The Runaway Train

***

“...UTES UNTIL OUR DESTINATION. I REPEAT: WE WILL BE ARRIVING SOON. ETA 36 MINUTES UNTIL OUR DESTINATION.”

The soft chimes of the intercom cut through the fog in my head. For a moment, I kept my eyes closed, listening. I could hear the quiet but powerful hum of a motor, although it seemed to be some distance away. I heard a steady, rhythmic ka-chunk, and was vaguely aware that I was in motion. The air smelled recycled, as if it had been run through the same ventilation system for some time.

As I slowly opened my eyes, I found myself in a darkened cabin. I was strapped into the only seat in the cabin, and there were a set of bunk beds across from me. In the dim light, I could see that I was the sole occupant of the cabin; both beds were still made, and there was only the single seat I was currently buckled into. My head felt too heavy for my body, and kept slumping forward, causing my hair to fall into my eyes. I shook my head, and tried to focus.

Bringing my hands off the armrests, I fumbled with the seatbelt around my waist. My arms felt like I was moving through motor oil - my movements were sluggish and slippery, like my hands had no interest in obeying my mind’s commands. After a frustratingly long time, the seatbelt gave way, the pieces falling over the edge of the seat. I gathered my strength and pushed myself to a standing position.

On my feet, I could feel even more acutely that I was in motion. I was unsteady on my feet, but I was able to look around the cabin. For what it was worth, the cabin was reasonably nice: the beds were made neatly, and it looked to be clean and well maintained. I took this as a positive sign. I suppose I could have woken up in a bathtub full of ice with a phone sitting on the lip of the tub, a note reading CALL AMBULANCE taped to the phone. An unknown, but clean cabin was better than a dirty bathroom in Tijuana.

I shook my head, trying to clear at least a little more of the fog from my thinking. The cabin lurched, and I reached out, grabbing the top bunk to steady myself. To my left, I saw a compartment, the sign next to it reading “lavatory”. As the cabin lurched again, my stomach followed suit.

“Shit,” I gasped, and rushed toward the door. I fumbled with the handle for a moment, but finally pulled the door open. I threw myself inside, burying my face in the stainless steel toilet bowl.

“Fuck,” I moaned, pushing myself off the bowl and into a sitting position. “What the hell is going on?” I grabbed a piece of toilet paper and wiped my mouth. That done, I threw the wadded up ball of paper into the bowl. I grabbed the lip of the sink and hauled myself into a standing position.

In the mirror, I found the familiar sight of my face: long brown hair pushed back behind my ears, green eyes ringed with black around the corona and framed by browline glasses, small stud in the left nostril. My complexion was paler than I remembered, but I had just been sick, so it tracked that I would be a little pasty and gray. I took my glasses off and turned on the tap. I let the water run for a moment before dipping my hands under the water and splashing it on my face.

The cool water seemed to dispel the last remaining bits of fog from my head. I took a deep breath, pulled a handful of paper towels from the dispenser, and dried my face. I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling it back into a ponytail, securing it with an elastic that was still wrapped around my wrist. I left the lavatory and closed the door. As I surveyed the room, I noticed a curtained window on the wall next to the compartment of the lavatory. I moved through the cramped space between the bed and the wall and pulled the curtains open.

Outside, the world was whipping by. A thick wall of green, brown, yellow, and red blurred together, creating an almost sickly gray mass. After a moment of staring, the treeline ended, and I was greeted by a vast, open field, nothing but vegetation for as far as I could see. A thin, translucent mist covered most of the horizon, and a spike of sunlight cut through the overhead fog.

For the first time since awakening, I realized I must be on some kind of train. How I got here, though, was still a gaping black space in my memory. Last I had known, I had been studying in the campus library. I closed my eyes and tried to will the memory of that event to wash over me, hoping for some clue as to why I was currently on a train heading God-knows-where.

It had been near midnight, and the Gløshaugen Library of Architecture and Civil Engineering was nearly deserted. I had been working on my Master’s thesis, and had commandeered two tables situated on the third floor of the library. My research into obscure, ancient Norse art had been spread about the tabletops. For hours, I had been hunched over my MacBook, working on the enormous document that chronicled the ancient Scandanavians and their metalworking. Tomes of examples sat open, with notecards shoved into the closed pages, marking areas of further study.

The security guard, Svein, had become used to my presence: every evening for the last 4 months, I had holed up in the same area of the third floor, and every evening for the last 4 months, he had come to remind me that the library closes at midnight. That night was no different. At around 11:45, Svein had appeared at the end of the stacks, casually looking over the gigantic mess I had created.

