Chapter 43 – Whispers in the Stillness

Yuri sighed, crossing her arms, her gaze sweeping across the empty platform. “So… it’s just us, then.” She kicked at a loose piece of debris, her voice filled with frustration. “What now?”

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to clear my head, to think. The train was gone. What other options did we have?

“If… people stay…” Luna murmured, her small hand reaching out, gently touching my sleeve, her voice barely audible above the faint hum of the station.

I looked at her, her golden eyes wide with a mixture of fear and… something else… something… hopeful.

“Noah…” she whispered, her brow furrowing, “…if people… not take train… other people… stay… too…?”

It was a good question. Anemone had mentioned others who’d chosen to stay, who hadn’t boarded the train. Perhaps… they left some kind of… sign. A message. A clue.

I looked around the platform, its vast emptiness amplifying the silence, the faint, flickering lights casting long, eerie shadows, the ghostly outlines of the departed passengers still lingering in the air. If there were others… where did they go?

“Let’s search the station,” I said, my voice firm, a new sense of purpose settling over me.

“We can’t just… stay here,” Yuri agreed, her voice stronger now, her gaze scanning the platform, searching for… something.

“Look for… clues?” Luna asked, tilting her head.

I smiled, ruffling her hair, then Yuri’s, the softness of their hair a comforting sensation, a reminder of… our shared humanity, our connection, in this strange, alien world. “Yes, Luna. Clues.”

Clues to those who stayed. Clues to where they went.

We began our search, our footsteps echoing faintly in the vast, silent station, the flickering lights casting long, dancing shadows, the air thick with the scent of dust, of decay, of… something… ancient, something… forgotten.

“Noah, look.”

Luna’s quiet voice drew my attention. At the far end of the platform, in a shadowed alcove, two faint figures shimmered, their forms translucent, their movements slow, deliberate, like… ghosts, their voices echoing faintly in the stillness.

A woman and a child.

We approached cautiously, their conversation, barely a whisper, reaching us.

“…Mama… why… not take train…?”

The child’s voice was small, innocent, yet tinged with fear.

“We can’t leave Papa, can we?” the woman whispered, her voice soft, reassuring, her arm around the child, her hand stroking their hair. “It’s alright. I heard… there’s a place… for those who stay. A community. We’ll go there.”

And then, they were gone, their forms fading, dissolving into the air, like smoke, like a dream.

A community… for those who stay… The words echoed in my mind, a spark of hope igniting within me. They hadn’t just been lost, abandoned; they’d chosen to stay. And they’d found… others. But where did they go? Does this community… still exist?

“Let’s keep searching,” I said, turning to Yuri and Luna, my voice low, urgent. “There might be… more.”

Yuri nodded, her gaze scanning the platform, while Luna stared at the spot where the figures had vanished, her golden eyes wide with wonder.

We continued our search, and soon, we found another vision, another echo of the past.

Two figures, this time adults, a man and a woman, stood near the edge of the platform, their forms more solid, more defined than the ghostly images we’d seen before. The man was tall, his shoulders broad, his silhouette radiating strength, while the woman, though smaller, stood with a quiet dignity, her presence… unwavering.

“…So you’ve decided… to go…?” the man asked, his voice low, rough, a tremor of… fear? …in his tone.

“There’s no other choice,” the woman replied, her voice calm, resolute. “Not if we’re not taking the train. We have to… stick together. Stay here… and we’ll… fade away. Become… nothing.”

Fade away… become nothing… Her words sent a shiver down my spine, a chilling reminder of the Abyss’s power, its hunger.

The man hesitated, his lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze fixed on the empty tracks.

“…But do we have to…?” His voice was barely a whisper, his doubt, his fear, palpable.

The woman sighed, her voice firm. “We do what we have to… to survive.”

And then, they were gone, their forms flickering, fading, dissolving into the air.

