Did you ever fall asleep on the train and miss your stop? Or fall asleep and go right through to the end of the line? Well, maybe you did, but I bet you never stayed asleep while they took the train out from the last station and left it on a side track overnight. After you hear this story, I bet you'll make sure you never do.

It happened last year. I'd stayed late at school for the boys’ under-seventeen basketball final against St Joseph's. Yeah, we won, 84 to 76. And I scored eight of our points! After the game, I caught the 8:17 train from North Wollongong back to Gerringong. At Kiama, we did the changeover from the electrified line to the two diesel carriages going all the way to Bomaderry.

So, anyway, I fell asleep listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers on my headphones and slept right past Gerringong. When I woke up, the lights were off and the carriage was empty. The only light was the moonlight pouring in through the windows. I must have slumped over sideways in my sleep, because I was lying stretched out across a double seat.

You'd think they'd have someone go through and check the carriages at the end of the line, wouldn't you? I reckon someone didn't do their job.

Man, it was weird! I looked out the window and there was no station platform, no buildings, nothing. Just railway tracks, and another couple of unlit carriages further down the line. And tall, dark trees all around, tossing in the wind, silver and glittery under the moon.

See, what happens is, they leave the trains parked at Bomaderry, ready for the big commuter rush to Sydney in the morning. When I worked that out, I knew this carriage was stuck here for the night.

I could've rung home on my mobile, except it was out of battery. I knew that already because I'd tried to ring and tell my brother Matt we'd won the final. I tried again now, but no use.

It was five minutes before midnight by my watch, so I must've slept on long after the train stopped. But I still had hours and hours to wait.

No way was I planning to wait in the train! There's something seriously creepy about a dark deserted train carriage. Maybe it was the tossing of the trees outside, but the shadows kept moving and twitching over the seats and across the floor. Even the scrawls of graffiti seemed alive. You could half imagine the seats still filled with people. I grabbed my backpack and headed for the nearest exit.

Then I discovered that the doors wouldn't open. I yanked on the handles, but I couldn't drag them apart. Locked!

And even worse – when I pushed on the red alarm button, that didn't work either. The carriage's electrical systems had been totally shut down. I was trapped.

Stay calm, stay cool! I told myself. The standing section of the carriage by the doors was even creepier than the main section, so I went and sat down again. A different seat, two rows in front of where I'd fallen asleep.

I was wondering what to do next when I heard this noise. A scraping and scratching noise, with a muffled sort of thump every now and then.

The first thing I realised was that I'd been hearing it for a while, only it had blended in with the sounds of the trees in the wind.

The second thing I realised was that it was coming from right under my seat!

Skrikk-skrikk-skrikk-thrubb!-skrikk-skrikk-thrubb!

I jumped up, backed away into the aisle and bent down for a look. Under the seat was a battered brown suitcase. It fitted as snug and tight as if it had been made for this very space.

Then I remembered the guy who must have left it. He was already in his seat when we changed trains, so I guess he was travelling from Kiama. A strange-looking guy, half-dignified and half-disreputable, like a business executive who'd gone on the whiskey. He smelled of whiskey, too. He sat there with his collar pulled open and his tie hanging loose.

He wasn't there long, because three security guards came into the carriage even before the train left the station. And not only security guards, but a plainclothes detective, who flashed a badge and spoke to the man in a low voice. I heard the name ‘Dr Crowl’ and enough of the tone to know they were taking him off for questioning.

Dr Crowl went without a fight, only mumbling and rolling his eyes. Maybe he was too far gone to remember his suitcase, or maybe he was still smart enough to leave it deliberately.

I stared at it. I could see that it was closed with a padlock, but I couldn't yet see how it was dotted with tiny airholes.

That was when I had my stupid moment … you know, the moment when the idiot walks right into the serial killer's cellar or the vampire's lair. The noises from that suitcase were already making the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. But if I didn't investigate, I knew I'd stay scared for as long as I was trapped on the train. Better find out now than have my imagination run wild.

As if my wildest imaginings could ever have come close to what was really in the suitcase!

I grabbed it by the handle and pulled it out between the seats. It bumped and bulged as the thing inside went berserk.

I let go and backed away into the aisle.

Now I could see the airholes, and the rip that was opening up between them!

The rip grew wider and wider, halfway across the front of the case. Then a hand emerged. Someone's left hand, a human hand.

It was the size of an adult male hand, with powerful fingers and thick knuckles. The skin, though, was as smooth as a baby's and the fingers were sort of pale and floppy.

It was impossible. The suitcase was no bigger than a school case; there was no way you could fit an adult or even a child inside.

I was paralysed. Like they say, you want to move, but your muscles won't obey. I was waiting to see a wrist, an arm, I don't know what.

There was a furious scrabbling and the suitcase shook this way and that. The hand waggled and flapped like somebody waving. The scrabbling sounded like claws …

It was claws. Suddenly another rip appeared and a little claw stuck out.

In the next moment, the new rip met up with the old rip, the suitcase burst apart and the thing sprang out.

My mind couldn't take it in. Couldn't, wouldn't, believe it. Snout … tail … claws … and hand!

Of course, I'd seen that picture on the news, you know the one? – the mouse with a human ear growing out of its back? A scientific experiment with gene-splicing or something. But this … this wasn't a mouse but a monster rat, some exotic breed as big as a small dog. And what was growing out of its back was a human hand!

It turned towards me. Its eyes were red like tiny beads of blood, its teeth were needle-sharp. It looked completely crazed, with drool and saliva dripping from its mouth. I guess you'd have to go mad if you were an animal with a hand growing out of your back.

