The lock wasn't anything more than a chain with a padlock that held the sliding doors closed. Inside, Tom relocked it on the inside of the door, bringing them as close to privacy as they were going to get.

The bench seating had been ripped out of the car years ago, leaving a few poles and empty brackets on the floors and walls. There was an attempt at a mattress against the far wall, a basin of dingy water in a corner. Most of the windows had been blocked out with black paint.

It was muggy and close and awful, but with the door shut, Tom sighed a soft sigh of relief.

"Sorry about -" he said, gesturing abortively in the direction of the tunnel. He gave Neil a pained look. The Realm, the destruction, all the piss and fear and dark, closed spaces.

"I'm just...sorry."