….
Inside Auditorium 1, nobody moved to grab popcorn.
The sound of the train's electric traction motors vibrated through the subwoofers.
On screen, the immediate panic in Carriage 3 had settled into that brittle quiet that always follows a catastrophe; the kind of silence where everyone is waiting for the next shoe to drop.
DJ leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, watching how Regal framed the surviving passengers.
Down near the front row, little Maya stood up, gently offering her seat to one of the elderly sisters who was clutching a bad knee.
Arthur noticed, walked over, knelt beside his daughter, and lowered his voice to a harsh whisper.
"Maya, you didn't have to do that."
The girl looked at him with large, innocent eyes. "Do what?"
"Be so kind." Arthur's expression hardened. "When things get ugly, kindness can get you hurt. Keep yourself safe first. Understand?"
Maya stared at him.
The silence stretched between them, heavy and painful, until her lower lip trembled.
"Granny's knees hurt all the time." she said quietly.
Then, looking right into Keanu's eyes with a blunt, heartbreaking honesty that hit the back wall of the theater: "You only care about yourself. That's why Mom left."
A soft, collective intake of breath echoed through the Century City crowd.
"Damn..." a guy in Row E muttered, shaking his head. "Hearing that from your own daughter... that cuts right to the bone."
Arthur didn't defend himself.
Before he could find his voice, his phone vibrated in his jacket pocket.
The screen read: MOM.
Arthur stood up quickly, retreating to the narrow space between the passenger compartment and the exit doors.
He pressed the phone to his ear, his voice trembling: "Mom? Mom, are you okay? Where are you?"
From the theater's ceiling Atmos speakers came the tinny, distorted audio of the phone call.
In the background, sirens wailed, followed by the sound of breaking glass and terrifying, wet snarling. An elderly woman's raspy voice came through, gasping for breath:
"Arthur... my baby... please... take care of Maya..."
"Mom? Mom, what's happening? Are you hurt?!"
"My sweet Maya... I love her so much... but she only wants her mother..." The old woman's voice suddenly warped into an unnatural, throat-shredding hiss, her words slurring into venom: "That bitch... THAT BITCH–"
A sickening wet crunch echoed through the receiver, followed by a guttural, blood curdling screech.
Then, static.
Arthur stood frozen in the narrow vestibule. He slowly lowered the phone from his ear, his hands shaking, staring at the darkened screen.
In Row F, Noel grabbed DJ's arm. "Did she just get bitten in the middle of the call?!"
The train's overhead PA system crackled to life, breaking the suffocating gloom:
"Attention, all passengers. Due to emergency directives from the Central Rail Authority, Pacific Express 101 will terminate service at the Central Military Transit Depot in Barstow. The National Guard has established a quarantine and secure transit perimeter at this facility. Upon arrival, all passengers must disembark immediately. I repeat, Barstow will be our final stop."
Inside Carriage 3, anxious chatter broke out.
Standing near the aisle, Richard Evans, the transit company executive, checked his gold wristwatch.
He reached subtly beneath the left flap of his jacket, feeling the outline of the snub-nosed revolver tucked into his concealed holster.
His eyes were cold, already scanning the passengers to determine who was expendable.
"Barstow, wait." Evans shoved his way through the crowd until he reached the conductor. "You need to keep this train moving. If we stop here, the military takes everyone off and locks us up in the name of quarantining every single person on this train for weeks! Uncouple the rear coaches and take the main engine straight through to Seattle!"
"Sir, that is against federal transit protocols." the conductor replied nervously, backing up against the wall. "All main line switches past Barstow are controlled remotely. If we don't clear the depot, the automated signals will derail us!"
"You're not listening." Evans stepped closer, keeping one hand near the revolver at his waist. "If those infected get into this depot, nobody here is walking away. Find us a locomotive that still runs. I don't care how you do it. And if you refuse, I will make sure you never get hired in this business again."
Meanwhile, Arthur was leaning against the stainless-steel bulkhead, his fingers flying across his phone screen. He dialed a direct line: Major Miller | Logistics Command.
"Miller." Arthur spoke in a frantic, hushed whisper. "Miller, listen to me. I am on Express 101. We're pulling into the Barstow depot."
"Arthur? You're on that train?"the officer's voice came through, heavy with background static and the roar of helicopter blades. "Jesus Christ. It's a madhouse out here."
"Is Barstow secure?" Arthur pressed, his knuckles turning white. "Can you get us out?"
"Once you step into the main terminal concourse, everyone gets funneled into Level 4 bio quarantine. You won't leave for thirty days… if you leave at all."
