Chapter 003 - The Infinite Train 03

  I had a long discussion with Elliot that night, the rhythmic clatter of the train on its endless tracks serving as our only constant. We both reached the same conclusion:

  To end this game, we had two choices—escape or die.

  But where was there to escape to? The train had no final destination, no terminus, no end in sight. Beyond the platforms, there were no roads, no civilization, nothing but a barren, howling wasteland of snow and ice. Every time the doors opened, the wind howled through like a starving beast, eager to sink its fangs into exposed flesh.

  Day Thirteen.

  That was the day the conductor finally showed himself.

  He was a heavyset man, middle-aged, with a gruff voice and the air of someone who had long since stopped caring. When he stepped into the carriage, conversation stilled.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, his voice carrying over the muted chatter. “I sincerely apologize, but our fuel reserves are running low. Starting tomorrow, the heating will only be turned on at night.”

  A slow chill crawled up my spine. The temperature outside was well below freezing, and inside, we weren’t much better off. I looked down at my thin dress shirt and slacks.

  Without heat, we wouldn’t last long.

  My fingers tapped against the cold glass table as I weighed my options. Then I turned to the stewardess standing by the door. “Are there blankets on board?”

  She offered a polite, professional smile. “Yes, sir.”

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  “Bring me two,” I said.

  She hesitated, glancing toward the conductor, who had barely finished his speech. “Sir, if you could wait until—”

  “I want them now.”

  I slammed my glass down. The impact sent a ripple through the vodka, a few drops spilling onto the table. The sharp sound cut through the uneasy quiet of the carriage. Something in my expression must have unsettled her because she hurried off without another word.

  When she returned, she carried two thick duvets. I took them without thanks.

  “I’ll also need two blankets,” I said evenly.

  She flinched. “Sir, I—”

  “My knees,” I interrupted smoothly. “Bad joints. The cold makes it worse. That a problem?”

  “N-No, of course not. I’ll get them right away.”

  Elliot, watching the exchange with thinly veiled amusement, let out a quiet chuckle as I tossed one of the duvets toward him.

  “Nice theatrics,” he murmured.

  I ignored him, lowering my voice. “Stop enjoying the show. Tomorrow—maybe the day after—this train is going to turn violent.”

  His amusement faded. “What makes you so sure?”

  I leaned back, running a hand over the fabric of the duvet, testing its weight. “I counted the supplies on my first day. Each carriage has only five duvets. Five blankets. That’s it.”

  Elliot frowned. He knew as well as I did that the passengers on this train weren’t quite… normal. Most drifted through the days like NPCs in a badly coded game, following their routines with an eerie, mechanical consistency. But they still felt cold. They still got hungry. And survival had a way of making even the most passive of beings desperate.

  “They’re starting to ration supplies,” I murmured. “And when people start realizing there’s not enough to go around…”

  I met Elliot’s gaze.

  His expression turned grim. “They’ll tear each other apart.”