Free Creepers by David Morrell

soon be crowded with trains and that getting out of the tunnel in one piece would be a tough job.
    Miguel's voice, reverberating down from the station, shattered the heavy silence of the tunnel. "Willie, there's a train coming!"
    Willie turned and, once again, saw a flicker of movement behind him; closer now than before. But his attention was drawn back toward the platform by another call from Miguel. "Shut up, Miggie," Willie complained under his breath. If that damned fool kept up the yelling he would attract undue attention.
    And as the thought passed through Willie's mind, he saw a TA cop in the distance join Miguel on the platform. The cop leaned forward, visored his eyes with his hand, then pushed Miguel out of the way. "Get outta there, you dumb fuck!" the cop screamed.
    The policeman opened his mouth again, but his voice was drowned out by the clattering thunder of an approaching local train. Willie hadn't seen it because he'd been too interested in the cop. But he saw it now and he was so suddenly afraid that he fought to keep back a scream. What the hell was he doing down here? What did he expect to find that was worth risking his own life? Ted Slade hadn't been seen in two days, but that didn't mean he'd walked into this tunnel and never walked out. If he'd been bit by a train, it would have been reported and made all the newspapers. But it hadn't been. And as far as Willie knew, that was the only bad thing that could happen to you down here. So far as he knew.
    After narrowly escaping the train by jumping onto the express track, Willie felt his resolve to pursue his goal weaken momentarily. "Why am I standing here peeing in my pants?" he asked himself aloud. And as quickly as the question was posed, it was answered: "Because somethin' bad's happened to my main man. And Willie Hoyte don't desert his friends."
    He was about to continue his exploration when he saw the cop speaking into his walkie-talkie. That was bad news. He was probably alerting his buddies, signaling the TA control center to shut off the power in that section of the track so he could chase Willie. And, sure enough, thirty seconds later, the cop jumped down onto the roadbed and started running toward Willie like he had a personal grudge against him and was about to collect.
    Willie turned tail and started to run full-out. The Eighty-sixth Street station was his only hope of escape. But it was still a long way, and running down here was tough; it meant leaping over ties, keeping a sure footing on the loose gravel and slick sludge of the roadbed. And most of all it meant keeping away from the deadly third rail. But getting away from the TA was more important than thinking about how tough it was. If that cop caught him, Willie Hoyte would be crucified once and for all. Willie Hoyte, founder of Dogs of Hell--nothing more than a dumb bastard who endangers his own life and that of other subway passengers to play on the tracks. That's what the TA would say. Damn! He could almost read the headlines now.
    The cop was gaining on him. Willie had no idea how far he'd run, but the configuration of the tunnel was changing. Ahead, the wall seemed to fall away into an inky pit of darkness. It looked like a disused station, but Willie'd been riding this line for years and had never seen it before. He knew there were abandoned stations throughout the city, stations that had been closed down because they no longer served any useful purpose. Willie'd seen them but he'd never seen one here. Had Slade seen it? Had Slade seen that gray thing creeping along the tracks toward this station? Was that why he'd come here?
    The cop was now so close Willie could hear his labored breathing. And as he looked over his shoulder to get a bead on him, Willie's foot caught on a tie and he fell, tumbling out of control. He reached out, frantically grabbing for something to stop his forward motion. His fingers entwined around something soft and slick, something with enough weight behind