The 0542

You rub the sleep from your eyes and slide into a red upholstered seat aboard the 0542. A recorded voice sounds over the tinny announcement system as you stare out over late Victorian ironwork into an inky sky just beginning to bleed into damp blue around the edges. "Welcome aboard the 05:42 service to London St. Pancras" calls the woman in a pastel-toned voice. "Calling at Chesterfield, Derby, Long Eaton, East Midlands Parkway, Loughborough, Leicester and London St. Pancras". [[Wait]]

You shuffle in your seat, after retrieving your phone charger and plugging it into the provided socket. For a moment you worry you might have got a dud, but the screen flicks into life and you see the reassuring lightning bolt appear. A frantic beeping and a metallic sliding noise behind you signals the arrival of a new passenger, bringing the total in your carriage to four. On the table opposite you, a harried looking woman types into a smartphone, before tucking it back into her suit jacket pocket and frowning at a table set up with a keyboard in front of her. Further down the aisle, a couple in plastic anoraks are trying to grab some sleep on each other's shoulders, forming the lower layer of a human pack of cards. The new man is tall, middle aged, and dressed in an old fashioned three piece suit complete with hat. He leisurely glances around at the other passengers, before taking a seat at the very end of the coach, and unfolding a comically large newspaper, his legs all that remain in view. [[Wait|Wait2]]

With a slow grinding like the opening of a dusty old chest, the train heaves out of the station, and you begin to count down the two hours to London. [[Phone]] [[Eat]] [[Scenery]]

You unlock your phone, battery duly charging, and idly scroll through Twitter. It's still too early for your mostly British timeline to be awake and sharing their thoughts, so you're stuck with the last of the Americans burning the midnight oil. Another Presidential debate. You skim past it, not wanting to hear the grating voices or the aspirational rhetoric. It's all too early in the day for that. You lock your phone and lean back in your seat. [[Eat]] [[Scenery]]

You unzip your backpack and take out the paper-bagged croissant and orange juice you picked up the night before, still cold from the fridge and the morning air, with the pastry starting to turn stale. Nothing is open on the way to the station, and as you greedily tuck in, you feel the satisfaction of not paying over the odds at the station café. [[Phone]] [[Scenery]] [[Toilet]]

You lean your head against the cold glass and watch as the yellow haze of industrial estates recedes into the stark LED-bleached streets of the city's outer suburbs. The invincibly average streets to the South West have their curtains resolutely shut, and the only discernable movement is the occasional Skoda slinking from a junction on the way to an early morning meeting in Manchester or Leeds. [[Phone]] [[Eat]]

You decide it's best to make use of the facilities before the train fills up later in the morning, and slink off down the aisle towards the helpful pictograms of a man and a woman illuminated on the wall. As you pass the tall man in a suit, you see that he is not looking at his large newspaper, which remains unfolded in front of his face, but at you. You silently shoot him a contemptuous thought. Everyone has to pee, mate. The toilet smells strongly of lemons and has the kind of gritty-looking blue flooring common to public institutions, like courtrooms, secondary schools and care homes. But it's clean and gratifyingly doesn't talk to you, nor swivel open to reveal you like a game show prize mid-session. [[Return to Seat]]

You shuffle back to your seat, very aware that everyone else in the carriage knows why you've been up. At the end of the carriage, the ticket inspector is making his rounds ahead of the arrival at Chesterfield. From the total blackness outside the windows, you realise that the train has entered the long tunnel separating the North from the Midlands. [[Retrieve Ticket]]

You dig your wallet out of your pocket and your eyes skim over the blank plastic window where a small photo used to sit. You grab the ticket and railcard and lay them out on the plastic table as though preparing to deal with a hostile border guard. The man is short, probably in his late fifties, with a blue coat over a functional black fleece. A name badge on a lanyard round his neck shows his name to be Alan, while a small enamel pin on his lapel shows he is a member of the railway union. [[Attempt Banter]] [[Silently Hand Over Ticket]]

