Aldwych Station

A London Ghost Story

Tim Svart

Copyright © by Tim Svart

Translated by S. T. Paterson

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

1

Jack had pictured his weekend with Sam rather differently. Dripping wet, he took her arm and pulled her along through the darkness. Not knowing what else to do, he hauled back the lattice gate sealing the nearest underground station and they stepped into the passage that lay beyond. Neither of them had any idea what they had got themselves into.

The metal grille rattled back to its original position. Jack wiped the London rain off his face and dropped his backpack to the ground next to Sam, who was crouching with her back against the tiled wall. Water dripped from her long hair and left see-through patches on the white T-shirt stretching over her breasts.

Jack wrinkled his nose. The pungent stench of urine hung in the air - which explained the origin of the yellowish-brown spots that were spattered here and there on the tiled floor. His eyes wandered over the gloomy walls of the passageway. Over time, they had been clogged up with posters, most of which had yellowed beyond almost all recognition. Jack’s gaze swept over the posters for rock concerts by various artists, people he’d never even heard of. Over a flier for a Halloween party at a club called »Vampire Crypt«. Some joker had obscured the date of the event in black graffiti – namely in the shape of what was beyond any doubt an oversized phallus.

Other posters showed portraits of missing teenagers. Most of them had probably sunk into the marshy depths of big-city drug addiction, never to be seen again, or fallen victim to some kind of crime. Very few of them, Jack was certain, would ever resurface. His gaze was caught by the faded photograph of a black-haired Goth beauty. A silver chain with a pentagram-shaped pendant dangled over her plunging neckline. He guessed that the girl had only just reached adulthood at the time the picture was taken. What had happened to her? Jack’s thoughts were circling around the beautiful girl when Sam’s voice tore him away from his musings.

»This is such shit weather. Let’s just get the next train to Heathrow, ok? I’m so sick of this city and its shitty endless rain.« She glanced up at Jack and snaked an arm round her bended knees. A clap of thunder made her start, as the wind, which was now picking up, drove a swirl of raindrops and brown autumn foliage deep into the passageway.

Jack nodded. »Ok, let’s go.« He reached down for his rucksack and gave Sam his hand. They hurried down the corridor towards the platform: in the crepuscular light he could just make out the faded signage for the diverging passages. »Here. We’ve got to go along here.« Hastily, he pulled Sam behind him, heading down a steep set of steps.

»Fucking hell. Why isn’t there an escalator here?« grumbled Sam, who was struggling to keep up with Jack.

»How should I know? But we can go and walk in the rain until we find a station that has one, if you prefer.« Jack let go of her hand and took several steps in one. Why on earth had he believed that he could solve their recent problems with this break? He had intended it to be a romantic weekend for two, for their fourth anniversary, but after that stupid incident at the office (followed by a lot of tearful toing and froing), the whole thing had descended into a reconciliation trip, which was now about to go down the drain. Literally.

The steps were spiralling ever deeper into the Underground. Muggy air hit them. Out of breath, they reached the bottom and found themselves in the middle of what seemed like an endless platform.

»Oh no,« gasped Sam, still struggling for breath.

»What’s the matter now?« Sam’s nonstop moaning was starting to grate. Could it ever be right again between them? Or better still: could HE somehow make it right again? Perhaps it would be best to end the relationship, or at least take a break for a while. But he could think about that once they were on the plane and this miserable fiasco of a trip was over.

»Haven’t you noticed?« asked Sam.

There it was again, that know-it-all undertone in her voice. When they had met, it hadn’t really bothered him. He hadn’t even noticed it. But things had changed considerably since then. »Noticed what?« he replied, without bothering to look around.

»The platform. There’s no one here.«

»So? It’s better than being totally crowded. There’s more than enough stations like that in this city.«

»But it’s weird! And there’s something else.«

Jack rolled his eyes. »What?«

»The light. Haven’t you noticed how it’s flickering?«

»Yeah, so? Does it matter?«

»Maybe not. But just look at the lamps - they look as though they’ve come out of the last century. You just don’t get things like that anymore.«

»Hon, the London Underground is one of the oldest in the world. It’s conceivable there are still a couple of old-fashioned lamps somewhere about, don’t you think?«

»I don’t know. Jack?«

He looked at her silently.

»Let’s go. Please. We’ll look for another station. I really don’t like it here. Or we’ll get a taxi. I’ll pay. But please just let’s get out of here.« Sam was already on her way to the steps.

Jack followed her. »Fine.« Secretly he had more time for Sam’s suggestion than he cared to admit, because the more he thought about it, the stranger this Tube station appeared.

Then, as he reached for Sam’s hand, the lights went out. Endless blackness spread around them.

»No, please. Not this as well! I told you something wasn’t right! We’re never going to get out of here.«

Jack could feel the panic in Sam’s voice. »Don’t worry, just stay calm. There are always black-outs or power failures in London. It’s completely normal.« Whether that was true or not, he had no idea, but it felt right to say so. »There must be a torch somewhere in my rucksack. It should be enough to find our way back up.« He felt for the clasp in the darkness. There was no problem finding the little torch, which was always stored in one of the inside pockets. Just as he turned it on, Sam pushed his hand downward.

