The Late Train

Silence filled the empty platform. A cold draft cut through the stillness of the night air. David checked his watch and wondered when the train would finally arrive. They were often bad but that night had him wondering whether it would come at all.

"We won't work you late" his new job had told him. "Our service values its customers" the back of his over-priced rail-ticket confidently asserted. All alone, David wondered why he took up a job managing a hotel in the first place. The rural situation proved a lure at first but he later realised the suspicious absence of any competition for the job should have prevented him from applying. That the hotel had seen two other managers go in the last two months provided further testament of his mistake.

This fact left two questions spinning in his mind. What caused the resignation of the previous incumbents in such a short time? And perhaps more importantly, what accounted for the staffs’ reluctance to talk about it?

David glanced down the platform in a vain hope the train would suddenly materialize out of nowhere. His gaze drifted into the cloak of black that surrounded the dimly lit station. Earth and space seamlessly merged into an infinite sea. The vast windswept hillsides stretching for miles around had sunk into the gulf.

David often paused to survey the contours of the hills from the window in his office since he arrived one month ago. He found them a relaxing escape; the silhouettes of their peaks against the dusky sky stood still and silent, like figures standing watch. The lack of guests during the winter season provided ample opportunity for such day-dreaming. His role became more that of a nightwatchman rather than that of a manager. The name on his office door still read that of the previous incumbent. Owing to the somewhat mute staff on the subject, David often spent time searching through old draws and cabinets in his office for clues surrounding his predecessor’s resignation. He only found a few nightly reports complaining about the state of the hotel and the strange behaviour of the staff. David found it hard to disagree. He could have sworn on several occasions overhearing the kitchen staff talking in an odd language amongst themselves. He wanted to confront them over the hotel menu; the aromas that he smelt emanating from there on his first day were a cause for concern, but the head chef was adamant that no-one go near his kitchen.

Standing on the platform edge, David suddenly heard a distant sound coming from the darkness. At last the train was about to arrive. "Better late than never" he muttered to himself. He was, beneath his mild sense of frustration, quite relieved to hear the warm and comfortable salvation of the approaching train. He picked up his briefcase and awaited his departure.

David saw the empty carriages draw up. The calmness of the night-sky was interrupted with the distant clash of thunder. Quietly thanking the heavens for sparing him from the storm, he boarded the train. Much older than the one he normally rode and although quite faded inside, it did possess a certain charm. Separate compartments lined the right side of the carriage connected by a long narrow corridor on the left. David entered the first compartment in the row. He admired the dark-wood panels and six dark-red, rather worn seats inside and sat down.

Before long the train was headed for David's home in the neighbouring village. Reading his paper, he heard the storm intensifying outside. The crashes of lightning provided brief glimpses of the heavy downpour that was now ensuing all around. David scanned the somewhat dry articles in the local paper. The leading headline of "Bin-collection-day to be changed again" was telling enough. Unfortunately, the stories that followed were hardly redeeming. Then, glancing down the page, his gaze fixated onto something confusing and slightly shocking; there, in unambiguous print was an advertisement for his job at the hotel.

The ad citied an "urgent need for applications owing to the sudden resignation of the current manager." Slightly annoyed, he decided to telephone the hotel to find out who had placed the ad and why. His phone showed no reception; unsurprising he thought, the train was now right out in the wilds.

All of a sudden, the train began to slow. It ground to a halt inside a tunnel passing through one of the taller hills, the engine turned silent. Oddly, David couldn’t recall passing through a tunnel on previous journeys. Nevertheless, he remained seated, waiting for the train to resume course. Even in the depths of the dark tunnel, the flashes of lightning and booms of thunder still managed to make their presence felt. Their synchronous occurrence indicated the storm was centered directly over the hill, under which the train sheltered. David glanced at his reflection in the window. His eyes then refocused onto the tunnel wall as it was revealed by the brilliant blue flashes of lightning.

Spread over the rocky tunnel wall were thousands of tiny engraved symbols. With each flash of lightning David could see more and more of them. They appeared to cover the entire tunnel, even the vaulted arched ceiling, which looked more like a temple or cathedral than a mere rail-tunnel.

Then, without warning, the storm suddenly began to very rapidly subside. David wondered whether it was the storm that had kept the train from venturing out. Maybe it would start moving again. The echoes of booming thunder withdrew from the tunnel and with them the flashes of lightning. The sound of the storm died down and with it something more ominous began to fill the void. At first he thought he was hearing things, but as it grew in intensity, it was unmistakable. Resonating down the tunnel was the distant sound of an organ. David stood up bewildered and panicked as its hymn intensified, again and again, as if summoning up a frenzy.

The tunnel once again began to become illuminated, but this time not with the brilliant blue energy unleashed by the lightning. A flickering-orange glow began to encroach on the rocky wall. Casting its creeping elongated shadows over the awkwardly-carved symbols, David backed away from the window. The sound of the organ had now been replaced with a low-pitched indecipherable chant. As it rose up like the storm that preceded it, David turned and ran.

By that time it was of course too late. They had already boarded the train. Besides, they were not going to let their centerpiece of the monthly offering leave so readily.

The following morning the sun gently glazed across the hillsides surrounding the village. As the new candidate for the hotel manager’s job made his way up the stairs for his interview, a funny smell wafted through the air. He was too nervous to notice it though. After all, his attention was focused on impressing his prospective employers. Luckily for him though they were only too desperate to have him.