"Early morning for you, isn't it pal?" you say as you hand over the ticket. Alan grunts acknowledgingly, before punching your ticket with something that looks like a hole punch. When he hands it back, after scrutinising your woefully out of date Railcard picture, you see that the ticket has been stamped with a small picture of a cat's head. You begin to wonder whether they vary the stamps to ensure passengers can't stamp their own tickets and ride for free, when you feel the drag of the train's brakes battling inertia as the carriage starts to slow. [[Look Around]]

You decide he doesn't need any unnecessary small talk this early in the morning. Alan grunts acknowledgingly, before punching your ticket with something that looks like a hole punch. When he hands it back, after scrutinising your woefully out of date Railcard picture, you see that the ticket has been stamped with a small picture of a cat's head. You begin to wonder whether they vary the stamps to ensure passengers can't stamp their own tickets and ride for free, when you feel the drag of the train's brakes battling inertia as the carriage starts to slow. [[Look Around]]

Alan looks concerned and hurries off down the train, ignoring the remaining four passengers in Coach D. You guess from his manner that this isn't an ordinary stop. At the adjacent table, the woman in workwear taps at her tablet, looking disgruntled. You check your phone and discover that there's no signal in the tunnel. The couple further down have woken up, and are quietly examining their surrounding, speaking silent whispers through shared looks and the body language you haven't known them long enough to translate. The tall man folds his newspaper fastidiously, and places it neatly in a briefcase which he snaps shut with a sharp pair of clicks. After waiting an exacting six seconds from Alan's departure from the train, he stands up. "I shouldn't worry about him" he says in the strangulated accent of a public schoolboy from the regions stuffed into the starched collar of Received Pronunciation. [[Stay Silent]] [[Respond]]

You are immediately suspicious of the man. You think back to him staring at you from behind his newspaper minutes earlier. Was that more than the quiet judgment of a stranger on a train? "I mean that he won't be coming back. Rather ironically for the mode of travel, our path now is in our hands, not the train operating company's". He steps sideways from his seat and heads down the aisle casually, stopping to rest over the couple, who both turn to face him. Up close, you can see that his dark brown hair is flecked with grey, his cold blue eyes locked with the dull green of the red haired woman. You see the boyfriend's hand subtly wrap protectively around his girlfriend. "Family's looking forward to seeing you, I imagine" he says to them both, as though commenting on the weather. "Five years is an awfully long time, and after how it ended last time, well-" he purrs with a soft smile. "Whether or not you make that plane, that's rather up to you". [[Intervene|Intervene2]] [[Keep Waiting|Keep Waiting2]]

"What do you mean?" you ask, immediately suspicious of the man. You think back to him staring at you from behind his newspaper minutes earlier. Was that more than the quiet judgment of a stranger on a train? "I mean that he won't be coming back. Rather ironically for the mode of travel, our path now is in our hands, not the train operating company's". He steps sideways from his seat and heads down the aisle casually, stopping to rest over the woman in the crumped suit, who hurriedly snaps her tablet shut and turns to face him. Up close, you can see that his dark brown hair is flecked with grey, his cold blue eyes locked with the dull green of the red haired woman. "You don't want to miss the vote, I imagine" he says to her, as though commenting on the weather. "Alright to miss the train when you're a backbencher intervening on the adjournment debate, but quite different when you're in the crosshairs for the frontbench" he purrs with a soft smile. "Whether you can get there though, that's rather up to you". [[Intervene]] [[Keep Waiting]]

"Hold on" you say, the woman's profile suddenly familiar from a hazily remembered TV news report. "Aren't you my MP?" She smiles uneasily, already uncomfortable with one stranger engaging her in conversation. "I might be" she replies, in a low voice, as she fixes you with a stare. "I'm Sally Reynolds" "Yeah, that's right" you say. "You did that stuff on the trees." This seems to be sufficiently vague that she can get away with an appreciative nod. The tall man coughs theatrically. "I see you're not averse to talking on public transport. How very un-British of you" he says, his bright eyes drilling through your skull. "Loose lips sink ships, so they say. Relationships, too". You suddenly feel as though you've been immersed in hot water up to your cheeks, and become aware of your face flushing. [[Yell]] [[Question]]

