Doom Train: GM- Geoff

Settings and Time Period: London, 1923.

Hook: Members of the Oriental Club are intrigued by a newspaper report of possible human combustion of a railway enthusiast.

[The Oriental Club, Stratford House/London, consists of gentlemen who have resided in the East. A great majority of its members are persons who are living at home on fortunes amassed during their Eastern ventures. Their days filled with conversations usually centered on foreign matters. The old Smoking Room is adorned with an elaborate ram's head snuffbox complete with snuff rake and spoons. Women not allowed till 1952.]

Margrave Milos Valinchek (Alex); 30yo – APP20, War Hero and Firearms Salesman. Despite his ugly appearance, Milos is a successful firearms salesman. He fought in the Czechoslovak Legions in Russia during the Great War. Where he became a war hero having rescued a fellow soldier from a mustard gas attack by sharing his mask. This came at a cost, as his face was permanently scarred from gas exposure. Nowadays, Margrave lives a relatively quiet life as a door-to-door traveling salesman. His success story and his silver tongue have convinced many customers of the importance of owning a firearm.

Professor Alphonse Moretti (Shams); 66yo - APP35, Shady Historian. The professor is a bit of an odd individual: tends to stay up deep into the late night hours and wake up late. Never holds a class earlier than 2PM. An Italian immigrant very open about his hate of Austrians due to losing his son and father in the Great War. He has a mean streak as well: a few guys that crossed the line with him ended up with broken noses, and it's only because of his wealth that he avoided serious consequences of those incidents. But you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who knows more about history than him, and he is fluent in five languages.

Col. Neville (Never) Goodenough (Bill); 65yo - Retired Colonel (Royal Engineers). Illustrious career: Joined Royal Engineers in 1875 as boatsman tending submarine mine-field defense, 1881 British liaison to the East Indian Railway Company (EIR) overseeing railroad construction (Demolition consult). Learned to ride camels. 1897 liaison to the South African Railway for diamond mining (also demolition). 1899 fought/supported the Boer War in Southern Africa. 1914 liaison officer (sapper) with 1st South African Brigade troops shipped to France to fight on the Western Front. Wounded at the Battle of Delville Wood in 1916 (prosthetic left leg below knee). Retired 1918 age 60. Stoic, Arrogant (contempt for others), pompous (self-importance), proud of British history of colonization. “God save the King.”

Oriental Club Smoking Room: The Colonel drifted off to sleep; his cigar fell out of his lips and burnt another hole in the Smoking-Room carpet. Prof Moretti folded the newspaper to show an interesting article to his fellow members. Margrave woke the colonel with a nudge. “What? What? You 30-year-old whippersnapper. War hero... in my days…” The professor read aloud the story, “A Henry Stanley of Stoke Newington, train enthusiast, gone missing… suspected spontaneous human combustion. Only noteworthy item was his recently purchased model train set.”

Neville dipped a spoon into the snuffbox and powdered his nose, “Ah yes, once saw a Punjab tending the train coal box on the East India Railway. Covered in coal dust. Too close to the open tender. He burst into flame.”

The professor ignored the interruption, “The train set was purchased from a Camden antique shop. Anyway, his landlady heard Stanley’s 8pm cry yet when she got to his room, it full of smoke and him gone. The writer mentions a similar 1919 spontaneous incident of one Temple Thurston, but he was found burned to death. No mention of a train set. Sounds like a jolly adventure to be solved by the Oriental Club. What say you?”

Camden Shop: Milos offered to drive the 2.5 miles northwest to Camden, known for its canals and expanding railway network. A search of the phonebook revealed the antique shop. Midday arrival yet the shop closed per sign in window. Milos went next door to an open grocery store. “Ello Gov’na, care for some fresh strawberries?” As the clerk filled a bag’s worthy, Milos learned the antique owner was 5 years in business. “Very secretive that ole Mr. Spelamanovic. Sometimes gone weeks at a time on his search for more items to display. Rarely had many customers, cept that chap last week. Came out empty handed but smiling.”