»Turn it off,« she whispered. »Right now.«

»Are you off your head? First you nearly go berserk because the lights went out and now I’m supposed to turn it off? What’s wrong with you?«

She placed the palm of her right hand over his mouth. His lips felt the cold metal of the heavy stainless steel ring that he had bought her three years ago. The pressure of her hand relaxed as she whispered something into his ear: »I think there’s something here.«

He flicked the torch off and slowly pushed her hand away. »What do you mean?«

»I think someone’s here. There was a noise.«

»I didn’t hear anything.« Jack switched his torch back on. The white cone of light wandered aimlessly through the darkness. »I can’t see anything,« said Jack. Then the beam fell straight on Sam’s face and he let out a terrible scream.

»Sorry,« he sniggered. »Thought you were a ghost.«

»Idiot!« she spat and tried to snatch the torch. It dropped to the ground with a muffled clatter and all at once it was pitch black again.

»Have you lost your mind?« His voice almost cracked. »Can you please tell me how we’re supposed to find the way out without any light?«

»Be quiet! Someone’s here. I am absolutely sure that someone is here.«

Jack patted the ground searching for the fallen torch.

»Forget the torch. I just want to get out of here. We can still do it. We can’t be far from the steps,« breathed Sam. She grabbed the sleeve of Jack’s windbreaker and pulled him up.

»Ok, let’s go for it. But we stay together, understood? Don’t let go of me whatever you do.«

Together they stumbled in the direction they believed the steps to be. After a few strides, they slowed down and fumbled their way through the darkness with outstretched arms.

»The wall must end somewhere. And then that’s where the steps will be,« whispered Jack.

Suddenly Sam’s hold loosened with a jolt; her hand slid over the sleeve of his jacket. Jack could feel her fingers trying in vain to keep their grip on the thin material. Then they disappeared.

Blood-curdling silence followed Sam’s scream. Jack looked wildly around. Only blackness. »Sam! What’s going on?« No answer. »For god’s sake, stop this bullshit. Where are you?«

»Jack, I’m here.« Her voice sounded agonised, no more than a soft moan.

»What happened? Where are you?«

»I don’t know! Suddenly there was nothing under my feet and I fell. I think I’ve sprained my ankle.«

»Shit! Just what we need.« Jack crouched down and began to feel around him. »Stay where you are,« he said, as he crawled over the cold floor on all fours. »I’m coming.« His fingers followed the grouting between the floor tiles; the appearance and texture of the Underground platform was changing gradually. Instead of the even tiled surface was a jagged concrete strip. But the long grooves ended as suddenly as they had begun: behind them his hand hit empty air. Instantly he realised what had happened to Sam.

»Sam, is there anything down there that feels like tracks?« He could hear her moving as she felt around.

»Yes, you’re right. I must be right next to the rails.«

»Then you need to get away from there as quickly as possible before you get hit by a train. Here, take my hand, I’m reaching down to you.«

»A train?« The voice came from nothingness and froze Jack’s blood in his veins. No, they were not alone after all. The fearfully loud echo of the voice bounced off the walls in the pitch-dark underground station. »No trains have passed through here for a very long time. But if I may give you some advice regardless: you should get out of here as quickly as possible.« Imagining the speaker to be right beside him, Jack whirled around but could make out nothing at all save for the omnipresent blackness.

»Who’s there?« Jack stretched out his hands and groped aimlessly in the darkness. In vain he tried to catch hold of someone or something.

»Jack, was that you? This is no time for stupid jokes. Please just help me climb up. I just want to go home. And my foot is absolutely killing me. I hope it’s not broken.«

»It wasn’t me, Sam. There is someone else here.«

»Are you serious? I told you I heard something, but you wouldn’t believe me!«

»You should both be happy I found you,« the voice rang out.

»Who are you and, more importantly, where are you? Don’t you have a torch?«

»No. I don’t need a torch. I can find my way around just fine without one. But what is your story? What in all the world brings you down here? And why do you not have a torch with you?«

»We dropped our torch, but it must be around here somewhere.«

»Do you mean this one?« asked the voice.

Unable to even see his hand in front of his face, Jack reached out and fumbled across an object that felt like his pocket torch. He took it and flicked the switch. »Damn!«

»What’s the matter?«

»It’s broken. Now how are we going to find our way up?« Assuming that the stranger was still standing close by, Jack spoke to him directly. »Could you by any chance help us to find the way back to the steps? We just want to get out of here.«

Jack made as if to hurl the faulty torch into the darkness, but then he lowered his arm afraid that he might hit Sam or the stranger. Instead, he placed it on the ground and stretched out his hands in the direction he thought Sam to be. »Give me your hand, I’ll pull you out. And then we’ll make sure we get out of here.«

After fishing around desperately for a while, he eventually managed to grasp Sam’s hand. »Come on, I’ll pull you up.«

The fingers of her right hand clutched Jack’s. Her left tightened on his arm. She groaned as Jack yanked her onto the platform with a hefty jerk. »God, my foot hurts so badly.«

»Do you need assistance?« came the voice from the darkness again.

»Yes, you can show us the way up,« said Jack. He held Sam by the arm, who was trembling from head to toe.

