Be sure to check out the Audio Drama version of this Tale on the YouTube channel "Narrow Gauge".

Something in the Mines

Written by Joe Malone & Broa Island

Proofread and Corrected by BNSF1995 & Broa Island

Dryl, South East England: 1959

Stepney was cold and alone, along with his crew.

The A1X Terrier had been on loan to the Dryl industrial complex for a whole week, and he now was finally returning home. The quarry foreman told his crew that they could make it to Brighton through the night, which Stepney saw no problem in. He'd had several night-time runs before, and, in some ways, preferred them to those during the daytime. They were more peaceful, and he enjoyed traveling under the moonlight.

On this night, however, no one mentioned the fog.

It was very thick too and Stepney's lamp made nothing of a difference. He had no idea how far he was from home, but more importantly, he had no idea where he was at the present time. He had hoped he would, as he was sure that this was the same route he used to Dryl. Surely, this must be the same one?

Stepney passed by an old dead tree, where an owl with greenish white feathers and, what he assumed was a trick of his imagination, a thick lemur-like tail. The owl hooted at him as he passed, and Stepney gave a friendly "Peep! Peep!" of his whistle in salute.

As he continued on, he noticed something in the distance. A bright red glow. Stepney immediately knew what it was.

"Hey! Look! It's a signal!" he called to his crew.

"Ah, maybe we can ask the signalman where we are!" his driver called back.

Carefully, Stepney applied his brakes and the little engine came to a gentle stop just before the signal. Once they were close enough, they could also make out the signal box through the fog. The signalman spotted them too and walked towards the door.

"Looks like the signalman wants to see us," the firemen observed.

"Rather him the us," the driver joked. "Your fire's so warm, I don't want to leave it."

"Jack," Stepney whispered to his driver, "I don't think we took this route before."

"Really? Why's that?"

"Because I don't recall seeing… that."

The driver and firemen looked at what Stepney was referring to.

There was a set of buildings that looked as if they hadn't been touched in decades. They could also see several sidings that had rusty, overgrown track. And among all of this was a lonely single row shed that, much like the other buildings, had seen better days. Stepney wasn't sure if he was scared or intrigued.

What is the place?

He turned back to the signalman, who had just walked up the track in front of them. "Evening you lot," he said. "Haven't exactly picked the best night for a run, have you?"

"No one told us about the fog," Stepney explained. "We thought it'll be a clear night."

"Well that's the weather for you. The bastards will say that you're gonna get a 'lovely' day, but it ends up being miserable. Anyway, where're you headin'?"

"Brighton," answered the driver.

The signalman raised an eyebrow, confused. "Brighton? Then why are you taking this route? It's the longest one there!"

"Well that's the thing, we don't really recognize this route. We didn't take it before. How far is Brighton from here?"

"Honestly, I don't know the exact distance," the signalman sighed. "Regardless, I don't recommend reaching it tonight, lads. This fog's getting worse by every minute and it isn't safe."

Stepney groaned; this was the last thing he wanted to hear. "But where can we stay, I don't want to stay out here, it's cold and dark and miserable."

"Well you can stay in that shed over there by the mines," the signalman suggested. "It's not pretty but it'll have to do."

"Oh, so that's what that place is."

The signalman turned to the general direction of the mines, staring coldly at the tangled metal web that was once the frame of a coal-burning power plant. "No idea how long it's been there. I took control of this box eight years ago." He paused. He looked at all the buildings, one to another. He seemed to be feigning fault. "I've heard stories about this place from when it was being operated and some of its… incidents."

"What… kind of stories?" Stepney asked slowly.

"Well… let's just say that some of them are rather unpleasant. I always hear noises from there too, as if there are still people in the mines. But I know that's impossible. All the mines have collapsed. No one can fit in them now. Could've just been in my head." The signalman then turned to the crew in the cab. "As for you two, you're welcome to stay in the box as long as you don't create any distractions."

"Of course. Thank you," said the driver

Stepney slowly backed down into the shed. The wooden walls were all rotten and dirty, and there were holes in the roof. However, he realized it was either the shed or staying on a siding in the cold temperature and mist. But that wasn't the only thing on Stepney's mind.

"What do you think that signalman was talking about?" he asked his crew as he put out his fire for the night.

"Not sure," the firemen answered as he and the driver walked to the front of their engine. "If you ask me, he sounds a bit crazy. Can't say I'm surprised when he spends almost every day in that little box-"

"Oi! Enough of that!" scolded the driver. "That signalman that you call crazy was kind enough to give a shelter for the night! Unless, of course, you want to sleep outside?"