“We do what we have to… to survive.” Her words echoed in my mind, a stark contrast to the quiet resignation of the woman and child we’d seen before. This wasn’t just about family; this was about… something more. Something… desperate. If this community is just a group of survivors… why the hesitation? Why the fear?

I looked at Yuri, her brow furrowed, her expression mirroring my own thoughts.

“…That’s… strange,” she murmured. “Just because they didn’t take the train… it doesn’t mean they have to… ‘do anything to survive’… does it?”

“We need more information,” I said, my gaze scanning the platform, searching for more clues.

A faint breeze stirred the air, a cold draft that seemed to emanate from… somewhere… and then, I saw them. More figures, shimmering in the dim light, their forms indistinct, their voices… whispering. Three this time. An old man, his form stooped, his face lined with age, and two younger figures, a man and a woman, their expressions… determined.

“So… they’re all leaving, then…” the old man said, his voice deep, resonant, the voice of someone who’d seen… much.

“We have to choose,” the young man replied, his voice calm, yet firm. “Take the train… or stay.”

The old man smiled, a gentle, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice soft, yet strong. “We have a way.”

“We have a reason to stay,” the young woman said, her voice filled with conviction.

The old man reached out, his wrinkled hand holding a small pendant, its surface etched with a familiar pattern. A clock. But not a normal clock. Its face was blank, the numbers replaced by a complex design of dots and lines, like a constellation, a map, a… a tool for calculating… something. The hands of the clock were frozen, pointing to… a specific moment in time.

“We have to stay together,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “To avoid… the void. We have our own… way.”

And then they were gone, their forms fading, dissolving into the air, their words echoing in the silence.

“We have to stay together. In our own way.” Their words, their conviction, their strange, clock-shaped pendant… it all pointed to… something more. Something… organized. A group, a community, bound not just by survival, but by… a shared belief. But what did they believe in? And what was… their way?

“…I think… I’m starting to understand,” Yuri said, her brow furrowed, her gaze fixed on the spot where the figures had vanished.

“They weren’t just survivors,” I said, nodding slowly. “They were… believers. They had a… a purpose.”

I looked at Luna, her golden eyes wide with concern.

“Noah… are they… okay?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. We didn’t know what they believed in, or if their community… still existed. But we had a clue now. A path to follow.

The community of those who remain. And their symbol… the stopped clock.

We searched the platform again, hoping to find more clues, but there was nothing. Just the faint, ghostly outlines of the departed passengers, their journeys ended, their destinations unknown.

“I think we need to go back down,” Yuri said, sighing, her gaze fixed on the stairway leading to the lower level.

I nodded. There had to be more clues down there. But…

“Let’s rest first,” I said, feeling the exhaustion creeping in, the constant tension, the ever-present fear, taking its toll.

“Good idea,” Yuri said, smiling faintly, stretching her arms above her head. “I’m beat.”

“Rest… then go!” Luna chirped, nodding eagerly.

I turned, my gaze drawn to a faint light flickering in the corner of the station. A vending machine. The only working machine we’d seen so far.

Perhaps… it holds another clue.

We approached the vending machine, its aged metal frame leaning against the wall, its small, neon sign still flickering, a beacon of… something… in the desolate station. It offered a single drink.

Milky X.

I peered through the dusty glass, examining the sleek, black and silver cans, their design futuristic, yet… anonymous, no brand name, no description, just the words Milky X printed in bold, white letters.

“Think it’s any good?” Yuri asked, tapping the side of the machine.

“Only one way to find out,” I said, pressing the button. There was no coin slot, just a single, illuminated button.

Click.

A faint whirring sound, and a can of Milky X dropped into the dispensing slot. I picked it up, the cold metal a welcome sensation against my skin, the can’s sleek, futuristic design a stark contrast to the station’s aged, decaying surroundings. Another clue? Or just… a distraction?

“Well,” I said, holding up the can, a mischievous grin on my face, “who wants to be the taste tester?”