Amikar Anand

Thriller

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Amikar Anand

Thriller

The Decoys

The Decoys

24 mins
22K



‘Hey wake up sleepy head! You are not going to believe this'.

I knew it was John before I opened my eyes, his violent tugging on my sleeve was proof enough. He never woke you in a nice way - if there is a nice way - yet I wonder why we expect to be woken up all pretty when we wouldn’t think twice about jangling the bells ourselves, so to speak. So I opened my eyes to the curving boredom of the train roof where some poor deprived sod had scrawled his number followed by a fervent ‘call me for love’. Indian trains are full of shit like this, misspelled graffiti lines the toilet walls and on roofs above berths, their writers scratching their desperation or lechery onto state property. Thankfully, I couldn’t see any of this right now for it was pitch black in front of my eyes; the roof could have been peeled away and I wouldn’t know the difference. Also, I realized we were not moving. This could only mean one thing.

‘Please don’t tell me we have stopped on the outside, not again’. I said, closing my eyes and trying to slip away.

'Well that’s the thing, I don’t think we are anywhere near Jamshedpur. All I can see are trees'.

This made me open my eyes in earnest and turn over to look below. I saw Dash curled on the bunk below me, wrapped in a fluffy brown quilt and sleeping in child like wonderment. Below him somewhere was John, presumably looking out the open window, but there was a slight mist swirling down there, or maybe it was smoke. I hit the backlight on my watch and saw it was 1 a.m.; we should have been pulling into Jamshedpur right about now. Had we all been asleep? With a sudden twinge of fear I struggled to extricate myself from the jumble of blankets and jackets I had piled on during the night. The cold hit me instantly, not the well bred city chill one is used to and even comes to enjoy, but a primitive bone-numbing cold that seared through my skin for a few agonizing moments. As if to convince me further, a gust of wind ran through the trees outside, I heard the rustle of leaves and the creak of dry branches.

John let out an ominous ‘woo’ in agreement.

‘Close the windows will you, its cold as hell in here’. I looked around and saw people buried under their blankets, snoring away. The Gujju bhai opposite me was trumpeting with every labored breath and for a moment I felt trapped, out of air.

'If it was cold as hell we'd all be warm right, eh'? John giggled.

'Ha! Smartass. Any idea where we are? I think we slept through man…'

John grunted in frustration, ‘Nah, I’ve been awake the whole time, couldn’t sleep through all that snoring…we are still pretty far out and I think the engine’s busted'.

This was getting worse. I peered down again and strained to see him. I saw a John-shaped shadow lean out the window but then the mist roiled once more and I lost him. I wanted to ask him to stand up so I could see him better, but stopped myself at the last moment. I don’t know why, it just felt odd, talking through mist. So I lay back and stared at the black roof trying to count the spots in my eyes, wishing he hadn’t woken me now. Another year of college, gone in the blink of an eye, the flip of an hourglass, call it what you will. The exams were long gone as well, relegated to the shelves of ancient history as soon as we left the hall. The endless parties too were over. I had not dared count the empty bottles that rolled across the floor every morning for fear of going into shock. We stuck together, Dash, John and I, like brothers. Three small town guys barely out of their teens, living in a far off metropolis for their mandatory degrees, working at coffee shops and all-night snack joints, even sending some money back home once in a while. It was never tiresome or lonely; our lives were too quick for the ennui of comfortable living, unlike many of our friends. Time did catch up to us-as it does with everyone-but for those few years, more a flash in the pan than a steady flame, we were young forever.

The silence and darkness were beginning to get oppressive so I leaned back again and called out to John, hoping he would stand up so I could satisfy myself he was really there.

'Hey where are we man? You see anyone out there?'

To my relief he replied, ‘nah not a soul- wait, I can see people getting off now'.

'Want to grab a smoke?'

I considered this for a moment. It was bitterly cold and the thought of standing outside in the fog didn’t really appeal to me, but still, more than anything else, it’s never cold enough to deny an old friend. So I struggled out of my blankets again and dropped down beside him. Visibility was better down here and I saw he had the pack out and was checking his numerous pockets for a light.

'Let’s wake this guy up, shall we? I’m sure he is dreaming of cigarette factories right now'.

'Don’t bother, I tried him before I woke you, he won’t budge'.

Still I tried, and though I poked and pushed him, Dash wouldn’t so much as flutter his eyelids. The guy was dead asleep. In the end, all I made him do was turn around and snuggle deeper.

