CHAPTER 1: Whispers

"Where were you when they wrote the news?

And how are you,

Are you feeling blue?"

-- Chantal Kreviazuk, Blue

He was waiting… waiting… waiting… He had what was needed in his pocket. The place was bustling… busy.

A noise… a train was rounding a corner too fast. Wait…

Suddenly… a flash of light; a light that disappeared almost instantly.

Pain. And a heck of a lot of it, too. He felt weak. He raised his head and looked around.

His brother. Swimming in a pool of blood. No need to check anything to know he was dead.

Carnage. The entire place was filled with smoke and blood… and with dismembered body parts. Everyone was dead. The whole place reeked of death and destruction.

He felt unconsciousness claiming him. He knew to succumb would mean death. He had to fight. He had to fight for her.

It was a losing fight. He knew it. Death was waiting for him with open arms.

Death was approaching. Everything was lost. He knew it. Yet…

Death was upon him. He, too, was lost. With the last ounce of strength he had, he screamed her name.

And everything went black.

Narnia Evenshire tapped her foot impatiently as she waited on the steps of Whitehall for her cousin Will. He was running late. They had agreed to lunch at one of those cafés by the river while her uncle, Nicodemus, arranged for the parliamentary position to be permanently transferred to him.

It was a year since she came into her inheritance (viz. the Evenshire estate, a seat in the Parliament, and her ducal powers). She was now officially known as Her Grace, Narnia F. Evenshire, Duchess of Kent. After one year, Nia had decided to give her Seat in the House of Lords to her Uncle Nick (who had her seat for the past few years ever since her parents died). The Upper House was as impotent as the British monarchy, what with much of the legislative power given to the House of Commons, to be able to formulate any concrete laws – one year of sitting in the Parliament taught her that. Besides, Nia wanted to focus on her studies. She was studying Medicine at Cambridge. She wanted to be a doctor someday – it had been a sort of childhood dream. At nineteen, Nia had her life perfectly mapped out. She would become a doctor, then, after a few years, she would build her own hospital and marry Peter and live happily ever after…

Nia always felt a kind of thrill whenever she thought of her boyfriend (or more appropriately, lover, or betrothed), Peter Pevensie. He was the same regal yet down-to-earth man she'd met and loved in Narnia (the kingdom, that is). He still had the same commanding presence, the same vitality, the same look in his eyes whenever they gazed at her…

Nia shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Now was not the time to moon over Peter. He was somewhere in downtown London, sneaking in someone's backyard to recover Professor Kirke's magic rings, the ones used to transport people to other worlds. She was there last night when, while dining at the Professor's new house (located near Highgate), that mysterious apparition appeared. She was with Peter, Edmund, Lucy, Eustace Scrubb and Jill Pole (who were her schoolmates at Experiment House), and Miss Polly Plummer and the Professor, chatting happily about their experiences in Narnia, when suddenly, a mysterious, phantom-like young man popped into the room. From his livery, she was sure he was Narnian – the red lion silhouette was printed clearly on his shirt; from the way he carried himself, Nia was sure he was royalty – perhaps even the King himself. He was tall and rather muscular, with a frank and pleasant visage (although, Nia had to admit, he was no Peter). His face had a troubled expression – he was obviously in trouble deep. He disappeared as suddenly as he appeared.

It was than that Peter began making plans. Narnia was, he had said, in trouble, and she (the kingdom) needed their help. As there was no sign of Aslan sending Jill and Eustace there, Peter volunteered himself and Edmund to recover the rings Professor Kirke and Miss Polly had buried into the earth some fifty years or so ago. The seven of them (including Lucy, who wasn't exactly detrimental to the operation) arranged to meet at King's Cross. They were supposed to meet there an hour ago. They'd probably

Nia sighed, quelling a pang of jealousy that was rising from the pit of her stomach. She'd assured Peter last night that it was fine, and she'd hear all about it tonight, anyway. But in her heart, she wished nothing more than to be a part of that operation. After all, wasn't she a Queen of Narnia? She knew she should've been there, waiting with Professor Kirke, not here, waiting for her cousin.