»How the devil did you get down here in the first place? As far as I recall, all the gates to this station have been closed for years.«

»What do you mean closed? We came in through the roller door upstairs.«

»That is impossible. And even if it were possible, why should you do such a thing? No one ever strays down here. At least no one in their right mind.«

Sam related how she and Jack had fled into the Underground station from the rain and had decided to take the Tube back to their hotel as the quickest route. She told him how the light had suddenly gone out and how they had lost the torch. »And then I fell onto that damned track,« she finished.

»Damned? You would do well to avoid such a word down here. Surely you know that this Tube station is haunted? It is not to be trifled with.«

»Haunted?« repeated Jack in a gravelly voice. »Are you joking? Because it’s not funny.«

»Jack, I think he’s right. I said straightaway that something wasn’t right here.«

»Look, I’ve had enough of these horror stories. Please take us back to the steps so we can leave.«

»I’m afraid it’s not as easy as that. As I said, the station gates have long been closed. Welded shut, if I’m not mistaken.« He chuckled softly. Something about their awkward situation seemed to amuse him a little too much. »However you ended up here, you will certainly not get out the same way.«

»Jack, please tell me that’s not true. That can’t be, can it?« Sam clutched Jack’s arm and pressed her sobbing face against his chest. Jack could feel her trembling in agitation and gently stroked her damp hair.

»It’s all rubbish,« he said eventually. »Show us the way to those damn steps now. That’s how we came in, and that’s how we’ll get out.«

»As you wish, but don’t say that Old Bill didn’t warn you.«

2

Jack felt the cold hand of the old man on his, pulling him through the darkness. Sam was still clinging to Jack’s arm and followed the two men blindly, groaning in pain now and then. Jack sensed that she was limping heavily and wondered whether she would be able to make it up the steps.

»So, here we are. The steps begin straight ahead of you. But I tell you now that you could save yourself the trouble of that route. You will not get out that way.«

»Well, we’ll give it a try. We appreciate your help. Sam, do you think you can manage it?«

»I don’t know, but perhaps you should go up first to see if the door really is open. I’ll wait here for you.«

»You don’t seriously believe that I’d leave you alone down here with this guy?«

»You should be grateful we met him. We would never have found our way here so quickly otherwise.«

»If I may say so, I think that’s a very sensible idea. You climb up the steps and assure yourself that the gate is closed, and as soon as you are back I will show you both another way out.«

»What? There’s another way? Why on earth didn’t you say so to start with?«

»Well, you didn’t ask. And, besides, it is somewhat more circuitous and dangerous than the route up the steps. However, it does not end at a locked gate.«

»So let’s go that way then,« urged Sam.

»No way. I want to know if the gate is open first. Let me run up and see. Then I’ll come and get you. What do you think?«

»Go on, then. It’s a sensible idea. Otherwise I’ll have to drag myself all the way up and then come all the way down again. But please hurry.«

»And Bill, if something happens to Sam in the meantime, then I swear…« He could still hear the soft laughter drifting behind him as he made his way up the gloomy staircase. With no light, the ascent took considerably longer than the way down.

After a few minutes, Jack was back and panting at the bottommost step. »Sam, are you there?«

»Of course I am! Where else would I be?«

Jack grinned, despite himself. Sam had evidently picked up some courage and was almost back to her old self. »The gate is shut. I don’t understand it, but that’s how it is.«

»That can’t be right. How is that possible? We only came through a few minutes ago.«

»I haven’t the slightest idea,« admitted Jack sheepishly. »Maybe they shut the station at night and open the gates first thing in the morning?«

»Can’t you ask anyone for help up there? Perhaps you can only open the gate from outside...« asked Sam.

»Sorry, but no. There was no one up there. The streets are dead at this time of night, especially in this weather. We won’t get out that way. Unless you want to sit up there in the cold and hope that someone comes past.«

»No thanks. Plus we need to catch our flight. How are we supposed to manage that? All our things are still at the hotel. Are you really sure the gate is locked?«

»Go up and see for yourself if you don’t believe me,« replied Jack shortly.

»I’m afraid there is only one way you will get out today,« Bill interjected.

»What sort of way?« asked Sam.

Jack heard her just manage to suppress a sob. She may have been getting on his nerves just a few minutes previously, but now he felt very sorry for her. »Listen, Bill. We would be really grateful if you could help us find our way out of here. So what sort of way is it?«

»It’s an old tunnel. It was built over a hundred years ago for a new underground line, to link the north of the city with the south. But the project was never finished and the tunnel comes to a dead-end.«

»Great,« muttered Jack. »What use is that to us?«

»Let him finish.« Sam was still clinging to Jack’s upper arm. There was no way she wanted to lose contact with him again.

»The tunnel ends, as I said, in a dead-end,« began Bill again. »But there is an opening to a second tunnel, which is still used. It will lead you to a wholly normal Tube station.«

»This tunnel…« Sam’s voice trembled. »You said it’s still used?«

»It is a most ordinary Underground tunnel. Yes.«

»You mean trains go through it?«

»Indeed. That is the norm for an Underground tunnel,« replied Bill casually.