"It's not my bloody job to make the trains run on time, that's exactly why they privatised them" says the red haired woman, who you think from a hazy recollection of a local news story might be your Member of Parliament. "Oh trust me, the people whose job it should be aren't in any position to help you out now" he replies, picking at a fingernail. "If you four want to get out of here it's going to require more than passing the buck". He looks up, and sees you eyeing him suspiciously. He strolls over, and perches on the seat back where the ticket inspector steadied himself earlier. "And you" he says, his bright eyes drilling through your skull. "I'm surprised you haven't taken to your favourite habit of constantly intervening when it's not wanted. Loose lips sink ships, so they say. Relationships, too". You suddenly feel as though you've been immersed in hot water up to your cheeks, and become aware of your face flushing. [[Yell]] [[Question]]

"Where are you flying from?" you yell down the train, sending the couple's expressions down the track from concern into panic. "Heathrow" stammers the boyfriend after a moment. "Changing for the Jubilee Line". "Yes, I wouldn't have expected you to get the Heathrow Express" says the tall man, finding a way to wedge one shiny shoe back into the open door of conversation. He looks away from the couple and comes to stand across from your seat. "I see you're not averse to talking on public transport. How very un-British of you" he says, his bright eyes drilling through your skull. "Loose lips sink ships, so they say. Relationships, too". You suddenly feel as though you've been immersed in hot water up to your cheeks, and become aware of your face flushing. [[Yell]] [[Question]]

"What on earth do you expect us to do?" pipes up the girlfriend, gaining some confidence from indignation. "We can't exactly get out and push". "Absolving yourselves of responsibility might have got you this far" the tall man says archly, "but I hardly think it's going to get you further." He looks up, and sees you eyeing him suspiciously. He strolls over, and perches on the seat back where the ticket inspector steadied himself earlier. "And you" he says, his bright eyes drilling through your skull. "I'm surprised you haven't taken to your favourite habit of constantly intervening when it's not wanted. Loose lips sink ships, so they say. Relationships, too". You suddenly feel as though you've been immersed in hot water up to your cheeks, and become aware of your face flushing. [[Yell]] [[Question]]

"And who the hell do you think you are talking to us like that?" you say in a raised voice. The man does not appear to be taken aback, and sighs wearily. "You aren't going to make it any further by being angry. I rather suggest you'd be better off making a plan." He speaks in a slightly old fashioned manner which, given his age, feels affected. This gets on your nerves, on top of the already irritating situation. You prepare to snap at him, but a small, rational pocket of your brain tells you that getting on with sorting out the situation will get rid of him quicker. [[Leave the Train]] [[Signal for Help]] [[Stay Put]]

"I don't appreciate being spoken to like that" you say coolly. "If you can't keep quiet maybe you could suggest something useful?" "I suppose on the balance of things you're probably right" he sighs, looking intensely at the utilitarian strip light on the ceiling. He speaks in a slightly old fashioned manner which, given his age, feels affected. This gets on your nerves, on top of the already irritating situation. "You'd all better make your minds up on something soon, since we've only got a little while until the 06:12 heads down the track, and I'm afraid they're not aware we're here." As a dull feeling of concern begins to build throughout the carriage, you begin to mentally explore your options. [[Leave the Train]] [[Signal for Help]] [[Stay Put]]

"We could leave the train?" you tentatively suggest. "If nobody's coming for us we could try and walk out of the tunnel and once we've got a signal we can call Network Rail?" "Oh yeah, great idea" says the red haired woman. "Why don't you just walk down a dark railway tunnel on foot. I'm sure there's no way that can go wrong. You do what you like, but I'm staying here. They're not just going to abandon us." "By my estimate you have eighteen minutes until this carriage is given a helping hand by the next train along" says the tall man, theatrically flourishing his watch. "By all means stay put, but you might want to find something solid to hang on to." [[Signal for Help]] [[Stay Put]] [[Check the Doors]]