A bead of sweat trickled from her forehead. Oh, it was such a hot summer day! She sighed and went to the lavatory. She had to pee!

William Evenshire, Lord of Beckham, groaned loudly in frustration at the traffic jam he was caught and the midst of. He honked the horn of his car several times, before collapsing into his seat.

"I hate traffic!" he shouted, his voice barely audible in the din. Every horn was honking, every driver was shouting. "By Jove, it's hot, don't you think?" he turned to the cat sitting on the passenger sit.

Toulouse looked balefully at him, those intelligent eyes meeting his own. Will had the uncanny feeling that his cousin's cat could think like any human. Goosebumps formed in his flesh in spite of the withering mid-July heat. He looked away from the cat. "Better find out what's wrong," he murmured to himself. He got out of the car – many of the other drivers were doing that, and approached one of his fellow motorists, a man old enough to be his grandfather.

"'Morning," he said, cocking his head in salutation.

"'Morning, son," said the old chap, cocking his head in reply.

"Any idea what's causing the traffic?"

"I'm as anxious to know that as you are."

"That's probably because of the ambulances and other whatnot," interrupted another motorist, this time, a young chap Will's age. "They say that two trains collided at King's Cross. They say many were killed!"

"Really?"

"That's what they say," the young chap continued, "that the accident was so bad, there probably are no survivors."

Nia splashed some water on her face. By Jove, was it hot! And what was keeping Will? He was already an hour late!

"Good morning," a clerk said cheerfully, entering the lavatory.

"Good morning," she replied, smiling.

"I like your dress," said the clerk, a small, vivacious woman of twenty-five, eyeing the elegant powder blue suit she was wearing. "Where did you buy those?"

"I bought them downtown," replied Nia, turning to the mirror hanging above the faucet to apply face powder. "It's hot, isn't it?"

"Very," said the clerk, rolling her eyes as she entered the stall.

Nia took one moment to check her appearance. Her mousy curls were pulled into a braid (to be capped by a wide-brimmed satin hat when she went outdoors). Her face looked as polished as any fine lady's. In short, she was presentable.

"Have you heard?" asked the lady from her stall.

"Heard what?"

"They say," here, Nia heard the draining of toilet water into the sewers, "that two trains collided at King's Cross about an hour ago."

Nia's blood ran cold. "Really?"

"Really," said the clerk. "They say it was so bad, there probably aren't any survivors."

Everything seemed to spin. Oh my God! Her legs nearly gave way. "Oh my God!"

"Are you a relative, Miss?" a nurse asked Nia, who nodded dumbly.

The hospital was filled with relatives asking for their kin, hoping for the best. There were around ten survivors – it was a miracle that they'd survived. Nia practically ran to the hospital. She had to know if – if…

No… she couldn't bear to think of it.

"What's your relative's name?"

"Peter Pevensie."

The nurse consulted her list. "Nope, no Pevensie here…"

"Kirke?"

"Nope."

"Plummer."

"Nope."

"Scrubb? Pole?" She rushed out the last two names in desperation.

"Nope, nope." The nurse looked at her worriedly. "I'm sorry I was abrupt. Are you fine, miss? Do you want to look at the morgue?"

The morgue. To look in there would mean that…

"Maybe they weren't even there," she said aloud. She knew it wasn't true. She had to look.

"Miss?"

"Yes," Nia stammered. Oh how she'd wished Toulouse were here! "Please… take me to the morgue."

Will was sure it was Nia he saw entering the hospital. He parked the car and entered, with Toulouse at his heels, expertly darting past legs and wheels and canes. It sure was busy here. He couldn't breathe – it was that crowded.

"Excuse me," he said to a male nurse standing by the entrance, "have you seen a girl wearing a powder-blue suit and a wide-brimmed hat, with curly hair, about five feet, five inches?"