“It’s nearly midnight,” he said. His voice, as always, was gentle, but carried an undertone: time for you to pack up for the night because I want to go home.

“Thanks, Svein,” I said as I glanced up from the Mac perched on a book in front of me, “I’m just about finished. I’ll put all this on the book return cart before I go.”

“Sounds good,” he said as he turned away. “You be safe going home, you hear?”

I chuckled. Svein always made sure to tell me to be safe as I walked the 5 minutes from the library to Høgskoleringen bus stop. From there, the bus would take me to within 4 minutes of my domicile at the Moholt Student Village. I gave him a thumbs up, and smiled. “As always, Svein.”

I saved the document I had been working on and powered down the Mac. I packed it away in my satchel. I marked the pages and book titles in one of the notebooks before closing it and packing it away, too. I grabbed my jacket and pulled it on, and then went to work gathering the books I had pulled from the shelves.

After setting the pile on the return cart, I made my way down the stairs and toward the security station by the front door. I knocked, and stuck my head inside the small office.

“Goodnight, Svein,” I said, smiling at the older man.

“Goodnight, Linnea,” Svein said, smiling broadly, “see you tomorrow?”

“As always, Svein.”

I made my way out of the library and began the walk toward the bus stop. The night air was cool, but the bite of winter hadn’t entered the air just yet. I adjusted my satchel, pulling the strap over my left shoulder.

As always, the walk to the station had been uneventful until…

‘Until what?’ I thought, leaning forward and resting my head on the glass. The contact made the ka-chunk of the railway sleepers reverberate in my skull. ‘Something happened as I was walking toward the bus station…but I can’t remember what it was. Fuck!’

I pulled my head away from the glass and turned back toward the room. Realistically, it didn’t matter right now how I had gotten on this train. What mattered was where the train was going, and who else was on it. Trying to find another person was my first step.

My first step was to see what I still had on my person. My satchel, it seemed, was gone, and the Astra Firecat .25 caliber pistol I carried for protection was likely gone with it. I shoved my hands into my pockets, looking for anything of use. My right hand closed around a small handful of Kroner, and my left closed around a slip of paper. I dropped the coins back in my pocket and pulled the slip of paper out.

The slip had been folded in half. I didn’t remember putting anything in my pocket, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t done it without thinking. It wasn’t uncommon for me to find pieces of my research shoved into pockets or crumpled in the bottom of my satchel. I unfolded the paper and looked at the unfamiliar writing on the inside of the fold: ENGINE ROOM.

“What the hell?” I murmured, staring down at the blocky script. Why would someone want me to go to the engine room of an unfamiliar train?

I shoved the piece of paper back in my pocket and pulled open the cabin door.

I half expected it to be locked, but the door opened easily. I stepped out into an average looking train hallway: industrial gray carpeting, off-white colored plastic framing screwed into corrugated metal walls, and slightly-tarnished steel railings. I looked to the left, and then to the right, trying to figure out which way I should start looking. Through the window in front of me, I noticed that the landscape was moving from left to right, indicating that the engine should (presumably) be located to the left-hand side of the train.

I started down the hallway, trying not to let my imagination run away with me. Unfortunately, I was an avid horror movie fan and could imagine up all kinds of different scenarios. I just hoped that this wasn't some kind of fucked up Saw situation. The last thing I wanted to see was some creepy-ass puppet on a tricycle: "I want to play a game."

Fuck that with a rusty pole.

Thankfully, nothing of the sort happened.

In fact, nothing happened at all.

I walked through the hallways without seeing a single person. Even stranger, all the cabin doors were open.

Not just unlocked, but physically propped open with brown, rubber doorstops.

What kind of train did that? None that I could think of ever had doorstops available. Each of the train cars was exactly the same: doors propped open, and devoid of people. It just didn’t make sense. By the fourth car, I had stopped looking in the cabins, and focused on making my way toward the engine car.

The fifth car I entered was notably different from all the rest. Evidently, I’d entered the dining car. Tables lined the sides of the car, each with its own window and overhead light. The car itself was dim; the main fluorescent lights had been turned off, and the only source of illumination was from the intermittently illuminated bulbs in the overhead panel.

I moved slowly through the car, my right hand clenched into a fist. I don’t know exactly what I was afraid of, but I knew something felt…off. In fact, I had felt off ever since awakening in the passenger car. It felt as though I was in some kind of fucked up dream, although, as far as I could tell, I wasn’t hallucinating or anything.

