Chapter 24 - Station Thirteen
Richard held the faded ticket beneath the dim platform lights. The paper felt unusually thick, almost as though something had been embedded inside it decades ago. Across the top, the ink had faded, but the destination remained perfectly clear.
Station Thirteen.
Daniel searched the tunnel walls with his flashlight. There were no signs, no maps, and no indication that another station existed beyond the documented railway network.
Michael climbed back into the maintenance cart but did not start the engine.
"The railway doesn't appear on any blueprint because it was never officially completed," he explained. "Construction stopped halfway through... at least that's what everyone was told."
Richard looked toward the darkness stretching beyond the tracks.
"And the truth?"
Michael's expression hardened.
"It never stopped."
A low vibration traveled through the rails beneath their feet.
Not from the cart.
Something much larger was approaching.
Edward immediately recognized the sound.
"The inspection train."
Daniel frowned.
"I thought these tunnels were abandoned."
"They're abandoned only on paper."
The distant headlights slowly appeared.
Unlike modern rail equipment, this train looked almost ceremonial. Its polished black exterior reflected the tunnel lights, while the Morgan family crest had been carefully removed from every carriage, leaving only faint outlines where the emblem had once been.
As the train rolled closer, Richard noticed something unsettling.
Every window was covered from the inside.
No passengers could be seen.
The train stopped without making a sound.
One door opened automatically.
No conductor stepped out.
Instead, an elegant mechanical voice echoed through hidden speakers.
"Founder One verified."
"Passenger authorization accepted."
"Please board."
Daniel whispered,
"Who's operating it?"
No answer came.
Richard stepped inside first.
The carriage looked untouched by time.
Mahogany walls.
Leather seats.
Crystal lamps.
Old newspapers lay folded neatly beside every window, all carrying dates from twenty-eight years earlier—the exact week Jonathan disappeared.
Richard picked one up.
Every headline had been carefully cut away.
Only the photographs remained.
Someone had deliberately removed the written history.
Michael closed the carriage door behind them.
As the train began moving, Richard noticed another envelope resting on the seat opposite him.
May you like
This one bore only three words.
Read Alone Later.
