Outside the speeding train in the dark, the sounds of impacts grew more frequent. Inside, the flickering lights of the carriages barely held off the oppressive gloom. The chilling air seeped through every corner, leaving Luo Shasha trembling as she curled up on her bed. Beyond the windows, the blackness revealed nothing of what lay outside.
The violent shaking and crashes sent waves of tension through everyone on board. Time dragged on, each second feeling like an eternity. Finally, as the train gained speed, the noises outside began to fade, and an uneasy silence settled over the surroundings.
“We’re approaching the tunnel!” Chen Sixuan called out, her eyes fixed on the driver’s display and the pitch-black night ahead. Anxiety laced her voice as she turned to Lin Xian.
The brakes groaned as the train screeched to a halt, the sound echoing across the desolate tracks.
“Could those monsters still…” Chen Sixuan began nervously.
“I don’t know, but it’s almost dawn. Charging into an unknown tunnel in the dark could bury us alive,” Lin Xian said grimly.
The Infinite Train stood motionless on the tracks, snow and wind piling against its steel exterior. The quiet was unsettling, but the sounds of pursuit seemed to have ceased. The clock ticked closer to 4:00 a.m.; daylight was imminent.
Even so, Lin Xian remained tense. Turning to Chen Sixuan, he asked, “Teacher Chen, Shasha mentioned something strange on the train earlier. Did you see anything unusual?”
Chen Sixuan shook her head, grabbing the nearby walkie-talkie. “I’m not sure. The walkie-talkie’s been cutting out intermittently, like what happened in the fog.”
“Brother Lin!” Shasha’s voice suddenly echoed from Carriage No. 1. Lin Xian and Chen Sixuan immediately rushed toward her.
“What happened?” Lin Xian asked upon entering.
Shasha, pale with fear, pointed at the sofa. Resting on it was the radio, with the eerie blood crystal placed atop it. The crystal emitted a faint red glow, and the radio was making strange noises.
Da Lou arrived, gun in hand, as the group stared in shock at the radio. Shasha stammered, pointing with wide eyes, “It’s… it’s moving!”
The black radio on the sofa was indeed acting bizarrely. The orange frequency display numbers flashed erratically, and the tuning knobs twisted and turned as if alive—breathing.
“I put the red crystal on it, and it just started making noise!” Shasha said, her voice trembling.
“Lin Xian, what is this?” Da Lou asked, his expression grim as he stepped protectively in front of Shasha.
“Be careful. Our walkie-talkies started doing the same earlier,” Lin Xian cautioned.
Shasha peeked out from behind Da Lou and added urgently, “It’s not just that! When I was talking to Chen-jiejie earlier, she said she’d get me gloves, but then stopped responding. When I called her again, something that sounded like her voice said, ‘I’m right behind you.’ I turned around, but no one was there!”
Lin Xian frowned. “It said that behind you?”
Shasha nodded quickly, her fear evident.
Chen Sixuan gasped, covering her mouth. “I never said I’d get you gloves! When did you talk to me?”
The atmosphere in the carriage grew heavy, an icy dread spreading among them. Shasha backed away, nearly in tears. “Chen-jiejie, don’t scare me!”
“I’m serious!” Chen Sixuan replied anxiously. “My walkie-talkie never went off!”
Shasha’s voice rose in panic. “Then there’s something else on this train!”
The group turned as the static from the radio intensified. The orange frequency display flashed wildly, the knobs twisting faster. Amidst the noise, faint voices emerged.
“Zzz… no… zzz… don’t… zzz…”
“Don’t… zzz… open… zzz…”
“Zzz… don’t open… 15… zzz…”
“Zzz… 1… 5… 4… 2… don’t… contact… anyone… zzz…”
The voices were filled with terror, each word drenched in fear.
“Is someone trying to warn us?!” Chen Sixuan exclaimed, horrified.
Lin Xian’s face darkened. “1542?” The number sparked a chilling memory in his mind.
He recalled the stories shared around the campfire:
“A strange 1542 frequency has been reported in the Ping’a Lake, Congshan, Beiwang, and Mount Daluo areas. Three convoys have received it at night, and people have gone missing. Witnesses describe it as tied to supernatural phenomena…”
Suddenly, the warning voice stopped, replaced by a haunting melody that froze everyone in place.
“Zzz… Happy birthday to you… happy birthday to you…”
The voice, initially melodic, became raspy and guttural, like a demon whispering in the dark.
“Happy… birthday… to… you…”
“Who’s singing?!” Chen Sixuan cried, her voice trembling.
“This is insane!” Da Lou muttered, gripping his gun tighter.
“Lin Xian, look!” Chen Sixuan shouted.
The frequency display flashed wildly before abruptly halting on a single number: 1542. At the same time, the train lights flickered ominously.
The air felt heavy, as if the train itself were holding its breath. All four froze, their faces pale and drenched in cold sweat.
Lin Xian’s thoughts raced back to the ominous campfire stories. His voice was sharp as he barked, “Everyone, stay alert. This thing is dangerous!”
He stepped forward decisively and removed the eerie blood crystal from the radio.
The radio fell silent. Its lights dimmed, and the room returned to an uneasy calm.
Lin Xian exhaled deeply, feeling the cold, metallic touch of the crystal in his hand. “That should…”
He turned to address the others—and froze.
In the darkness of Carriage No. 1, the space behind him was completely empty.
Not a single person was there.