"OH GOD NO! Can't stand another second out here!" the firemen squealed before sighing sadly and turning back to Stepney. "Sorry Stepney, wish you had better shelter than this."

"Yes well, I'll guess it'll have to do," the terrier sighed. "I'll be fine. East Grinstead was worse than this, long ago."

"Make sure you get lots of rest, old boy," said the driver. "We've still got a long way to go tomorrow."

"I'll try." Stepney then let out a big yawn. "Goodnight you two," he said.

"Goodnight Stepney," the driver and firemen said in unison before walking down the gravel towards the signal box.

Now, Stepney was truly alone. He couldn't see very far in front of him, the mist made him feel like he was on a very small pocket of land, completely separated from the rest of the world. And there was no one. No one, besides him. Stepney wasn't sure if he would ever get sleep, but gradually, his eyelids became heavier and heavier.

Finally, he closed his eyes and sleep took over.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

Stepney didn't know how long he was asleep. When he opened his eyes, everything was the same. He was still at the old mine, still in the old dirty shed. What was different was the mist. It was even thicker now and the area around him felt even smaller.

Of course though, that wasn't what woke him.

Stepney surveyed all the deserted buildings, but he couldn't see anyone. But if no one's here, then who did he hear?

"Hello? Can anyone hear me?"

The voice had an echo to it, as if it was coming from a cave. That could only mean one thing. Stepney looked towards the entrances to the mines that he could just make out through the blanket of fog.

"Wait? Someone is in there!" he thought aloud.

"Help! Someone please help!"

Stepney began to feel uneasy, that wasn't the same voice as before. Was there two people in there?

"Is anyone there? I'm trapped!"

Another one. How many were in there? Snapping out of his confusion, Stepney realized that the logical thing to do was to call back, so that whoever was in there knew they had been heard and would be freed. Stepney could only imagine how terrible it would be to be trapped inside a mine, with no way out and no light to help them see. He would feel like a monster if he just stood by and did nothing. He opened his mouth to speak, but then, he closed it.

Stepney realized that he had forgotten something. Something the signalman had said:

"All the mines have collapsed. No one can fit in them now."

Stepney wasn't just confused, but now, he was scared. Was the signalman telling the truth? Did he really mean every single mineshaft? If he did, no one should be in there. No one could be in there.

At that point, more cries could be heard. Several voices now, all of them expressing nothing but complete fear and horror and all Stepney could do was sit motionless and listen. He then made a decision. Whether it was impossible for them to be in there or not, he knew better then to ignore them. He opened his mouth to try and call out again, however, he was interrupted again, but not because of his faults.

The voices were now not the only sounds he could hear. Now, he could make out the sounds of rock crumbling within the mines, as if there was a large deadly stampede. The calls for help were now replaced with crying and screaming! Any chances of saving whoever was in there had faded away! Stepney felt like crying, his fire was out, he couldn't see the signal box his crew was in and the sounds of screaming showed no signs of ending!

Then, there was silence. There was no more screaming. No more rocks crumbling. Just, silence.

Stepney couldn't pull himself out of the shock he was in. Despite all he had heard, it didn't add up. If the mines were buried, as the signalman said, then no one should've been in there.

But someone was in there.

The thought of sleep never crossed Stepney's mind. He had just witnessed something terrifying. Something that shouldn't be possible. How could he sleep after that? As the night wore on though, he felt more and more exhausted and, once again, he closed his eyes and drifted into slumber.

When Stepney next awoke, it was morning and the fog had lifted. He looked around and saw his driver, firemen and the signalman all walking towards him.

The firemen was the first to speak, "Morning Stepney. How was your night?"

"Oh, am I glad to see you!" blurted Stepney. His crew was confused, they then looked closely at their engine and realized he was very pale.

"Stepney?" the driver asked, concerned, "What's the matter? Are you okay?"

"I-I-I heard something last night. There were noises. Noises coming from... Coming from the mine!"

"Wh-What?" asked the firemen, scratching his temple, "Are you serious?"

"I... I wish I wasn't." Stepney looked down at his buffers.

"Were they the sounds of people crying for help?"

All eyes immediately fixated on the signalman and Stepney's frames visibly shook. "Y-Yes. How did you-"

"Wait," interrupted the driver. "What are you talking about? You know something about this too?"

