The door to Car 7 creaked open.
Ethan held his breath as he stepped in after Jason, the sounds behind them fading. The bat in his hands felt heavier than ever, not because of its weight, but because of what it meant. Survival. Defense. Death.
Car 7 was dim, lit only by flickering ceiling lights that sparked now and then like a dying heartbeat. The metallic tang of blood filled the air. Bags and shoes lay strewn across the floor. A phone buzzed from under a seat, then went silent.
But the worst part was the stillness.
Not the peaceful kind. The kind that whispered, "They're watching."
Jason signaled silently for Ethan to move slowly. He crouched low, holding his knife in front of him like he'd done it a hundred times before—which, as an ex-army officer, he probably had.
They advanced step by step.
A faint scraping sound echoed from the far end.
Ethan froze. "You hear that?"
Jason gave a nod. "Far corner. One... maybe two."
He gestured for Ethan to move to the other side of the aisle. They crept forward, each step slow and deliberate. Then came the low groan of something... no, someone.
A zombie.
Its head lifted from behind a row of seats.
Skin gray. Eyes bloodshot. Mouth torn at the corners.
The moment it saw them, it screeched—a horrible, guttural sound that made Ethan's heart punch his ribs.
"Move!" Jason shouted.
The zombie lunged.
Ethan swung.
The bat cracked against its skull, sending it crashing into a seat with a sickening crunch.
Another groan. Two more figures rose behind it.
Jason moved like lightning. His knife slashed one across the throat—though it didn't stop until he slammed his boot into its chest, knocking it backward.
"Keep going!" Jason called, grabbing Ethan's arm.
They sprinted down the aisle, weaving through seats, knocking over bags to slow the creatures. One tried to grab Ethan's hoodie—he yanked it off and kept running in his undershirt.
A child-sized zombie lunged from a luggage rack above. Jason tackled it mid-air, slamming it to the floor with a grunt, then drove the knife into its temple.
Ethan turned, wide-eyed. "You okay?"
Jason stood, panting. "I've been through worse."
Together, they reached the connecting door.
Jason shoved it open, and they tumbled into Car 6.
Car 6 was even worse.
It wasn't silent—it was loud.
Groaning. Thumping. Something—or many things—moving around.
They ducked behind a luggage cart as a shadow shuffled past.
Jason whispered, "Too many to fight. We need a distraction."
Ethan nodded. "I've got an idea."
He pulled out his phone.
Still a little battery left.
He opened the music app, scrolled to a playlist, and hit play.
Suddenly, the chorus of a pop song burst from the speakers, loud and upbeat.
"Seriously?" Jason mouthed.
Ethan smirked. "It's what I had."
The zombies turned toward the sound.
Ethan slid the phone across the floor toward the far end of the car.
One by one, the zombies shambled toward the sound—drawn like moths to a flame.
"Now," Jason whispered.
They bolted.
Carefully stepping over a zombie lying face-down, Ethan and Jason sprinted down the aisle while the infected gathered around the phone.
Ethan didn't look back. He didn't breathe. He just ran.
When they reached the door to Car 5, Jason threw it open, yanked Ethan through, and slammed it shut behind them, wedging a coat hook into the latch.
They leaned against the wall, gasping for air.
Ethan laughed between breaths. "Well... now I hate that song forever."
Jason chuckled too. "Could've picked something less bubblegum."
They shared a brief smile—an unspoken bond forged through blood and fire.
Car 5 was empty.
Clean.
The contrast was jarring.
"Looks like this car didn't get hit," Jason said. "Might be the crew's rest area."
"Means we're close," Ethan said.
They passed a few lockers, a tiny kitchenette, and a first-aid cabinet. Jason grabbed a roll of gauze and a bottle of antiseptic.
Then they reached the final door.
Car 4.
The driver's car.
Jason pressed his ear to the metal.
Silence.
He pulled a keycard from his pocket—retrieved earlier from a conductor's corpse in Car 7—and slid it into the panel.
Nothing happened.
Jason cursed. "Locked remotely. Probably set from the outside."
"There has to be a way in," Ethan said.
Jason scanned the wall, then smiled faintly. "Access panel."
He dropped to one knee, opened the side hatch, and began rewiring with practiced fingers.
Ethan turned to watch their back.
Behind them, the silence of the empty car now felt threatening.
"We don't have long," Ethan whispered. "They'll come."
"I know," Jason grunted. "Just... a few more wires..."
A soft click.
The door's red light turned green.
It slid open.
They were in.
The driver's cabin was small, filled with blinking lights and a cracked radio.
Jason rushed to the control panel.
"Manual override... yes. Emergency signal..." He began typing, flipping switches. "We can stop the train. Slow it to a crawl. If we send a distress beacon, someone might come."
"Someone better come," Ethan muttered, peering out the small front window.
Jason activated the emergency line.
"Mayday. This is Army Officer Jason Malik, formerly of the 12th Battalion. I'm on Passenger Train 1142 heading northbound. We have a biohazard outbreak—multiple infected passengers. Requesting immediate intervention. Repeat, this is not a drill."
A long pause.
Then static.
Jason tried again.
Still static.
He sighed and turned to Ethan. "Signal's weak. Too much interference."
"But the train's slowing?" Ethan asked.
Jason nodded. "I've dropped us to 40. That buys us time. If we're lucky, someone hears the ping and sends help."
Ethan slumped against the wall. "That's all we've got. Hope."
Jason sat down, shoulders heavy. "Better than nothing."
For a moment, they rested.
Just two men, strangers a day ago, now bound by blood and desperation.
Ethan pulled out his phone again.
Honey ♥
Still in one piece?
Ethan:
We made it. Train's slowing. Sent a distress call. No clue if it'll work.
Honey ♥
Proud of you. Asher's been worried. He won't say it out loud but I know him.
Ethan's heart clenched.
Ethan:
Tell him I'll be back soon. Just a little longer.
Jason stood. "We need to get back. Tell them what's next."
Ethan nodded. "Yeah. Let's go home."
The journey back wasn't easy, but the zombies had followed the phone's music all the way to the other side of Car 6. Jason and Ethan moved like ghosts, slipping past silently. By the time they re-entered Car 8, everyone jumped to their feet.
Asher ran forward.
"Ethan!"
They locked eyes.
Asher didn't care who was watching anymore. He hugged him tight, burying his face in Ethan's shoulder.
"You came back," he whispered.
"Of course I did," Ethan murmured, hugging him just as tightly.
Jason walked to his wife and knelt beside her again, resting his head gently on her belly.
"It's done. For now."
Everyone gathered close as he explained what they'd done—how the train was slowing, how an emergency signal had been sent, how there was a chance... just a chance... they might still be saved.
They weren't out of danger.
But they had a chance.
And that was enough—for now.