"I have Maya with me, Miller." Arthur pleaded, the panic breaking through his polished facade. "Do me this one favor. Remember that venture fund I cleared for your family's trust? Please."
A heavy pause hung over the line.
"...Don't follow the crowd into the main terminal." Miller muttered reluctantly. "When you reach the lower platform, break off to the right. Follow the freight service corridor toward the East loading dock. I'll have a transport Humvee waiting with two of my men to pull you and your girl out."
"Thank you." Arthur breathed out, sagging against the wall. "Thank you, Miller."
Arthur clicked off the phone, turning around to grab Maya, only to freeze in his tracks.
Sitting on the floor just three feet away, was the disheveled homeless man. His bloodshot eyes were staring up at Arthur, wide and trembling with survival instinct.
He had heard every single word.
….
10:45 AM | The Barstow Transit Hub.
The locomotive slowed to a crawl with a deafening squeal of steel brakes.
Outside the wide passenger windows, the platform looked eerily dead.
The train doors hissed open.
The passengers spilled out onto the platform like hesitant sheep, clutching their children and small bags, looking around in utter bewilderment.
"Where is everybody?" a passenger asked. "They said the military was here!"
Arthur took Maya by the hand, keeping his head down as he maneuvered through the crowd.
Instead of following the herd toward the grand escalators leading up to the main terminal concourse, Arthur made a sharp right turn, heading toward a restricted steel door marked: EAST FREIGHT & LOGISTICS ACCESS.
Maya pulled back on his hand, her small sneakers squeaking against the concrete. "Dad? Where are we going? Everyone else is going up the stairs."
"We're going this way, sweetie." Arthur said gently, pulling her forward. "Just the two of us."
Behind them, heavy footsteps scraped the floor.
Arthur whipped around, his jaw clenched, ready to fight.
It was the homeless man, shuffling three paces behind them, hands buried deep in his dirty coat.
"Main terminal is that way." Arthur said coldly. "Follow the others."
"I think... I think I will go with you." the man stammered, his teeth chattering. "I heard your call, mister. A Humvee... getting pulled out... The others are walking into a cage?"
Maya looked at the man, then looked up at her father. "Dad? Is that true? Are they getting locked up?"
"Maya, let's go." Arthur snapped, trying to drag her through the service door.
"No!" Maya pulled back with all her strength. "We have to tell them! Claire is pregnant! Rock helped us! We have to tell them not to go up there!"
"Maya, stop it!" Arthur yelled, grabbing her by both shoulders, his voice cracking with ugly frustration. "Forget about them! We have to save ourselves! At a time like this, nobody else matters!"
Maya looked at him, tears welling in her dark eyes.
Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream echoed down from the elevated glass concourse above.
Up on the second-level mezzanine, the double glass doors burst open. A businessman was thrown backward over the balcony railing, blood spraying from his shredded neck, his briefcase tumbling to smash on the platform below.
DJ straightened up. Oh shit... back to the train! BACK TO THE TRAIN!
The camera swept inside the main concourse.
Beyond the turnstiles stood an entire platoon of National Guard soldiers. But their bodies were twisted at broken angles, their Kevlar helmets cracked, goggles smeared with dark dried blood.
The entire garrison had been infected.
As one, fifty infected soldiers snapped their heads toward the civilians. With a unified roar that rattled every subwoofer in the auditorium, the horde surged forward.
"RUN!" someone screamed from the balcony. "IT'S A TRAP! THEY'RE ALL INFECTED!"
Pandemonium erupted across the entire transit facility.
Two hundred civilians turned in blind, screaming terror, trampling over bags and strollers as they sprinted back toward the open escalators.
"They're on the escalators too!" a viewer shouted. "That's gonna suck, you're just being fed right into them!"
The infected soldiers charged, throwing themselves down the steep metal escalators, tumbling over one another in a tumbling heap.
"Dude, the way they fall is scary!" Noel whispered, cringing. "...and why do they just bite and move on?"
Down on the platform, Arthur grabbed Maya into his arms, abandoning all thoughts and sprinted back toward the train.
"Ah, your slippery dress shoes!" someone in the theater yelled. "Arthur didn't wear sneakers!"
Among the crowd, the high school baseball team was caught in the center of the platform.
Kyle turned, raising his wooden bat; only to freeze in paralysis.
One of the boys pinned was his best friend.
His neck snapped back with a sickening CRACK, his eyes milking over within seconds as he scrambled upright, snarling in Kyle's face with his varsity jacket hanging in tatters.
"Ken...?" Kyle choked out, the wooden bat trembling in his hands. "Ken, it's me..."
