The Fall Of Bruin

I: Terror Train

Edward Altman was tired. So were most of the other passengers around him. Arriving home from a train at 4 in the morning wasn't exactly what he'd planned for his weekend. His vision blurred as he fought to stay awake. I'm almost there, he said to himself. Just 10 more minutes. He still felt sleepy. As his head dropped down once again, a woman's voice rang from the speakers overhead. "Attention, all passengers," she began, "The time is now 5:30 A.M. We will now slow down to stop at Bruin Central Train Station." Edward sighed. Bruin. To most, it was an alert and bustling metropolis. To Edward, its tall buildings signalled to the calmest sky, its roads led him into a time with his brother, and the cave systems underneath signalled a lost terror.

 Closing in around him.

 Pulsating rock.

 In.

 Out.

 In.

 Out.

A sharp beep cut through his thoughts. 

"Attention, all passengers. We have now arrived at Bruin Central Train Station. We hope you enjoyed your time aboard The Caratian Express. The doors will be opening shortly." 

 The passengers waited, yet the familiar ping of a train door opening never came. Instead, a metallic jolt was heard, and a schizophrenic cacophony of beeping sounds erupted from the announcement system. Many passengers looked around, alert and wary, less than half the exhausted crowd they had been moments ago. Finally, the beeping stopped, and the doors opened. The announcement system came to life. Somewhere from the back of the train, near the operator's cabin, the sound of shattered glass was heard. The passengers turned to look upwards towards the speakers. Words could not be discerned from the audible madness that followed.

 A heavy scraping sound, footsteps, thudding from beneath the train, and the announcer's voice, screaming in terror. And that. That wet, sickly growl, like a dog gone wild, and yet, it echoed with some tint of humanity. Not our worldly, prodigious echoes of progress. It echoed greed, sickness, and sin. The sound erupted wildly, as if it was evil earth given form.

Extreme panic rose amongst the people in the train as it lurched forward, and started moving once more. The doors had now closed, and it was well on its way to reach full speed. Edward Altman had to get off this train. He rushed through cabins, all the way through the tool compartment. People everywhere were panicking, calling, banging on doors and windows, trying to be heard. Finally, Edward reached the door to the operator's cabin. Not knowing what he would face, he grabbed a metal water bottle from a backpack lying on the floor.

Clutching it like a sword, he burst through the door. A strong gust of wind deafened his ears. The glass at the front of the train had been broken, shards lying on the floor. Fighting against the fierce wind, he looked around. Where... where were the operators? The announcers? No one except him was at the front to see what was coming. As his eyes locked on to the far end of the miserable tunnel, a feeling all too familiar rose inside him.

Fear.

The train was speeding towards a dead end.