Francis Rock takes the same train every morning. 6:47. Today the station is empty. The train is empty. Three minutes into the tunnel, everything stops. Lights die. Emergency power fails. He turns on his phone. The call is coming from inside the train. Then the smell hits him. Blood. Old blood. And in the darkness, something starts counting his footsteps.
Francis Rock takes the same train every morning. 6:47. Today the station is empty. The train is empty. Three minutes into the tunnel, everything stops. Lights die. Emergency power fails. He turns on his phone. The call is coming from inside the train. Then the smell hits him. Blood. Old blood. And in the darkness, something starts counting his footsteps.