I suppose I couldn’t rule out some kind of massive tumor in my occipital lobe, but it seemed unlikely - I’d just been to the physician recently, and she hadn’t mentioned any warning signs of a mass in my brain. I tried to shake off that line of thought. It wasn’t helpful.

I moved forward, cautious of each dining booth I passed. Part of me was concerned that there was someone - or some thing - hiding behind each backrest. As I reached the door at the far side of the car, however, nothing jumped out at me. I opened the door and stepped into the space between the two train cars.

The air outside was frigid, which led me to believe I wasn’t very far away from home. I could be wrong, though; there are a lot of places in the world that have similar weather to Trondheim. I tugged at the handle for the next car, but found it locked.

Fuck.

I pulled again, my mind irrationally thinking that the door might just be stuck rather than locked, but the door refused to budge. I put my face to the window, cupping my hands, to peer into the next train car.

The interior was almost completely pitch black. A flickering series of lights illuminated tables, giving me the impression that it was a second dining car. I squinted my eyes and tried to focus on details during each of the flashes of light.

It was hard to do, but I managed to make out a few things:

The tables were a mess. The once-pristine white table cloths had been skewed. Flatware that had been painstakingly set on the cream colored napkins had been scattered across the floor, tables, and seats. Glasses, plates and saucers had been knocked from their original positions, and were strewn about the floor. Several had been cracked, or obliterated completely.

What in the hell? What the fuck went on in this car while I was unconscious?

I continued to peer into the car, searching for any detail that might tell me what happened. As I was looking into the car, another face slammed into the Omniglass of the viewport.

“What in the Christ-fuck!?” I exclaimed, jumping backward, my back slamming into the closed door of the dining car I’d just left.

The…thing…in the window just snarled, its nailless fingers clawing at the Omniglass, and its broken teeth gnashing. I was vaguely aware of a groaning noise it was making.

“Jesus,” I said, as I moved toward the door, my hand involuntarily reaching for the window. “What happened to you?” I mumbled, my hand resting on the glass as the creature on the other side snapped at it.

I looked around, trying to find another way forward that didn’t involve me engaging with the creature I saw through the windowpane. I looked up, and found that there was a slight gap between the roofs of the two cars.

Just about enough for me to squeeze through.

If I was lucky, that is.

‘Shit. Well, I guess I can try it,’ I thought. I jumped and grabbed the edge of the roof on the second dining car side. I pulled, trying to haul myself up to the top of the car…but my underdeveloped lats, delts, and traps failed me - pull-ups were never my exercise of choice..

I strained and kicked, but my muscles wouldn’t agree.

I fell and landed awkwardly. I wound up smashing my hip into the hard steel of the walkway.

“Fuck!” I shouted to no one in particular.

I laid for a moment on the ground, letting the pain wash through me. I tried to will it away. I still had stuff to do.

I hauled myself to my feet, brushing the dust off my clothes. I turned and looked at the doorway to the second dining car. The thing stared back at me, bloody teeth still gnashing. Yeah, no way.

I opened the door to the dining car and moved back inside. I started to look around. There had to be some way to bypass the second dining car. I wasn’t under the illusion that there was some kind of hidden hallway that I could just leisurely walk around the dining car, but I figured there had to be some kind of access panel for maintenance that might let me get around fighting the thing.

I started by checking the floor. The industrial carpeting didn’t look to have any gaps that would indicate an access panel. I supposed it might be under the carpet, but that didn’t really make a lot of sense: what would be the point of an access panel if you had to tear up the carpeting to get to it? I slid into one of the booths and examined the window. It was standard Omniglass, and didn’t seem to have a latch that I could open. The only option was the emergency windows, but I wasn’t sure what good that would do. The outside of the train didn't exactly have hand- and footholds for me to work my way around the second dining car.

I looked up, and noticed a hatch that resembled an emergency exit on a school bus. Fortunately, this one was near a pair of tables, making it easier for me to get a grip and haul myself up.

In theory, anyway.

I stepped on the seat, and then onto the table. I stepped across the aisle with my left foot and found my footing on the second table; I ended up straddling the aisle directly under the roof hatch. I turned the red handle and pushed the hatch upward. Fortunately, standing on the tables, the hatch was barely above my head. I was able to push it all the way up and open the emergency exit.