"Blow your bat, start beating the shit out of him!" a voice shouted from the dark rows. "They're just kids, but they're not them anymore!"
Kyle froze, tears streaming down his dirt streaked face as his turned teammate lunged at him.
BOOM.
A massive baggage cart came crashing out of nowhere, broadsiding the infected baseball player and smashing him into the pillar.
Rock was there.
He grabbed Kyle by the jacket with one hand, literally hoisting the seventeen year old off his feet, and threw him backward toward the train.
"Don't stand there like an idiot, kid!" Rock roared. "RUN!"
Rock snatched up a heavy steel queue stanchion from the ground, wielding it like an oversized war club.
Two infected soldiers charged him at full speed.
Rock stepped into the swing, and brought the iron base around in a devastating horizontal sweep.
CLANG.
The impact lifted the first soldier off, his helmet flying as his head snapped sideways.
The entire theater broke into wild cheers:
"GET HIM, ROCK!"
"This guy is a motherfucking G!!"
"BEAT HIS ASS!"
Rock spun the metal pipe, shattering the second soldier's knee.
He looked up, spotting Claire running fifty yards ahead with little Maya.
"Arthur!" Rock bellowed across the platform. "GET THEM ON THE DAMN TRAIN!"
Out on the main rail line, the heavy diesel engine of Pacific Express 101 began to rumble.
Inside the locomotive cab, the conductor stared through his side mirror in horror at the swarming horde.
Beside him, the cab door banged open.
Richard Evans stepped in, leveling his black snub-nosed revolver directly at the conductor's forehead.
"Pull the throttle right now." Evans snarled, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Or I swear to God I will leave your brains on this windshield!"
"There are still people out there!" the conductor cried out, his hands shaking over the controls. "Women! Children!"
"I don't give a damn! SLAM THE THROTTLE OR DIE!"
The conductor whimpered, slamming his palm onto the main air-brake release.
"THE TRAIN IS LEAVING!" a passenger shrieked.
Down on the platform, sheer desperation took over.
Claire, her hand pressed against her swollen pregnant belly, was running as fast as she could, holding Maya by the wrist, trailed by the homeless man and elderly Clara.
They reached Carriage 13 just as the metal steps began to pull away.
"Get in! Climb!" Claire yelled, lifting Maya.
Maya scrambled up, hauling the elderly woman aboard with the homeless man's help.
Claire threw herself through the closing doors just as five infected crashed into the exterior metal siding.
They tumbled into the narrow entryway of Carriage 13; only to see that Carriage 12 and 13 were already crawling with infected.
"In here!" Claire gasped, spotting the tiny steel restroom.
She shoved Maya, Clara, and the homeless man inside, throwing her weight against the door and sliding the manual deadbolt.
Outside the thin panel, claws and teeth instantly began hammering against the metal.
They were trapped.
Meanwhile, sixty yards back, Arthur, Rock, and Kyle were sprinting along the ballast stone, chasing the accelerating train.
Behind them, nearly eighty infected soldiers were pouring over the platform edge.
"Faster!" Arthur shouted.
Kyle reached the exterior ladder of Carriage 9 first, leaping forward and latching his fingers onto the cold steel rung.
He hauled himself and turned around to extend a hand.
Arthur lunged, grabbing Kyle's wrist, swinging himself onto the rear platform.
"Rock! JUMP!" Arthur screamed, reaching his arm out.
Rock was three paces behind when an infected soldier tackled him from behind. Both men slammed onto the floor.
The entire Century City audience gasped, several people leaping out of their seats.
"NO!" Noel yelled aloud.
On screen, Rock didn't panic.
He rolled with the momentum, pinning the soldier beneath his frame.
He drove an elbow straight down into the creature's sternum with an audible CRUNCH, shoved the corpse off his chest, and scrambled back to his feet like a charging bull.
The train was moving at fifteen miles per hour now.
Arthur and Kyle threw their weight forward, grabbing Rock by his collar and trousers, hauling the big man over into Carriage 9.
They collapsed into a gasping heap on the floor as the pneumatic doors slid shut.
Psssshhhh-clack.
Inside Auditorium 1, a thunderous cheer broke out, followed by spontaneous applause.
"Saved his life! Damn, that was so good!" DJ exhaled, wiping cold sweat from the back of his neck. "My heart is literally beating out of my chest."
On screen, the quiet lasted barely three seconds.
Arthur pulled out his vibrating smartphone: MAYA.
He snatched the phone to his ear, his voice breaking: "Maya?! Maya, where are you?! