The SCP Experience - Runaway Train | SCP-5850

Episode Date: February 14, 2022

SCP Foundation KETER class object, SCP-5850: Runaway Train Author: Matt Doggett Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewDoggettAuthor/ Website/Newsletter sign up: matthewdoggettauthor.com This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-5850, and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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From Binge All Episodes exclusively on Paramount Plus. I take stock of the differences of the man sitting across from me. When you're homeless, and I've been riding the rails as long as I have, it becomes a necessary survival tool. You can't ever get by entirely in the train yards or boxcars. There's never enough supplies. It helps to pay attention to what's the same and what's different. It helps you spot places where you might be welcome,

where you can stop and refuel instead of places that want to see you gone. There are more differences than similarities between the two of us. He's coming up to the end of his 30s, and I just passed my 60s. We both have facial hair, but his is a few days old stubble of brown against his chubby baby face. I haven't taken a razor to my face in years. We both dress casually, but his clothes are a t-shirt and some jeans. In contrast, mine are several layers of well-worn clothes, dirty and lingering with the smell of sweat.

What stands out the most about him is the fancy satchel. he's wearing across his chest, and the fact that he's not traveling alone. A dog, some friendly miniature mutt, pants happily at me with its front paws on the table. The manager at the truck stop had given him some grief about his companions. I don't know if it was more about the dog or me, but it all passed after he slid over some fancy corporate-looking black credit card. We don't say a word after the waitress takes our order. We passed the time chugging coffee and smoking cigarettes from a freshly open to pack, another treat from him. Our food comes, and we both dig into it.

They never say look a gift horse in the mouth, but whoever said that bullshit never went three days without eating. He hasn't said much since I met him. He's only given me his first name. I clean my plate, then figure it's time to find. find out what this is all about. So Cody, I say into the lull of smoke, rising up in clouds between our cigarettes. You some kind of government spook? He grins and tosses his dog a scrap of bacon. What makes you say that? Besides the fact you were able to spring me from jail and piss off every cop in that building? You just answered a yes or no question with another question. Christ, I did.

Didn't I? He slumps into his booth and scratches the top of his dog's head. Been doing this too long. You seem like a nice guy, JP. So trust me when I say, the less you know about who I work for, the better. I nod and bring the cup of coffee to my lips. Sure. Can't see what people like you would want with an old boxcar bum, though.

The quiet confidence leaks out of him as he stubs out his cigarette into the ash, tray. Tell me about the train, JP. Tell me about Brian. The coffee mug slips from my hand and shatters on the ground. I stare at him in silence as the waitress comes over and quickly cleans up the mess. But he never takes his eyes off mine. Slowly, I shake my head. You wouldn't believe me. No one did. He reaches into his satchel and slides. a glossy photo across the table. I stand up from the booth and nearly tip the table over. The picture is an old model passenger train,

but the black and gold paint still gleams as if it was painted yesterday. Cody doesn't show any other sign of a reaction. He just reaches into his satchel again and pulls out a digital tape recorder. There's a small beep as it switches on. He doesn't do anything else, anything else, but waits for me until I slide back into the booth. It's been years since I talked about it, but the words pour from my mouth as I step back into a memory that has eclipsed my life.

I fell in love with Brian during our freshman year of high school. We were polar opposites, me, a studiously little bookworm who wanted nothing more than to get out of our one-horse town. Brian was captain of the football team, but never cruel or small-minded like so many others. While I was the target for bullying, he would always come to my rescue. Brian never gave into peer pressure and always strove to be above it. I never dreamed he would feel the same way, but there we were in our senior year, young, dumb, and in love.

People like to remember the 80s fondly these days, but I guess most of those. people weren't scared gay teenagers back then. In a small town like ours, it might as well have been the Dark Ages. We took a page from the Beatles and hid our love away. Our town had once been a booming coal town, but the mountains went barren nearly a hundred years before. Trains used to run directly to and from the mines, but the rails were all rusted away by that point. The forest reclaimed most of the land that the miners and prospectors tried to tame. It was the only place that Brian and I could be together. That night, the moon was full and high in the sky.

The trees casted shadows like jagged monsters out to get us. But I walked without fear, Brian's hand in my own. We knew that we were safe here beneath the pale moonlight. It was back in town during the light of day that we were. were truly in danger. Like I said, young, dumb, and in love, which only makes you dumber. We chuckled along with the chirping of crickets. I remember the smell of old spice wafting gently off him. We held each other in perfect tranquility until I opened my eyes and saw the light. We froze, each of us not daring to make a sound, but our thoughts ringing loud and clear

in silent unity. Someone from town must have found out about us. The light was too bright for a single flashlight. There must have been dozens of them together. But then, beneath our feet, the rusted tracks started to shake violently. Then a loud whistle of a train pierced through the night air. The whole forest shook up and down the abandoned lines.

It was impossible. The train tracks had been abandoned long before we were born. They were too disrepared for any train to run on. Even if that hadn't been the case, there were no working lines connected to it. A train hadn't come through town in decades. It should have been fucking impossible. Brian didn't stand there like an idiot like I did. He took my hand, and we ran down the tracks as fast as we could, deeper into the forest.

I don't know how he managed to keep us both upright. Not with the ground rocking and trees being ripped up and tossed in the air. air. Eventually, we got to the point where the tracks stopped completely. There was nothing but forest pine needles beneath our feet. It didn't even slow the train down. The light grew brighter around us, but we didn't stop running until I tripped. My foot caught over a gnarled root and knocked me to the ground. Brian never left. He stayed with me and untangled the route. The train was bearing down on us, the light, as bright as the sun. He hoisted me up, but he was. By then, it was too late.

