The metallic squeal of hinges echoed like a scream across Car 8.
Creeeaaak.
The door to Car 9 groaned open.
Everyone froze. Heads turned toward the far end of the train car as the first passenger from the next car stumbled through—his shirt torn, blood smeared across his arms, eyes wide with terror.
"RUN!" he shouted. "They're coming! They're right behind me!"
A wave of screaming passengers poured into Car 8. Mothers clutching children. Teenagers tripping over bags. An older man dragging someone with an injured leg. The panic was instant. Car 8, which had been quiet just seconds before, turned into chaos.
The families that had been calmly chatting or sipping bottled water moments ago now stared in horror. The pregnant woman gripped her husband's hand, her face turning pale. The little girl in the pink jacket clung tightly to her mother's skirt, trembling. The elderly couple pressed together on the bench seat, eyes filled with disbelief.
Asher's breath caught in his throat.
Not again.
Not more blood. Not more screams.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Feet pounding the train floor.
"Ethan, the door!" Asher yelled, heart racing.
Ethan didn't hesitate. He darted across the car, reached the other door just before another wave of panicked passengers could push through, and slammed it shut. In one smooth motion, he wedged a baseball bat through the metal handles, twisting it until it jammed the door completely.
Lockdown.
Everyone gasped for air.
Silence fell again—but this time it was filled with dread.
Both doors were now closed.
And behind one of them... were zombies.
"Wh-what is happening?" asked the teenage girl from the couple sitting near the corner.
"I—I saw a man get bitten," said one of the passengers who had come in. "Right in front of me. They were eating him!"
Someone screamed.
Another mother covered her child's ears.
Asher turned to the terrified families and stepped forward. His voice was shaky, but he made himself speak.
"You all deserve to know the truth," he said, locking eyes with each group. "We didn't want to panic anyone before, but this... this isn't something we can hide anymore. There are zombies on this train. Not in movies. Not in stories. Real ones."
Gasps.
Tears.
Denial.
Ethan stood beside him now, his arms crossed, his expression firm. "They're fast. Strong. And they're infected with something we don't understand. If even one of them gets out into the world... this won't stop at just a train."
The father of the pregnant woman stepped forward, placing his hand gently on her belly and then straightening his back. "We can't stay here," he said. "We're sitting ducks. You said this car is between both infected ends?"
Asher nodded. "We're in the middle. And there's no way to open the windows. We're boxed in."
The man nodded once, jaw tight. "I'm Jason. Former Army. I've seen enough field missions to know when it's time to move. We need to get to the front of the train."
"The engine car?" Ethan asked.
"Yes," Jason said. "If we can reach the driver's controls, we might be able to send an emergency signal or even stop the train. We can lock ourselves in up there and protect the rest of you."
Someone whispered, "Is the driver even alive?"
Jason looked grim. "We won't know unless we get there."
He turned to face the crowd. "I'm going. But I won't make it alone. I need someone to watch my back."
A heavy silence followed.
People looked down at their feet. Some held their children closer. Others just stared at the floor. No one moved.
Asher glanced toward Ethan.
He didn't have to say anything.
Ethan stepped forward.
"I'll go," he said, eyes focused and steady.
Asher's heart stopped for a moment.
He opened his mouth to protest—but nothing came out. Ethan turned back to him for just a second. There was a look in his eyes. Calm. Determined.
And something else.
Something only Asher could recognize.
"I'll be fine," Ethan mouthed.
The next few minutes passed in a blur of whispered instructions.
Jason checked his backpack—he'd brought a pocketknife, two protein bars, and a small flashlight. Ethan grabbed his bat. Others gave them what little supplies they had—an unopened water bottle, a first-aid kit, and a lighter.
Asher stood by the door they'd come from earlier, still jammed with Ethan's bat. His fingers tightened around his own weapon. Not going felt like abandoning him.
"I should be the one going," Asher muttered.
"You're needed here," Ethan said, placing a hand briefly on Asher's shoulder. "Keep everyone safe."
Asher nodded, barely.
Then, suddenly, the train jerked.
The movement caught everyone off guard. Asher lost balance, stumbling back. He would've hit the metal bench hard—if not for Ethan.
Strong arms caught him.
Pulled him in.
Held him.
For a heartbeat, the world stopped.
Asher's face was pressed against Ethan's chest. His hands clutched Ethan's shirt without meaning to. That warmth... That steady heartbeat...
He needed this.
He hadn't even realized how badly.
They both stood like that, breath mingling, not speaking. Not moving.
Until—
"Damn, should we give you two a moment?" Leo's voice cracked through the silence.
Laughter followed. Nervous. Awkward. But it worked.
The tension broke.
Asher stepped back quickly, trying to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks. Ethan smirked but didn't say a word. He just turned toward the locked door and looked at Jason.
"Ready?"
Jason nodded.
Together, they removed the bat from the handles.
And opened the door to Car 7.
Meanwhile, Asher stayed behind with the others.
Car 8 now felt claustrophobic.
Even though there hadn't been any attacks inside it yet, the fear was rising. Everyone looked at him for leadership now. He didn't know why—but they did. Maybe because he'd spoken up. Or maybe just because he wasn't panicking.
Asher didn't feel like a leader.
He felt like a kid holding on by a thread.
But Ethan believed in him.
That was enough.
He checked on the others.
The elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Delaney, were huddled under a blanket someone had given them. The boyfriend and girlfriend—Rina and Jai—were holding hands tightly, eyes still adjusting to the truth. The young mother had her daughter wrapped in her arms, whispering lullabies under her breath.
Asher sat down across from them, watching the door. Praying Ethan would come back.
Ten minutes passed.
Then fifteen.
Still no sign of Ethan or Jason.
Then—
SCREAMING.
A loud bang on the door behind them.
Not the door to Car 7.
The one to Car 9.
Everyone turned in horror.
The infected must have broken through.
They were now sandwiched between two infected cars.
Asher rushed to wedge the bat back into the handles.
One of the zombies slammed against the glass window—its face twisted, mouth red with blood, clawing at the barrier.
The little girl started crying. Her mother clutched her close.
"We're not safe here anymore," Asher said, turning to the group. "We need to move the moment Ethan and Jason come back. We can't wait."
"But what if they don't—" Rina started.
"They will," Asher cut in, voice harder than he meant. Then, softer, "They have to."
Five more minutes.
Asher's phone buzzed in his pocket.
He fumbled to check it.
Honey ♥
Still okay, babe. We're close. Jason's a beast with that knife. We're almost at the engine. Stay strong.
Asher exhaled a shaky breath.
His hands trembled a little as he replied.
I'm trying. Just get back to me.
Then the door to Car 7 creaked again.
This time—it was Ethan.
Blood on his bat. Dirt on his face. But alive.
Jason followed, holding a set of keys in one hand.
Ethan scanned the group. When his eyes found Asher, his tense expression relaxed—just slightly.
"We made it," he said. "The front car's clear. The driver's not there—but the signal system still works. Jason sent an emergency alert to authorities. They're tracking us now."
"And the brakes?" Asher asked.
"Not working," Jason said grimly. "But they can manually stop the train when it nears the next station. We just need to survive until then."
Asher looked back at the others.
Families. Fear. Fatigue.
But also... hope.
"Then we move forward," he said.
Ethan nodded.
And together, they prepared for the final stretch.