‘Now for the tricky part,’ I thought. I reached up as far as I was able, and managed to get my elbows through the hatch. Knowing that I could get them through, I squatted down on the tables and pushed off, keeping my arms above my head as if I were a diver jumping into a swimming pool. As my head cleared the hatch, I threw my arms to the side and caught my biceps on the outer edge of the hatch. I hauled myself a few inches higher, and found the escape handle riveted in front of the hatch.

I knew it would be tough, but I had to get my hands on it. The handle was probably my best bet.

As the wind whipped my ponytail, I kicked my feet, trying to turn my body to get my hand closer to the rail. I could feel my shoulders starting to burn, and I knew I had to get out of this position.

I’d gotten myself mostly turned, my right hand was just a few inches from the handle. I took a deep breath against the wind and shoved my hand forward, hooking it under the handle. I pulled, dragging myself toward the handle, and close enough to get my left hand on it.

Finally, after a moment of wiggling, I was able to drag myself on the top of the train, flattening myself against the roof and hanging on to the handle.

The wind was whipping across the top, but, fortunately, the train didn’t appear to be moving at break-neck speeds. It wasn’t slowing down, but it wasn’t accelerating, either. I looked forward, squinting into the wind, and tried to count the number of cars until the engine.

By my count, I had three cars to go.

My only way to get there was to crawl across the top of the cars.

I began to inch forward, keeping my body low to the car, trying to make myself as aerodynamic as possible. It was slow going, but preferable to trying to fight my way through the dining car. My first obstacle was the transition between the two dining cars. I crawled to the lip and couldn’t help but look down. Although a walkway was there, it was still terrifying to see the railway whipping past below me. Fortunately, the gap was only about three quarters of a meter. I braced my hands on the far side and began to drag myself across the gap.

On top of the second dining car, I noticed an emergency hatch similar to the one I'd just climbed out of. I decided to pop it open and take a look inside.

The handle on the top looked like it hadn’t been opened in a long time. I grabbed the escape rail on the second dining car and used it to brace myself as I struggled to turn the recessed handle. After a moment, the handle broke free, and I was able to turn it, popping the hatch free. I pulled the hatch open and peered into the dining car.

It was even more of a mess than I’d noticed before. The dining ware was still strewn about, but now I noticed the bodies.

What I saw looked straight out of a slasher film. Or some kind of demented nightmare.

Through the gore, I could see that there were about 12 people in the dining car. Most had been virtually ripped apart: bites and scratches covered their arms. Several of the figures - the ones lying face up - even had bites on their necks and chests. Several of the bodies had been eviscerated completely. Trails of intestines and other organs were strewn about, and pieces had been ripped free.

But the carnage wasn’t the most terrifying part.

In addition to the one thing I’d seen through the door, 3 more of the bodies were up and shambling about. They looked lethargic, but their faces and hands had become caked in the blood and tissue; they had clearly been the cause of the wounds on the remaining bodies littering the ground.

I felt my body go cold. Whatever had happened had clearly been something serious. It made me think of some kind of fucked up movie or video game. Thing was, this wasn’t some kind of movie. I was trapped on a train with whatever the hell was ambling around the car below me. As far as I could see, the only way out was to make it to the engine car, just like the scrap of paper I’d found in my pocket told me to.

Setting my jaw, I craned my neck and looked at the door on the far side of the cabin. Luckily, it appeared to be closed. I could only hope it was locked, like the one I'd encountered earlier, but I couldn't be sure. I pulled my head back up out of the car and pulled the hatch back down. I pushed it in place and twisted the handle, hopefully locking the things inside, at least from the roof hatch.

I resumed my crawl across the top of the train. I braced myself across the two cars, and crawled over the next gap. I contemplated opening the emergency hatch for a moment, but decided it was a better use of my time to get off the top of the train. I looked ahead, squinting against the wind.

A tunnel was coming.

Shit.

I wasn’t sure what the clearance was, but, from this position on the train, it didn't look like it was much. I didn’t really want to get knocked off the train and flattened against the brick and mortar of the quickly approaching arch. I had to risk standing up and running across the top of the train.

I grabbed the handle next to the emergency exit and pulled myself into a crouch. I took a deep breath and pushed myself into a standing position, wobbling for a moment with the momentum of the train. I stared into the wind, judging the distance before the tunnel. As best I could, I judged it to be about a mile out. I had no idea how fast the train was going, but it didn’t feel like it was much more than 72 or 80 kilometers per hour.

That gave me just over a minute to run roughly 52 meters across the remaining two cars. If all went well, it shouldn’t take me much more than 45 seconds.

‘Gonna cut it awfully close,’ I thought.

