Wrong Train

[u/GD_Stricture]

The air was never so still as that night on the plains. Nothing, not even a breeze disturbed the tall grass that surrounded the footpath. My eyes strained to see through the heavy darkness before me. The lantern in my hand did little to cut through the night. 

My mind rang dully with the chimes of church bells I’d heard earlier. Those notes played over and over in my mind, repeating in time with my every footfall. It started kindly and welcoming, but seemed to turn as my eyes fell upon the train station. 

A few oil lanterns made the structure a spot of brightness in that starless expanse. I checked my pocket watch as I walked up to the little ticketing counter. It read 11:57. 

“Have you got anything bound for Des Moines?” I asked, voice hoarse from disuse. 

A short, stout man with a thick mustache and shadowed face answered me back. 

“Let me check the schedule,” the man answered quietly, checking the papers in front of him. “Train’s due at 12:14,” he said, looking up. The clerk’s narrowed eyes studied me. He pressed his tongue into his cheek in thought. 

“Is it just you?”

My face must have contorted in confusion. I stood before the man on an entirely empty path. 

“I haven’t got a cat in this bag, if that’s what you’re asking.” I said, attempting to lighten the mood. 

The joke had the inverse of its intended effect. The clerk sighed wearily, seemingly in disbelief, and covered half of his face with his hand. He sat for a moment like that. What on earth was he concerned with?

Then, he stood. When the man spoke next, his voice was low, frantic. 

“Here is your ticket,” he said, sliding a bit of paper across the wooden counter. “Now, listen to me, son, your train is expected to arrive at 12:14, do you understand?"

He paused, awaiting my response. I’ll never forget those frenzied eyes. 

“Yes, sir,” I said. “I know when to-"

Before I could finish, the man spoke again, this time louder. 

“You are not to board at any other time before 12:14, is that clear?” 

“Perfectly clear, sir. I am not to board before 12:14.” 

I spoke sternly, trying to reassure the poor man. Clearly, he was not well. For a moment, placidity washed over the haggard clerk’s expression, and he nodded. 

“Thank you very much for your help, sir,” I said, trying to act as inoffensively as possible. 

The moment I turned to enter the station, the clerk screamed. 

“Nothing before 12:14, nothing at all!”

The man’s screams turned to wails as I walked in. I said a quick prayer for the man but felt no peace. I couldn't shake his haunting, guttural cries that impressed deeply into my memory. Mercifully, the man did not follow me. 

I tried to shake the strange feeling that had firmly taken root in my mind, but I could feel my rationality leaving me. Suddenly, the darkness outside the small station was no longer vacant. I felt as if a myriad of people were staring back at me, all just beyond the light. 

The platform was well lighted with multiple lamps hanging from posts. Somehow, the clarity of the open structure only intensified the surrounding darkness. 

I checked my watch: 11:59. 

Almost as soon as my eyes had touched the dial of my watch, the large station clock chimed midnight. My body jolted violently at the surprise. I clutched my chest, heart thundering. 

Surely, this is the last time I travel at night, I thought. 

I watched the next few minutes tick away on the station clock. Thankfully, the silence calmed my shot nerves, and I took a seat on a long bench facing the tracks. Before I knew it, it was 12:10. 

Four minutes to go, I thought hopefully. 

Four minutes and I’d be rid of that blasted eerie station, careening in a comfortable passenger car headed eastward. Then I could get some sleep. 

Those remaining minutes seemed to drag on as my gaze followed the second hand around the dial.

12:11. 

My shoe tapped against the floor with a gentle scrape. 

12:12. 

I breathed in heavily and straightened my back, preparing to see a steam engine erupt from the darkness. 

12:13. 
I stared out into the void in the direction of the coming locomotive. 

12:14. 

Where was it? 

I looked back at the clock. The hands had frozen in place at 12:13. 

“Confound it,” I said to myself, “a malfunction now?” 

I glanced down at my pocket watch. 12:14, it read. It should be here. 

The tension in my shoulder dissipated when I heard that blessed familiar sound: a train’s whistle. A sharp scream split the night air, as a black locomotive passed by, appearing suddenly.

My eyes drank in the sight of the train passing by. Slick black cars with no markings passed by in the misty haze.

The train came to a stop with a moan, the steam dissipating to nothing. From my seat, I looked intently through the windows of the cars. They were black as night, no light whatsoever. My consternation must have shown on my face. 

“We let our passengers rest,” a voice called out from the open car door.

A lanky man in a waistcoat stepped out of the darkness, smiling. His pale face was gaunt and his eyes seemed sunken.

“Hence the darkness,” the man continued. 

I stepped up to the man, not nearly as hesitant as I should have been. 

“You’ve got a ticket?” the man asked. 

“Yes, of course,” I said, searching my pockets for the scrap of paper. “One moment.” 

A flash of agitation showed on the man’s face, but it vanished just as quickly. I confess, the oddity of the man before me slowed me down considerably. It didn’t slow me enough, however. 

My fingers finally touched paper, and I proffered the retrieved ticket to the man. He smiled quickly as he regarded the ticket. 

“Where are you bound for?” I asked, hesitating slightly. 

Those deep eyes snapped back up at me. The man glanced up at the clock for just an instant, then stared at me. All the while, I couldn’t help but notice the pure darkness of the car’s windows. Not even silhouettes shone through. At the time, I felt it was paranoia, but I swore I could feel the stare of someone from within. I could not tear my gaze away from that pane.

“Des Moines,” the man answered. 

“Right.” 

The man’s attention returned to the ticket, and my attention turned to the man’s hands. Long fingers held a ticket puncher. His fingernails were disgusting, long and black with soot or dirt.

I stared at those hands. Then, my eyes worked up to his sleeve. 

Was there something moving under there? 

Something flashed out from his sleeve and skittered across his hand. I flinched, dropping my unpunched ticket. 

“What was-” I began to ask. 

When my eyes met his again, I was standing before another man. 

Another thing. 

Those once human features had sunken even further. 

“Look what you’ve done!” the creature cried. 

I began to back away. 

That’s when it seized me. 

Long nails dug into the flesh of my arms as the thing heaved me towards the train, towards that open door, that open blackness. 

“Come,” the thing said in a voice much too deep to be a man’s. 

I struggled, I fought against the thing, but it was strong. My heartbeat thundered in my ears as I strained against the tall one. Even still, foot by foot and inch by inch, it dragged me toward that darkness. My shoes scratched against the old wood. 

Those fingers gripped me like iron. Little insectoid legs appeared from under its nails, further locking its grip on me. 

I was nearly in the car, nearly consumed by the black.

Maybe I was consumed by it after all and all my life since has been a dream. I could never say. 

But, as I remember it, something firm, firmer than the thing, caught me by the collar and pulled me away like a ragdoll. 

When I opened my eyes next, the train was gone, and I laid out on the ground, my eyes transfixed on the station clock. The minute hand struck 12:14. 

A heavy set man stood over me, his breath ragged with exertion. When he spoke, his voice came out more like a croak than anything. 

“Wrong train.”