The Final Departure Part Four – The Final Boarding

The sound came first: a grinding roar that shook the walls of the station, vibrating through the steel beams above. Then came the light—two blazing orbs far down the tunnel, cutting through the black like the eyes of some enormous beast.

The passengers surged toward the platform in perfect silence, luggage dragging behind them. No words, no cries, just the sound of a hundred shuffling feet echoing across the tiles.

Julian stumbled with them, pushed by their mass though no hand touched him. His throat tightened as the massive locomotive thundered into view.

It wasn’t like any train he’d ever seen. Its body was wrought from black iron, scarred and scorched, rivets glowing faintly as though hot from the forge. Smoke belched from its stack, but the smoke coiled downward, spilling onto the platform like a creeping tide. Its windows burned red from within, and silhouettes shifted behind the glass—shapes that didn’t look entirely human.

The engine screeched to a halt, sparks showering the rails. Doors clanged open one by one with the slow groan of tortured metal.

“Boarding now,” the loudspeakers droned. The voice was no longer mechanical—it was deep, resonant, and hungry.

Julian’s stomach dropped as Clara appeared at his side, her crimson coat brushing his arm. She pressed the suitcase back into his hands. “This is yours. Don’t forget it.”

“I’m not getting on that thing,” Julian whispered, his voice breaking.

Clara’s smile was patient, but her eyes gleamed cruelly. “You don’t have a choice. None of us do.”

The crowd pressed forward, one after another climbing the steps into the train. Some faces looked resigned, others broken. A few resisted, clawing at the floor, but invisible hands dragged them up regardless. The doors swallowed them whole.

Julian staggered back, desperate, searching for any exit, any escape. That was when Silas appeared again, standing directly in front of him at the gate. His cap cast a shadow over his pale eyes.

“Mr. Mercer,” the conductor said smoothly. “It’s time.”

Julian shook his head violently. “No! I can’t—there has to be another way!”

Silas’s smile thinned. “There is no other way. The tracks only run down.”

“I don’t deserve this!” Julian shouted, voice cracking. “I made mistakes, yes, but I tried—I tried to make things right—”

The conductor stepped closer, his voice low and final. “The ledger was written long before this night. The train waits for you. Nothing more, nothing less.”

The station groaned as if in agreement, rafters shaking dust into the air. The train’s whistle screamed—a sound like souls tearing apart.

Julian fell to his knees, clutching the suitcase. Inside he knew the contents weren’t keepsakes—they were weights. Burdens he had carried in life, sins polished and packed for the journey.

Clara leaned down beside him, whispering so only he could hear. “You’ll see familiar faces there, Julian. You won’t be alone.”

He lifted his head, eyes wide. Her face shimmered, flickering into another’s—the woman from the photograph, his ex-wife. Then it shifted again, his father, his brother, all the people he’d failed. Each smile was hollow, accusing.

Julian screamed.

But the scream was drowned out by the hiss of the doors closing. Hands—real or not—gripped his shoulders, hauling him upright, shoving him toward the steps. He fought, twisted, begged, but the strength that dragged him was unbreakable.

He stumbled onto the train.

The doors slammed shut.

Through the window, he caught one last glimpse of the station. Silas stood on the platform, pocket watch in hand, tipping his cap. Clara waved gently, her crimson coat glowing brighter than any signal light.

Then the whistle shrieked again. The train lurched forward.

Julian was thrown back against the seat as the Midnight Express roared into the black tunnel, sparks spitting from its wheels. Outside, nothing but endless dark. No stars, no cities, no horizon. Just descent.

And as the red glow deepened in the carriage, and the whispers of unseen passengers curled into his ears, Julian finally understood where the tracks led.

Not to another town.

Not to another dawn.

Downward.

Always downward.

The last train home.

To Hell.