The Avon Echo

by Spur Wood

The wind burned against Finn’s face. It pushed and pulled without care, threatening to rip his hands away from the tight grip they had against the metal ladder, to knock his feet from the precariously small ledge he had his toes pressed into. The welcoming glow from the rattling doorway was the only light to be seen in the moonless night. 

Finn reached out with one hand, grasping for the corner of the doorway, trying to shuffle closer. It was impossible to get a good grip, almost a death wish to try and jump, but if he stayed here, he would lose his grip eventually, and that was a death sentence. He’d almost certainly be crushed under hundreds of tons of industrial metal. 

So, really, there was only one option. 

Finn tensed his muscles, leaping forward. His hands scrambled for the doorway, fighting against the wind, slipping, pulling him forward only to drag him right back. Oh god he was so dead. He was going to fall and crush every bone in his body. This was it– 

Something grasped his wrist. 

He didn’t think at first, only frantically using the new anchor to pull himself forward. He tumbled through the doorway and onto the floor, gasping, wheezing, and shaking from the chill of the wind against his improperly covered skin.  

A warmth pressed against his shoulder, and Finn looked up. 

A young woman was crouched next to him. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, her face youthful, cheeks pink, and she was swaddled in a large brown fur coat. Wealthy, then. Which wasn’t surprising once Finn tilted his head back to take in the lusciously decorated train car, quite obviously very expensive. 

“Hello? Can you hear me?” 

Finn looked back at the woman hovering beside him. She didn’t seem to mean any harm, so he gave her a hesitant nod. 

She sighed. “Oh, good, good. Tell me, what’s a young boy like you doing jumping trains in the middle of the night? Could I perhaps offer my help?” 

Help was not an offer that was often given freely. Finn shook his head. “I’m heading west. To New Orleans.” 

“Oh, dear, we’re hundreds of miles from there,” the woman fretted. “Come, come. You can stay here for the trip. I have some food. You can have it, oh, you look positively starving!” 

“No, thank you.” Finn pushed himself to his feet, leaning against the wall as his head spun. “I—I’ll go to a different car. I don’t want to bother you.” 

“I insist,” she persisted, beckoning him over. “I don’t bite! I have bread for you.” 

“I couldn’t-” 

Finn sucked in a breath as she stepped over, snagging his wrist and pulling him to a little table built into the wall. She nudged him down into a plush chair, where right in front of him sat a plate of bread. She settled a hand heavy on his shoulder, lightly pressing him down.  

Seemingly stuck, Finn gave in, reaching for the bread. It looked amazing, so soft and warm, but—he’d learned long ago not to accept food from strangers. He knew that. He knew that. 

“Ma’am, I can’t accept this.” 

Then her hand was moving, pressing instead into the back of his neck. Finn gasped, arms flying up to push her away, but she seemed unconcerned. Just clicked her tongue and stepped away, face twisting into a frown. Her nails scraped over his nape as her hand dropped away, pricking sharp against his skin, feeling strangely thick and cold. A shudder ran down his spine.  

“It’s a bit rude to refuse a person’s hospitality, dear. I can’t make you eat, but would you at least stay here, away from the cold? It’s quite comfortable here, you’d sleep nicely.” 

Finn stood on weak legs, floundering for words. The woman was still, blinking innocently at him, waiting. So still. Her gaze was unnerving as it sat expectantly on his face. He glanced down, unable to meet her eyes. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I think I should go.” 

He stumbled away from the woman, only for her to slink forward right with him, reaching out to grab his chin and force his face towards her. “I don’t think you should,” she insisted, tilting her head. The fur draped over her shoulders shifted. “You’re such a beautiful young boy, so full of youth. It would be such a shame if you left now.” 

“I—I don’t—but—” Finn stuttered over every attempt at words as she leaned close, caging him against the wall. In such proximity, Finn could even smell her, and it was strange. She smelled a lot like the dirty stray dog that would wander around his house when he lived with his family. It wasn’t pleasant. He couldn’t imagine why a lady would smell like some musty animal. She couldn’t even have been near one recently, not if she had been on the train all night, or perhaps longer. So—why would she smell like that? Some bizarre perfume? 

