This is Part 13 of a serial horror novella. Learn more about it here.
Rudy had said the eastern station had been around where Faulkner road turned into the highway. The GPS confirmed it. Barton directed the cab driver to a 24/7 convenience store a few blocks away from the area. In twenty minutes, they were there. Dawn was a deep blue promise on the horizon as they pulled into the parking lot.
“Here? This place?” said the cabbie. He glanced at the sleepy woman in the backseat.
“Yeah,” said Barton. He handed over a pair of twenties and got out, coming around to help Gabby. She was still walking when he led her, though she moved in the manner of a grandmother.
“Change,” said the cabbie, still staring at Gabby.
“Keep it,” said Barton, not wanting to waste a moment.
“It’s eleven bucks man.”
“Fine, just gimme five.”
He took the bill and put an arm around the girl, steering her towards the convenience store. He had packed a knapsack full of water and leftover delivery food but figured some energy bars and protein wouldn’t be a bad idea. He sure hoped she sped up once they got onto the tracks.
The cab took a while to drive away. Thankfully, the glossy eyed clerk at the store was much less interested in their adventure. Barton bought two boxes of granola bars, some electrolyte drinks and few packets of beef jerky.
They shuffled out towards the old station. It was at a T-shaped intersection. The foundations of the old building could still be seen, right at the junction where a fourth road would have been at a four-way. The tracks had probably run right beside the east road, but had long since been removed in this area. To the west, he could see the telling cut in the tree line. Between it and them, an overgrown field. It was 5:55AM.
“All aboard,” he croaked.
“Let’s roll,” she said, voice strong and bright.
Barton stared, jaw unhinged, as she marched with utter confidence towards the forest. His heart leapt, and he trotted to catch up.
They kept a steady clip along the forest cut. Barton’s voice was paralyzed; he was afraid that he might say something that would break her sudden spirit. She kept quiet, except for a steady, regular breath. If he let it, it started to sound like whuff, whuff, whuff.
The tracks appeared about a mile into the woods. They were majestic — silvery and well kept, somehow shining in the morning dimness. He braced for something to happen when they slipped between the rails, but she just kept huffing along. He supposed whatever switch in her there was to flip had flipped back at the station. The GPS clocked them at a healthy 3.8 mph. He tried not to look too hard at the strong wood planks or the fresh scratches on the beams.
Dawn broke, and the temperature started to rise. He had lathered them both up with a sunblock and bug repellant combo, but he could feel the sweat building even before the first hour of nonstop motion. She was agreeable enough when he handed her a water bottle, taking a gulp then handing it back. Never questioning, never refusing. Coal engine, he thought, and shivered.
Their shadows pulled out long in front of them as the sun climbed behind. As the silence droned on, Barton began to feel watched. That paranoid sensation that there was someone strolling behind them started as a seed, then grew like weed in his brain. He’d shoulder check often, seeing nothing but tracks.
There was something else too. Her breathing no longer just mimicked a chugging engine. He could actually hear it. Maybe every now again, the squeal or rattle of a car coupling. A rumble over a looser section in the rail. A tingly vibration. And… god help him, the murmur of conversation.
But he didn’t really hear it, not like he heard the birds or natural gusts of wind. A prop plane flew nearby and all but drowned out other sound for a moment. The train noises were just suggestions, just ghosts.
By 9AM, he was getting winded. The morning coolness had retired and the real day was beginning. Still, she marched, the pool of sweat on her back wide and dark. They had still been going nonstop.
“Gabby?”
Her head snapped to the side, but her pace never wavered. He noticed her pupils had returned.
“Can you hear me?” he said.
“We’re making good time.”
“Yes. Very good time. We’ve got to keep the schedule, right?”
“Right as rain.”
“Okay. So we’re going to need a… maintenance break soon. Do you understand?”
She marched, unresponsive.
“Just got to run a few checks, okay? Not to worry, we’re making good time,” he said.
“Maintenance.”
“Exactly! We’ll just stop for a quick min—”
There was a terrible wailing sound, and a wash of humiliation and embarrassment piled into him. He felt someones, somethings all around him recoiling. The daylight faded, those invisible storm clouds blotting out the sky. Barton stumbled and stopped, his legs throbbing.
“No stopping,” she growled, not looking around. Her tiny figure kept on stomping away from him, down the rails. Brightness came back, but not all at once. Barton thought he heard someone chuckle, but when he turned to look, the path behind was empty. But he had a feeling that was far from the case.
The complete story is also available as an NFT on Polygon. Includes a built-in PDF Reader.
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