I’ve changed up some names of landmarks, places, etc.
Our town opened its doors to the very first subway line a year ago. People had been asking for a convenient and safe way to get to the big city for a long time since the 4-hour drive going up and down the mountain that stood in between us and the city was a terrible drive to make. Surprisingly, they listened, and for the last seven years, the town undertook the subway construction project. There was a lot of buzz around it. I mean, there hadn’t been this much excitement in town since they opened that Walmart here fifteen years ago.
Lots of us folk who had left to go out into the world to do college or work, all of a sudden now had a reason to come back and work on the subway. Let me tell you, they paid you on time and they paid you fairly. I remember my first day back in town, eight years ago. My Mom and Dad had a surprise party thrown for me, the first engineer in the family. For some time, it almost felt like the whole town was rebuilding itself with this subway project. That was until the first death.
A supervisor, Harold, was found dead one morning on the platform of the biggest planned station, Martin-west. He was found with his flashlight still in hand, still lit. They say the look on his face was as if he was genuinely scared for his life, but no one knows what happened besides the official story: a heart attack. The last activity on his pager was at 12:34 am. To calm down the citizens, the town stopped construction past midnight.
Nevertheless, after a year I got promoted to track engineer. The first station they assigned me to survey and approve development for was, you guessed it, Martin-west.
Martin-west was our most ambitious station. It was huge and had large tunnel clearances, and other things which made it a very favorable station, except for the ground it sat on. The part of the ground housing this station wasn’t solid enough, groundwater would soon start leaking up, and eventually one of the trains could short itself on leaking groundwater.
It felt pretty good submitting that report to the commission. It felt like I was getting revenge on behalf of Harold. After all, was said and done, the commission decided this station would only serve as a pass-by track: a track that would only be used when a train needs to be switched to the other track due to an emergency. The station was closed to everyone, even us engineers. Only passing trains in need of emergency line switching would pass through it, and as quickly as possible at that.
Now fast forward to a year ago. The subway opened with 6 stations and finally connected the big city to the town. It was miraculous, almost unbelievable to the citizens, and for some time that same excitement from years ago began to come back. Unfortunately, this is where the trouble once again began.
Yesterday, I went down to the train tracks with my partner Jeremy at 11:00 pm, after service ended. We needed new measurements of Gilmore-west station’s tracks to complete a presentation. We called up the station supervisor and went down into the tunnels. We had a lot of heavy equipment so it was difficult to set up everything, but once we had our total stations and prisms set up, it was a piece of cake. Time passed by, and we make small talk, joke, laugh, and have a smoke. Just another night on the job.
Jeremy takes a puff of his cigarette and points behind him into the dark tunnels, “You know what’s right after this station right?”.
I sighed and said that I know what the next station is. Martin-west. Though I must admit, this is the closest I’ve gotten to the station since that visit years ago to survey it.
He looked behind him, into the abyssal tunnel, and said, “Let’s take a walk bud”.
“No!” I yelled back. There’s no way I was going there. We also didn’t have an authorization, so I don’t know why Jeremy even suggested it.
“They don’t got cameras, do they?” he asked.
I shook my head sideways.
He dropped his cigarette and stomped on it with his heavy boots. He then motioned me to follow him as he began walking into what looked like the darkest hole I’d ever seen.
I reluctantly followed him with my flashlight shining on the path in front of us. It had never occurred to me just how disgusting this part of the tracks looked. Dead bats and coyotes were beside the rails, broken concrete, and decaying wood. I thought to myself just how much of a safety risk this is, and I immediately put a notice in my pager for the maintenance team to check this out. As we walk, I shine my flashlight around the tunnel enclosure, curiously inspecting the dilapidated surroundings.
That’s when I felt a familiar vibration in my feet, the ground was shaking. I had felt this a thousand times before, it’s the most common sensation in the tunnels. It means a train is coming towards you on your track. The vibrations were strong enough for me to estimate the train’s speed, but…it couldn’t be right. A train going well over 50 mph was on our track, heading right for us. I look ahead into the empty tunnel, and darkness stares back at me. Jeremy yells out, “Why are his fucking headlights off? Is he crazy?”.