Unaware of his inner plight, she patted his cheek, smiling. “Yes, yes, how pathetic. You’ll keep me company, right? I’ve been so lonely here for so long, and you’re so lovely.” 

Leaning back, the woman blinked, eyelids phasing together strangely—blinking, and then almost blinking again, but it was different, like she had two different layers of eyelids that blinked one right after the other and she grinned, lips pulling back, all gleaming teeth. Literally. Her mouth was filled with not the blinding white, perfectly straight teeth of a wealthy woman, but rows of needle-like fangs.  

Finn gaped, eyes widening, muscles locking up. The woman—woman? —only giggled, bringing a hand up to her mouth, a hand that was distinctively clawed. He scrambled, desperately pushing himself off of the wall and towards the door, only to trip over his own feet and tumble to the floor. 

“Aw, trying to run away?” She spoke, her voice changing, turning raspy and thick. “It won’t work. I have you now, and I’m not letting such fresh, delicious food get out of my grasp.” 

He rolled onto his back, staring in horror as her body started to contort, twisting and melding, the fur coat over her back seeming to melt into her skin. She was growing, too, getting bigger and bigger, until she was scraping the ceiling with her height. Each limb was a strange amalgamation of fur and scales and feathers, its face the only thing remaining slightly human—although it looked more like a mix between a human and a dog. 

A twisted grin stained her—its—face. “Try and run now, little boy.”  

Finn stayed frozen, barely even breathing, unable to even comprehend what was happening—at least until a giant scaled hand arced down towards his head. Finn lunged for the door, trying to get back to his feet, only for something to slam into his side. He crashed into the wall, a jar of pain going through his shoulder. But that pain was rather insignificant in the face of a giant thing coming towards him with its jaw unhinged.  

Glancing to his right, Finn threw himself to the side and through the opening between train cars. The wind pushed at him only for a second before he cleared into the next car, and he bolted. Through train car after train car, hurtling over the gaps between, listening to the splintering wood behind him as that creature crashed through the cars. 

In his panic, he almost missed it—a ladder on the inside of one of the cars, leading up to a hatch in the ceiling. There was no way its body could fit through that, so he skidded to a stop, jumping for a rung and pulling himself up. 

The hatch had a door locking wheel, and Finn pulled frantically, ignoring the hot pain every him his shoulder moved. He had to get it open, had to, had to, had to, had to get out. 

With a loud click and a hiss, it popped free, and Finn pushed it open, yanking himself into the rushing wind. The car shook, and he slipped, chest hitting the metal. His feet hooked onto the last few rungs, getting him out, fully out– 

Claws dug into his ankle, and abruptly, Finn was in the open air, wind burning against his skin, but back in the train car, body aching, ankle bleeding. 

A shadow blocked the overhead light.  

Please, please no– 

Finn was grabbed by the front of his shirt and thrown, hitting the wall with a multitude of snaps. He crumbled to the ground. His body was starting to scream at him, far too weak to take this much exertion, but all he could do was look up. 

The floor creaked with every step the creature took, its weight almost too much for the train car to hold. It sounded like it was laughing. A bizarre croaking rumble from its throat, teeth bared, drool dripping into the fur on its chest.  

“I’m so—so—hungry,” it rasped, taking another heavy step forward. “So hungry. I haven’t eaten in so long, so long. You’ll taste so good. Fresh meat, so good. So tasty.” 

It stopped right in front of him. Finn hung his head. He didn’t want to see what was about to happen to him. 

The creature shifted, and Finn felt warm breath ruffle through his hair. He was pushed onto his side, and he went limp. There wasn’t any hope for him anymore. Trying would only bring more pain. 

Maybe his death would be quick. 

A claw tore through his already ragged shirt, tugging roughly at the fabric. “Stupid humans and your stupid clothes,” the creature was muttering. “Tastes so bad, so stringy, so bland. Much better without them.” 

Its heavy hand settled onto his now bare shoulder, another on his thigh. Breath fanned over his ribcage. It was babbling to itself now, mumbling crunchy, crunchy, so tasty. 

The first bite was startling. 

Teeth sunk into his side, closing over his ribs. They cracked easily under its jaws. His entire internal system jolted out of place. 

The pain overloaded, his vision went hazy, flickering to black. 

He knew he wouldn’t wake up again.