The train had stopped moving.
There was no screech of brakes, no hiss of hydraulics—just a jarring thud, and then stillness so complete it felt suffocating. The overhead lights had long since gone dark, and the only thing keeping the group grounded was the dim glow of flashlights and the occasional sputter of a dying emergency lantern.
But it wasn't the dark that scared them.
It was the silence that followed.
And the sound before it—the footsteps on the roof.
Someone—or something—was still out there.
Jason was the first to act. He gripped the edge of the car door with one hand, his other clutching a rusted steel rod from a broken seat. His eyes were locked forward, ears trained for any repeat of the dragging footsteps.
"I don't like this," Jordy whispered.
"We know," Leo muttered.
"No," Jordy continued. "Like—I really don't like this. The train stopping like that? It wasn't normal."
"Maybe the tracks ended," Sienna offered, trying to stay calm.
"Or the conductor's finally dead," Malik said flatly.
That earned a glare from Ethan. He was crouched beside Mia, tucking her into a cocoon of coats. Her eyes were wide in the dark, and she refused to let go of Asher's hand.
"Is the train broken, Daddy?" she asked softly.
"No," Ethan said gently. "It just… needed a break."
"Like me?" she asked, sniffling.
Asher knelt beside her, rubbing her back. "Exactly like you, star. And just like you, it'll get moving again."
But he didn't believe it.
None of them did.
Hours passed.
The tension in the car grew heavier with every second. People rotated guard shifts in silence. Casey remained distant, emotionally numb since Max's death. Jason remained posted near the front, and Ethan stayed by Mia's side.
But Asher?
He couldn't sit still.
His gut twisted. Not from fear—but from the feeling that something was about to happen. Like a storm gathering in the distance, just before the sky explodes.
So he paced.
He passed the sleeping Mia, the quiet Ethan, the hollow-eyed passengers... and eventually, he moved toward the tiny window at the rear of the car.
And froze.
Outside, through the dirt-smudged glass, a light flickered.
Not a flashlight.
A lantern.
He called Jason and Ethan over.
"There," Asher whispered, pointing.
Jason squinted. "That's not from our group. It's... moving."
The light bobbed slightly. It was being carried—by someone walking slowly along the edge of the train tracks, just beyond the overgrown platform.
A person.
Not a zombie.
They exchanged a look.
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "What if it's a survivor?"
"Or bait," Jason added.
Asher's chest tightened. "I'm going."
Ethan grabbed his wrist. "What? No."
"If someone's alive out there, we have to help."
"Or we bring something worse back inside."
"I'll be quick," Asher said. "And I won't go alone."
Jason sighed. "I'll go with him."
Asher nodded. "Ethan, stay with Mia. Please."
The way he said please—soft, earnest—made Ethan step back, even though every muscle in his body screamed to go too.
Asher and Jason slipped out the side door, quiet as ghosts.
Outside, the air was cold and smelled of metal, moss, and decay. The station was old, half-collapsed from years of disuse. Overgrown vines choked the roof supports. The tracks were barely visible under grass and rust.
The light moved further away, still bobbing.
Then it stopped.
Asher and Jason crouched behind an overturned bench, watching.
From the shadows, a figure emerged. Hooded. Thin. Carrying a heavy-looking lantern in one hand and something long—maybe a tool or weapon—in the other.
"Hello?" Jason called softly.
The figure froze.
Then turned.
And Asher's blood ran cold.
Because the face that appeared under that hood—sunken-cheeked, pale, eyes rimmed red—was someone he recognized.
"Coach?" Asher whispered.
It couldn't be.
Coach Ramirez—the man who trained him in baseball through junior and senior years. The man who yelled at him, believed in him, pushed him to keep going after his father died.
"Asher?" the voice croaked, dry and brittle. "Oh my god… kid... you're still alive?"
Asher ran to him, ignoring Jason's warnings.
The coach caught him in a hug.
"You survived… all this time…" Asher breathed.
"Only barely," Ramirez said. "I've been hiding in one of the old supply shacks. I saw the train stop. I thought maybe it was help."
Jason caught up quickly, keeping his guard up. "You're alone?"
Ramirez nodded. "Everyone else at the base… they turned."
"Base?"
"Yeah. Emergency shelter about a mile up the track. But it got overrun."
Jason's eyes narrowed. "Then why are you still here?"
Ramirez didn't answer right away.
That was their first warning.
Back in the train, Mia stirred again. Her bunny had fallen beside her, and she reached out blindly in the dark. "Daddy?" she called.
Ethan moved to her side. "I'm here."
"Where's Dad?"
"He'll be back soon."
She looked up at him with big, watery eyes. "Promise?"
Ethan smiled faintly. "Cross my heart."
But deep down, he was already starting to worry.
Asher had been gone too long.
Outside, Ramirez led Asher and Jason toward a small shed behind the crumbling station. Asher noticed something strange—how clean the shed looked compared to the rest of the wreckage. Like it had been deliberately maintained.
Then came the smell.
Jason stiffened. "Asher."
But it was too late.
Ramirez slammed the door open—and two figures lunged out.
Zombies.
But restrained. Shackled to the back wall by makeshift chains.
"They're mine," Ramirez rasped. "My team. I couldn't let them go."
"You kept them?" Asher gasped, horrified.
"I'm trying to find a cure," he said. "They're still in there somewhere. I know it."
Jason yanked Asher back. "He's snapped. We're leaving."
But Ramirez stepped in front of them, wild-eyed.
"No. You don't get to leave. I won't lose anyone else."
He raised the tool in his hand—a rusted crowbar—and swung.
Jason blocked it with his rod. "RUN!"
Asher took off, heart pounding, adrenaline burning through his veins.
Behind him, Jason fought Ramirez, the sounds of steel striking steel echoing through the ruins.
Asher burst back into the train, breathless.
Ethan was waiting. "Where's Jason?!"
"Back there—he's fighting off a psycho! My old coach—he's gone mad!"
Without a word, Ethan grabbed a bat and darted out.
Asher turned to Mia. She was scared again, shaking.
"Stay here, baby," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "We'll come back."
Jason staggered in just ten minutes later—bloodied, bruised, but alive. Ramirez was gone.
Not dead.
Just… vanished.
Like a ghost.
Ethan returned shortly after, unable to find him. Just drag marks leading toward the forest.
"He's out there," Jason muttered. "Watching."
"But why let us go?" Asher asked.
No one had the answer.
That night, with the train still powerless and everyone curled in fear, Mia crawled back into Asher and Ethan's arms.
She looked up at them and whispered, "I had a dream… of Mommy."
"What was she doing?" Ethan asked gently.
"Smiling at you," she said. "And saying thank you."
Asher closed his eyes, heart breaking all over again.
"Did she say anything else?" he asked.
Mia nodded. "She said to keep going. That you'd find the right place."
Asher and Ethan looked at each other.
And in that moment, surrounded by ghosts of the past and monsters of the present, they held on to the only truth left:
Each other.
And the little girl who'd become their reason to survive.