Meanwhile, Neville cupped his hands on the shop window to get a better look inside. Dust and darkness blurred his vision. [Spot- 07] The professor stumbled on a loose stone before the door which hid a key. As he turned to see if anyone watching, Milos crossed the street and explained why the store closed. Alphonse offered, “What say I try the back door.” And soon opened the front door to let them in. Inside, they found a thick layer of dust on every surface: statues covered in dusty linen, display cases, office desk, etc. Milos went for the desk, “Maybe I can find record of his train set sale.” [Spot-00 fumble] As Milos tugged on the jammed drawer, the lamp on top tittered and toppled to the floor. “Crash!” Everyone froze.

Alphonse offered his torch which allowed Milos to find the sales-ledger. “Last entry is for the sale of a Brighton-Special-Commission set from the estate of one Randolph Alexis. Say, I remember that name. Noted Occultist, member of our Oriental Club, disappeared in 1897. Anyway, Henry Stanley purchased the set for one pound. Too big to carry out himself. It was delivered yesterday to #3 Blithering Lane, Stoke Newington.”

Stanley Residence: As they climbed back into Milos’ car for the half-hour drive to Stanley’s address, Neville was skeptical as he bit down on another strawberry, “Train sets and disappearance. If you ask me, this Stanley chap was a debtor and skipped town.” Milos rescued his purchased strawberries, “Save some for the rest of us!” Stanley’s apartment house proved to be exactly like every house on the block. Except for the sign out front “Room for Let”, and the sign on the door “See Death Room- 6 pence.” The colonel offered, “Why in for a pence when we can stay for a pound? Rent the room so we can spend more time investigating.” The landlady Mrs. Constance Atkins answered the bell, ready to lead another tour thru the room. “Rent you say?” Milos used his salesmanship to get a better deal, “4 shillings a week it is then. Care to show us to our room? And what’s this about a death room?”

Constance led the way up the stairs as she switched into her tour-guide role, “Poor Mr. Henry Stanley. Talk yer ear off about trains if ya let him. Always paid on time. All excited that day when the men arrived around 4pm, carrying that train set of his. Took two of them the box so big. Came down for 7pm tea blathering about his new train all set up. Hurried off, back to his room. 8pm I was closing the kitchen for the night when I heard em cry out. Rushed upstairs and knocked. No answer. Had to use my master key to get in. Room full of smoke, him gone, windows barred from the inside. Where did he go if not up in smoke?!” They looked around for the train set… nowhere in sight. “Oh, that. The police bobbies took it away. Evidence ya know.”

Neville scoffed, “Exploded you say. Was there gore and body parts around the room?” Constance shuddered, “Gore? Then ya best clean it up yerself; yer already paid up. Vanished then. Didn’t walk out the room.” Milos thanked her as he ushered Constance out, “Looks like we have a cleanup to tend. Thank you. Gooday.” A fine layer of soot coated everything in the room. Neville pondered, “Almost like smokestack soot that coats the first cars of a passenger train.” And that’s when he and the professor noticed a set of parallel black streaks lining the floor, wall to opposite wall. Repeated on the ceiling! Neville immediately recognized, “1600mm (5ft3in) broad-gauge train tracks! Victorian age! Unlike the 1435MM standard gauge laid in Wales and the Americas. The man so fanatic he draws tracks to scale in his room???”

Milos scanned his new apartment and noticed the accumulation of train items: posters, pictures, even a bookcase full of historical train books and ledgers used to record train sightings. Stanley WAS a train spotter enthusiast. “What was so fascinating about this train set?” The antique shop invoice labeled it a Brighton-Special-Commission set. 

Alphonse joined in the search and between the 2 of them, they found a scrapbook dedicated to an 1897 train accident. “Here’s a picture of the train numbered 2LCV. And an 1897 newspaper clipping about its accident. London to Liverpool derailment killed over 100 passengers and injured more. Accident site 30 miles northwest, in Northamptonshire region. Heavy rains blamed for washing out the tracks. The engine and first two carriages never found. Guesses either sunk in mud or washed down river.”