I didn’t have any more time to think.

I took off, running as fast as I was able while still staying balanced on the top of the train car. When I got to the gap between the cars, I was able to hop over it with little effort: three-quarters of a meter is a lot shorter when you’re running than when you’re crawling.

Finally, I made it to the gap between the stainless steel passenger car and the blue and red engine car. This time, the gap between the two cars was closed; it was connected by an accordion-like seal. The tunnel was still looming, and I guessed I had maybe another twenty seconds before the train would enter it. I didn’t really have time to screw around with this. I stepped down and thrust my heel against the seam. The vulcanized rubber gave, but did not break away from the housing completely.

“Come on!” I shouted, forcing my heel against the seam again.

The rubber gave more, creating a hole in the seam. I kicked it one final time, forcing the hole open enough that I could get my body through it.

The nose of the train began to enter the tunnel.

“Fuck!” I shouted and shot my arms up over my head, sucking in my stomach and letting gravity pull me down toward the walkway below. Just as I dropped through, the sunlight darkened, and the roar of the train in the tunnel filled my ears.

The momentum of the train pushed me backward as I fell, and I ended up slamming into the door to the passenger car. As I did so, I felt my head make contact with the Omniglass. For just a moment, I saw stars; I collapsed to the ground holding the back of my head.

Hissing through the pain, I forced myself to my feet. I was staring at the door to the engine car. Normally, I assumed, the engine car would be locked, just like the cockpit door of an airplane.

I pulled the handle downward, and heard the latch let go. The door slid to the side, a slight scraping noise accompanying it as it slid into the housing.

The engine car was dark, and the only source of light was the gauges on the instrument panel. I moved forward cautiously and looked around.

I didn’t know much about trains, but everything seemed to be standard issue. I sat down in one of the chairs, and looked down at the instruments.

“You made it much farther than the others,” a voice crackled to life through the speaker mounted on the panel in front of me. “Bravo for using the escape hatch to go around the infection in the dining car. That was a smart move.”

I jumped, looking around the engine car for the source of the voice.

“Oh, I’m not there with you. Look up. You’ll see the camera.”

I looked up toward the windscreen and saw a small dome, the red light under the curved glass staring at me.

“Yes, there it is,” the voice said.

“Who are you? What do you want with me?” I asked, my voice rising with the realization that someone had taken me and trapped me on this train.

A pneumatic hiss filled the cabin, and I felt a sharp pain in the small of my back.

“Ow, what the fuck?” I shouted, pushing myself out of the chair. In the light of the instrument panel, I could see a small hypodermic needle protruding from the backrest of the chair I’d just been sitting in. With another pneumatic hiss, the needle retracted.

“Now, we begin phase two,” the voice said. It sounded almost…excited.

Something about the tone of the mysterious, disembodied voice filled me with dread.

“What the fuck is phase two? Who are you?” I shouted, glaring into the camera, even as my vision began to blur.

I suddenly felt very weak, and collapsed back into the chair I’d just risen from.

“It doesn't matter who I am, or what Phase Two is. Now, typically, it only takes a few moments to take effect. I’d suggest you make your way to the passenger car. You’ll likely want to lie down.”

The door behind me opened, along with the door to the passenger car I’d run across.

My thoughts seemed to be moving like sludge, and suddenly I felt very warm. The voice was right: I should lie down. Whatever was in that syringe made me feel drunk, and laying down seemed to be the right choice.

I got up, and staggered toward the door.

My body didn’t seem to want to move correctly.

My thoughts were slowing down.

Vaguely, I was aware of an announcement being projected through the train: “ATTENTION: WE WILL BE ARRIVING AT OUR DESTINATION IN 5 MINUTES. I REPEAT: WE WILL BE ARRIVING AT OUR DESTINATION IN 5 MINUTES.”

I stumbled into the passenger car and collapsed into a seat. My throat was scratchy, and I was hungry.

No, I was more than hungry.

Ravenous.

I felt my head twitch, and my hands clench into claws.

Something between a groan and a growl escaped my mouth.

My vision tunneled, and my thoughts seemed to float away.

My teeth gnashed, seeking something - anything - to bite.

In the darkness, I heard one final announcement - the same voice from the engine car: “SUBJECT 13 - INFECTION COMPLETE. INITIATE SUBJECT 14. RESET TIMER TO 36 MINUTES. BEGIN AGAIN.”

I tried to comprehend, but my consciousness floated away, leaving nothing but darkness, and another violently hungry thing aboard the runaway train.