»But how the hell are we supposed go through it without being run over by the next Tube train?« Jack was on edge, irritated. He could feel the situation gradually overwhelming him, and the old man’s odd sense of humour didn’t exactly make him feel comfortable.

»That’s not a problem.« Bill was serenity itself.

No wonder, thought Jack. It’s not you who’s got to walk through a pitch-black Tube tunnel with speeding trains in it, dragging your injured girlfriend along with you.

»You just need to know when the next train is due.«

»Too bad we don’t have a timetable,« snapped Jack.

»Jack, get it together. Bill’s only trying to help.«

»By walking us through right in front of the next train? Great help. Thanks a lot!«

»Jack! That’s enough! Or maybe you’ve got a better idea? I don’t fancy spending the night down here at any rate. Bill, what about the trains?«

»I can explain exactly how to get through the tunnel.«

»Do you actually have a timetable?« asked Jack, trying rather unsuccessfully to sound less annoyed.

»Come with me, I will explain,« was all Bill said.

Jack listened as Bill slowly shuffled off. »Wait!« he called to the old man. »My girlfriend can’t go so fast.« Turning to Sam, he asked: »Can you walk?«

»It fucking hurts, but there’s no other choice. Come on, let’s go.«

Jack supported Sam as best he could, but they made slow progress. Putting too much weight on her injured foot only made her whimper.

»Wait up! Bill! We’re not as quick as you. Plus we can’t see anything. Don’t you have a torch, or anything?«

There was no answer.

»Bill!« called Sam into the darkness. »Where are you? Are you still there?«

Again, no answer. Jack focussed on the stillness and tried to work out whether Bill was still nearby. And then he heard a sound. Scuffling steps, merging together with strange noises in an unsettling symphony; an off-key melody fleshed out by a steady knocking that flooded into the darkness. Goose flesh broke out on his arms. Then something hit him on the head.

»For chrissakes!« He felt Sam wince beside him. There was a brief moment of relief, as the droplet of water ran down his forehead and dripped onto his face. He wiped it off with the back of his hand and added somewhat more quietly: »I knew that old man was messing with us.« And then his heart almost gave out, as a sharp hissing resounded right next to his ear.

»Psst! Just be quiet, will you.« Bill, who was evidently standing right behind him, placed a hand on his shoulder.

God only knows how he managed that without me noticing anything, thought Jack. The old guy has got an advantage over us down here; he could do what he likes with us. But like it or not, we probably would have rotted down here without his help.

»They’re here,« whispered Bill.

»I can’t see anything,« answered Jack. Sam dug her fingernails so deeply into his arm that he yelped softly.

»Be quiet,« whispered Bill. »Or do you want them to come for us?«

»Who?« Sam’s voice was trembling.

»Later,« replied Bill murmuring softly. »Not now.«

So they stood motionless in the darkness, hardly daring to breathe. After a while the noises gradually began to grow fainter and finally faded completely. Nevertheless Jack thought he could feel an icy breath of air stroking his face. He put his arm around Sam’s shoulder. She was trembling all over. Why why why had they entered that damn Tube station? Couldn’t they just have sat in a café somewhere until the rain had stopped? Then they would have been back at their hotel long ago, their bags all packed and waiting. This whole weekend had been doomed from the start.

»Bill,« whispered Sam. »Do you think they’ve gone?« She deliberately avoided using words like ghost or phantom. But once the association had been made, it wasn’t so easy to get rid of.

»Let’s go on,« whispered Bill and took Jack’s hand.

Somewhat reluctantly, Jack allowed himself to be guided through the darkness by the old man. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Bill had something up his sleeve. Had there really been someone there in the darkness? Or were he and Sam simply puppets in Bill’s macabre theatre?

They slowly walked on: Jack couldn’t say how long they had been moving. It’s like a tomb down here, he thought, and felt a gentle grip of panic. He had never tended towards claustrophobia before, but this affair was gradually threatening to engulf him. The blackness and stillness were unbearable and weighed heavily on his mood like a shroud.

»We’ll be there soon.« Bill’s voice tore Jack from his gloomy thoughts. He let go of Jack’s hand and set about doing something in the darkness. An unpleasant noise rang out, which reminded Jack of a creaking door that had not been moved for many years. Damn it, it had to have been a door. So this guy had led them into a trap! And they had trotted along behind him like faithful puppies, like lambs to the slaughter.

»Where are we?« asked Sam.

»One moment,« answered Bill. »I just have to… Ah, here it is.« A brief hissing made Jack flinch, as his surroundings became cloaked in a dim flickering light. The unknown source gave out only a little light at first, but even so his eyes needed time to adjust after so long in the dark.

Then all at once it became lighter. Up on the ceiling Jack saw the lamp, glazing everything in an even white-blue luminance. It was presumably one of those old gas lamps, the ones that had been used long ago. Odd, thought Jack, that it still works. His gaze wandered around. The room in which they found themselves was about three metres wide, twice as long and at least three metres high. There was rubbish and all kinds of junk everywhere – presumably relics from the time the station had been built. Jack noticed old workers‘ helmets, shovels and pickaxes, some of which had rusted almost beyond recognition.