Milos intrigued, “Suppose this train set a replica of that death train. Morbid. Maybe Stanley’s parents were passengers. Perhaps we should go to the police station and ask to look at the train set.” Neville was still skeptical, “If the man an avid note taker, then surely he kept a diary.” Sure enough, in his nightstand, “So much for parents as passengers. The man only obsessed with trains. Walking down the street and just happened to see the set displayed in the shop window. Recognized it as a replica and him excited to own a piece of history.”

Alphonse was apprehensive (for personal reasons related to his storied past), “What makes you think the bobbies would show us the evidence? Stanley was a member of the London Train Spotter’s Association. Perhaps we should hear what they have to say about Stanley’s purchase. Surely, he bragged about his find.” Except the association address was 2 hours drive across the Thames. The police station only 20 minutes away. “Neville saw Alphonse’s sweat, “Why drive? There’s a telle-box on the street corner; just call.”

Milos dialed the number. “London Train Spotter’s Association, Arthur Butters speaking. Stanley? Listen, for the tenth time, you vulture reporters stop calling! Oh? Friends of Stanley wanting to join? Why didn’t you say. Horrible his disappearance. Bobbies thought his train set to blame. They delivered it here for us to check out. Yes, it’s still here along with membership applications. Address is Copperwell #5 Acarier Road.” Alphonse was relieved, “So, two birds with one stone; no need to stop at the police station. What say we bring them a gift to sweeten the conversation.” Milos thought they’d like Stanley’s spotters’ journals. The professor nixed that idea, “Prove we’ve been in his house. Them more suspicious.”

They stopped in SOHO for lunch and shopping where Alphonse bought cigarette cards. “Shame I couldn’t find any with train pictures.” Neville climbed back into the car wearing a train-conductor cap… too large as it fell over his ears. It was a long 2-hour drive filled with theories.

Train Spotter’s Association: Once again, they turned onto the final street where every house looked the same. The London Train Spotter’s Association placard displayed next to the front door confirmed their arrival. Arthur Butters answered the knock at the door and ushered them into his house. Yes, a house turned into an honorarium for trains. Every inch dedicated to trains. Even an actual train-station bench and a train schedule board displayed on one wall. Model train tracks were mounted along the walls (elbow high) to allow various model trains to run non-stop around the room where elder balding men sat and chattered away.

The trio endured the tour and droning on about trains, till the professor inserted mention of the 1897 wreck. Arthur excited, “You’ve heard about it?! Yes, that was Stanley’s fascination. That was one of my first spottings. Ole engine #2LCV. Nothing wrong with it. Too heavy and bulky to sink in the mud or be washed downriver. No, it just disappeared.” Milos asked, “I don’t suppose you have a passenger list for that train? Maybe Stanley’s parents were onboard which would explain his fascination.” Arthur beamed with pride, “Do we have the list?! Indeed. And its scheduled arrivals and departures and… here it is.” They were surprised to find the name Randolph Alexis. Arthur explained, “It was his son, Albert, who commissioned the train set in honor of his father. Sadly, he too disappeared in 1919.” Neville furrowed his brow remembering that date from the day’s newspaper article, “1919. Seems a Mr. Temple Thurston burned to death in that year. Was he a member of your association? No? Just a red-herring then.”

Arthur even more proud of his displays, “Would you care to see Stanley’s train set? It’s downstairs, in the cellar. Too big for display up here. Besides, there’s something… just uneasy to be around it. Maybe just its reminder of poor Henry.” Arthur turned on the cellar light which cast an eerie glow about the room. Tension already high per their unexpected expectations. There on an 8-foot-long work bench, lay the tracks set out in a figure eight. The train itself: engine, coal tender, and 2 passenger carriages. The engine itself large enough to be cradled in a man’s arms. The professor pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off a coming headache, “I see what you mean about uneasy. Probably the poor lighting.”

