Death #60 – Bang Bang, Choo-Choo Train
“This is it, you guys.” Nick gazed ahead in wonder at the wide brick wall before him, where the sign he’d been searching for was mounted. Platform 9 ¾, it proclaimed. He turned back to the others. “Isn’t it awesome?!”
Kevin was just staring at the small, simple sign, made of plain, black cast iron and mounted on an otherwise bare stretch of brick wall. He seemed underwhelmed.
Brian and Howie, on the other hand, were both smiling, and AJ looked as excited as Nick felt. “Oh my God, look!” he shouted, bouncing on the balls of his feet and pointing. “They even have the trolley! Photo op!” He immediately whipped out his cell phone, which was never far from his hand.
It was Nick who had suggested stopping at King’s Cross railway station on their way to dinner that night, one of their last in London. They’d been there for almost three weeks working on the next Backstreet Boys album, and they only had one more day of recording in the studio. To celebrate, they’d made reservations for a big group dinner at a private club in East London. They had taken the underground across the city to get there, and when Nick had seen the name “King’s Cross” in the sign for the King’s Cross St. Pancras Underground Station, he’d nearly shit his pants with excitement. “You guys, we HAVE to get off there and go find Platform Nine and Three-Quarters!” he’d cried.
“Platform what?” Kevin had asked, causing everyone to look at him as if he’d asked who was president.
“Duh, Platform Nine and Three-Quarters!” said AJ.
When Kevin continued to look blank, Howie laughed and asked, “Haven’t you ever read Harry Potter?”
“Or seen the movies?” Brian chimed in.
“Or been to the theme park?” added AJ.
Kevin hoisted his heavy eyebrows higher on his forehead. “Um… no?”
“Damn, Kevin, you’re missin’ out, dude!” said Nick. “Even I’ve read Harry Potter, and you know I don’t read shit!”
Kevin snorted. “Yeah, it only took you, what, four years to read that book I gave you about positive thinking?”
Nick didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, so imagine how long it took me to get through Harry Potter! But I’m gonna return the favor, bro. When we get home, I’m gonna lend you the whole series to read. You’re gonna love it, man, I swear!”
Kevin laughed. “Whatever you say, Nick. So what is this Platform However-Many-Quarters?”
“Jeez, have you spent the last six years living in a cave, Kev?” Brian stared at his cousin incredulously. “You are clueless! Everyone knows Platform Nine and Three-Quarters is where Harry gets on the train to go to Hogwarts – which is his wizarding school.”
“My kid’s not old enough for that stuff yet,” said Kevin, shrugging.
“Yeah, well, it’s at King’s Cross station.”
“Which is right there!” cried Nick, pointing out the window of the train. “Quick, let’s get off before the train leaves!”
But they’d been too late; the automatic doors had slid shut, and the subway train had started moving ahead to the next station. “If it means that much to y’all, we can stop on the way back,” Kevin promised, and the others seemed satisfied.
“That’ll be better anyway,” said Howie. “It’ll be late by then; the station will be less crowded.”
“Yeah, less kids in line to get their picture taken.”
“Less chance of running into fans.”
They all nodded, agreeing that making a detour into the station on their way home would be a wise decision. But for one of them, it would prove to be a deadly one.
Nick could definitely see why AJ was so excited. Below the sign that said Platform 9 ¾, there was part of a luggage trolley, just the handles and back wheels, hooked to the wall, as if the front half had already slid through it. “That is fucking epic!” he agreed, laughing. “Hey AJ, you should shoot one of your bomb videos of me acting like I’m running through the wall!”
“But I only make bomb videos of myself.”
“But you can make an exception just this once. C’mon, the fans will love it!”
“Yeah, they think you’re annoying when you only record yourself.” Kevin shrugged. “Just sayin’.”
AJ flipped his middle finger at him and heaved a huge sigh. “Alright, fine, Carter. You ready?”
“Action!” said Nick.
AJ held up his phone and aimed it at himself. “Hey everyone on SocialCam… So, we’re on our way home from dinner and decided to stop and do a little sightseeing. We are here at King’s Cross station, home of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, where Mr. Nick Carter is going to try to get through the barrier that leads to the Hogwarts Express. Is there any magic in Nick’s blood? We shall soon find out!”
He pointed the phone at Nick, who made a big production out of brushing his hands together and bouncing up and down to get his heart rate up.
“Just go, Nick!” growled AJ, as Nick sank into a runner’s stance.
“Here goes nothin’!” Nick announced and took off running. He barreled toward the brick wall at top speed, wanting it to look authentic. He intended to brace himself by grabbing the handles of the trolley, but he didn’t slow down in time. Instead, he slammed straight into the wall, smacking his head against the solid masonry.
“Shit!” Nick heard AJ shout, seconds before he blacked out.
He woke up on the floor of the station, his forehead throbbing, and looked up to see five concerned faces – the Boys and their bodyguard, Q – leaning over him. “You alright, man?” asked Q, extending his hand to help Nick up.
“Wait!” barked Kevin. “I don’t think we should move him! What if he has a concussion?”
“I’m fine,” groaned Nick, struggling to sit up. He had the world’s worst headache and was dizzy to boot, but mostly he just felt incredibly stupid. He tried to play off his symptoms, saying, “Gotcha!” as he allowed Q to pull him to his feet.
Kevin frowned. “You didn’t ‘get us’ at all, Nick. You were out cold for like thirty seconds,” he pointed out.