Nothing I could use to get us out of here, thought Jack. Maybe I could smash Bill’s skull in with an old hammer. But then what? He dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. Even if he were to kill the old man, they’d still be sitting ducks. Perhaps he could open the iron gate with the work tools... And if not? He would still have no idea how to get the pair of them out of this miserable situation. Grudgingly, with gritted teeth, he decided to hear what Bill had to say first. There would be enough time for everything else later.

An unpleasant odour assailed his nostrils. It was probably coming from those clothes lying around, which were slowly mouldering in the dank surroundings. He even thought he could see a thick layer of mildew coating some of the items.

»What are we doing in this stinking hole?« he asked. »Didn’t you want to show us the way out?«

Bill, who had been standing with his back to Jack and Sam, turned to face them. And the picture he offered at that moment froze Jack’s blood in his veins.

»Oh my God,« whispered Sam and took a step back. The old man’s face looked as though someone had run over it with a combine harvester. Florid scars ran criss-cross over his forehead, cheeks and bare skull, but his physique was amazingly compact and muscular for his age. He was about as tall as Jack, but looked rather more powerful. His left eye was missing and the remaining cavity had been sewn up rather crudely.

Jesus, thought Jack. At that moment it became clear that he would have absolutely no chance in a fight between the two of them. Regardless of age. This guy was physically superior to him by a long way.

»I’m sorry if my appearance has shocked you,« said Bill. »Perhaps I should have warned you. But, on the other hand, do you seriously believe that I would live my miserable existence down here in eternal darkness and isolation otherwise?«

»But how…« began Sam, but broke off.

»Did it happen? It’s a long story. And I don’t think that we should waste your time on it.«

»How long have you been living down here?« Sam enquired.

»I’ve no idea. It feels like an eternity, but time is not of much importance down here.«

»But how did you get here? I mean, it’s not exactly listed in the housing adverts.«

Bill laughed softly. »True indeed, but before we lose ourselves in endless chat, perhaps we should see about getting you back up to the surface. What do you think?«

Sam nodded.

»That is definitely the best suggestion I’ve heard recently,« added Jack. He checked his watch – just before midnight. They had been down here for over an hour – more than enough for his liking, and high time they left this creepy place.

3

»So,« Bill began, crossing the room determinedly and standing before a closed door on the rear wall of the room. »I will now explain the way that you must take.«

Jack supported Sam and together they followed him.

Bill pushed a rusty door handle and opened it. Behind it there was nothing to be seen - nothing but the deepest blackness.

»Is that the tunnel?« asked Sam.

Bill nodded.

»You said this section is still used?« Jack had taken a step towards the open door, but still could see nothing.

»Not this tunnel. But if you follow it to the end, you will come to an intersection. To the right is another dead-end, but the left will lead you to a parallel tunnel. Follow this tunnel to the right. Always keep to the tracks - they will lead you directly to the next station. It will take you about ten minutes if you move swiftly. There are no other turn-offs in which to get lost, if you have succeeded in getting that far.«

»What about the trains?« asked Jack again.

»At this time, the trains only travel through the tunnel on the hour. If you make sure that you have the correct time, you will manage to do it before the next train comes.«

»And if not?« asked Sam hesitantly.

»Perhaps you should not think about that,« replied Bill dryly. »In this tunnel, the trains only travel in one direction. It is narrow, very narrow. If you should encounter a train there, the game is over. There is nowhere to hide.« He cleared his throat and continued hesitantly. »There is... something else. Something is out there, in the tunnels.«

»What?« Jack demanded.

»It is said they are the restless,« whispered Bill. »Ghosts. No one knows where they come from, or what they are. Some claim they are the ghosts of workers who died constructing the Underground, who have wandered the tunnels ever since. Others speak of the souls of lost children. You know, now and then people disappear in the tunnels. Not one has ever come out again. Still others tell stories of a monster that walks abroad, up to its tricks down here. But no one has ever come face to face with it. Or rather, no one has lived to tell the tale. I myself do not believe in these stories. Ghost stories are for unmannerly children.«

»But didn’t you just say…« began Sam.

»That’s enough now!« Jack broke out. »Just stop with all these damn horror stories.«

»Jack!« cried Sam indignantly. »He’s just trying to help us. We should be grateful to him. Otherwise we’d probably join the ranks of those creatures soon.«

»It’s not particularly helpful when he’s telling us all these horror tales just before we go, though, is it?«

»I am sorry if I have alarmed you,« Bill tried to appease him. »But you can’t say afterwards that I didn’t warn you. So, whether there are ghosts or not: please take care. Otherwise this place will be your grave.«

Jack nodded. »Then let’s go. Sam? How about you? Can you manage it?«

Sam gulped. She was looking pale; her eyes had a damp sheen. She must be suffering horribly, because she was actually pretty tough. Shortly after they had met, she had broken a finger playing volleyball and only went to the doctor two days later, when the pain had become unbearable. Back then they had been newly in love and he had practically made himself ill from worrying. But now, somehow, it seemed as though their dire situation was bringing all those old feelings flooding back.