They gathered round the train, “Commissioned? Not that great a re-creation if you ask me. Plastic and metal and clearly repainted. As if a different model train repainted to ‘look’ the part. Even the #2LCV painted over an original number.” Even Arthur had to admit, “Yeah, but it is symbolic. Not sure what those symbols on the underside represent. Anyway, ran it a lap or two for the police to prove no faulty wiring.” The trio picked up the engine and inspected its undercarriage. Even the professor and his “five languages” couldn’t read the symbols. [Occult- 05] The hair on Neville’s neck stood up, “Didn’t you say Randolph Alexis was an occultist?” And that’s when Milos asked Arthur, “I’m kind of parched. Isn’t it teatime yet?”

With Arthur gone, Milos put the train on the track, “Neville, you have the train conductor hat. What say we give the ole girl a run around the tracks.” Milos flipped the switch as the Colonel mimicked, “Woo, Woo. All aboard.” The professor just shook his head side-to-side, “Boys and their toys.” It was all fun and games as the train chugged around the train. Figure 8 after figure 8. Alphonse’s headache returned… and leeched over to the others. All scrunching their shoulders and shaking their heads to clear their minds as smoke billowed from the toy train. But the trio locked eyes with each other when they heard a faint “clickity-clack, clickity-clack” sound growing in volume. And NOT from the toy train!! “I didn’t see any train-tracks nearby outside!”

Milos quickly flipped the set’s power switch off, yet the sound of an approaching train grew louder. The cellar filled with smoke that tickled Neville’s memory of all those East India and African trains he’d worked on all those years ago. They all jumped back in unison when visage of a train platform formed under their feet and rail tracks appeared before them! “What the…!” Steam, hiss, and the grinding squeal of locked wheels on rails announced the arrival of a ghost train! They stood dumbfounded as they watched passengers dressed in Victorian age clothing exit. Several passengers surrounded Milos, “Come with us.” And just like that, Milos gone!!

“All Aboard!”: The train whistle hooted, and the brakes hissed as the wheels began to spin and slip on the track before finding grip and the train slowing gained forward motion. The professor snapped out of his daze, “Neville! Milos is aboard. We can’t leave a man behind! He needs rescue!” Alphonse jumped on the carriage platform and reached for the colonel, pulling him aboard. They entered the first carriage and found Milos (in Victorian clothing) pointing his gun at the other Victorian dressed passengers. “Stay back! I’ve got a 3-pound pull on this 5-pound trigger.”

And that’s when two turned to face the new arrivals. And Alphonse saw them as the ZOMBIES they were! [Sanity check- failure, 6-point loss: Temp Insanity/Bout-of-Madness: Amnesia]

In his mind, the professor was back in SOHO shopping for cigarette cards, “Can you spare a light and a pack dear sir?” The Colonel ignored the passenger transformation and thumped the closest with his walking cane, “I say, back off you foul creature. Unhand the gentleman.” Milos squeezed the trigger, “Blam, blam, blam!” All 3 hits to the same zombie that staggered backwards from the impacts, before closing again. The professor confused by the gunshots, "Where are we?” Milos quickly answered, “We’re in the trenches man and your son needs your help!” THAT cleared the professor’s mind: he pulled a blade and stabbed. Neville wacked another zombie, breaking bones, yet the Victorian zombies closed to surround the trio. Two apiece.

Milos ducked and dodged their swipes as Alphonse fought off one but was grabbed by another. Neville’s attackers grabbed but only managed to come away with his scarf. “How dare you! That was a gift from my dear departed Lily.” Milos backed away from his attackers and aimed at the one holding the professor, “Blam!” A head shot- ichor and gore covered Alphonse as the zombie staggered backwards. Which allowed the professor to drive away one of Neville’s attackers.

“Come With Me”: And that is when the far carriage door opened, and another man appeared. Victorian but human… so far. “This way if you want to live!” [Brawl- extreme] Neville beat a clear path with his cane as he hobbled forward on his prosthetic leg. The professor followed, under the protective cover of Milos’ aimed pistol. They crossed the outdoor span between the carriages and entered the 2^nd. And took notice of the strange symbols painted on the door frame. Only then did Alphonse and Neville realize they still dressed in their original clothing.