I shine my flashlight straight ahead to see a train barreling towards us at top speed with its headlights and indicators turned off. We both jump onto the catwalk to our left and a few seconds later, a dark-unlit train speeds by us. As the train passed, we couldn’t make out a single person on it, not even the driver.
The train leaves in a few seconds, and we jump back onto the track as the vibration slowly fades away. We quickly scramble to the nearest emergency phone in the tunnel and dial the supervisor. We tell him about the train deadheading through the tunnel between Martin-west and Gilmore-west at max speed. The supervisor lets out a laugh and says, “Quit fucking around. I’ve been standing on the platform for the last 20 minutes, this magical deadheading train hasn’t passed me yet.
We didn’t know what to say. We hear another ridiculing chuckle from the supervisor. He tells us to return from our “adventure.”
I hang up the phone in anger and quickly dial the commission’s emergency number.
*ring ring*
Jeremy was visibly shaken from the train. He started walking back towards Gilmore-west with his flashlight turned on. That’s when the commission rep picks up, “Hello this is Subway control commission, what is your name, number, and location?”.
I shout into the phone, “My name is [my name] [number], I’m on the north track of Gilmore-west.” The operator sensed my urgent tone and asked me what the issue is.
“A fucking train without headlights, interior lights, and emergency lights just sped through the tracks. The station supervisor said he never saw any train on the Gilmore-west platform.”
The operator sounded utterly confused. He beckoned, “No trains are running on Gilmore-west tracks, the last one was 4 hours ago.”
I take off my hard hat in frustration, it was almost choking my brain.
“Oh and also you must have been mistaken about your supervisor. Gilmore-west station’s supervisor clocked out the moment you set up your inspection zone.”
A chill crept down my spine. Who were we just talking to a moment ago?
I yelled out to Jeremy, “STOP! Head back to me right now”
He looked back confused, and began walking back, “Why? I wanna go home”.
I told him whoever we just spoke to a few minutes ago wasn’t a supervisor. The supervisor left hours ago. Jeremy looked frozen in shock.
“But…But I just shined my flashlight and saw him standing on the platform in the distance”.
We both turn our flashlights to look at Gilmore-west’s platform far away in the dark, as we see the silhouette of a man waving his hand.
The man suddenly jumps down onto the tracks and begins sprinting towards us. I grabbed Jeremy’s arm and we made a run to Martin-west station. As we were running we could hear the commission rep’s voice coming through the phone, echoing through the tunnels, “[my name], come in. Where did you go? Who did you see at Gilmore-we”. The phone line snaps.
We see Martin-west up ahead. I quickly jumped onto the ladder and climbed up onto the platform. Jeremy followed. As we ran, I heard the emergency ladder clamp down behind us. It was climbing it too.
We clamber up the stairs and jump over the fair turnstiles. A chilling scream echoes behind us, a bloodcurdling wail.
We run shoulder-first into the locked door, busting it open. As we both fell out onto the ground, we were outside the station, with the night sky above us. We quickly turn around and shine our flashlights into the dark and desolate Martin-west station. Silence.
A police cruiser pulls in behind us and two officers jump out with their guns drawn. “Who the hell are you running from?”
We both pointed towards the broken-down door of the station. Moonlight rays were streaking into the station through the entrance, lighting up the insides dimly.
The officers called in for backup as they helped us up. With a stern look on his face, one of the officers asked me, “Did you…see what Harold saw?”.
I looked down at my watch and saw the time was 12:34 am. I fainted.
When I woke up, my wife and parents were standing around me. I couldn’t see their faces, but I could hear someone explaining to them that I had a vasovagal syncope; I passed out from fear.
Within a minute my vision cleared and I sat up from my bed. Everyone rushed to hug me and tell me how worried they were.
I met up with Jeremy after, and he thinks we should keep this incident to ourselves since the commission could just fire us for the bad publicity our story could bring.
I think I’m going to take some days off.