The Subway Station below Third and Collins

By CJ Knight

The subway station nestled beneath the intersection of Third and Collins was unremarkable. To the average eye, its cracked white tiles and flickering fluorescent lights did not differ from any subway station beneath the city. It carried the same faint scents of iron and decay that no amount of bleach could ever erase. The city was a dangerous place to live. Many people disappeared, and no one ever saw or heard from them again. But something was wrong beneath the intersection of Third and Collins.

The eyes of Chuck Hodder weren’t average. To him, this particular subway station wasn’t just another crumbling relic of the city’s infrastructure. He followed the reports in the news, collected names, studied missing persons reports, and heard the rumours. The subway station beneath Third and Collins was where many missing persons were last sighted by anyone. The rumours even told of unexplained station lockdowns preceding the disappearances. He tried telling people. He showed them his tattered notebook filled with pages of scribbles, pasted clippings, and CCTV stills. The police dismissed him as crazy. Chuck tried online forums. They already knew Chuck when he’d gone onto those same forums warning them about fluoride, government satellites reading brainwaves from orbit, and radio frequencies triggering aggression. The kind comments told him not to believe urban legends. The unkind doesn’t bear repeating. Chuck couldn’t understand why they couldn’t see what he saw. It was right there. This wasn’t random. People were swiping their cards to enter the station for the last train of the night, and then nothing. No footage of them leaving. No bodies found later. Just gone. These were the facts, and Chuck intended to prove it.

The next night, Chuck travelled to the intersection of Third and Collins. With his tattered notebook under his arm, he descended the concrete stairs to the station below. The fluorescent glare from the white tiles was in stark contrast to his dank apartment, where the blinds remained drawn and the only light came from a computer screen. Chuck held his hand in front of his eyes to shield the light and hurried to a bench. The poster on the wall above the bench was a see something, say something sign, with a message to contact emergency services. It drew a snort of derision from Chuck. “Why bother contacting them?” He muttered as he sat.

People came and went from the station as Chuck watched on, notebook open. The commuters gave Chuck a wide berth. With so much time spent on solving mysteries, hygiene was an optional extra that Chuck spent little time on. He sat in the same jeans and shirt he’d been wearing all week. His coat hadn’t seen a dry cleaner in a decade. His hair and beard were a tangled, matted mess. But Chuck didn’t care about their average eyes lingering on him as they passed by. He was busy looking for what their eyes refused to see.

As midnight approached, so did the arrival of the last subway train. Foot traffic dwindled, made up of drunks wobbling on their feet, tired workers, and students with their headphones on. Chuck studied them all, and the one thing they had in common was inattentiveness and a complete lack of awareness.

Chuck took stock of the scribbled notes in his book. He’d been tracking commuters, logging subway train times, noting that three security guards patrolled the platform. Of the men, Chuck noted they paid no attention to the platforms, and he was confident he could’ve snuck an elephant by them. He did stop one of the guards, his nametag read Brian. He asked him about the lockdowns. Brian told him it was nothing to worry about. Sometimes precautions were necessary, and the lockdowns were simply protocol being followed. Chuck was pleased he was able to verify the lockdown rumours. But the thing he was most proud of was his sketched map of the platform, noting the CCTV blind spots. The platform had four corners, and a camera covered none of the corners.