Sam was slumped on an old stool, carefully pulling her right trouser leg up a little. Her ankle looked awful. No wonder she could hardly walk. The joint had gone deep blue and swollen up like a tennis ball. »Oh no,« sighed Jack. »Never mind, I’ll just have to carry you.«

»You’ll never be able to,« sobbed Sam. »Not the whole way. You’d better go alone and get help.«

»Never. Out of the question. I am not leaving you behind alone in this miserable craphole.«

»She’s right,« said Bill quietly. »You won’t do it if you take her. You must go alone, whether you like it or not. Or wait until tomorrow morning. With a little luck, someone may come by and free you, although I wouldn’t bank on it. People are always in such a hurry in the mornings, you know, and have no interest in anyone else’s problems. Moreover, it is not pleasant spending a night down here. Believe me, I know.«

»Even so,« said Jack. »I don’t like it. Why don’t you come with us? You could help me support Sam and besides, no one knows these places as well as you do.«

»I’m afraid that won’t be possible,« answered Bill. »I am an old man and can no longer cope with these stresses and strains in the middle of the night.«

»Jack?« Sam looked at him and tears rolled down her face. »Please, just go and get help. I just want to get out of here as quickly as possible. Please!«

Jack sighed. Maybe she was right. If only he could make out this man Bill a bit better. Was he all right? Was it right to leave Sam behind down here as he tried to find help? On the other hand, even if they waited down here till morning. Sam’s ankle looked pretty bad and no one could guarantee that he would be able to take her with him tomorrow anyway. And if he had to go alone, surely it was better to do it sooner rather than later.

»You should go now,« Bill broke into Jack’s thoughts. »In the morning the intervals between the trains become shorter and shorter. Then it will be impossible to get out through the tunnel.«

Jack glanced at Bill, then at Sam.

»Do you think you can do it?« his girlfriend asked at length.

He nodded thoughtfully and inhaled the musty tunnel air. That horrible smell accosted his nostrils again. This time, however, it reminded him of burnt food. Meat, too long on the grill.

»Ok, then.« He leaned over to Sam and pressed a light kiss on her lips. Then he turned back to the old man. »You don’t have a lamp for the journey by any chance, do you?«

Bill silently shook his head. »I’m sorry. The only light I have is this one on the ceiling, which I’m pleased to say is still connected to the old gas line.«

Jack nodded and looked Sam straight in the eyes, those blue eyes that had so attracted him when they first met. And at that moment he felt – for the first time in a long time – the magic that they had both experienced at the start of their relationship. He kissed her again. This time with a passion that he had long thought lost.

Her lips were soft and shimmery with the sticky sweet taste of lip gloss. The captivating scent of her perfume filled his nose and he felt his desire for her washing over him. Heavy-hearted, he tore himself away. »Sam,« he said. »I love you. Don’t worry. I’ll get you out. In a couple of hours we’ll be sitting at breakfast and laughing about the whole thing, you’ll see.« He stroked her head.

Sam had her doubts about the last, but she kept them to herself. »Be careful,« was all she said, and after Jack had disappeared into the black tube she added softly: »I love you too.«

4

Shit, it’s dark here, thought Jack, after he had been stumbling along for a few metres. The little light coming through the door into the tunnel had disappeared behind the last bend. He wondered why the old man had said nothing of a bend. But maybe it had been a while since he had last traversed this route himself.

Step by step, Jack groped ahead. The ground beneath his feet was rough and strewn with stones of all sizes. He had to take extreme care not to twist his own ankle - another injured limb really would be the last thing they needed.

Several minutes had gone by and he thought he had covered a fair distance already, when a nightmarish feeling slowly crept up from the depths of his subconscious and headed rapidly for the surface.

The feeling that he was not alone.

He paused as he thought he heard a sound behind him: ghosts crossed his mind. But just as quickly he pushed those thoughts away. The old man should have kept his tales of horror to himself. Not that Jack really believed in ghosts, but he couldn’t deny that those stories in this eerie place had fallen on fertile soil.

He closed his eyes and tried to bring his rapid breathing back under control and focus on the surrounding stillness. No, nothing there. Just his imagination playing tricks on him. Of course he was alone in this godforsaken tunnel. He thought about Sam. Had it been the right thing to leave her behind with the old man? The question tormented him.

He pulled himself together and continued on his way. A loud cracking noise made him spin around. Blood pulsed behind his temples; the sound of his thumping heart thudded in his ears.

»Hello,« he called hesitantly into the darkness. »Is anybody there?«

No answer. Not a sound. Just the ubiquitous blackness.

Carefully he took a step forward. There it was again, that cracking noise. This time, however, he had the feeling that he had caused it himself. He bent down and chuckled in relief as he picked up a small branch, which had snapped into pieces under his weight.

Reassured, he dropped the branch and went on. Ghosts, he thought. Don’t make me laugh. I knew my imagination was running away with me.

The green luminous numerals of his watch told Jack that it was already a quarter past twelve as he got to the end of the tunnel. Just as the old man had described, the passage ended at this point. If he followed the stony wall to the left, hopefully he would encounter the parallel passage and follow the tracks from there. He glanced to the right and thought he had made a mistake. Was his imagination playing tricks again? He couldn’t be sure. But the longer he stared into the darkness, the more certain he was that he could see a pale, reddish gleam.

