Story 929: Passengers of the Damned

The whistle of the train screamed through the night, a chilling sound that sent shivers through the battered survivors. Mira’s breath was ragged as she stumbled onto the abandoned railway platform. The sky above was a sickly blue, the moon glaring down like an unblinking eye.

“This place wasn’t here before,” Draven muttered, gripping his shotgun. The tracks shimmered, pulsating as if they were alive.

Elias stepped forward, scanning the rusted metal that led into an endless void of darkness. “This ain’t just a train.” He turned to Mira. “This is a gateway, isn’t it?”

Before she could respond, a shadow slithered across the platform. The sound of something wet and crawling echoed around them.

Zara pointed her dagger into the dark. “We’re not alone.”

The Ghoul Trainmaster emerged, towering and spectral. His face was a decayed mask, his conductor’s uniform rotting away in strips. His eyes—hollow pits of blackness—locked onto the group.