eyeing us out of curiousity.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” he asks.

“Nope.”

The weathered man takes the whistle from his lips and lets out a heavy sigh. “We used to be a port, maybe a couple decades ago. Then the big industries moved further south, abandoning us. If you go down to the coast you might still see some remains of the old docks and ships.”

He points out into the distance. I can detect the faint smell of salt in the air.

“I see. We’re actually here to visit our grandparents,” I lie. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to get to this address, would you?”

I take out a scrap of paper with the address written on it. The man squints at it before jerking his thumb along the road.

“Head in that direction and you’ll eventually reach it,” he says. “The bus comes every hour and passes right by; it’s hard to miss. Their farm is one of the most famous ones around here. If you see the town, you’ve gone too far.”

I nod. “Thanks.”

The man tips his head in return. “Take care, boy. You too, young missus.”

With that, he heads back into his office. We make our way around to the rusty bus stop, and I scan the timetable plastered to its side.

“It left ten minutes ago,” I sigh. “Guess we’ll be here for another fifty minutes.”

“How about we walk?” Alice suggests.

I look into the distance. “Alright. Might as well.”

We set foot along the beaten path. The morning sun hasn’t reached its peak, so the conditions are fair. Just as well; I don’t think there’s enough water amongst the basic supplies hastily packed by Ashley.

The unchanging landscape continues to pass, but it might as well be stationary. With no landmarks or change in scenery, it feels like we’re walking on one long treadmill. We might as well be navigating a desert, with long grass reeds instead of sand.

“Let’s play a game,” I say, in an attempt to stave off boredom.

“What game?”

“Ever heard of ‘I Spy?’”

“What’s that?”

Hm. Ordinarily I’d be astonished at anyone who’d never heard of this game – you’d have to have been living under a rock for your whole life to not have heard of it – but then I have to remind myself that Alice has practically been doing just that.

“I spy, with my little eye… something beginning with G,” I chant. “So now you have to find something around us you can see that begins with the letter G.”

“Like grass?”

“That’s right!”

Alice nods. “I think I get it. My turn, then.”

She looks around and seemingly spots something interesting.

“I spy, with my little eye… something beginning with S.”

“That’s easy,” I say. “Sky.”

“No.”

My footsteps falter. “Stone?”

“No.”

I look around. What possibilities are there?

“Shoe? Shoelace? Shirt? Snail? Sock?”

“No.”

I scratch my head.

“Alright, I give up. What is it?”

“Snake,” she points, just as something small and scaly pokes its head onto the path from the grass. I yelp and skirt to the side, steering clear from it.

“That’s cheating,” I cry. “You have to see it, not hear or smell it.”

“I did see it,” she says. “You just weren’t looking hard enough. It’s a snake’s job to be hard to spot anyway.”

I let out a heavy sigh. “Alright you win. This game sucks.”

With my failed attempt at livening things up, we fall into a monotonous trudging. The sun steadily grows higher and at one point the bus we should have waited for passes us.

A few minutes later, the long grass gives way to farmland, and a large house in the distance rolls up from across the horizon.

This must be it – our new home.