Jack considered. He would dearly like to know what the light was all about. Perhaps he would come across help unexpectedly? Perhaps some railway workers were there who could help him and Sam get out? Again the old man’s ghost stories broke into his mind. Forget that crap, he thought again.

Surely it wouldn’t take too long to take a closer look – and it wasn’t as if he could get lost. If he could see the light from here, he would just need to go a little further straight on and then come back the same way.

Jack nodded to himself. Encouraged by the hope of extra help, he walked towards the red gleam.

He made fairly rapid progress as he gradually developed a feel for the darkness. No wonder the old man could find his way around so well if he had been living down here for however many years. But Jack slowed down and admonished himself for his cockiness. After all, he didn’t want to suddenly fall into a hole he hadn’t been able to see properly, and break all his bones. He was annoyed that he had only just realised this, but his curiosity was greater than his misgivings.

He had come a good stretch closer to the glow when he noticed that it was not an even sort of light. Instead, it was rather a nervous flickering, which reminded Jack of a camp fire.

A faint rustle filled his ears. At first he thought he’d imagined it, but the noise grew more noticeable the further he continued. Metre after metre, he worked his way forward. Soon it occurred to him that he was moving along a kind of underground river, which was channelling its way through the underground world somewhere around here. Jack went slower. There was no way he wanted to take a step that could cost him dearly.

The rushing sound had now become so loud that he was sure he was very close to a waterway. He guessed it was another ten or so metres to the fire; carefully, he crouched down and tested the ground. It was damp and slippery. And once again he encountered that unpleasant smell, which he had already noticed in the presence of the old man. Waddling like a duck, he cautiously carried on and after a few more steps he felt it.

Water.

So he had been right. A stream was actually running through here. He dipped his hand into the cold water and was surprised at the speed at which it flowed past him. The longer he concentrated on the surface of the water, the more confident he became that he could see the course of it in the pale light emitted by the fire on the other side. He guessed the width of the stream to be a good metre or so, so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem to cross it.

Something soft and furry brushed his hand, which he pulled out with a jerk. He jumped up and took a step back away from the edge.

Then he heard the cheeping.

5

The next instant he could see their silhouettes in the glare of the light. Shadowy bodies scurrying wildly about: the water was alive with them. And he could see them, too, in close proximity to the fireplace. There must be hundreds of them.

It almost seemed as if they had been waiting for him. As if he had been a long-awaited guest come to visit them in their underground kingdom.

»Rats,« he muttered. But after he had got over the initial fright, and the more he thought about it, the less he wondered at their presence. What else would you expect in an underground river in an abandoned Tube station? Goldfish?

Jack thought about making himself scarce and going back to his intended route. Forget about the fire. Whoever had lit it was obviously no longer nearby; judging by the remains of the blaze he or she or they could have left hours ago.

But he wanted to find out what this strange place was all about. Again he calculated the distance to the other side of the stream; ultimately he wasn’t keen on ending up smack in the middle of this rat bath. An image that was not exactly to his liking.

He took a few steps back from the edge and took a short run up. He took off with all the strength he had and landed on the opposite side. It surprised him a little that he didn’t land on any rats, but those creatures were insanely quick and had scattered when they saw Jack’s body come flying.

Jack picked himself up by the fire and looked around. All the rats had vanished in a mere second or two.

All but one.

A particularly impressive specimen, skewered through with a thin metal rod, which was now suspended over the embers. It reminded Jack of a small suckling pig.

Except that all the suckling pigs he had ever seen in his life had been dead.

Dead and disembowelled.

But this rat was alive. Jack couldn’t believe his eyes when the animal briefly opened its own: two narrow slits reflecting the red glimmer of the fire. The rat had little strength left, but it was an unmistakeable sign that its life spirit had not fully bid farewell to its rodent body. Accompanied by a soft cheeping, the animal’s eyes fell shut and its body sagged as far as the metal spear would allow.

»God, that’s disgusting,« swore Jack and looked away from the charring rodent. He hoped that the animal was now finally dead, but did not dare to go closer to make sure. He looked around as if seeking help. Perhaps there was a stick or something nearby, which he could use as a torch with what was left of the blaze. But he couldn’t find anything suitable.

Instead, he noticed a cast-iron pot beside the fire place. Jack walked around the fire to get a look inside it. He carefully lifted the lid, as if scared that something could jump out at the first opportunity.

But nothing like that happened.

A sweet stench washed over him, which made his stomach turn. He didn’t have any particularly high expectations of the culinary skills of this underground chef, but the contents of the pot still caused him quite a shock.

A human hand.

Jack shut his eyes. The nausea surged up through him, and although he hadn’t exactly planned on throwing up there and then, in the end he couldn’t help it. He puked his guts out.

After his stomach had settled somewhat, Jack slumped onto one of the large rocks scattered across the ground. There it was again - thin sticks splintering under his shoes. At first he couldn’t make out anything on the dusty ground, but a grim suspicion crept over him as he picked up one of the sticks and brushed the filth off it. In the pale glow of the fire, he saw that it wasn’t a stick.

It was a bone.

Its ghostly white gleam struck him as he rolled it between his fingers. It was just as if someone had worked very hard to clean it. Or gnaw it, ran the thought through his mind. He shuddered, particularly as he was far from certain that the bone had come from a rat.

