Ring... ring... ring... ring...
I picked up the call, and a deep, grave voice echoed through the speaker. Without any idle pleasantries, the man got straight to the point: “If you want to cover the story on Leo’s missing person case, you’d better hurry. I’m texting you the address now.”
Not recognizing the number, I asked who was speaking. He introduced himself as Police Officer Adam Smith, the lead investigator on Leo’s case. It struck me as odd that he was calling from an unknown number, but my mind was too consumed by the urgency of the news to dwell on it.
Leo wasn't just another story for me; he was my neighbor. Our families were close, and I had covered his adventurous solo travels in the past. In fact, Leo regularly emailed me photos from his trips.
I quickly packed my bags and prepared for the journey based on the address Officer Smith sent. The only available transport to that remote location was a night train. By the time I gathered all the preliminary case documents, it was already late afternoon. I had no choice but to take the night ride.
I bought my ticket, boarded the train, and found my seat. Since it was a cold winter night, the carriage was almost deserted, with hardly any passengers in sight. Sipping a cup of hot coffee, I opened my laptop to analyze Leo’s recent social media posts. He loved solo trips, and his feeds were full of vibrant travel photos. Nothing in his posts stood out as suspicious or unusual.
After an hour or so, the train slowed to a crawl and pulled into a lonely station. Only one passenger boarded my carriage—a man with a deeply unsettling appearance. He was dressed entirely in black: a heavy long coat, a brimmed hat pulled low, and black leather gloves hiding his hands.
He walked down the aisle and sat right in the seat next to mine. I kept my head down, finished my work, and stowed my laptop away. Slipping in my earbuds, I played some quiet music and eventually drifted off to sleep.
I’ve always had a bad habit of sleeping through travel. On more than one occasion, I’d woken up past my destination—a frustrating ordeal that many travelers know all too well.
“Save me! Please, save me! He’s going to kill me! I can’t take this anymore, save me!”
I snapped awake, my chest heaving and sweat soaking through my shirt. The blood-curdling screams were still ringing in my ears. But what horrified me even more was the pitch-black silence around me. The carriage was completely dark, and the train was standing dead still at an abandoned station. There was no one in sight.
Trying to keep my breathing under control, I slowly stepped out of the dark train onto the foggy platform. The air was biting cold. I looked around helplessly until I spotted a dim glow in the distance—a small coffee stand where a solitary figure was sitting.
As I walked closer, I realized it was the same man in the black coat who had sat next to me on the train. I hesitated, unsure if I should bother him, but I needed answers about why the train had halted in total darkness.
"Excuse me, sir," I asked cautiously. "Do you know what happened? Why has the train stopped completely?"
He didn't look up from his cup. "Mechanical failure in the power room."
"Is anyone trying to fix it?"
"Maybe."
"How long has it been out?"
"A long time."
"Would you like another cup of coffee? My treat."
"No. Thank you," he replied curtly.
It was clear he had no interest in talking. Deciding not to press further, I walked down the platform toward the power car to find a train official.
When I reached the front, what I learned sent a wave of nausea through me. The train’s power supply wasn't broken at all. The train had been stopped because a severely mutilated corpse had been found lying across the tracks ahead.
The railway crew struggled to clear the body, but thick winter fog and freezing temperatures delayed everything. To make matters worse, this stretch of track passed through a dense jungle notorious for wild elephant attacks. The animals were known to charge at bright lights, so the train had shut down all power and lights to avoid attracting them.
The suffocating darkness and dense fog created an utterly eerie atmosphere. I walked aimlessly along the platform, trying to shake off the chill, when my eyes fell upon the station’s nameboard.
My heart skipped a beat. A sudden, terrifying sense of deja vu washed over me—I knew I had seen this exact station name before.
With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and frantically scrolled through Leo’s social media feed. My stomach dropped. There it was—a photo Leo had posted right on this very platform. It was one of the last three posts he ever made before disappearing.
Standing alone in the dark at the exact station where a missing man was last seen sent a cold shiver down my spine. I hurried back toward the coffee stand—the only illuminated spot on the entire platform.
When I arrived, the man in the black coat was gone. I ordered a coffee and struck up a conversation with the stand operator about what had happened on the tracks. What he told me turned my blood to ice.
"Two weeks ago, they found another body in that same spot," the operator whispered, shaking his head.
Panicking, I showed him a picture of Leo on my phone. The man recognized him immediately. "Yeah, he’s been here twice."
That made no sense. Leo never visited the same location twice on a trip—his travel logs proved it. Before I could process this, the train’s emergency whistle blared. Sensing a great, unnatural danger, I abandoned my journey. I ran back to the carriage, grabbed my bag, and jumped off the train.