"I've heard sounds like that in the mines before, I already told you that last night," said the signalman.

"But you said they were in your head!" cried the firemen.

"I said they could've just been in my head. But after what your engine just said, I wish they were."

There was a long silence. No one knew what to say. At last, the silence was broken by Stepney, "You… You said you heard stories about this mine. Stories that were unpleasant. What are they? Do they… Do they have something to do with what I heard last night?"

The signalman didn't respond for a moment, but then slowly nodded his head. "From what I've been told, these mines were operated in the early 20th century. It only lasted seven years, the reason why? It was known as one of the most dangerous places in Britain."

"Well, industries like this were usually dangerous," said Stepney, "I should know." As a locomotive from the 19th century, he had witnessed the growth of changes of railways and industries throughout the last several decades, not just in technology, but in the importance of safety. Nowadays, safety is regarded as a top priority.

Unlike back then.

"Yeah, but anyone who worked there got the worse of it," continued the signalman. "The equipment was rarely well-maintained and most of it was out-of-date. That sort of thing led to… accidents. Well… I say accidents, but if the people in charge did their job and make sure the place was in proper working order, it would've lasted longer. It was believed that the managers didn't give a damn about their employees. They were all expendable in their eyes. So I always saw those accidents… as murders."

Stepney and his crew went pale after hearing that. The signalman took in a deep breath before continuing.

"Those who were in the mine, however, suffered the most. The wooden shafts holding them up were weak and rotten. No one had ever considered replacing them. That resulted in several collapses that occurred over those seven years, leaving many miners trapped. At least when it came to those with the equipment, their deaths were quick and painless. But those in the mines, their pain was almost endless. They had no light, no food and sometimes, no air. They could do nothing but call for help, hoping it would come. It rarely did. The voices you heard last night, Stepney, were those men who were sadly unlucky."

Stepney was horrified, he now wished he didn't ask about the mines, but it was too late now.

"I knew one of those lucky few," said the signalman. "He was only at the mine for a year, but one time being trapped was too much. Once he was freed, he resigned and exposed the careless management. That was in 1909, the same year the mines closed. As for this person, let's just say that if this man didn't survive, I wouldn't be here right now."

"What are you talking about?" asked the driver.

"That man was my father. He got a new job as a shopkeeper and I was born two years after he left the mine. He told me all this when I was a teenager and, well, my reaction was the same as yours. When I became the signalman assigned to this box, at first I was scared. But when I think about it, it felt right for me to be here, to keep those lonely miners some company, as the son of one of their colleagues. Even though I can't help them. I have to listen to them suffer, almost every, single, night."

The signalman sighed and looked back to Stepney and his crew, "I phoned ahead and there aren't any trains scheduled to come down this route, so you have a clear path. I'm… sorry I scared you."

"It's… It's fine," whispered Stepney. In truth, he wasn't scared anymore, but felt sad. His crew climbed into his cab and the little engine puffed away.

It was early in the afternoon when Stepney finally returned to Brighton. Several engines passed him, whistling hello. He whistled back, but his toots were short and quiet. The sheds were mostly empty, save for a few engines. Without saying a word, Stepney went to the very back of the shed. He saw no point in telling them about what had happened. He was sure they wouldn't believe it and laugh at him. That was the last thing he needed.

He closed his eyes, and this time, nothing horrifying disturbed him.

Stepney never went passed the old mine again. He never had the chance, as a year later, he was withdrawn from service and left in a scrapyard at Eastleigh. He wasn't there for long, though, as he was purchased and restored by the Bluebell Railway, where, aside from a few visits to other railways, he has remained ever since. He did eventually learn that the route he had taken on that night was ripped up due to the lack of any important traffic.

However, he never learnt of what became of the signalman. Naturally, he lost his job there, but what about after woods? Did he get a new job? Perhaps he was assigned to another box. He didn't know, and he never would.

As time went on, and the 20th Century dissolved into the 21st, Stepney thought less about the old mine. What he encountered there didn't seem to matter anymore. The line that went pass it was now gone. And it was a place the world would soon forget.

Sometimes though.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

When he's asleep.

"Hello? Can anyone hear me?"

Stepney is sure he can hear voices.

"Help! Someone please help!"

Voices of the miners.

"Is someone out there? I'm trapped!"

Calling and crying for help.

"Someone help us! We can't get out!"

That they will never get.

"ANYONE?!"