‘Told ya'

To our surprise we soon discovered that the train was actually at a station, although it was difficult to define the 20 or so foot of rickety wooden boards as a station by any stretch of imagination. This ‘platform’ was 10 feet away from the bogies (we had to step down onto the gravel incline beside the tracks) and rose on old tree stumps driven deep into the ground. On this rested a single wooden room with slatted windows. Its false front was in a state of utter disrepair; the sloped roof had gaping holes where the wood had rotted away.

Under this stood a stocky old man holding a lantern, the murky light from which provided the only illumination in the otherwise dark wilderness. White grey fog was everywhere; it clung on to our clothes and made us shiver. The forest surrounded the train on both sides and began just a few feet beyond the shaky platform in a line of tall birch trees. Far ahead to our right was the bright electric headlamp of the train, it pierced the fog for a few dozen feet and then dissipated in a yellow gloom. The engines were silent and the only voices we heard were from a group of people a bogie down from us, they were talking quietly and smoking. Their burning tips flared in the darkness every few seconds.

‘Looks straight out of the British Raj’ John said, as he lit up. I took the pack of cigarettes and the lighter from him and lit one for myself.

‘It sure does’.

‘Wonder what keeps the old man here. One night out here in the forest and I would go bonkers’.

‘Maybe he is, you know, bonkers’ I said and inhaled deeply.

I could see John was uneasy, I was too. The place could spook anyone out. The old gent had now hung his oil lamp in a nook and was standing stooped on the porch, his hands deep in his pockets. He wore a long woolen duster frayed at the edges, much like his face, it had a blurred look to it even though he stood close to the lamp, trying to absorb as much warmth as possible. His hair fell to his shoulders in a glimmer of silver. I mentioned this to John.

‘It’s the fog’ he said sagely, ‘plays tricks on your eyes man. I saw this whole episode about optical illusions on Discovery’.

That settled it. You don’t argue with John when it comes to science nor do you argue a quote from hallowed Discovery Channel; it’s just another one of those things.

And then, just as our eyes were tiring of the flickering light and the old man’s jaundiced stare - ‘You jerks didn’t even bother did you?’ Dash called out from somewhere behind us.

To say I jumped out of my skin would have been an understatement. I choked on smoke, bending double in a paroxysm of coughing. John gasped too and spun on his heels, loose gravel skittered down the edges of the incline.

'What the hell man!' I hissed. My hands were shaking but I pretended I was cold and tucked them under my arms. John let out a string of expletives before shoving the cigarettes and lighter at Dash. The flame threw ghostly lights around his face for a moment and another burning tip began its rhythmic movement up and down, the smoke mingled with the dense fog to rise up around us. The silence was disturbed only by the sizzle of burning tobacco.

After a few minutes we walked to a stack of old railway pylons strewn about a few yards from the train and sat down. The forest was at our backs, we didn’t want to be left behind if the train moved suddenly. None of us were sure it would sound the horn out here and trains can pick up speed within seconds, one moment you are sure you can swing it, the next moment it’s pulling away so fast there’s no hope no matter how fast you run. We lit up again and smoked more slowly this time, making small talk, wondering when we would get home.

'Not before three', I heard Dash say.

'You think we should call home?'

'There’s no signal out here, I checked'. John replied.

I hadn’t thought of calling home even once. It seems the forest has the power to make man forget time. We had things like cell phones after all. It’s funny how I assumed they would be useless out here in the wild. Still, all three of us pulled out our phones and peered at them. Mine was dead, the battery sucked dry during the 30 hour journey we had undertaken to find ourselves here. There was no coverage in any of the others. So we continued talking back and forth, laughing once in a while, staring at the old broken down station with its beleaguered master and his feeble lamp.

'You guys cold enough now? Can we get back please?' I said after a few minutes.

'And you', I pointed at Dash, 'put a bell around your neck man, sneaking up like that'.

He laughed. ‘Mission accomplished bro’


Then we saw the children.


Actually, John saw them first, as he turned to flick his cigarette behind him. He said a little ‘oh’, which made us turn and look too. They stood at the very edge of the forest, two small dark shapes holding hands, motionless, staring at us. For a few long seconds none of us knew what to do and each of us reacted differently. Dash peered closer at them his lanky frame almost crouched over. John pushed off the pylon, landing awkwardly on his feet. I was frozen in place, enchanted at the sight of the two figures, but then I turned and looked around. The other group of smokers had disappeared back inside; there was no one near the tracks. The train remained silent and hulking and the lights were still out. The old station master had gone too, only his oil lamp remained, its glimmer reaching us in tired spurts. We were utterly alone. I glanced back towards the forest hoping to see nothing, but there they were. I saw a boy of about 7 or 8 standing with an even younger girl, holding her hand. They were both smiling, wrapped tightly in dark colored shawls a few sizes too big for them. The fog around us had mysteriously vanished and I suddenly realized they were much closer, only a dozen feet away. Dash and John didn’t seem to notice this so I jumped down and joined them.

