Read Online When Dogs Cry by Markus Zusak - Free Book Online

who was obviously the owner of the putrid underarm sweat. We both held onto the greasy metal pole until both the train and I got moving.
    â€˜Excuse me,’ I said. ‘Sorry,’ and I made my way through the carriage downstairs. I figured I’d do all the lower levels of the train first and come back on the upper levels. This was the only train going to Hurstville. She had to be on it.
    She wasn’t in the carriage I got in on, or the next.
    I opened the doors between each carriage and went through, with the cold tunnel air shrieking around me before I entered the next carriage. Once I nearly slammed the door in my spirit’s face as it closed in on me.
    â€˜There!’
    I heard its voice point her out to me in the crowd of humans locked up in the suburban train.
    I saw her just after the train rattled and burst out ofthe tunnel and into the paler charcoal colour of the night. She was standing, just like I’d been standing a few carriages back, but facing the other way. From the lower level of the train, I could see her legs.
    Footstep.
    Footstep.
    I edged my way closer and made it to the stairs and started climbing them.
    Soon I could see all of her.
    She stood and looked out the smeared window of the train. I wondered what thoughts she was thinking.
    I was close.
    I could see her neck and the movement of her breathing. I saw her fingers holding the pole as the train stuttered and the lights flickered and blinked.
    Octavia,
I said inside.
    My spirit shoved me forward.
    â€˜Go on,’ it said, but it didn’t dare me, order me or demand anything. It was just telling me what was right, and what I needed to do.
    â€˜Okay,’ I whispered.
    I walked closer and stood behind her.
    Her flannel shirt.
    The skin of her neck.
    The ruffled streams of hair landing on her back.
    Her shoulder . . .
    I reached out and touched her.
    She turned around.
    She turned around and I looked into her and a feeling lurched in me. God she looked beautiful. I heard myvoice. It said, ‘I’ll stand outside your house, Octavia.’ I even smiled. ‘I’ll come and stand there tomorrow.’
    That was when she breathed, closed her eyes for a moment and smiled back.
    She smiled and said, ‘Okay.’ The voice was quiet.
    I moved closer and grabbed hold of her shirt at her stomach and held onto her, relieved.
    At the next stop, I told her I’d better get out.
    â€˜See you tomorrow?’ she asked.
    I nodded.
    The train doors opened and I got out. When they closed I had no idea what station I was at, but as the train pulled and dragged itself along, I walked with it, still looking into her through the window.
    When the train was gone I stood there, eventually realising how cold it was on the platform.
    Something struck me.
    My spirit.
    It was gone.
    I searched everywhere for it, until I realised.
    It didn’t get off the train with me. It was still in the carriage, with Octavia.

    Â 
    tracks
    I stand up and there’s urgency in the dog’s step now. He’s dying for me to go after him.
    Feeling rushes at me.
    It’s hot and heavy and sends itself through me.
    I run for the dog and chase him across the streets and through the howling wind. At first, he looks back for me but soon realises I’m with him.
    He takes me.
    Sweeps me.
    Until we’re running towards the train line, almost stripping the road as we go, and I see it. I see it in the distance when we hit the tracks. I see a train flickering and I lengthen my stride till we’re alongside it.
    Running.
    Bargaining with fatigue
—
telling it to have me later if I can only keep going now.
    Keep going.
    Keep going, and . . .
    I see them.
    I see him making his way through the train until he’s there, with his soul at his shoulder, whispering to him.
    She turns and he holds her by the shirt.
    The train goes faster.
    It reaches beyond us until it’s gone and I slow to a stop and bend down,