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Mary rolled the battered Mini up beside John’s car, bumping over the border that marked the end of the small unmanned station’s parking ground. She appeared oblivious to the fact that she wasn’t actually in a designated space. Mary got out the car, leaving the keys in the ignition, and wandered across to the rusty gate.
“So why’ve we come here, John? Don’t you want to show me off at the office?”
It was his turn to blush. How could she possibly know he quite liked the idea of a strange woman turning up and announcing that he’d left his organiser that morning?
“Should give that busybody at reception something to talk about, eh?” She smiled through flushed cheeks.
John looked on as Mary swung on the gate, pushing it back and forth to the limits of its clunking chain. She looked like a lost little girl playing in the park.
“Who are you?” He said.
“I’m Mary.”
“Ok, let’s try this then. Why are you here?”
“Well, at one time, my mummy and my daddy loved each other very much, and when…”
“Please,” he interrupted. “Tell me what’s happening?”
Mary jumped down from the gate, landing in the waste-ground.
“You’re in danger, John. I think you know that. And so am I. I think you guessed that too.”
“Danger from what?”
Mary cocked her head to the side, stuck her tongue out and twirled her finger round her ear. “From the Nothing, from the Rabbits, from whatever it is that makes us different, from going loop-de-loop, gaga, nutszoid, John.”
He could hear faint sobs as she lowered her head. He wanted to reach out and hug her, to tell her it would be alright, he wanted... To kiss her, enquired the small voice from the back of his thoughts. Only, he didn’t know her, he didn’t want to get involved. He didn’t know what her reaction would be. After all, she was the crazy bag-lady who admitted to stalking him.
Mary looked round the disused field, holding her hands over her eyes.
“This isn’t a bad place, John. Not like that house.”
John meandered towards the gate and gazed at the forgotten land. It was owned by the railway but never used by the station, and had lay derelict for as long as he could remember. No plans to sell it or to expand the parking were ever considered. This was land preserved by apathy.
The gate was closed by a large rusty chain and padlock. He had no idea where the key would be, if one existed or if the rusted lock would even open.
He took hold with both hands and vaulted the gate, setting foot on the waste-ground for the first time since his youth.
The small voice from the back of his brain shrieked in the silence of his thoughts, whether for joy or sorrow, John didn’t know.
On one level the wasteland looked like it always did. At the same time, from this side, it looked full of wonder and opportunity. The sky looked bluer, the flowers smelled sweeter, and the air felt warmer. A loud banging noise came from close behind him, breaking the spell.
Mary stood beside the twisted shell of the burnt-out car. She thumped the rusty steel then hunched forwards putting her ear to the metal. “Something important happened here, John, something bad enough to rip a hole right through the Nothing, to the other place.”
She walked round the car, running her fingers over the weathered metal, stopped at the driver’s side doorway and climbed in. The flower-print dress rode up her legs as she knelt down to where the driver’s seat should have been and gripped the remains of the steering wheel.
“What you have here is a de-crazyfying machine, John,” she said, and grinned.
John walked towards the car. The thing at the back of his brain shifted. Unheard voices screamed from deep within him, growing louder as he approached the warped wreck. The words felt thick and far-away, just beyond his ability to understand.
“You would do well to be very careful, John.” This voice was sharp and clear, and came from the air in front of his face.
He stopped and stared at the car.
“Get in, John.” Mary shouted, waving him forwards.
He had knelt beside Mary and begun looking round the burnt-out interior of the car, as the sound of children laughing drifted in on the wind. The roof was detached and bent up from the main carriage at the passenger-side rear-window. The front had been compressed inwards, with the whole body twisted round a large rock. The rock wasn’t visible from the gate and the full brutal force of the crash was only evident from the wasteland-facing side.
He stretched out his hand and grabbed the cold steel.