Dream Me a Sonatine

22 - Night at the Museum

The clattering of train wheels thundered in Chaewon's ears, jolting her in and out of focus. She shivered and sputtered like a disconnected bulb. Their carriage was silent aside from the tinny hi-hats from someone's headphones and the muted raucousness of drunk teenagers in the next carriage.

No one said a word, because what good would words do?

They were running against the clock, except they weren't running, they were sitting on a train that seemed to move achingly slow. The clattering of train wheels thundered in Chaewon's ears—the clattering of train wheels thun—the clatter—

Flick. She buzzed back into feeble existence, a flame so dim that not even moths would flit to her. Panic hissed in her chest: you've got no time left, you've got no time left. Return to your rotting corpse and choke on the earth. But halfway through the climax of the sonatine, the tape unwound and the orchestra played the first few notes again and the clattering of train wheels thundered in—

'Ghost girl?'

Hyejoo held her hand, frowning. Her dark hair hung down, eclipsing her ashen skin. In her other hand, she stroked Cyclops, who was whining at the shriek of the wheels. Chaewon looked away, embarrassed. Hyejoo had enough to worry about.

'Sorry. I'm here.' I don't know how much longer I'll be here, but I'm here.

The train slowed, stopping at Knightsbridge. There was only one stop now, but Chaewon could feel everyone's jittering nerves. They'd wasted enough time trying to figure out the convoluted London Underground system and buy tickets, and every short stop was another thirty seconds lost. Chaewon fiercely hoped with what was left of her heart that Yeojin wasn't hurting.

Finally, after the longest five minutes in Chaewon's life and afterlife, the wheels screeched to a halt at South Kensington. They ran, practically destroying the ticket barriers like battering rams and leaping up the steps into the dark streets of high-end London. Imposing, ornate buildings rose up from every corner.

'This way,' said Yerim, Google Maps glaring from her phone screen. The girls ran and Chaewon... existed, noticing that Yerim, Jinsoul and Vivi's hair colours had changed. Jinsoul's was sleek and black, Yerim's was dark brown, and Vivi's was chestnut. They must have nipped out to the hairdressers earlier this evening...

Distracted. She was distracted again. Chaewon gripped the air and held on tighter.

'We're here.'

A towering silhouette of beige loomed in front of them, fronted by two soaring spires and dozens of windows. The entrance was bordered by a large arch; a colourless rainbow of stone. Chaewon thought it looked a bit like a church or Hogwarts.

'Uh, quick question,' said Jiwoo. 'How the hell are we going to break in? There are guards and cameras and shit.'

Yerim grinned. 'Ever seen Night at the Museum?'

'Yeah... I forgot to call my pocket-sized Romans and cowboys, sorry.'

'No, you dumbass. What's a museum full of? Dead things. Jungeun's got this covered.'

There was a sudden muffled shriek and Cyclops barked. A guard emerged from the shadows, his posture rigid with suspicion. He scanned his surroundings before another screech rang out from a different part of the museum. Bracing himself, the guard entered the museum, leaving another to watch his post outside.

Chaewon watched Jungeun, transfixed. Her eyes were closed and her very fingertips seemed to hum. Miles and miles away, she imagined her own corpse lurching within the earth, magnetised towards Jungeun. It awed her and terrified her.