The grinding squeal of metal on metal signalled the arrival of the subway station’s last train. Doors hissed open. Commuters filed in and out. Chuck observed them all from his bench, notebook open. In the corner, he saw him, standing in the shadows, away from the camera’s watchful eyes. He wasn’t coming nor going. He was doing the same thing as Chuck. His eyes studied the passengers. The man appeared unremarkable to the average eye. He wore a simple pullover, denim jeans, neat haircut. Most would pass him by without a second glance. Chuck knew better. A lump formed in his throat as he studied the man in the corner. It was his eyes. They flared under the fluorescent light like the eyes of a cat. The man gave a tilt of his head as a woman in a business suit walked by and entered the bathroom. As the platform cleared, Chuck remained. The wheels of the subway train squealed to life as it pulled away. He saw the man with the eyes enter the bathroom behind the woman. Was this it? Chuck wondered. Is this man responsible for the missing people? Chuck’s eyes darted frantically around the platform, praying to find one of the three disinterested security guards. They were gone, just like everyone else. He was alone. Chuck closed his notebook and rose from the bench. The station was now an empty cavern, with all sound absent. With each step he took, echoed off the tiled walls, shattering the precious silence. The hinges of the bathroom door screamed in rusted protest as Chuck entered. Standing in the centre was the man. In his arms was the limp body of the woman in the business suit. Chuck glanced at the row of bathroom mirrors lining the wall. The limp body of the woman was there, but she was floating. The man wasn’t in the reflection. Chuck turned back to the man. He was staring at Chuck, his irises bright yellow, pupils blood red.

“Please help me.” The voice was no more than a whisper, but it was the woman’s. She wasn’t dead.

Chuck froze in place. The man smiled, revealing teeth too sharp, too long for his mouth. The man’s head rocked back and came forward. His teeth sank into the woman’s neck. Chuck’s notebook slipped from his fingers and landed with a thwack as it hit the tiled floor. He staggered backward until his back hit the bathroom door. His fingers fumbled behind him for the handle as his eyes remained on the man with no reflection. Once his fingers found the cold metal handle, he pulled the door open and ran. He was still watching the bathroom door as he sprinted along the platform. The wind left his body as he was knocked backward. “Hey there! You shouldn’t be down here.” Chuck saw the nametag. It was Brian the guard.

“You…you have to help me.” Chuck said. “There’s a man in there attacking a woman. No, not a man.”

“Hold on there.” Brian said. “What are you talking about?”

Chuck’s mind fumbled for the word, but he knew it. “Vampire!”

Brian’s face changed. He grabbed his radio from his belt and pressed the button. “Jerry?”

The crackled response was instant. “Yeah?”

“I’m going to need you to hurry the stragglers out up there. I’ve got a credible bomb threat down here. We need to go into lockdown. I’ll be up directly.”

“Roger that.”

Brian loomed over Chuck. He placed the radio back on his belt. “It's been a while since we needed a fake lockdown to cover things up down here.” Chuck tried to pick himself up off the ground. Brian’s boot found his chin with a sickening crack, sending Chuck sprawling across the ground. “We can’t let you leave, knowing what you know. The vampires leave us alone as long as we let them pick off the odd commuter and keep their secret.” Brian smiled. “From the look of you, no one’s going to believe you if I let you leave, but I’m not taking the chance.” The smile left his face. “You couldn’t take my word for it, could you? You had to go prying into things for yourself.” He left Chuck lying on the ground, blood dripping from a fresh split in his lip.

An alarm signalled over the speakers. In between the blaring siren came the message from a voice too cheery. “Please remain calm. The station is under lockdown. Emergency services are on their way. We hope to have the situation rectified shortly. We apologise for the inconvenience.” Chuck pulled himself to his feet. He staggered toward the stairs. The sound of metal shutters closing cascaded down from above. Chuck made it to the bottom of the stairs in time to see the shutters hit the ground. He was trapped.

The speakers fell silent. The fluorescent lights cut out. For a moment, Chuck was in complete darkness. A red glow filled the station as the emergency lights activated. The rusted hinges of the bathroom door wailed in protest once more. That corner of the platform was too dark to make anything out now. But Chuck saw the yellow eyes.

Brian waited for Chuck’s screams to end before restoring power and lifting the shutters. The platform was empty. Brian checked the bathroom next. On the floor was Chuck’s notebook. He picked it up and flicked through the pages of scribble. The theories of radio waves, satellites, reading minds, and the effects of fluoride. He smiled as he read the recent scribble on the subway station. “He finally got one right.” Brian tossed the notebook into the trash and closed the bathroom door.