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Through the Eyes of a Ghost: Chap. 3

Erin. She could hear the name, floating by like message in a bottle. It bobbed with the waves- Up and down and up and down. There was ringing too, fading in and out with the each wave. Fading in and out, and in and out,and in and out. It was louder now. Like an alarm. Pulsing. Ringing. But it wasn't ringing. It was now a clank. Clear, low and distinct. A warning. Wait to cross...wait to cross.. She knew it now-the clank of a train. Clanking, clanking, clanking. There was a train. A floating train. Its clank faded in and out. In and out. In and out. There was a train.

There was a train. A train. Why was there a train? Why was there a train? And pain. There was pain, building from the center of her chest. It snaked from her lungs to her neck, growing tighter. And tighter. She couldn't breathe. She reached for her neck, but she could move. She was still. Her arms. Her legs. Her chest. She couldn't move. She couldn't move. She had to move. She had to move. She was drowning. Drowning and dying. Drowning and dying. Dying. She was dying. She had to move. If she didn't move she would die. Erin. She heard it again, clearer now. It was here. Here with the train. Here with her. She had to move towards the voice. She had to move. She had to move. Move or die. Move or die. She had to move. She had to-

The water burned as it splurted out of her lungs. Her eyes flew open as she lay there, coughing a wheezing, her heart thudding rapidly in her chest. Erin. She ignored it, her thoughts racing to catch up with the present. She was wet. Why was she wet? Water. There was water. And just like the water, it all came rushing back to her. Water. Gunfire. A bridge. The glass floating in the air. The rapid approach of the dark water. Then, black.

"Erin! Erin, can. you. hear. me? Answer me!"

Crash. There was a crash. The car crashed and they went into the water. There were shots. The driver. The director. They'd been attacked. They'd been attacked then they crashed. They'd crash into the water. The attack. They'd been atta-

Something cold and hard collided with her face. What the-

"The fucking hell was that?!" She shouted, sitting bolt upright and coughing as she did. She stared forward at the source. What...She paused. Who.. The blue eyes staring back at her faded into focus. Though unusually frantic, she would have recognized the frustration in them anywhere.

"The fucking hell Brandt," she shouted, her hand unusually cold against her hot cheek, "Did you fucking slap me?"

"You wouldn't respond," he replied simply, leaning closer to her face than she cared, "Do you know where you are, Erin? "

"Fuck off," she mumbled, rotated onto her hands and knees. Goddamn, had the car crashed or had she been hit by it? She couldn't tell.

"I'm not kidding, Erin," Brandt stated, "I need you to answer me."

She winced as her side tightened in an attempt to stand. She exhaled slowly. The car. The crash. The attack. She pushed herself to her feet, frowning as Brandt reached to steady her.

"Yeah," she winced, "Now fuck off."

She took a step forward before she stumbled, Brandt's hands catching her waist as she fell into his chest. She shut her eyes to the pain, opening slowly them to meet Brandt's. She hated that look. He was concerned, as if he cared about her well-being. Ha! She knew better.

"Do you remember what happened?"

She glanced up in surprise at the new voice.

This time the voice came from a familiar man besides Brandt. He was soaked, his dark hair plastered to his handsome face. His voice lacked Brandt's frustration, but its urgency was clear. His question echoed in her head for a moment. The car. The crash. The attack. Her side tightened again as the rest came flooding back to her. The Kremlin bombing. The man in the car. The man before her now. Ethan Hunt. Her mind raced back and forth between the images. The bombing. The attack. The crash. The director-

"The director," she breathed. Ethan's expression answered her before she spoke.

"He's dead."

She inhaled shakily, aware of the cold wet weight of her clothing. He was dead. She'd witnessed a man die. A man she knew. Her boss. The director of IMF. He was dead.

"Can you walk?"

Ethan's voice interrupted her thoughts. She straightened the best she could, holding Brandt's shoulder as she took a shaky step. She let go, pacing towards Ethan. Shaky, but..

"Yes," she breathed. She took a few more steps before turning back to them.

"What's happening?" she asked.

Ethan started off, as Brandt followed.

"We have to go, Carr. Now"

The two men took off as Carr stumbled after them, her forearm wrapped around her wait to brace her side. The hell were we going? She ambled on, unsure if she were too nervous or confused to ask.

"This way," Ethan stated, turning suddenly towards a set of rusted tracks in the distance, "It's a green car."

Erin gritted her teeth, hoping the adrenaline would set in before more pain did. She was only a few paces behind them now.

"I don't get," Brandt started, following Hunt over a set of rusted tracks, "Why would that work? I mean, so what's your scenario? There's a guy being shot at in the water. All of a sudden he decides to light a flare and swim around?"