As I stepped off, the man in the black coat appeared near the door, staring at me with a chilling, unreadable expression.
"Stepping off into a dark wasteland of death?" he asked softly, a faint smirk touching his lips. "Planning to keep the dead company?"
Shaken by his words, I didn't answer. I forced a weak smile, turned my back, and walked away into the dark.
With the help of a station attendant, I navigated the desolate, pitch-black road toward the nearest police station. The silence of the night felt heavy and watchful, making every footstep sound amplified.
When I finally reached the police station, a wave of relief washed over me. I introduced myself as a journalist to the duty officer and asked about Leo’s disappearance and the body found two weeks ago. Unfortunately, the officer on duty wasn't handling the case; the lead investigator wouldn't arrive until morning. He advised me to get some rest at a small motel nearby.
I checked into a room, locked the door, and changed out of my damp clothes. But sleep was impossible. My mind kept racing. Worse still, I couldn't shake the creeping feeling that a vehicle had been tailing us all the way from the train station.
I walked over to the window and carefully peered through the curtains. Parked directly across the street was a dark Jeep, its engine idling silently in the shadows.
A cold panic settled in my chest. I was being watched.
I sat down on the bed and tried to force myself to think logically. Something wasn't adding up. I recalled the phone call from earlier that day—the man claiming to be Officer Adam Smith. Was it really him?
I called the main police department line and inquired about Officer Smith. The dispatcher’s response made my hands go numb: "Officer Smith never uses that mobile number, sir. He's currently out of the country on leave."
The realization hit me like a physical blow: I had walked straight into a trap.
Adrenaline surged through my veins. Trying to stay calm, I opened my laptop and reopened my email to check Leo’s past messages once more. My heart hammered against my ribs so loudly I could hear it echoing in the quiet room.
There, sitting at the top of my inbox, was an unopened email from Leo—sent on the very day he went missing.
I opened it. Attached were several high-resolution photos documenting an illegal wildlife smuggling ring operating in the surrounding jungle, complete with images of poached elephant tusks and endangered animals.
I forwarded the emails immediately to the official police desk, along with my exact location and a description of the suspicious Jeep outside. The officer on the line warned me to stay inside, lock the door, and open it for no one. He promised to dispatch an emergency response unit right away.
I switched off all the room lights, crept over to the window, and kept my eyes fixed on the Jeep below.
Then, I heard it.
Heavy boot heels clicking slowly along the hallway outside my room.
My heart froze. No ordinary hotel guest walked around at 2:00 AM wearing heavy combat boots. The footsteps stopped right outside my door, pacing back and forth like a predator weighing its prey.
Then came the knock.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound vibrated through the wood and straight into my chest.
"I know you're in there," a voice called out through the door—a voice I recognized instantly. It was the same heavy, dark voice that had called me earlier, posing as Officer Smith.
Panic threatened to overwhelm me. I tried calling the police station back, but the line was busy. With trembling fingers, I sent a desperate text message to the duty officer: HE IS OUTSIDE MY DOOR. HELP.
The man outside began rattling the doorknob. "Open up! You can't hide in there forever!"
Suddenly, loud gunshots shattered the night outside, followed by shouting and the sound of heavy boots sprinting away. I waited a few excruciating seconds before cracking the door open.
In the hallway, a police officer lay wounded on the floor while others were in hot pursuit of the intruder. I alerted them about the Jeep outside. Within minutes, backup units swarmed the area, cutting off the escape route and apprehending the suspect.
By the time the sun began to rise over the misty forest, the real Officer Smith and his team had arrived on the scene. After taking my statement, he took me to the station where the attacker was being held in a cell.
When I looked through the bars, my breath caught in my throat.
The man sitting on the bench was the very same passenger who had sat next to me on the train—the man in the black coat.
During interrogation, the horrifying truth finally came to light. The mutilated body on the tracks two weeks ago was Leo. He had uncovered the smuggling operation during his travel, so the gang lured him back and brutally murdered him.
When they realized Leo had emailed all his evidence to me, they set a trap to silence me too. They had even stolen a corpse from a local morgue and dumped it on the railway tracks just to force the train to stop at that isolated station. Their original plan was to kidnap me on the platform, but when I walked toward the lit coffee stand instead of the dark alleyways, their plan was disrupted.
I eventually returned home safely with Officer Smith’s team, but the nightmare never truly left me.
Even now, whenever I close my eyes at night, I wake up in a cold sweat, hearing that terrifying voice echoing in the dark:
“Save me! Please, save me! He’s going to kill me! I can’t take this anymore, save me!”