He beamed that beautiful smile at me one last time, then shoved me off to the side. I scrambled to my feet, my screams devoured by the fury of the train's passing. There was a flash and then nothing. When my vision cleared, the train was gone. I trembled and called out Brian's name, terrified of what I would see.

But there was nobody, no blood. only the jagged and ruined earth of the train's passage. From a distance, I heard its horn blare again, and I ran deeper into the forest after it, and I've been chasing it ever since, hopping from rail to rail, searching for any sign of it. Sometimes I heard whispers about it in passing,

about the ghost train that didn't stop for anyone, hear one minute and gone the next, but I've always been a step behind. Cody reaches over and presses the tape reporter, eliciting a beep as it shuts off. Sightings go back almost 100 years. Brian wasn't the only one it took. He took out another photo and slid it across to me. This one was zoomed in on the windows of the passenger cars.

Through the blur of the train speed frozen by film, I can just make out the silhouettes of people. 24 times someone's been hit by the train. 24 shadows in the passenger cars. I don't think it's a coincidence, do you? My eyes widen at the implication, narrow in suspicion. What do you want with it? He shrugs his shoulders and lights another cigarette. Fuck if I know. Above my pay grade.

And I don't understand most of the science in the reports. Something about space and time distortions. Real Star Trek shit. They want to monitor it somehow. But the only time inorganic matter isn't demolished by the train is when it's worn or held by someone it hits. Their brilliant idea is to strap some monitoring equipment to some hapless sap and shove him into the train's path. Now, since all reports indicate that getting run over by the train is a one-way trip, I think this is a dumb idea.

So, we're meeting in the middle. I managed to convince the higher-ups to let me find them someone who actually wants to go on the goddammed thing. I pick up the picture and it trembles in my hand. After all these years, I finally found a lead. I'm finally going to get to see Brian again. I'll do it. He smiles sadly. Welcome to the foundation, JP. The next two weeks go by in a blur. I'm taken into a facility of some kind that I don't recognize and familiarize myself with the equipment to collect the foundation's data. None of it is complicated, just a few gadgets about the size of a smartphone that operate just as easily. The big day finally arrives. Cody and I stand at a train crossing, ready to

intercept the ghost train. Unlike the last time I saw it, the time is closer to noon, with the sun high in the sky and a small town nearby. Other members of the SCP flock around us in unmarked cars, wearing overcoats with a fake logo of a train company. Cody goes through the checklist with me. Spectrometer? I test it with a successful beep. Interdimensional calm? Another beep.

Flowers? Huh? He grins and hands me a dozen roses from behind his back. Can't hurt, right? A chuckle escapes my lips, and I shake my head. He might work for a shady agency, but he's the best boss I've ever had. Our grins die as the tracks start to shake and a loud whistle rips through the air.

I look up and see the familiar approaching yellow and black barreling down toward us. Well, I brace myself. I guess this is goodbye. He nods and pats a hand on my shoulder. Godspeed, Agent Preston. He wanders away from the tracks and my mouth goes dry. My mind screams at me to turn and flee from the train. the same way that Brian and I had decades ago.

Brian. The thought makes me take one step forward and then another. The train's grills come speeding up at me. And despite my best intentions, I close my eyes. Brightness lights up from behind my eyelids, and a light buzz washes over my body for just a moment. My next step lands on something more level than the tracks. I open my eyes.

Before me stands a vast passenger car. Two children. A boy. And a girl, just a couple years apart, run up and down the aisles. An old man wearing a fedora sits smoking in the seats nearest me. He glances up and nods. I make my way further down the car and freeze, looking at the person playing with a deck of cards.

He's older now, but not as old as he should be, not as old as me. For him, it looks like half the amount of time has passed. Still, he's wearing the same clothes from that night. and the smell of old spice still lingers in the air around him. He glances up, and my throat goes tight. His blue eyes widen as he sees something familiar against the lines the years have carved into my face. I've rehearsed this moment a thousand times, but now all the words fail me. Brian's never needed words, though.

He bolts up from the seat, laughing, and pulls me into his arms. The roses fall to the ground, forgotten as he hugs me. We stand there, holding each other as the train rumbles on its way. SCP-5850 is a passenger locomotive currently in transit within the United States and has never been observed to stop or decelerate under any circumstances. SCP-5850 has plowed through all known obstructions with no loss and velocity. SCP-5850 has also been observed to maintain its speed even with the absence of rails. The current cause of this remains unknown.

Upon its discovery in 1924, SCP 5850 maintained a velocity recorded at approximately 120 kilometers per hour, and has since accelerated an additional 26 times to a current velocity of 145 kilometers per hour. SCP 5850 has also been classified as an anti-existential object due to its effects on dimensional energy and localized space-time. SCP-5850's physical structure consists of steel, aluminum, zinc, and plastic. Along both sides of SCP-5850 reads,

Investago Railroad Company, which spans 70% of its total length. Ten passenger cars are attached to SCP-5850, which also contains SCP-5850-A instances. SCP 5850-A refers to 24 indistinct humanoid entities observed throughout the entirety of SCP 5850. These entities manifest after SCP 5850 collides with human subjects, followed afterward with a flash of light. Current research efforts are to ascertain the established connection between these entities and their perceived effect on SCP 5850 speed. these entities do not appear to require sustenance.