With a weak, deranged laugh, “Ha, ha. Randolph Alexis at your service. Usually only one new passenger per stop. Surprised to find a trio come aboard. Makes sense you in original clothing. Only the one turning on the train triggers the spell.” Milos inquired, “Did Stanley make it aboard safe?” Randolph’s silent answer was to lead them past the first 2 compartments (the 2^nd one reeked of stench) and opened the door to the 3^rd. Where Stanley sat on the bench in obvious trauma. Randolph continued, “Been awhile since I had visitors. Four years? Time moves differently… what is it now, 1911? 1923?! Oh my. Hehe. I suppose you are wondering what is going on. Rightly so. Well, uh, hehe, how to explain, uh…” They all looked out the windows and saw the void background. Blackness and smoke. An ethereal wisp image of the train’s likeness fading behind them as it sped along. [think airplane contrails in today’s understanding]

“Are You Out of Your Mind?!”: Once again, the visage too mind-blowing for the professor. [Sanity check- failure, 5-point loss: Temp Insanity/ Bout-of-Madness: Paranoia] Alphonse pushed away from the window and furrowed his brow in anger, “You set me up! You sick son-of-a-…” The professor exited the cabin and sought comfort in the 1st compartment. Except, he came face-to-skull with an eviscerated corpse. Except the deranged professor only saw a fellow man to converse with, “I see they sucked you in on this too. Sick bastards!”

Milos and the Colonel followed their companion to keep him safe. They saw and recognized death for what it was. Clearly the zombies got the poor chap. From behind, Randolph explained, “I see you’ve met my son Albert. Smart of him to craft that train replica. I see he used my spellbooks wisely. Spells? Hehe. Well, hehe, you see, uh, I was aboard the train bound for Liverpool when I decided to test a spell. Distracted by the rhythmic ‘clickity-clack’ of the wheels. I miscast. Ha. Silly isn’t it. Just popped the engine and these cars into a void. Netherworld you could say. But good ole Albert never gave up. Came to get me. But failed to reason how to get off and back to home. Zombies got him and sucked the life right out of him. Kiss of death you could say.” The professor slowly came out of his funk. He pushed away from the corpse when he came back to reality, “What the …?!”

Albert’s Artwork- In the Flesh:  Milos offered his condolences for the loss of his son. Randolph laughed, “Ha, funny you should mention that. Yes, uh, the zombies killed him. But I, hehe, carved up his body. Let me show you.” He led them to the 2^nd compartment. There, on the floor, lay the viscera and entrails of young Albert set in the familiar figure 8 track pattern. At least the professor only vomited in the hallway instead of going all wacko again. Randolph calmly, in his deranged hysterical voice, explained, “If I can just re-create Albert’s train idea. I’ve got the track laid out, but it just doesn’t feel right.”

By now the trio was numb with exposure to the unthinkable. Milos offered suggestion, “Your diorama is only 2-dimensional. Think of the train station platform. You need 3-dimensional form.” Alexis slapped his forehead, “Of course. Of course!” He rushed back to the 1^st cabin and grabbed his son’s bones and returned to construct a… platform? “Think this will work? Before he died, Albert told of the need to make repeated cycles of the train around the track. He kept saying ‘Put your heart-and-soul into it’.” Alexis reached into his breast pocket, “So, hehe, I figure to use his heart as the train.”

The Nutty Professor: Poor professor. No sanity on an empty stomach. [Another Bout-of-Madness: Significant Person] “Jacob? Jacob, is that you?!” But where the professor was starring at the carriage door, the others saw zombies on the other side of the door’s porthole window. Trying to enter! Neville actually though Alphonse would be of more benefit if he thought he was protecting his son. Instead, Milos slapped the man back to consciousness, “Snap out of it, Alphonse. We need you in the here and now.” And that’s when they heard and saw the glass window of the entry door shatter!

Alexis actually showed some sanity as he commanded, “Keep them off me! Give me time to race the heart around the track to activate the spell.” The professor and colonel rushed to brace the door as Milos checked his gun fully reloaded and took aim. Neville jammed his cane under the door jamb to then join the professor shouldering the door. In the background, they heard Alexis playing with his heart-train, “Choo-choo. Chugga, chugga, choo-choo!”