"We could try signalling for help?" you say. "There must be some kind of radio or something up in the driver's cab. You know, in case this sort of thing happens." The tall man smiles. "Well reasoned" he says. "You're welcome to go and check. If anyone would like to go with the gentleman, I'd very much encourage it." "I mean, you could go" you say pointedly. "Rather than standing around giving us directions." He moves his head in an equivocal manner. "It's up to you" he shrugs. [[Leave the Train]] [[Head for the Driver's Cab]] [[Stay Put]]

"Are you completely sure we can't just stay here?" you say. "Trains don't just get stuck like this. They've got sensors, GPS, radar-" "They don't have radar" chimes in the boyfriend from further down the carriage". "Whatever. Point is, surely someone will notice." The tall man shrugs. "You're very welcome to stay and find out." [[Leave the Train]] [[Signal for Help]] [[Insist on Staying]]

You slide past the tall man and pass through the automatic doors at the end of the carriage, heading into the vestibule. You lean up against the glass of the opposite set of doors which should lead into the next carriage, but you see only blackness and a disconnected coupling hanging loosely. Beyond the small pool of light spilling from your carriage, the outside is silent and black. The passenger doors should be locked, but you can slide down the window and reach the handle, which, surprisingly, gives. [[Jump down]]

The red-haired woman comes with you as you slip out of your seat and move down the carriage. You pry apart the set of glass doors that separates you from the vestibule, and step through. Immediately, you feel the cold, damp air of the tunnel outside, and a clammy breeze that wafts over you like the moist pall of a morgue. You blink a couple of times as you adjust to the scene in front of you. Where there should be the corrugated walkway leading into the next carriage, there is only a gaping hole and a disconnected coupling which dangles loosely. The residual light from the train illuminates a couple of yards of damp track and gravel, but you can see no further. [[Jump down]] [[Turn back]]

You stay in your seat as the couple, shrugging, get up and pry open the glass doors at the end of the carriage. You wait as they slide down the window of the train door, and silently curse the old rolling stock that allows them to disengage the lock and swing the door open. As the dim emergency lighting illuminates their heads bobbing past your window, they swim away into the blackness, and you're left in silence with the rest of the carriage. The Tall Man saunters over to the table where the red-haired woman sits and takes a seat, glancing between the two of you with a rictus grin. He snaps his fingers, and the lights go out. [[Lash out]] [[Reach for light]]

Using your phone screen as a light source, you hop out of the carriage and land with a crunch on the gravel below. The fall is further than you realise, and you flail slightly as you land. You stand up and dust yourself off, then turn back to face the carriage as you stagger off down the tracks. A tall, dark figure stands in the doorway. He picks at something on his lapel. "You've done it now. Off you go" he says. [[Head further down the tracks]] [[Head back the way the train came]]

You turn around, and almost fall backwards out of the hole with fright as the Tall Man looms over you, bearing a rictus smile. You aren't sure how he got behind you without making a sound. "Well go on" he says pleasantly. "You've made the decision now". [[Jump down]]

You flail in the darkness, leaping from your seat and using the coloured blobs fading fast from your retinas, launch a kick towards where you think the Tall Man sat. Your foot connects with something soft and fleshy, and a female voice yelps in pain. Through panic and guilt you wheel around and throw a weak left hook towards the seat opposite, where your fist connects with a headrest which rebounds with a comedy bouncing noise and a smell of ingrained dust dispersing into the air. "Nice try" says a familiar smug voice which sounds like it comes from just behind your left ear. You whirl round, but there's nothing there. "What the fuck was that for?" says the woman on the seat. You pick out her location with your ears as you hurriedly grab your phone and turn on the flashlight function. She's nursing a right arm which you can see in the harsh white light is developing an unpleasant bruise. "Shit, I'm so sorry" you say. "Hold on, let me-" you dig around in your bag for a second, in the vain hope that you might be carrying plasters. "It's fine" she says curtly, having already rolled down her sleeve to avoid any more of your attempts to help. "Actually where has he gone?" she says. "You saw him too, then?" you ask, the knowledge that you aren't going mad hurling a bucket of water into the roaring furnace of your panic. You see her nod in the remnants of your phone light. [[Check the next carriage]]

