Chapter 001 - The Infinite Train 01

  This was a train bound for an unknown destination.

  When I stepped through the door of my hotel room, responding to the mechanical voice that had guided me so far, I expected to find something—anything—that explained what was happening. Instead, I found myself here.

  Inside the train, the warmth was almost suffocating, wrapping around me like an artificial embrace. Outside, the world was nothing but an endless storm of wind and snow, a desolate white void stretching beyond sight. The contrast was unsettling. It felt as if this train was the only thing left in existence, cutting through a frozen purgatory without beginning or end.

  I settled into my seat by the window, watching as snow-covered fields blurred past, punctuated by the occasional power line or signal station. I waited, expecting the mechanical voice to return with new instructions.

  But no instructions came.

  One day passed. Then another. Then a third.

  The train rumbled on, following some unseen path. Everything around me functioned as it should—the passengers chatting softly, the attendants moving through the aisles with their trolleys, the occasional station announcement. If I hadn’t known better, I might have convinced myself that I was just another traveler on an ordinary train.

  But something was wrong.

  On the fourth day, the announcement finally came:

  “Dear passengers, we have arrived at Coldwind Station One. Please take your belongings and valuables and exit from the right-side doors in the train’s forward direction. Mind the gap between the train and the platform as you disembark.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  A chill ran down my spine.

  Not because no one was boarding—only disembarking—but because I had heard this exact announcement before. On the first day.

  I quickly pulled out a napkin and the ballpoint pen I had borrowed from an attendant, scribbling down the words: “Coldwind Station One.” I needed to keep track. Needed proof that I wasn’t imagining things.

  And so I waited, watching the stations come and go, noting down each name.

  Three more days passed. I had the full route now:

  Coldwind Station One, Coldwind Station Two, Coldwind Station Three, Coldwind Station Four, Coldwind Station Five, Noah Station One, Noah Station Two, Noah Station Three, Riverplain Station, Moby Station, Waterbloom Station, Uss Station, and Serco Station.

  Thirteen stops in total.

  And then, on the twelfth day—my third cycle—I found myself staring at the sign outside the window once more:

  Coldwind Station One.

  We were looping.

  I had spent the past twelve days combing through every carriage, searching for anything out of place. But the problem wasn’t that something was wrong. It was that everything was too perfect. Too normal. The train ran with pristine efficiency. The meals were neatly pre-packaged, their labels listing standardized manufacturers, storage instructions, expiration dates—

  That’s when I noticed it.

  The dates were moving backward.

  Not by much. A day here, a few hours there. But enough to be impossible. If this train had no origin, if we were never stopping long enough for proper resupply, where was the food coming from? And if the food was somehow being replenished… then maybe, just maybe, there was a way off this train.

  I had to find out.

  And more than that—I had to get out.