Zombie hands broke thru the small glass window, eye level, and reached for the men in regular clothing. Milos fired… all could see the hand blasted off and see the body outside fall from the train into the void. Alphonse stomped on the detached hand then kicked it rearward, in case it still functioning. Just what they needed… a crawling hand clawing its way to their throat! Meanwhile, “Choo-choo. Chugga, chugga, choo-choo!”

They had no concept how many laps Alexis had achieved, pushing the heart around the figure 8. They just dealt with the here and now. And right now, the upper part of the braced door began to splinter. The small window of broken glass was becoming a larger hole. Neville pulled his own pistol and fired, accompanying Milos’s repeated blasts. More hands reached inside trying to grab the men.

And that’s when they heard screams from the 3^rd cabin. Stanley! “Zombies are crawling on the outside of the carriage, gaining entrance thru the larger cabin windows!” And that’s when a hand found Neville’s collar and began to pull him closer to the opening. “Don’t let it kiss you!”

Milos let out a war cry, “I’m a God-damn war hero!” He charged forward and (literally) ripped the hand from Neville’s neck. Neville slumped to the floor on his butt with his back to the door and feet (one foot, one prosthetic stump) braced against wall framing. “I’ve got this! Go save Stanley.” Alphonse rushed to aid, stabbing at the hands coming in thru the broken cabin window. Milos peeked into the 2^nd cabin on his way to help Stanley, “How we coming, wizard?” But Alexis was too focused on his task. Too excited at the feel of the heart now pulsing.

From his butt-planted perch, Neville saw the next threat, “Better get out here! More coming thru the other door at the far end of the carriage!” Neville blindly fired his pistol over his shoulder at the forms pressing the attack thru his door. Milos prodded Stanley into action, “If you EVER want to see your train collection again, get up and block that back door!” Milos spun and fired at another zombie crawling thru the large broken cabin window. It lost its perch and grip and fell into the dark void. And that’s when all could hear the “chugga, chugga” sound. Not from Alexis, but from the train itself. It’s wheels squealing and air-breaks hissing as the train slowed.

The Victorian zombie assailants disappeared. The blackness void outside the windows replaced with green scenery of countryside. Milos’ clothing back to normal. Peeking out the broken cabin window, they saw real rail tracks and the end of the train with no ethereal wisp. Silence before they all erupted in laughter. “We did it! God save the King, we did it!” Their jubilation interrupted by a high-pitched warbling sound that repeated itself. Growing louder. Closer. “Good God Almighty! There’s another train approaching! We gotta get out. Out, out, out the window. NOW!!”

CLIMAX

[spending all his luck] Milos dove out the window headfirst and tumbled down a grassy incline then scrambled away on his knees.

[fail: 1d6 damage] Alphonse dove out the window but landed on rocks. He left a bloody retreat trail as he too scrambled away.

[fail/push- fail: 2d6 damage- 7 pt major wound] Without cane to assist, Neville crawled for the window. He was halfway thru its frame when the approaching train struck. He was tossed around like a ragdoll and laid unconscious till his friends eventually returned to revive him.

EPILOGUE

Neville awoke beside the wreckage with his friends at his side. He ignored his other broken leg. Him more concerned for the broken brandy bottle stored inside the hollow of his prosthetic leg. “Balderdash! Just when a man needs a drink. Cheerio mates. How about a run up to the nearest pub? I’m buying, but you’ll have to carry me.”

And that’s when they saw Stanley standing by the tracks, looking over the wreckage of two trains. “Same exact location as the 1897 wreck. Returned to the scene of the crime. I’m done with trains. You can have my collections and my association membership. I’m going to become a stamp collector.”

Look as they might, they never saw Randolph Alexis again.

[Sanity- 14 points remaining] And poor professor Alphonse Moretti… the man a broken hulk. His dreams plagued with visions of eldritch beings. He now teaching history inside London's (psychiatric) Bethlem Royal Hospital. He has at least 2 students who come to listen to his lectures. They are attentive and interactive, offering corrections when aids and nurses aren’t listening. Friends, but don’t want to become roommates.