You scramble to your pocket and grab your phone, fumbling to unlock it as your anxiety builds to a thundering roar. Eventually you manage to switch on the flashlight function, and illuminate the carriage with a harsh white light which you turn on the table across from you. "Jesus, aim that somewhere else" says the red-haired woman, shielding her eyes. "Sorry" you mutter, and aim the phone at the floor. The Tall Man is nowhere to be seen. "Where's he gone?" says the woman at the same time your brain draws the conclusion. You shake your head to indicate confusion, and begin scanning the phone around the carriage, cold and empty. [[Check the next carriage]]

You stalk off away from the carriage, hoping to catch sight of the rest of the train, which surely wouldn't have carried on for long while missing its passengers. You stew over the impertinence of the Tall Man, and his unsettling familiarity with you. You start to lose count of the number of sleepers you've passed, and looking up you can see no pinprick of light. There must be a bend in the tunnel. [[Keep Walking]]

You double back, reasoning that you must be closer to the start than to the end of the tunnel. Your footsteps on the sleepers reverberate with a ringing bouncing noise, and you count out the sleepers you cross as a way to mark your progress. You look over your shoulder and see the abandoned carriage sitting idle, its faint light receding. [[Carry on]]

As you march on, the sleepers becoming an uncountable blur beneath your feet, you hear a distant rumble, like a thunderclap some miles away. You carry on, thinking little of it, until you realise that the rails flanking you have begun to gently vibrate. [[Swap Tracks]] [[Continue]]

You deftly switch tracks as the train approaches. The echo of the tunnel means that the sound of its engine as it thunders by knocks you back like the backblast of a jet engine. You reel into the soot-stained wall as you watch hundreds of blurred faces fly by. You vaguely wonder if they'll see the abandoned carriage, but before your mind can formulate an answer, the train is gone, and you're plunged back into darkness. There is no squeal of brakes or blast of a horn, and you assume the train has passed without noticing your fellow passengers. [[Keep Moving]]

You decide to take the risk - you don't know which track the train will be taking, and you don't want to make your situation worse by moving into its way. The choice isn't a good one. The train barrels round a corner at a staggering speed, and it's all you can do to throw yourself at the wall and emit a guttural sound halfway between scream and roar. It mixes with the mechanical screech of steel on steel as train passes, the driver evidently having missed your presence, and as the train misses you by inches, you see stunned faces notice you pressed flat against the soot-stained wall. As quickly as it arrives, you see the train's light fade and return you to the seemingly infinite blackness of the tunnel. [[Keep Moving]]

You vaguely recall a statistic about this being one of the country's longest tunnels, and your feet duly begin to complain. Walking isn't such a bad way to pass the time when you can check your phone or enjoy the scenery, but these are both ruled out. As you muse further on your predicament, you noticed that a light has at last appeared on the horizon. [[March onwards]]

As you walk, you become aware of a distant rumbling cutting through the silence of the tunnel. The light on the horizon is growing larger, too - quicker than would be justified by the progress you've made. It's a train. It's heading your way much too quickly, and you've no idea which line it's on. It could pass you harmlessly by, or plough into first you and then the carriage. [[Jump Aside]] [[Stay Still]] [[Try to Signal]]

The train barrels past you at a staggering speed, and it's all you can do to throw yourself at the wall and emit a guttural sound halfway between scream and roar. It mixes with the mechanical screech of steel on steel as train passes, the driver evidently having missed your presence, and as the train misses you by inches, you see stunned faces notice you pressed flat against the soot-stained wall. As quickly as it arrives, you see the train's light fade and return you to the seemingly infinite blackness of the tunnel. You turn round to check the way is clear, and spot what looks like a small maintenance tunnel splitting off from the main path. You pick yourself up, feeling disgusting from the decades of accumulated subterranean filth, but push along the tight passageway all the same. In time, you come to an ancient looking call box clearly meant for engineers carrying out repair work. It's adjacent to a rusty looking ladder which leads straight up. A quick glance with your phone light reveals a distant hatch at the top. [[Call the Phone]] [[Climb the Ladder]]

