D) somewhere in Birmingham

I am so selfish, just afraid for myself : what happened in the
optician's goes through my mind over and over; I have seen a few horror
films, before I worked out I really didn't like them, and I know about
posession. The guard and the optician, they were normal people, they
just got caught up in the shadows after me : it was my fault what
happened to the optician. I pray that he will be ok, my hands squeezed
tight, eyes scrunched, as if God would care

"Here's the station, now, duck" I sit up cautiously, look out of the
window. I know where I am, can get a train from here to the station I
go to Birmingham from. I get up quickly : must get away from this kind
lady before anything happens to her, but she is looking at me
expectantly "Could you give us a hand with the bags, love? Just down
the stairs?" It will only take a minute, won't it? "Course!"

She has one of those wheelie canvas things, in dark green. I clump it
down the stairs, wondering how she ever got it up. She wobbles behind
me with two carrier bags rustling in one plump pink fist, the other
pressed against the windy wall of the stairs for balance. She is
wheezing slightly. I hope she hasn't far to go.

As I wait outside the bus for her, checking for those crawling shadows
along the cool Autumn-sunny pavement, I think : I will ring Jim again,
and feel happy at the thought of hearing his voice. Then I realise that
is stupid : if it wasn't Jim I talked to last time, or it was the
shadowy things talking through Jim, there's no point ringing him, is
there? Then I think : I rang the optician's on my mobile, and the thing
was there, waiting. The guard was beside me as I rang Jim on my mobile!
They're using it to track me

The old lady steps off the bus at last, gives me a sweet smile. I wish
I didn't have to leave her, she makes me feel safe, but I smile back
and run into the station.

I can see through the door to the platforms that all are empty, so I've
time for the looking through books it will take to find the price for a
ticket to Birmingham. I just say Birmingham, and when the man behind
the glass asks "return?" feel like laughing hysterically "I hope so" I
hand over my card, worrying it will not have enough, but it goes
through. In the pause as the ticket is processed, I remember work, that
they'll be wondering where I am. Mum will be, too, when I don't come
home this evening. I'd better ring her from somewhere. It's been ages
since I used a callbox. I ask the platform number : it is the next
train, five minutes

It is strange, going to Birmingham in my uniform. I feel like a truant
or a runaway prisoner, remember last time, when we watched Oh Brother
on his sofa. God, I hope he's ok! But, what am I going to DO when I get
to Birmingham? I know I can take on anything if Jim is beside me, but
suppose he isn't, that I can't find him? Or

that it is too late?

It can't be

I remember my mobile, look for a litter bin. Of course, there aren't
any, now. What do I do with it? If I leave it lying about, someone else
might use it, and I don't want anyone else to get hurt. I look round.
There are a few other people on the platform. I think about throwing it
onto the rails, but if it is broken, if "they" are using it to track
me, they will try to find another way : much better if they think they
know where I am. There is a big Wimpy milkshake carton with a plastic
lid and straw by the wall behind me. I amble over, put my bag down
infront of it, rummage for my mobile. This is my last link with Jim.
The train squeals to a halt, a few doors open desultorally. I prise
open the cup's lid, getting smeared with pink yuk from the rim, squeeze
my mobile in, jam the lid back on, look up, leave it, no time to think,
the last door is closing on the train.

I sit down, panting, dizzy; I must eat something. My hands are slimey
from rancid milkshake, and I've nothing to wipe them on. I get up, go
in search of a loo. Once in there, I don't want to leave. I turn on the
tap, let the water run over my hands again and again. Sit on the loo,
then turn on the tap again

It's only one stop, and I have to come out. It is not till I step onto
the platform it hits me that this is where that guard was, I'd just
thought of it as the shortest way to Birmingham. But an announcement
comes on the tannoy, "Platform 8 for Liverpool Limestreet, calling at
..." I'm here now. I am so tired I'm beyond caring. It's only two
platforms away. If I get there in time, I'll catch it, if not...go to
London. Get a train from Paddington. Down the tunnel, up again, just as
the train pulls in

I slump onto a seat by the window, my bag on my lap, close my eyes. Can
hear people bustling past, but the carriage was nearly empty, so I'm
suprised to hear the rustle of bags across the table. I open my eyes.
It is the kind old lady from the bus.

This cannot be a coincidence! I lurch up, have to get away, but she
fixes me with a look, and my bones turn liquid, I fall back

"Don't be afraid, Duck, I'm not what you're running from"

"Then, who ARE you?

"I'm Jim's guardian angel. Would you like a banana? " She rummages in a
carrier bag