I was still watching, still goggling, when it leaped up at my face.

Swinging an arm I deflected it away. Ugh! My hand touched the rat-thing's hand. Clammy and flabby! Its fingers seemed to cling to mine for a moment, before I shook it off.

I yelled and half-fell, hauled myself upright again. The rat-thing had landed in the aisle. It pointed its snout towards me and looked ready for another spring.

I backed away, fast as I could, between the seats. The rat-thing pattered forward, stopped, pattered forward again, stopped again. It wasn't the bite of its teeth that scared me, so much as the touch of that unnatural hand.

Back and back I went. I couldn't take my eyes off it, until it darted suddenly under the seats.

Now I didn't know where it was. I turned and ran, ten paces to the end of the carriage. There was no way through to a further carriage, only the blank door to the driver's compartment at the front of the train. If I could get into the driver's compartment and close the door behind me …

But of course the door was locked. No surprise there. I thumped the window with my elbow and the jolt tore right through me, making me gasp. I was trapped.

I spun around and listened. Was that the sound of scrabbling claws or the sound of branches knocking together in the wind? The wind outside was blowing harder than ever. I could feel the whole carriage rocking slightly under my feet.

I stood backed up against the driver's door. My backpack was still on the seat where I'd left it, but I wasn't going back to collect it, that was for sure.

Skrikk-skrikk! Skrikk-skrikk!

The more I listened, the more I heard noises from both sides of the aisle. It was like the rat-thing had multiplied into a hundred rat-things.

Crouching down I peered under the seats and caught a flash of something pale. The hand! It had to be! It shot out of the shadows, disappeared again. It was closing in on me.

I never stopped to wonder why it was after me. What did it want to do? I never thought that maybe it had some other reason for heading this way.

Then it appeared in the aisle again. Not where I was looking at all. It had come nearly level with the last row of seats.

I backed into a corner next to the exit door.

My head told me that if one door was locked, they were all locked. But I was too panicked to think straight. I reached for the door handle and tugged, tugged, tugged.

I was focused on the rat-thing when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. It could have been my own reflection in the window of the door, but it wasn't. I whirled so fast I almost cricked my neck.

It was someone outside looking in. Face pressed up against the glass … glaring eyes, lips drawn back, showing his teeth … and a tie hanging loose around an open collar …

I just about hit the roof. It was him! The guy who'd left the suitcase, the guy who'd been taken off at Kiama! He must've been released and hired a taxi or followed the train somehow! Dr Crowl!

He wasn't actually drooling at the mouth, but he looked every bit as mad as the rat-thing.

He drew back, and I saw something whirl through the darkness. Then a mighty crash on the door handle that jarred my fingers and shot up my arm.

I let go in a hurry. The whole door was still shuddering. Looking out the window, I could see him winding up for another hit. He was wielding a massive iron crowbar.

I jumped back from the door. In the moment before the next crash, I heard a squeaking, squealing sound. I spun round.

The rat-thing had reared up on its hind legs. Snout twitching, whiskers quivering, it looked – excited.

A third crash. I was caught between the mad creature and its madder owner. I didn't make a conscious choice, I just acted.

I ran straight at the rat-thing. The seat backs of the last row of seats were in just the right position. I thrust down, stiff-armed, and vaulted up and over the ratthing's head. I sailed clean over the top of it – over the hideous hand – and came down on the other side.

Desperate to avoid the hand, I forgot to make a proper landing. I went over on my ankle and fell sprawling to the floor.

Frantically, I twisted round and sat up. The rat-thing wasn't after me. It had vanished from sight. Where?

There was no fourth crash of metal on metal, but a scraping, grating sound. I worked it out soon enough. Dr Crowl must have forced the end of his crowbar between the doors and was now levering them apart.

I slid backwards on the floor, pushing with my arms and my one good foot. I expected the doctor and his rat-thing to appear at any moment.

Instead, it was his voice I heard first. ‘Where are you? Where?’

He was inside the carriage, I could tell. I thought he was talking to me. I just kept sliding backwards, though I knew that sliding backwards wouldn't save me. Should I try to hide between the seats?

Then he was there. Somehow, he didn't look drunk any more, only very, very determined. He had the crowbar in one hand – until he tossed it aside. It hit the floor with a clang.

He advanced into the aisle between the seats, scanning from side to side. Why couldn't he see me? He clicked his tongue, the way you might call a dog.

Then his face changed. ‘There you are!’ he cried.

He swivelled, bent to the side and gathered up his rat-thing. The monstrosity must have jumped up on one of the seats to wait for him.

He nursed it in his arms and made crooning, affectionate noises in his throat. He looked at it as though nothing else in the world existed. Maybe I imagined it, but the hand on its back seemed to be waggling its fingers. Ugh!

So then he turned and headed for the exit door, and I watched him go. You don't want to hear the rest – how I waited in the empty carriage for another twenty minutes, then climbed out through the broken door and followed the railway track to Bomaderry station, hobbling all the way. I rang home from the payphone at the station and Dad and Matt drove out to collect me. But you don't want to hear all that, and anyway, I was half in a trance myself, operating on auto-pilot the whole time.

There's just one more thing you need to hear. I hadn't noticed it when Dr Crowl was taken off the train at Kiama, and I guess I was too desperate to notice it when I thought he was coming for me, advancing into the carriage.

I only noticed it when he cradled his rat-thing in his arms. The left cuff of his jacket hung loose because there was no hand sticking out from it. When the cuff rode up, when he cradled his rat-thing, I could see how his arm ended in a stump.

Dr Crowl was missing his left hand.