You try to stay still and flip the coin on whether you're about to be flattened. But you can't force yourself to take that kind of risk. At the last second, you leap sideways into the darkness of the tunnel wall, expecting the crack of a shoulder against the stone. Instead, you fly further than you intended, landing hard on your side in some sort of service tunnel split off from the main path. As the train screams past and the tunnel fades back into darkness, you pick yourself up, feeling disgusting from the decades of accumulated subterranean filth, but push along the tight passageway all the same. In time, you come to an ancient looking call box clearly meant for engineers carrying out repair work. It's adjacent to a rusty looking ladder which leads straight up. A quick glance with your phone light reveals a distant hatch at the top. [[Call the Phone]] [[Climb the Ladder]]

You flash your phone light on and off in a repeating S-O-S pattern. A voice at the back of your mind tells you how ridiculous this is, given that the driver won't have time to interpret the sign, let along to stop before the train hits you. Something more primal spurs you to continue, driven by a need to take any action, no matter how useless. The light grows exponentially bigger, and every muscle in your body braces for impact. As quickly as it arrives, you see the train's light fade and return you to the seemingly infinite blackness of the tunnel. It seems it was on the opposite track. You turn round to check the way is clear, and spot what looks like a small maintenance tunnel splitting off from the main path. You pick yourself up, feeling disgusting from the decades of accumulated subterranean filth, but push along the tight passageway all the same. In time, you come to an ancient looking call box clearly meant for engineers carrying out repair work. It's adjacent to a rusty looking ladder which leads straight up. A quick glance with your phone light reveals a distant hatch at the top. [[Call the Phone]] [[Climb the Ladder]]

Shellshocked by your experience, you stagger onwards down the tunnel, mildly comforted by the thought that you'll at least have several more minutes until the next train. There can't be more than a few hundred metres left to go, and then you can call for help. After turning a slight bend, you finally see the proverbial light. There's a small dot, fixed straight ahead and casting a slight reflection off what now look like endlessly parallel bands of steel. [[Press On]]

At last, you approach the end of the tunnel. But you realise something is wrong - the intense white light shouldn't be this strong. It was still dark when you entered the tunnel, and not that much time has passed. Instead of the blue of early morning, there is a white fog emitting omnidirectional light. You slow as you approach, and start as you hear the crunch of footsteps behind you. [[Turn]] [[Run]]

You wheel around and see the Tall Man staring you down, his expression impassive. "Well done for showing some resolve" he says, and you sense a sincerity in his voice. "You've made it this far. Now how you feel about the next step?" The white light from the cloud illuminates his features fully, filling out every line and crack in his bone-white skin. You feel as though your earlier encounters with him are growing hazy. He could be fifty years old, or a hundred. It's hard to tell. You want to ball up your fists and yell at him. You feel as though this situation was somehow all his fault. All you wanted was to get to London. But you don't. You slump your shoulders, nod wearily, and turn to face the fog. [[Touch the fog]]

You have no desire to see more of the Tall Man than you have already. His presence makes you tense, anxious, and keenly aware of your past failings and flaws. You don't know why he makes you feel this way. But the knowledge that he is behind you once again makes you certain that whatever lies in the fog, it can only be better than this. The steps count down in your mind. Five, four, three, two, one. For a few milliseconds, you feel the icy touch of the fog, before you experience a gentle unconsciousness, like dropping to sleep at the end of a long, hard day. Gradually, you awake to a confusing scene of plastic and upholstery, as you realise the slight ache in your side is the jabbing of a half-unfolded armrest. You look up. Across from you, the Tall Man smiles. "Welcome aboard the 05:42 service to London St. Pancras" calls the woman in a pastel-toned voice. "Calling at Chesterfield, Derby, Long Eaton, East Midlands Parkway, Loughborough, Leicester and London St. Pancras". <div id="logo" style="height: 256px; width: 256px; margin:auto;"> <img src="Logo.svg" /> </div> <h1 style="text-align: center;">[[Restart|Opening]]</h1> <p style="font-size: 10px; text-align:center; color: #aaaaaa;">Thank you for playing. A game by <a href="robinwilde.me" target="blank">Robin Wilde</a>.</p>