'Should we talk to them?' Dash turned to me.

‘I- I don’t know’. I stammered back.

John was staring at the children, his mouth half open. 'This just keeps getting weirder, it’s 1:30 a.m. in the middle of a forest for God’s sake!'

The children must have heard us clearly but they said nothing, just stood there with shy smiles playing on their faces. I swallowed a ball of fur stuck in my throat and stepped a few paces forward.

'What are you kids doing out here?' I asked them in Hindi. I felt foolish, squawking like an irate librarian at bug-eyed teenagers caught in the restricted section.

They didn’t reply but looked confused.

'Maybe they don’t understand', John offered

'Why are you out here?' Dash asked them in Bengali, speaking slowly and clearly.

The boy turned around and pointed to the forest. ‘Must go home’ he replied in a coarse mountain dialect of Bengali I found hard to understand.

'Me too! Guys can we just head back now?' John was backing up, clearly spooked.

I was tempted to follow him but Dash moved ahead, he bent down, put his hands on his knees and spoke to the children again, softly this time with more compassion.

'What are you doing here? Where are your parents? Where do you live?' He was obviously concerned and didn’t realize how impossible this was. A couple of kids out in the forest after dark, missing from home or God only knows what. This was the twilight zone staring us in the face. Or maybe he did and still wanted to know - Dash is like that.

The boy said something so quick I missed everything but a few words at the end- ‘beyond the trees’. Dash turned around to look at us, his expression unreadable. John was by far the more vocal.

'Hell no!' He exclaimed.

'What? What did he say?' I turned from one to the other.

'He wants us to help them get back home, just behind those trees''. Dash pointed at the line of ghostly birch trees about 20 feet away.

'So tell him we can’t do that, we might miss our train. What if it starts off and we are still in the forest?'

'How can you even consider going anywhere?' John was looking at me as if I'd suddenly turned green.

'John, right now I’m not considering anything O.K.? But they could be lost and what if they can’t get back home? Let’s at least hand them over to the station master'.

'These kids live in these hills bro, how can they be lost?' John was incredulous. He also had a point.

'No, Vishy’s right', Dash said. 'Let’s take them to the old man; he will know what to do with them'. John shrugged but didn’t say anything.

The children were following every word with rapt attention. I don’t know if they understood what we were saying but just as we decided to haul them off to the station master, the little girl began crying. Not a whole lot, she wasn’t wailing or anything, just sobbing quietly in that heart-wrenching manner kids of all shapes and sizes seem to have perfected. We were stymied. Her brother (we assumed he was) held her close and whispered soothingly to her after which she quieted down, although she hiccupped occasionally.

Dash spoke to him again and this time I focused harder trying to follow what was being said.

'You come with us to the station master; he will take you and your sister home'.

'No, he bad man, beat us often when we come to play, you are like my elder brother no? Please take us home, it is near, only two minutes'. The kid was almost begging us to help him.

'If it’s so close why don’t you go yourself?' John spoke. His voice was harsh and I saw little drops of perspiration glittering on his brow. We were all getting on edge.

‘Hey come on man, look at them, they are scared. Hell! We are these big city cats and we are scared'.

'So what do we do?' I said. 'If we have to take them we better start off, the trains not going to be here forever you know'.

'John, stay back and give us a shout if it starts moving' Dash said.

'Yeah? And go on without you guys? Having to explain to your folks why you went tramping through a forest in the middle of the night? No Sir. I’m coming with you'.

He folded his beefy arms across his chest and that was that.

We looked at each other and smiled; and for a moment there, everything was alright. Three close friends out on another one of their escapades, a chance to make new memories. To be one step closer, to what? We didn’t know then and I guess I still don’t, a decade later.

Dash turned to the children and said ‘O.K. Let’s get you home’.

The little girl looked up at us and smiled. Her teeth looked bright and pointy in the uncertain light. Then they turned and headed off into the darkness, shawls flapping in the wind. We followed, Dash and I together and John a few paces back. The gravel crunched beneath our feet and the light from the lamp in the doorway receded rapidly to a small glare in the distance. Just before we entered the woods I turned to look at the train, it was silent as before, the wind had died down and the fog was returning to fill in the empty spaces where we stood only moments ago. It was too late to turn back now.

