For a brief, shining moment, hope bloomed like sunlight through the cracks of their terror.
The train was slowing down.
They could feel it—the brakes grinding, the engine's rhythm easing, the sound of the countryside giving way to the low hum of city chaos. Car 8, filled with frightened passengers, held its collective breath as a station platform rolled into view. Everyone's eyes locked on the outside, watching in tense silence.
The train was stopping.
"Finally," someone whispered. "They're going to open the doors."
Ethan stepped up beside Asher near the window, looking out. Government barricades stood at the edge of the platform—yellow tape, metal fencing, flashing lights. Armed soldiers dotted the corners, keeping their distance. But none moved forward.
No announcement came over the speakers.
No one approached the train.
And worse, no door opened.
"What the hell?" Casey muttered, standing up.
"They... they're not coming," said the mother holding her 5-year-old daughter. She pressed her child close to her chest.
Jason—husband of the pregnant woman—stormed toward the window and slammed his fist against it. "Open the damn door!" he roared.
Nothing.
The soldiers just watched.
A few passengers cheered and waved from other cars—maybe they hadn't seen the infected yet. Maybe they were just happy to see a station.
But not Car 8.
They all knew what was happening.
"They're not opening the train because they know," Ethan muttered. "They know there are zombies on board."
"But people are still alive in here!" Sienna said, voice cracking. "We're still human! We're not infected!"
Jason stood frozen, fists clenched. His wife, clutching her round belly, moved slowly toward him, her face calm despite the chaos.
Asher whispered, "Why aren't they helping us? There are kids. Families."
Ethan's voice was hard. "Because they're scared. Scared of what's inside this train getting out. And if they open even one door... this virus could spread."
They watched helplessly as the platform rolled by, the station now behind them.
The train did not stop again.
It sped up.
And with that, hope shattered.
Panic spread like fire through Car 8.
Passengers began arguing—some shouting that they needed to break windows, others pleading with them not to. A man from Car 7 began banging on the connecting door, demanding to be let back in. One of the young couples—still unaware of the situation—asked why people were panicking. The mother with the child cried quietly in a corner.
Asher sat down on a bench, shoulders slumped, his chest tight. All that effort... all that belief that help would arrive... crushed in an instant.
He buried his face in his hands.
All he wanted was to be strong—for the others, for Ethan—but he felt like he was unraveling from the inside. He just needed something simple.
A hug. A word.
Something to remind him that he wasn't breaking alone.
Jason suddenly slammed his foot into the side of the metal bench, the clang jolting everyone's attention.
"They left us to die," he said, voice shaking with fury. "They didn't even try to rescue us."
He turned to the others, eyes blazing, then softened as he looked at his wife's face.
But when he looked at her belly... his expression changed completely.
His eyes, for a moment, glistened with something that wasn't anger.
It was love.
He walked over, knelt beside her, gently touched her stomach, and whispered, "You're why I'll survive this."
She smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "We're going to make it, Jason."
That moment was so tender, so intimate, even amidst disaster, that it stunned the others into silence.
Ethan stepped back and took a deep breath. "We need to calm down. All of us. Fighting and panicking won't fix this."
Malik nodded. "We've got nowhere to go right now. We need a new plan."
A while passed.
The train moved at a steady pace through unfamiliar landscapes. Everyone had found some place to sit, stand, or crouch in silence. They were all feeling it—the heavy dread of knowing help wasn't coming.
Asher's phone buzzed.
He pulled it out with trembling fingers.
Honey ♥
Still okay? I can't stop thinking about you. Wish I could hold you right now.
Asher's breath hitched. The tears that had threatened all day finally spilled over.
He turned slightly, shielding the screen from everyone else, and typed:
Asher:
I'm trying to be strong. For them. But I'm falling apart, Honey. I wish you were here too.
A second later:
Honey ♥
I am here, babe. Always. Just breathe. You've got this. I believe in you.
He smiled faintly through the tears.
Ethan, seated nearby, watched him out of the corner of his eye. No one else noticed, but Ethan did. He saw how that one message transformed Asher—how his back straightened, how his hands stilled, how something like peace flickered across his face.
And somehow... that made Ethan feel lighter, too.
Suddenly, there was a loud metallic screech.
Everyone jumped.
The train shook as something heavy slammed into one of the back cars.
Jason shot up. "They're here again."
He rushed toward the back of Car 8, where the door to Car 9 groaned.
Something—or someone—was trying to open it.
Casey, Malik, and Ethan ran with him.
Before the latch gave way, Ethan grabbed a nearby baseball bat and wedged it between the door handles, jamming it shut.
The screeching stopped—for now.
But the message was clear: the zombies were not done.
"We're trapped," the young man with his girlfriend whispered. "We're trapped between infected cars and a world that won't let us out."
Jason paced, thinking hard. His jaw clenched.
Then he turned to everyone. "We can't stay here. We have to make it to the front of the train. To the driver's car. That's the only way we'll have any control."
"We tried that before," Casey said. "It's locked."
Jason nodded. "But it's not impossible to override. I used to work in the army. I've seen the systems. If I get to the main panel, I can force the emergency signal. That's our only shot."
"But someone has to get there," Malik said, glancing at the blocked doors. "And we'll have to go through two cars crawling with zombies."
Jason's eyes scanned the car.
"Then I'll go."
His wife's eyes widened. "Jason—"
"I have to," he said, gently cupping her face. "For you. For our baby. For everyone here."
No one spoke.
Jason looked around.
"Someone needs to come with me. I can't fight them all off alone."
Silence.
Everyone stared at their feet.
Except Ethan.
"I'll go," he said.
Asher whipped around. "Ethan—"
But Ethan had already stood, face set in determination. "You'll need someone fast. Someone who can swing a bat and doesn't freeze under pressure. I'm in."
Jason nodded. "Good."
He turned to his wife, kissed her forehead, then looked at Asher. "Look after her. All of them."
Asher just nodded, throat tight.
The preparations were quiet. Ethan pulled his hoodie tighter and adjusted the grip on his bat. Jason pulled a combat knife from his boot—something he'd kept hidden till now.
"I'll cover the front. You watch the back," Jason said. "We move fast. Don't stop. Don't hesitate."
Ethan's heart raced.
But his mind wasn't on the zombies.
It was on Asher—on the way he'd looked when the train passed the station. The way he'd lit up at a message from someone named "Honey." The way he kept pushing forward, even when everything inside him wanted to crumble.
As he stood at the door, ready to open it, Ethan glanced back once.
Their eyes met.
Asher didn't speak.
But in that brief glance, everything was said.
Please come back.
Please don't die.
And I care more than you know.
Ethan gave a small nod.
"I'll see you soon."
Then the door opened, and they were gone.