1
At 1:13 a.m., a dead railway line came back to life.
Nora Blake stared at the control screen.
Then she blinked.
The warning remained.
TRACK 13 — ACTIVE.
“No.”
She leaned closer.
The Greyhaven Metro control room was almost silent at this hour. Rows of monitors glowed beneath fluorescent lights. Half-drunk coffee sat beside keyboards. Somewhere behind her, an old ventilation fan rattled like it had been trying to die for twenty years.
Nora tapped the screen.
Nothing changed.
TRACK 13 — ACTIVE.
“That is not funny.”
There was nobody nearby to appreciate the complaint.
Her night supervisor was upstairs dealing with a maintenance call. The other controller had gone to the bathroom five minutes ago.
Nora checked the system status.
Green.
Signals normal.
Power normal.
No reported faults.
Track 13 still showed movement.
Her stomach tightened.
Greyhaven Metro did not have an operating Track 13.
Not anymore.
It had been permanently sealed eighteen years ago.
After the Greyhaven Tunnel Disaster.
After seventeen people died.
Including her father.
Nora had been ten years old.
Old enough to remember her mother answering the door.
Old enough to remember two Metro officials standing outside.
Old enough to remember that neither man could look her in the eye.
She pushed the memory away.
Work first.
Breakdown later.
Nora opened the diagnostic panel.
“Come on.”
Track 13 should have appeared gray.
Disconnected.
Instead, a tiny red marker moved slowly across the forgotten line.
Something was coming toward Central Station.
Nora grabbed the radio.
“Control to maintenance.”
Static.
She tried again.
“Maintenance, respond.”
Nothing.
Her eyes returned to the screen.
The marker continued moving.
Forty kilometers per hour.
Then forty-five.
“Absolutely not.”
Nora opened the CCTV network.
Camera 41.
Empty platform.
Camera 42.
Dark tunnel.
Camera 43—
She froze.
Headlights.
Two pale circles appeared deep inside a tunnel that had supposedly been filled with concrete.
Nora stopped breathing.
The lights grew brighter.
Rails began to shine.
Something emerged from the darkness.
A train.
An old Greyhaven carriage.
Silver sides.
Black windows.
No route number.
No destination displayed.
Nora stared at the screen.
“That train does not exist.”
The carriage rolled into the abandoned lower platform.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Too quietly.
No wheel scream.
No brake hiss.
Nothing.
It simply stopped.
Nora checked the train identification system.
No number.
No driver code.
No operating record.
No scheduled movement.
According to every official system in the building, the platform was empty.
But Nora could see the train.
Then something moved inside it.
She leaned closer.
A figure.
Human.
Maybe.
It struck one of the windows.
Hard.
Nora jumped.
A hand smeared blood across the glass.
Her radio crackled.
For half a second, she heard breathing.
Then a voice.
Weak.
Male.
“Don’t…”
The signal vanished.
Nora stood.
Her chair rolled backward.
Every sensible instinct told her to call emergency services.
So she did.
She grabbed the phone and dialed station security.
Nothing.
The line was dead.
She tried her mobile.
No signal.
That made even less sense.
Central Station had repeaters on every level.
Nora looked at the monitors again.
The train waited.
One door was open.
Something dark lay on the floor inside.
Her father’s voice surfaced from an old memory.
When a system does something impossible, don’t assume the system is wrong.
He had taught her that while repairing an old radio at their kitchen table.
Find out what changed.
Nora hated that she could still remember exactly how his hands had looked.
She grabbed her access card.
Then stopped.
“This is stupid.”
Nobody answered.
“This is an incredibly stupid thing to do.”
Still nobody.
She opened the emergency equipment cabinet and pulled out the small fire axe.
The weight felt reassuring.
Slightly.
“If I get murdered by a ghost train,” she muttered, “I’m haunting management first.”
She left the control room.
Central Station at night felt different from the daytime version.
Too large.
Too empty.
Her footsteps followed her down the staff corridor.
The public platforms were two levels below.
Track 13 was lower still.
She swiped through the first security door.
Green light.
The second required a maintenance override.
Green again.
The third should not have opened at all.
It did.
Nora stopped.
A cold draft touched her face.
The stairwell beyond descended into darkness.
Someone had restored power.
Small emergency lamps glowed along the walls.
One after another.
Leading downward.
Nora tightened her grip on the axe.
“Nope.”
She remained still for two seconds.
Then continued.
“Definitely nope.”
The air changed as she descended.
Colder.
Damp.
Old.
She could smell rust, stone and something faintly metallic.
Blood.
Nora reached the bottom.
An old sign hung above the platform.
13
Dust covered almost everything.
Except the rails.
They were clean.
Recently used.
The impossible train waited twenty meters away.
One carriage door stood open.
Nora approached slowly.
“Hello?”
No answer.
She raised the axe.
“If you’re injured, I’m Metro staff.”
Silence.
“That sounded more reassuring in my head.”
A wet dragging sound came from inside.
Nora stopped.
Then a man stumbled through the doorway.
He was enormous.
At least six foot four.
Broad shoulders.
Black coat ripped across one side.
Blood soaked his shirt.
He caught the edge of the train doorway before falling.
Nora stepped forward automatically.
“Hey.”
His head snapped toward her.
She stopped.
Something about him was wrong.
Not monstrous.
Not exactly.
Just… dangerous.
Even half-dead, he carried himself like a man who expected rooms to move around him.
Dark hair hung over his forehead.
His face was pale from blood loss.
A deep cut crossed his ribs.
Another ran from his shoulder to his chest.
Nora lowered the axe slightly.
“Can you hear me?”
His eyes fixed on her.
Gray.
No.
Not gray.
Something moved inside them.
He inhaled.
Once.
His entire body went still.
Nora frowned.
“What?”
The man’s expression changed.
Shock.
Not at his injuries.
At her.
He breathed in again.
Deeper this time.
Nora took one step backward.
“Okay. That’s weird.”
He whispered something.
She couldn’t hear him.
“What?”
His eyes turned gold.
Not reflected gold.
Not light catching his pupils.
Gold.
Bright.
Alive.
Nora raised the axe again.
The man’s mouth parted.
“Mate.”
Silence filled the platform.
Nora stared at him.
Of every possible thing he could have said, that was not high on her list.
“Try another word.”
His expression almost changed.
Almost amusement.
Then something growled inside the train.
Nora looked past him.
Darkness filled the carriage.
Something moved between the seats.
Low.
Fast.
The injured stranger turned.
Every muscle in his body tightened.
“Run.”
Nora didn’t.
“Excuse me?”
He looked at her again.
This time there was no confusion in his face.
Only fear.
Not for himself.
“For once in your life,” he said, voice rough, “do exactly what you’re told.”
Nora’s grip hardened around the axe.
“You’ve known me for twelve seconds.”
Another growl rolled from the carriage.
Closer.
The man cursed.
Then the first creature stepped into the doorway.
Nora forgot how to breathe.
A wolf.
Except wolves were not that large.
Its shoulders nearly reached her chest.
Black fur was wet with blood.
Its lips peeled away from long white teeth.
Another shape appeared behind it.
Then another.
Three.
Three enormous wolves.
The injured man’s body shifted between Nora and the train.
“Stay behind me.”
The first wolf crouched.
Nora lifted the axe.
The stranger glanced at it.
Then at her.
“You can’t fight them with that.”
“Good thing I’m not planning to ask their permission.”
The wolf launched itself from the train.
And the night stopped being normal.