A minute or two later we were in near total darkness, the only light was a blue green glow from the phones Dash and John held aloft. We had tried the lighter but the wind kept stealing the flame. John’s light flailed right and left at every sound, Dash’s held firm, only a slight quiver now and then betrayed his true state of mind. I was too preoccupied with not stumbling over dried twigs and branches carpeting the ground to notice where we were going, but when I looked back I could see the birch trees lining the rail tracks so we weren't very far. I had fallen a few steps behind Dash and John was practically breathing down my neck, he also kept up a running commentary on how badly we had messed up.

'Guys where the hell are they taking us?'

'Dash? Can you see the little punks?'

'I don’t see a path anywhere man'.

'John, there is no path here' I said, trying to calm him. 'We are not far from the tracks; you can still see the entrance where we came in'.

'Yeah, but I still don’t like this, not one bit'.

'Well, neither do I'.

We kept walking; I could glimpse the two small dark figures ahead intermittently, when the light from Dash’s phone caught them, so I knew we hadn’t been abandoned. The little girl even looked back once or twice, straight at me. Her face was always in shadow but I could still see the hint of a smile and sharp ivory white teeth - or maybe I was just imagining it. The thought struck me that maybe I was dreaming the whole thing sleeping in my berth, all bundled up and warm, and in a moment Dash and John would wake me, whooping in glee at the passing lights of the huge steel plant that lent its name to our hometown. Then the wind whistled through the tall birch and Sal and dead leaves fluttered down upon us, crackling under our feet. My mother’s face flashed in front of my eyes, smiling at me, as she sat in her favorite armchair by the window knitting her next masterpiece in red. Then she was gone.

‘Guys, I think there is a path down here; it’s just covered with dried leaves and things’. Dash was pointing his phone towards the forest floor.

'Hey Dash! Can you at least ask them which way they are taking us?' I was losing patience too.

Suddenly, Dash stopped in mid-stride. I bumped into him and he held onto my arm in a vice-like grip.

'I would love to my friend, if I could see them'.

'What!' John nearly screamed in terror.

We stood rooted to the spot staring every which way, peering into the darkness. Dash panned his phone in a wide arc. It lit but a few feet in every direction. The children were nowhere to be seen. There was just the fog and the trees. An owl hooted somewhere.

I finally said what had been nagging me right from the start, ‘I think this is a stick up guys and they were the decoys'.

'Oh come on!’ John said. His eyes were wide with fear; I knew mine looked the same, if not worse.

‘I don’t think so Vishy', Dash was trying to hold onto some sense of rationale and barely making it. 'If it was a hold-up they would have been onto us by now, why wait? We are sitting ducks as it is’.

I didn’t care if a Naxal brigade stepped out of the shadows then, what we needed to do was get back. ‘Just turn around guys, let’s get out of here, we are on a train remember?'


Then the forest started to glow.


It began on our right, amidst a thicket of trees, a greenish iridescence not unlike the light from Dash’s phone. To say it was mesmerizing is putting it mildly. It was humming and intense, like it had a life of its own, a throbbing, beating glow of light. We were all drawn towards it; even John didn’t say a word in protest. I marveled at the sight; the trees were lit from within, their tops swaying gently, but we felt no breeze. There was a pervading stillness in the air, which was pleasant if slightly unreal, and I immediately thought of Mina and the terrace near the hills. It wasn’t really a terrace, just a relic of the riverside road projects from a few years before. It jutted out like a man made cliff and we had sat there often, dangling our legs over the gurgling river below. We would talk and stare at the setting sun as it slipped below the horizon, streaking the high clouds with color, gold and purple and pink. This was something very different but felt much the same, what the others felt I don’t know and I have never asked them, but one fact we all agree on is that the light cleared a path for us through the forest. We walked towards it.

A few steps later we turned a corner and entered a small clearing. It was lit by the greenish hue from deeper within the forest. There were trees on all sides and of all types, most were dead and leafless, their crooked arms pointing heavenwards. In the middle was a small pond. The water was dark, almost black, and there were leaves and twigs floating on its surface. There was something about the scene that saddened me, I could not put my finger on it just then but it was felt by the others too. I saw both John and Dash as clearly as if we stood in a room lit by one of those cheap green bulbs you can buy for 20 bucks in a grocery store. Their faces were ashen, the expressions solemn.

A few feet away at the shore stood the children. Their faces were turned away from us but we all heard what they said, it was a whisper on the cold breeze.


‘We are home’.


The glow suddenly brightened then bled away, leaving us standing in an evening half darkness once more. What happened next shall stay with me forever. The children walked onto the water and in a few steps, they were gone, their shawls unfurling into nothingness.