Hunt said nothing as he paused near an abandoned railway car. Brandt came to a stop next to him, panting slowly.

"What did you assume they were thinking?" Brandt finished.

"I didn't assume they were thinking," he began, looking towards both ends of the train yard, "I assumed they were shooting."

"You just gave them a target," Carr added, walking forwards to stand besides Hunt. She'd been listening. Or at least trying to. It was better than focusing on the pain in her ribs.

Ethan glanced towards her, an impressed smirk working its way onto his face.

"Exactly."

Brandt crossed his arms, his face somewhere between contemplation and frustration. Ethan glanced towards Brandt, while the analyst blinked in response, adjusting his suit coat against the cold. The silence was pierced by a dull rattling in the distance—a train approaching from the far end of the yard. It was approaching quickly.

"Green car you said?" Brandt yelled over rumble.

Why were they looking for a car? Ethan nodded slowing, his eyes following the first car of the train as it passed. Erin glanced around the yard, searching for anything green. Save the few patches of graffiti, the trains, like most else in the yard, were rusted and dark. Green. Green. Green.A grinding screech echoed through the yard as a second train rattled onto the tracks behind the first.

"There!"

Her excitement faded as quickly as it had appeared. She followed Brandt's outstretched arm towards the rapidly approaching car. It's part of a moving train. She snorted despite herself. Of course it is.

"This way!" Ethan shouted, sprinted behind me towards the car.

"Come on!" Brandt shouted, rushing past me.

Her side tinged unpleasantly as he grabbed her forearm, dragging her behind him as he sprinted towards the car. Brandt and Ethan caught on, pulling themselves against the train as their feet left the ground.

"Grab on!"

Her shoulder jerked as she caught the train, her feet peddling beneath as she tried to keep up. Above her, Ethan fumbled with a silver keypad. The red light on the pad changed blue as a small glass window opened on the panel.

"What is that?" Erin screamed, her voice fading into the rumbling.

"Retinal scanner," Brandt replied, reaching out for Carr's hand to pull her onto the train. Their palms touched briefly before the speed of the train caused Erin's steps to falter.

She swore under her breath as her shoulder jerked, tensing to keep her close to the train. She looked forward, her breath freezing in her throat. Shit. The train was rapidly passing into a tunnel at the end of the train yard. The graffitied cement of the wall was no more than a half-foot wider than the train. A foot a best. There was no way they'd fit, even flat against the train. They had about thirty seconds, maybe less. Shit. Above her, the scanner denied Ethan with a low beep. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Ethan!" She waved her free arm at him, pointed ahead of them.

"Working on it!" He shouted back, slapping the side of the train as the scanner let out another low beep.

Twenty seconds.

"Ethan!"

Another beep.

Fifteen. Brandt reached out towards Erin, bracing against the train as he tried to catch her fingers had barely touched when a jolt of the train sending Brandt slamming hard into its side. Another beep.

"Ethan!" Erin glanced towards the wall, her heart racing. They wouldn't make it. She reached for the handle again, holding it briefly before her grip slipped. She tripped, her foot re-planting on the ground dangerously close to the wheel. Ten.

"ETHAN!"

A higher beep sounded above her as the metal door slid open. Nine. Ethan disappeared into the car while Brandt used the edge of the open door to pull himself closer to Erin's handle. He reached out again, his knuckles whitening as he held onto the train.

"Come on, Carr!" He shouted. He reached for her, their fingertips brushing.

Eight. She reached towards him, her legs straining to keep up with the train. Watch him not the wall. Watch him not the wall. She reached towards him again missing.

"Brandt, get closer!"

Seven. This time, Brandt caught her wrist. He pulled her hand towards him, placing it on the edge of the open door.

"Carr you have to jump!" He shouted, glancing over his shoulder towards the wall.

She wouldn't make it. If she tripped, she died. If she didn't make it in the train, she died. She made a small jump, testing her strength. Her side burned angrily with the exertion, as she stared wide-eyed at the wall, her feet pounding helpless beneath her.

"Dammit Carr!"

Before she knew it Brandt lunged at her, wrapping his arm around her waist. Using her momentum, he pulled her up, swinging them into the interior of the car. They tumbled into the car, her side on fire as she landed hard on the metal floor. They lay there panting as the car plunged into the darkness of the tunnel. As the door scraped closed, the lights the train snapped on. In that instant, Erin froze, the unmistakable click of a loaded gun sounding inches above her head. Fuck.

fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck.

Well if you are returning to this story, then this chapter may seem familiar. Added a few more details and changed the person. Also, does anyone wonder why Brandt and Carr can't stand one another?

I know.

And you'll just have to wait to find out.

As always, I'm the writer, and you are my beloved readers. READERS READ ON!

- Case