Down in The Tube Station at Midnight — a short story for English reading

“I’ll be glad when this shift is over.”

It was close to midnight and John was just finishing work at the Grey Park tube station.

He hated the late shifts. It was too quiet for one.

Then, when he finished work, he had to get home. It wasn’t too far — sometimes he took a taxi — but other times he walked and the streets were empty with strange shadows creeping across between the houses.

His workmate for the evening, Colin, stretched and kept his feet up on the desk.

Just behind his feet, the bank of security camera monitors. Each screen showed a different view of the station’s interior.

“Soon done,” said Colin. “See this last train in, then we can all get out of here.”

John waited a second to see if Colin would volunteer to do the rounds of the station. One of them had to walk around the whole place, just to make sure there were no people left inside.

Sometimes a drunk.

One time they found a dog, whimpering and lost.

But Colin stayed glued in his seat. Clearly, he had no intention of moving.

“Guess I’ll go down and have a look,” said John.

Colin peered over his shoulder towards him. “You don’t mind, mate?”

John shrugged. “One of us has got to do it.”

He put on his uniform cap and went to the door.

One of these days, Colin might move out of his chair. Although John couldn’t recall ever seeing Colin doing anything but sitting down every shift.

John grabbed his walkie-talkie and turned it on. He turned the dial and spoke into it.

“Keep an eye out for me,” he said into the walkie-talkie.

His voice carried loudly to the walkie-talkie on the desk and made Colin jump.

Colin shifted his weight and tried to sit up straight.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I’m right here.”

John smirked and walked out the door.

A short corridor led to another door and a public walkway. Both sides of the walkway were filled with advertising. An overflowing rubbish bin with discarded fast-food wrappers and fizzy-pop cans at the bottom of it.

John marched down the corridor. He could hear the last train arriving. It pulled into the station and then he heard Colin’s tired monotone voice.

“This is Grey Park, the final stop. Please alight here and leave the station. Thank you.”

Colin never had any enthusiasm in his voice.

Some of the other guys that worked in the station would put some energy into their voices or put on a funny voice.

It made them laugh and helped them get through the long and quiet hours.

But never Colin.

As John made his way to the platform, he met the passengers leaving the station. The usual late-night crowds.

A couple of young guys, drunk and full of swagger.

“All right, mate?” they said to John. “Nice hat.”

John gave them a curt nod and walked on. The two lads laughed loudly and broke into a rendition of a popular song.

A man in his forties, looking weary and deadbeat. Another poor guy doing a late shift somewhere in the city.

An elderly woman, clutching her bag and looking nervous. A young woman, her eyes on the ground and walking straight ahead.

The last strays of the night, all heading home or to anywhere else in the night that might welcome them.

On the platform, the train was still in place, all of its doors open.

John nodded at the train guard — he recognised him from the dozens of times he had seen him before but could not remember his name.

All the train had to be checked, to make sure no people were left sleeping on seats, no forgotten items. God forbid any bags or boxes left on the train — then they had to call the police.

John walked along the platform, checking every carriage. Everything looked in order.

He waved at the guard, who waved back and got back onto the train. He heard the crackle of a radio, then the doors hissed closed and the train pulled out of the station and into the dark tunnel.

In a few seconds, John was all alone on the platform.

He clicked on the walkie-talkie. “Just checking the north end of the platform,” he said. “All clear up there?”

The walkie-talkie crackled and Colin’s voice came through it, tinny and alien. “Just that one bloke by the seats.”

John kept walking.

He hoped the man on the platform wasn’t drunk. They could be difficult to deal with sometimes.

But he could see no one.

“You sure?” he said into his radio. “I can’t see anyone.”

“He’s right there,” said Colin. “Hang on, he’s getting to his feet.”

John peered ahead and saw no one. He turned and looked behind him. No one there either.

Colin was such an idiot. This was another problem with him.

He wasn’t very observant.

“Are you sure you’re looking on the right platform?” asked John. He would talk to the station chief about Colin.

This was not good enough.

“Yes, platform one,” said Colin. “I can see you walking towards the camera.”

John squinted into the far end of the platform.

He couldn’t see anyone.

“There’s no one here,” he said to himself.

He carried on walking to the very end of the platform, past the two benches on the side. He stopped and looked behind him again.

Maybe Colin was looking at the wrong end of the platform. Not a soul around.

John pulled the radio up to his ear. “Colin, are you sure? Please check again, I can’t see anyone here.”

“He’s right there,” said Colin. “By the seats. He’s just standing by the edge of the platform.”

John spun around. Nothing. He was the only person there.

“Colin, is this some sort of a joke? I can’t see anyone.”

The radio spluttered into life again. “John. He’s behind you. He’s… John!”

John dropped the radio from the side of his face.

He spun around.

Then he saw it.