Someone gasped audibly, I think it was John or maybe it was me, it certainly wasn’t Dash because he was grasping me by the shoulder and pointing frantically at the other side of the pond. There were shadows everywhere. Dark human shapes had suddenly materialized from deep within the forest and now stood on the other end. They didn’t move or speak; they just stood there staring at us, as if the pond formed a barrier they couldn’t cross. Maybe we could. Maybe they wanted us to.

‘Oh my God’ John said, as he stumbled backwards falling over a rock.

I scrambled back too pulling Dash with me. The shadows didn’t move but two new ones joined them at the edge of the pond. These were small, child shaped.

They were decoys. Just not the kind we were thinking of.

Dash managed a hoarse whisper ‘Run!’


We ran as though from a forest fire. John was already on his feet, streaking away into the trees, and we followed close behind, the light from Dash’s phone waving madly. Twigs and branches swung into view, the pathetic light caught them just before they struck us in the face. John went down, his leg tangled in tree roots. I yanked him up one-handed, nearly ripping my arm off trying to get his bulk moving. We didn’t know what we had seen, what was after us (if anything) but we knew there was a danger here, a real palpable horror we had to get away from. It was more than life or death; this was a question of souls. It was instinctive, like when you turn a fast corner and narrowly miss hitting someone, your brain telling you which way to go.

'Dash! Wait! We are lost man! Wait up!' I shouted.

He stopped a few feet ahead, panting hard, as John and I joined him. We looked around, desperately searching for the line of trees that bordered the rail tracks; all we saw was fog and the impenetrable forest. The cold was worse than ever. My face and hands felt numb and I knew we had to get our bearings straight or we were never getting out. I felt a sense of doom, as if the forest itself was closing in, its claw like branches reaching out to snare us and whisk us away into the eldritch darkness.


‘We are so screwed! I told you guys not to do this’. John was doubled over, massaging his ankle, face grimaced in pain.

There was nothing to be said. Dash and I were frantically looking around for a marker, anything to remind us of where we had come in. I saw him look up and mumble incoherently, staring at the trees. Then John called out, whether in hope or horror I don’t know.

‘Hey guys you hear that?’


To this day I don’t care to think what would have happened if we hadn’t heard those bells in the fog. I heard them immediately, a sharp tinkle getting closer, coming from somewhere to the left. We began to run towards it, shouting to attract attention. Ahead the fog parted briefly and we saw the glimmer of a lamp and a stout old man walking our way. Behind him was the long line of birch trees and the rail track. He had a long walking stick in one hand and to this were tied a bunch of bells. It was the most joyous sound I ever heard.


‘You bloody fools!' He shouted. 'What in Gods name are you doing out here?’


Before any of us could reply, tell him how thankful we were, or if he knew of what lived in the forests behind his station- the train horn blasted through the fog, a loud ten-second reminder of home and warmth under bright lights. We ran again, with even more desperation if possible. As we passed the line of trees and headed towards the train, we saw that the lights had come on in many bogies and they were moving with little spasmodic jerks and heaves, gears grinding and squealing. Dash was the first to get on; I came in behind him and turned around to help John who was struggling. As the train picked up speed he swung into the bogie and we caught him, falling over in a heap.

When we looked out a few seconds later, we saw the old station master standing by the trees, his lamp flickering in the darkness. We also heard his bells, a piercing tinkle borne on the wind above the noise and rattle of the train. John says he made the sign of the evil eye at us but I’m not so sure, John was still upside down on the floor at the time.


We talked of it a few times afterwards but it soon became something of a bad memory. It wasn’t something to talk of over dinner or brag to your friends about and as far as I know none of us has ever discussed the events of that night with anyone. We remember things differently too; John says he could see the shadows following us, flitting about between trees, and that maybe we came across some sort of bog pit emitting gases. Dash says he saw the shadows circle high up in the trees. He was saying a silent prayer as we ran through the forest. I for one didn’t see anything come after us, but that's neither here or there. What I did find out a few months later was the name of the station. Officially, it is known as Meru Mountain, the locals, as everywhere else have a more fitting name for it. They call it Witch Light Forest.

Many years have passed since we walked into those woods and all three of us now live and work in different parts of the country. We meet up occasionally in Jamshedpur and live it up for a few days, play cricket at the school ground in the mornings and reminisce over beers in the evenings. Nothing much has changed, except we’ve lost more hair and gained a few pounds, and I’m sure nothing much ever will. It’s only the shadows that can be a bit unnerving. We all see them from time to time, lonely slim shapes darting away just around the corner of our eyes. I guess it’s a side effect, an afterglow that has remained over the years.

Still, I stay in the light when I can. To see shadows on a cold fog-laden night is one thing, to know they might drag you into a dead pond amidst whispering trees…quite another.


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