In one swift movement, Jack hurled it away into the darkness beyond the fireplace. A noise rang out as it hit the ground, making Jack prick up his ears. It almost sounded as if it had not landed on the dirty rocky ground…

Although afraid that his dreadful suspicion may prove true, Jack could not help but wonder so he his seat and emerged from the flickering firelight. After just a few steps, he was once again surrounded by total darkness: the weak light of the fire did not quite reach him. As his feet bumped against something hard, he stooped down. His fingers curled around an object that reminded him of a handball in shape and size.

He lifted it up and went back to the fire to take a closer look.

Jack stood in the gleam of the fire and stared aghast into the empty eye sockets of the skull he was holding. That was it; he was getting out of this dreadful place immediately. He re-crossed the stream and threw a last look back at the fireplace, skull still in hand. He now threw it in a high arc over to the other side, where it disappeared into the darkness with a muffled crash.

Then he ran.

The hand that darted out of the gloom and missed his ankle by a hair’s breadth was as invisible as the object dangling between its long flaky fingers.

A chain.

Whose silver pendant was the shape of a pentagram.

6

Jack tore down the dark passage, unable to see the slightest thing. He kept stumbling; he fell twice, hurting his hands, ignoring the warm blood that spilled from the wounds.

Sam, he kept thinking.

Sam.

Why the hell had he left her with that crazy old man? He had known all along that Old Bill wasn’t right in the head. He grew dizzy at the mere thought of what that monster could do to her. The memory of his recent discovery, just minutes ago, drove him on.

Gruesome images he tried in vain to banish left him gagging. The foul taste of gastric acid spread through his mouth; tears ran down his cheeks. Panic choked him more and more so that his breath fell heavier by the second.

He had lost all sense of direction when he tripped over a protruding object. Unable to stop himself falling, he hit his head on something hard lying on the ground.

Then he lost consciousness.

Jack had no idea how long he had been out of it. His skull was throbbing and glaring flashes of light darted before his eyes. He placed a hand on the spot he could feel a burning pain; blood was pouring down his forehead. It had not yet clotted and the warm liquid dripped into his eyes. Had he not been surrounded by pure darkness, he would have seen the world through a fine red haze.

Sam!

His mind raced towards Sam again, and immediately he forgot his terrible headache. Crawling over the ground, he tried to find any kind of clue as to where in this goddamn labyrinth he was. There. There it was. In just a few moments, he discovered the reason for his fall.

Rails.

Done it, he thought. I’ve actually done it!

A wave of relief swept over him. He had found the tracks the old man had been talking about. With a hefty dose of good luck, he had unwittingly followed the passage in the right direction and had literally stumbled across his salvation.

But what about Sam? He couldn’t just leave her behind with the old man. Not after what he had found. It would be a death sentence, of that he was sure. On the other hand, what use would it be to turn round and run straight into the old man’s clutches? Jack knew that Old Bill was vastly superior to him in this darkness. He was used to finding his way down here in the blackness, and he knew the tunnel system like the back of his hand. And Jack was afraid that he had already killed Sam anyway, straight after Jack had left her.

No, he wouldn’t go back. He would follow the tunnel to the next station and get help from there. The police could dredge up that crazy old man’s little nest. Jack laughed hysterically. And that maniac would have done almost anything to make him believe in ghosts!

He looked at his watch. The phosphorescent numbers showed it was a quarter to one: there was still enough time to get through the tunnel. Or should he play it safe and wait for the next train before setting off?

No, he thought. Now or never. You’ve got to get out as quickly as possible.

And once again he started running through the darkness.

7

Light! He could see light! It was clear now. Jack speeded up; he was nearly there. The end of the tunnel lay before him. A circular light that signalled the end of his nightmare.

It was coming closer. Closer, closer, ever closer.

I can’t believe I can run so fast, he thought.

That was when he noticed the noise. A sonorous hum that intensified into a full-blown droning within just a few seconds. To his great horror he saw that the light was not the light of the tunnel’s end, but two individual beams that were racing towards him with breathtaking speed.

It couldn’t be possible.

Bill had said that the next train would travel through the tunnel at one o’clock on the dot. Had he been wrong? Or did he deliberately lie and send me into this fatal trap?

Jack glanced at his watch. It was a quarter to one.

Still.

Only now did it dawn on him that the second hand had frozen. That stupid watch! It had obviously been damaged when he fell.

The droning in his ears grew louder and louder. He sensed the vibrations beneath his feet and in his bowels.

He wheeled round and ran for his life.

For both their lives, if Sam was still in the land of the living.

But he knew it was pointless. He had no chance. The train’s cone of light caught him; the noise was deafening. A long drawn-out whistle rang out. Blinding light enveloped him.

Then everything was still and eternal blackness closed around him.

The Daily Mail, London: »Last night a homeless man saved the life of an injured woman. The twenty-year-old and her partner had become lost in the disused Aldwych Station for reasons as yet unexplained. Help came too late for her boyfriend: according to the statement of the train driver, who is still suffering from shock, the young man was hit by a train in one of the tunnels and died instantly. However, Scotland Yard investigators have been faced with quite a puzzle, since the man’s mortal remains have yet to be found.«