“Really? Damn.” Nick rubbed his forehead, where he could already feel a goose egg forming. That was going to leave a nasty bruise.
Brian eyed his cousin before looking back at Nick in concern. “Kev might be right about the concussion. Maybe we should take you to get that checked out, Nick.”
“Nah, I’m good. I’ll just sleep it off.”
“Pretty sure you’re supposed to not sleep after a concussion,” said Howie.
“Fine, then I’ll put some ice on it and stay up! Let’s just go home!” Nick snapped, embarrassed and annoyed with them all for their over-concern.
“Yeah, seriously, fellas, let’s get out of here. We’re startin’ to draw a crowd,” said Q. Sure enough, when they all backed off, Nick could see a group of spectators growing bigger by the second, as the late-night commuters who were filtering through the station stopped to see what had caused the commotion.
“Wait, I didn’t get my picture!” AJ protested, when Q tried to pull him away from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
“Yeah, me neither! Just a lame-ass video of me knocking myself out – which, by the way, AJ, if that ever ends up on Twitter, I will so kick your ass!” Nick threatened.
AJ snickered. “Too late, buddy,” he said, waving his phone.
“God damnit!”
“Will y’all just hurry the hell up and take your pictures so we can leave?” griped Q.
Nick, AJ, Howie, and Brian quickly queued up in front of the trolley, taking turns pretending to push it through the wall as they snapped each other’s pictures. When they were done, they walked back through to the underground station and checked the schedule to see when the next train was. “Looks like the last one leaves in five minutes,” said Kevin, finding it first on the timetable. “Come on, the platform’s all the way at the other end of the station.”
He hustled them through the station, leading the way to their platform. Nick lagged behind, his head pounding more heavily than his footsteps. He couldn’t wait to sit down on the subway, lean his head back against the seat, and close his eyes.
Apparently, he was slowing the group down. “Hurry, Nick!” Howie kept turning around to say, motioning for him to keep moving. “We don’t wanna miss the train!”
Nick forced himself to walk faster.
By the time they reached the platform, their train had already pulled up alongside it, and the last of the travelers were trickling through its open doors. A pleasant voice over the intercom announced that the doors would be closing shortly.
“Train’s leavin’ the station, Nick Carter, get on board!” called Brian, beckoning to Nick as the others slipped through the first set of doors. Nick meant to follow them, but stopped when he was suddenly struck with a sense of vertigo. The wave of dizziness washed over him, and he swayed unsteadily on his feet. “Guys, wait!” he heard Brian shout, his voice sounding distant and distorted. “Something’s wrong with-”
That was when Nick blacked out, his body toppling over the edge of the platform. When he came to, he found himself lying on the tracks, directly in front of the train. The sounds of his bandmates’ screams were muffled by the roar of the train’s engine and the squeal of its wheels against the track as it suddenly shot forward. Nick realized what was about to happen a second before it did. He tried to scramble up off the track, but he was too late. He saw the train move and a flash of white light, and everything was gone.
And while it would have made for a lovely ending to say that he awoke in a white mist and spoke with an elderly wizard in sweeping robes of midnight blue, who gave him the choice to go back or board a train that would take him simply “on,” this wasn’t the case. In reality, this is what happened:
A series of loud bangs sounded from beneath the train as it ran over his body, its wheels sending a shower of sparks shooting out in all directions. One side severed both legs, while the other sliced through Nick’s neck. His decapitated head was flung out from under the train. It went flying into the side of the platform, ricocheted against it, and rolled off down the track. His legless torso twitched as the last nerve impulses finished firing. Meanwhile, a stray spark had ignited one of his detached legs, and as his torn pants went up in flames, the fire quickly spread to the other leg, filling the tube station with the stench of burning flesh.
In the midst of all the screams, it was Brian who jumped down onto the track, where the crippled train had lurched to a stop, to retrieve Nick’s head. He crouched down and picked it up, cradling it in the crook of his arm. With his free hand, he smoothed back the blonde hair and touched Nick’s face, which was frozen in an expression of fear. “We should close his eyes,” he said to no one in particular and placed his fingers tenderly upon each of the Backstreet Boy’s eyelids, sliding them over his glassy stare. “There,” he said softly. “Now he could be sleeping.”
“Um… no he couldn’t.”
Brian looked up to see the others standing on the edge of the platform, staring down at him. AJ, who had spoken, was looking particularly revolted.
“You’re holding his fucking head in your hands. His body’s crushed under a train. His legs are on fire. He doesn’t look like he’s sleeping. He looks like he’s dead.”
“Oh.” Brian lay Nick’s head back down on the track, turning it to the side so that he might have been resting, then climbed back onto the platform and gazed down for the last time upon the bodiless blonde head. “Yeah… I guess you’re right. Sorry Dead Nick.”
1000 Ways To Kill Nick Carter by Rose, Louise, RokofAges75, LenniluvsBrian, BSBfan4ever, starbeamz2, honey, JennayHeartsNick, Kentuckychickrk, Carter-Orange, ForeverFrick, DelphinaCarter, Alexsgirl_ritz, Carterkid, TheDistantHeart, Karen, twofaced, sagar_k, diana0789,
Chapter End Notes:
This death was brought to you by the song "Hologram," the book Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, the TV show Punk'd, the Twitter hashtag #SorryDeadNick, and the number 9 ¾.
