Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #13 April 2015 | Page 187

Four corridors led away from the top of the escalators;
one each to left and right, and two directly ahead. The
walls were tiled and didn’t look too unusual apart
from showing another unrecognised station name: Regent’s Walk. Then she noticed something else missing.
There were no adverts on the walls. Not even boxes
for them to go into. There were always adverts; even
back when they had done about tube stations and the
war in history, the walls had been covered with them.
She looked again at the tunnels and wondered which
she should take. If the station hadn’t been locked up
for the night she might find someone to help, assuming she could make them believe her. None of the
tunnels bore any signs, so she picked the one to her
right and ran.
The corridor went straight for about thirty yards then
curved left. After ten more steps it opened out into
a ticket hall. Claire skidded to a halt. There were no
automatic ticket barriers, just a low metal railing with
a two gates in it. The paint was pitted and flaking off,
and the brass rail along the top was dull brown apart
from bits where the brush of hands kept it polished
and shiny.
On the other side of the railing she could see two
brass-shelved windows in the wall, and next to them
a door marked ‘Private’. At least they didn’t l