The track maintainer

Phantom Metro -series introduction-

Every night, as the city sleeps, a silent train keeps moving beneath the streets of Rome.

On the shift of a lone night watchman, strange presences begin to emerge from the shadows.

No one sees that train. No one knows its schedule.

But when the doors slide open… every passenger carries a story from which there’s no return.

Welcome to Phantom Metro.

A series of self-contained tales, bound by one haunting question:

Who will be the next passenger?

That morning I couldn’t sleep.

Honestly, I’d strongly considered calling in sick and skipping my shift that night. But I was still new on the job, and I needed the money.

So once again, the time came for me to head to the Malatesta metro station.

I was beginning to hate that name but as I’ve said, I couldn’t afford to listen to my emotions.

At 11:30 p.m., the last train pulled in. The station emptied. The chatter faded, swallowed by the silence of the night. And that’s when something inside me stirred.

I don’t think it was anger more like a kind of courage born out of stress, from those unsettling nights. I stood up from my post, and without checking the monitors, I made my way down the broad grey staircase that led to the platform.

A few minutes later, I reached it and stopped roughly in the middle.

I looked to my left and suddenly I was terrified to look right. I hesitated, then slowly turned.

No one. Thank God.

I let out a breath of relief. I took a few steps forward and then, a crazy idea struck me.

I kept walking toward the far end of the platform, where the darkness of the tunnel waited.

Once there, I looked down and a few seconds later, my boots were crunching over the ballast between the rails.

I stood still, stunned by what my mind had just dared me to do. Uncertain of my next move.

Then… I started walking. I switched on the small flashlight clipped to my belt. Darkness swallowed me almost immediately. If not for the beam of light, I’d have tripped over something for sure. The only sound was the gritty scrape of gravel under my soles.

After five minutes, I’d already made good progress. I was sweating now. The flashlight jerked about like a frantic eye, trying to illuminate everything at once. Suddenly the tunnel widened, and that piqued my curiosity. I quickened my pace and nearly stumbled when half-lit from the side something darted past my feet. A rat. A big one. It vanished on the other side, squeaking in fear. I slowed, but I had arrived.

I looked to the left and my heart almost stopped. I was standing before a junction.

The tunnel had grown to accommodate a second track, splitting from the main line and veering into the subterranean dark.

I stood at the mouth of that unknown line, trying to shine my light ahead.

Nothing. Just a black throat leading to God knows where.

I couldn’t bring myself to take that step. It was too much. I’d look up the maps the next day, find out where it led. I turned to head back and that’s when the flashlight caught something. I froze, praying I’d imagined it. That my mind was playing tricks.

I slowly moved the beam toward the blackness inch by inch. And when the light revealed a shape, my knees nearly buckled.

There, no more than fifteen meters into the hidden track, crouched a man.

He held a small pickaxe in one hand. He wore a worker’s jumpsuit and old rain boots. A yellow safety helmet perched on his head. He was tapping the ballast slowly, methodically.

“How the hell didn’t I hear that tool before?” I thought.

The man turned his head toward me.

- I need to clear these tracks, - he said. -Too many rocks. A train might get into trouble.

I couldn’t speak.

He must have finished what he was doing, because a moment later he stood up and walked toward me.

His steps were heavy worn, like someone who’d been working for hours. His jumpsuit was filthy and covered in dust. And very old. Too old. He stopped in front of me. Pale blue eyes. Wrinkled skin. Unkempt beard. He stared in silence.

- Who are you?" I managed to ask.

- Can’t you tell?"

His tone was rude, but I barely noticed.

- Alright, but… what are you doing down here? I haven’t heard of any authorized maintenance work at nigh

- I don’t need authorization.

- What do you mean? What’s that supposed to mean?"

- I said what I said. I’m here to clear the tracks. Make them safe. That’s all that matters. He replied, grinning wide.

showing a crooked row of yellow, neglected teeth.

I was about to ask for his name when, in the distance, I heard a faint whistle.

The tracks began to tremble.

I turned and a gust of wind hit me so hard I nearly fell. That time, I saw the mysterious train up close. It passed no more than twenty meters from me, gliding along the main line. I ran toward it, trying to catch a glimpse inside, to see something anything.

But it was too dark.

The dim yellow lights inside revealed nothing of its passengers. Even the flashlight couldn’t help me. I heard it stop at the platform. A few moments later, it moved on.

Silence returned.

Frustrated by the lack of clues, I lowered my light. Then suddenly, the man came back to mind. Maybe he knew something. I rushed back into the unknown tunnel, scanning left and right with the beam.

But the man was gone.

- Hey! Are you there? I called out.

No reply.

I called twice more. Only the echo answered.

I lowered the light again.

That’s when I saw it something on the ground.

I lit it better and bent down to pick it up.

It was a worker’s ID badge. The photo was faded, just like the name. But one thing was clear:

Employee Number: 127466

Expiration Date: October 27, 1964.

It was then I realized perhaps that forgotten track… had never truly been abandoned.