Time dilates as you stretch out a hand towards the fog. You eventually find yourself millimetres away, a cold breeze emanating from the apparently weightless surface, which swirls lazily. You count off seconds in your own mind. But you can't make the connection. You realise that a presence is stepping up besides you. He's holding a clipboard, and you see five rows on a formal-looking sheet of paper. He pulls a shining silver fountain pen from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, and briskly ticks off the box next to your name. "Well" says the Tall Man. "Shall we?" [[Step Through]]

You grab the ancient receiver, which must be decades old, absolutely certain that nobody will answer. To your surprise, there's a click on the other end as the call connects. "Good thinking" says a familiar voice. Without seeing him, you recognise the Tall Man. "How are you on this call" you whisper back. "It's my job" he responds simply. "At least as far as you know. Never asked if I worked for the railways, did you? Not top of your agenda to ask about others, as per." You slam down the receiver and turn to the ladder. [[Climb the Ladder]]

You shove your phone in your coat pocket, and hope the small amount of light that can still escape is enough to guide you up to the grimy escape hatch. You take it one rung at a time, gradually suppressing the gag reflex that comes with wrapping your fingers around rungs which haven't seen a clean cloth in years. After a couple of dozen, you're breathing heavily, and have to wedge yourself backwards against the opposite wall to get something close to rest. At the top of the ladder, you hold your phone in your teeth as you reach up to grab the handle on the hatch. It opens outwards, which adds unhelpfully to the weight. It's old and rusty, but with a groan it eventually spins, and you slam open the metal cover onto cool, dew-soaked grass [[Climb Out]]

You haul yourself free of the hatch and find yourself standing on unspoilt hillside, staring up at the inky early-morning sky. But there's something wrong. You stare at the horizon, where a dark cloud hangs low over the city you left just minutes before. You instantly know that it's not a cloud. It's something far more dangerous. And it's everything she told you about before she disappeared. There's a clanking on the rungs behind you. You're seized by a sudden urge to slam the door shut on the long fingers that emerge and grab the rim. But you don't. You wait for him to clamber out of the darkness and performatively brush off his strangely unspoilt coat. "Well" says the Tall Man. "Shall we?" <div id="logo" style="height: 256px; width: 256px; margin:auto;"> <img src="Logo.svg" /> </div> <h1 style="text-align: center;">[[Restart|Opening]]</h1> <p style="font-size: 10px; text-align:center; color: #aaaaaa;">Thank you for playing. A game by <a href="robinwilde.me" target="blank">Robin Wilde</a>.</p>

You hurry down to the opposite end of the carriage to the one through which the couple just left. You suppose there's some vague hope of calling them back to help you. But as you reach the vestibule, you realise that there's no way to see how far they've got. If they're using their phones as a light like you are, you can't tell from here. The carriage appears to have been disconnected from the rest of the train. Whether the driver hasn't noticed or has left you here deliberately is unclear. You can't even work out how they would have decoupled the carriage while still moving. And you don't understand where Alan has gone. [[Jump down]]

For a few milliseconds, you feel the icy touch of the fog, before you experience a gentle unconsciousness, like dropping to sleep at the end of a long, hard day. Gradually, you awake to a confusing scene of plastic and upholstery, as you realise the slight ache in your side is the jabbing of a half-unfolded armrest. You look up. Across from you, the Tall Man smiles. "Welcome aboard the 05:42 service to London St. Pancras" calls the woman in a pastel-toned voice. "Calling at Chesterfield, Derby, Long Eaton, East Midlands Parkway, Loughborough, Leicester and London St. Pancras". <div id="logo" style="height: 256px; width: 256px; margin:auto;"> <img src="Logo.svg" /> </div> <h1 style="text-align: center;">[[Restart|Opening]]</h1> <p style="font-size: 10px; text-align:center; color: #aaaaaa;">Thank you for playing. A game by <a href="robinwilde.me" target="blank">Robin Wilde</a>.</p>