"Yes, sir," the nurse promptly replied. "She's in the morgue. Down the stairs and right."

"Thanks!"

He found his cousin standing by the entrance to the morgue, her face, which had inspired poets and artists in Kent (though he'd never tell her that – she always had a low opinion of her beauty), was pale and wan.

"Nia, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"I was just checking if… Peter and our friends were supposed to meet at King's Cross at the time of the crash." Nia's deathly calm voice betrayed her worry.

"Oh my…"

"Exactly. They weren't on the survivors' list."

"And the morgue?"

"I haven't checked. The nurse asked me to look away first while she 'prepares' them."

"Cleaning up blood?"

Nia glared daggers at him.

"Oh, er… I'm quite sure they're not there, I mean, maybe they were early, or late. They're probably sitting somewhere else in London."

"Miss?" A female nurse poked her head through the door. "You can come in now." She looked questioningly at Will.

"I'm her cousin," he said, by way of explanation. "May I come in, too?"

The nurse nodded. "But the cat has to stay here."

"Oh, er…"

"Let's go." Nia held his hand firmly, and the two of them entered the realm of the dead.

Will and Nia looked around. Will shivered involuntarily, and he felt Nia tremble. The white cloths covering the dead were partially lifted to reveal their heads. The atmosphere was surreal… Will felt like he was in one of Dali's melting-clock paintings.

"No!" Nia sobbed suddenly, before wrenching her hand from his and rushing to one of the beds. Will followed her.

He gasped. Nia caressed the corpse's head with her hand, her tears bathing its face - the face of Peter Pevensie.

"No…" she was saying again and again. "No…" She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears. "This isn't real," she said, as if assuring herself that she was in some sort of bizarre dream. His heart broke at the sight of her. She was the sibling he never had – his brother and sister rolled into one. He never thought he'd see her like this.

"I'm sorry, Nee." That was all he could say. Sorry. The stupidest, most pathetic word on the planet. That was all he had. Because there was nothing he could do to ease her pain.

He looked around and saw more familiar faces: Peter's siblings, Edmund and Lucy; Professor Digory Kirke and his friend, Polly Plummer; and his former schoolmates, Eustace and Jill. Will's gaze lingered on Eustace and Jill's corpses. They were so young… they had a bright future ahead of them… And then, suddenly, they were dead. All of them…

"They're all gone." Nia stood up and wiped her tears, looking at the corpses. "I think we should…"

Two dead faces at a corner, far away from Peter Pevensie's group, made him start.

"Er, Nia?"

Nia looked at him. "What?"

He pointed at the pair. Nia followed with her eyes, and she covered her mouth with her hands in shock.

"Aren't they…?" Will let the question hang as Nia moved mechanically approached the pair.

"Even them." Nia choked out. "They weren't spared."

"What should we do now?"

Nia looked once more at her friends' dead faces, fresh tears forming in her eyes, before they rested resolutely on Will. "This is her family, Will… We have to call her."

"I'll do that," Will offered.

"No," Nia grabbed his hand, and they made their way to the door. "I should be the one to call Susan."

Susan Pevensie opened her closet. It was nearly teatime, and she had a tea party to attend to.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Susan rolled her eyes. Couldn't they see she was busy? She made her way to the phone and picked up the receiver.

"Hello, how may I…"

"Susan, this is Nia."

"Oh." Susan's voice sounded colder than she'd intended. The two of them hadn't talked in years. Nia Evenshire was a fool – and a darned lucky fool at that. That girl kept on living in that blasted fantasy world, and yet she was very rich and very clever and very beautiful.

Some people had all the luck, even if they didn't deserve it.

"Susan, please… I don't know how to say this, but…" Nia's voice cracked and wobbled in the other end.

"Well, what is it?" Susan had no time for. "Look, I have a party to go to, alright, now good…"

"Susan, your entire family was killed in a train crash."

END OF CHAPTER

Author's Note: So... here it is. The sequel to "For Narnia". Read, enjoy, and review!