Chapter 5: No Signal

The carriage lights returned with a violent flicker.

Claire Moreau blinked rapidly, struggling to adjust her eyes to the harsh emergency lighting.

Sofia Brandt was gone.

One second she had been sitting in Seat 19.

The next, she had vanished.

No footsteps.

No struggle.

No sound.

Only an empty seat and a black Nightglass tag remained behind.

Claire stared at the cushion in disbelief.

That is impossible.

Adrian Keller looked equally disturbed.

Nothing about this train follows normal rules.

The words offered little comfort.

A loud metallic bang echoed from the rear of the carriage.

Both immediately turned.

The masked figure was gone as well.

Only the open hatch remained visible near the back.

Claire's heart pounded.

Everything was happening too fast.

Passengers disappeared.

Witnesses vanished.

Attackers appeared and disappeared like ghosts.

And now someone had implied that either she or Adrian was officially dead.

None of it made sense.

Claire looked down at the black tag in her hand.

The white Nightglass symbol seemed almost hypnotic beneath the red emergency lights.

She slipped it into her coat pocket.

We're missing something.

Adrian nodded.

Several things.

The train entered another tunnel.

Darkness swallowed the windows.

Reflections filled the glass.

For a moment Claire saw only herself.

Tired eyes.

Pale skin.

Fear.

Then another reflection appeared behind her.

A face.

Watching.

Claire spun around.

Nothing.

The carriage was empty.

What?

I thought I saw someone.

Adrian looked uneasy.

You probably did.

That answer did not help.

Before Claire could ask another question, her phone vibrated unexpectedly.

Both froze.

No signal had been available for hours.

Slowly, Claire removed the device from her pocket.

One message.

Unknown Sender.

The text contained only six words.

Do not trust Adrian Keller.

Claire felt her stomach drop.

What happened?

She hesitated.

Then showed him the screen.

Adrian's expression hardened immediately.

Interesting.

Interesting?

Someone onboard wants us divided.

Or someone is warning me.

Their eyes met.

For several seconds neither spoke.

Trust had always been fragile between them.

Now it cracked even further.

Adrian crossed his arms.

Do you believe it?

I don't know.

Fair answer.

Claire slipped the phone away.

The train emerged from the tunnel.

Moonlight returned.

Snow-covered mountains stretched beyond the windows.

Beautiful.

Silent.

Deadly.

The contrast felt surreal.

One of the most beautiful landscapes in Europe surrounded a train full of missing passengers and hidden killers.

Claire forced herself to focus.

Sofia said Seat 19 wasn't a seat.

It was a category.

Survivor.

Adrian nodded slowly.

That bothered me too.

Why?

Because survivors imply an event.

Claire understood immediately.

An event with victims.

Exactly.

The train speakers crackled suddenly.

Both looked up.

The distorted voice returned.

Attention remaining passengers.

The voice sounded calmer than before.

Almost polite.

Recovery operations continue.

Please remain seated.

Failure to cooperate may result in termination.

Claire felt anger replace fear.

Termination.

The same word she had seen in the files.

Not missing.

Not relocated.

Terminated.

Human beings reduced to status labels.

The voice continued.

Passenger Claire Moreau.

Passenger Adrian Keller.

You are approaching restricted areas.

Please return to assigned seating.

Adrian laughed unexpectedly.

That sounds like a threat.

Because it is.

The speakers went silent.

Claire stared at the ceiling.

Whoever controlled this train knew exactly where they were.

Every movement.

Every conversation.

Every decision.

They were being watched constantly.

The realization made her skin crawl.

There has to be a control center.

Adrian nodded.

Most likely near the front.

Then that's where we're going.

They moved quickly through the carriage.

Every second mattered.

The deeper they went into the train, the stranger things became.

Several compartments had been sealed shut.

Others stood open with luggage scattered across the floor.

One compartment contained six mobile phones stacked neatly on a table.

Another contained passports organized by nationality.

French.

German.

Swiss.

Italian.

Austrian.

Someone had collected them.

Catalogued them.

Processed them.

The operation felt industrial.

Efficient.

Planned.

Claire photographed everything.

If she survived, the world needed to see it.

Ahead, another carriage door stood partially open.

Light spilled through the gap.

Bright white light.

Not emergency lighting.

Something else.

Adrian raised a hand.

Wait.

Claire stopped.

What is it?

Listen.

She held her breath.

At first she heard nothing.

Then it came.

Voices.

Dozens of voices.

Whispers.

Murmurs.

Fear.

Human voices.

Claire's eyes widened.

Passengers.

Adrian nodded.

They're alive.

Hope surged through her chest.

For the first time since waking up, they had proof.

The passengers were still somewhere onboard.

Not gone.

Not dead.

At least not yet.

Slowly, Adrian pushed the door open wider.

The carriage beyond looked nothing like the others.

The seats had been removed.

Metal cages filled the interior.

Temporary holding cells.

Dozens of them.

Most were empty.

Some were not.

Claire's heart stopped.

Passengers.

Real passengers.

Terrified.

Confused.

Drugged.

Men.

Women.

Even children.

Alive.

A woman spotted Claire and rushed toward the bars.

Help us!

Please!

Others joined her.

The carriage erupted into desperate voices.

Claire stepped forward instinctively.

Then alarms exploded throughout the train.

Red lights flashed.

Warning sirens echoed.

A mechanical voice filled every speaker.

Unauthorized access detected.

Unauthorized access detected.

Adrian cursed.

We triggered something.

The cage doors remained locked.

The passengers panicked.

Several began shouting.

Others cried.

Claire's mind raced.

They had found the missing passengers.

But now whoever controlled the train knew exactly where they were.

A new sound echoed from somewhere ahead.

Heavy footsteps.

Many footsteps.

Not one attacker.

Several.

Approaching fast.

Adrian looked toward the front carriage.

Then toward the trapped passengers.

Then back at Claire.

We have about thirty seconds.

Thirty seconds for what?

To decide whether we run.

Or try to save them.

Claire looked at the frightened faces behind the metal bars.

The answer should have been obvious.

But survival rarely offered easy choices.

The footsteps grew louder.

The sirens continued screaming.

And somewhere ahead, the people behind Project Nightglass were finally coming for them.