Chapter 7: The Black Tunnel
Sarah stumbled back onto the train, soaked in fear and mist. The bridge, the photo, her sister—it was all unraveling, piece by piece, like the edges of a forgotten dream.
The door hissed shut behind her.
This time, the train didn't roll gently forward. It lurched.
Lights flickered violently overhead. The windows darkened—not from nightfall, but from something outside.
A void.
The train was entering The Black Tunnel.
She could feel it. A pressure in her chest. Like gravity itself was pulling her into something ancient and hollow.
The intercom let out a harsh screech. No stop name. No voice. Just static.
Sarah moved through the car slowly, her hand on the wall for balance. The fedora man was gone. So was the suitcase.
Everything was quiet.
Until she reached the next car.
There, the world changed.
The car was filled with passengers now—dozens of them. Silent. Still. Each frozen in the moment they boarded. A woman reading a book. A man adjusting his watch. A child reaching for a balloon. Their eyes were glassy. Unseeing.
Sarah stepped carefully past them.
At the far end, a mirror hung where the conductor's door should have been.
It wasn't a normal reflection.
In it, she saw herself—but older. Worn. Haunted. She was sitting alone in one of the train seats, whispering the same phrase over and over:
"Don't miss your stop."
The mirror cracked.
A voice behind her whispered:
"You missed it."
She spun. The conductor was standing inches away, his smile gone. His eyes dark pits, deeper than they should be.
"You had a choice," he said softly. "Most don't."
"What are you?" she asked, backing away.
He tilted his head. "I'm just the one who drives the line. But the tracks? The stops? They choose."
Sarah's heart pounded. "Then let me off."
He raised one finger, as if testing the air. "There's only one stop left."
A sudden jolt knocked her to the ground.
The train had stopped moving.
But not at a station.
Ahead, through the final window, loomed a gaping tunnel. Pitch black. Endless.
On the glass, words slowly formed from fog and frost:
"Final Stop: The Passenger's End."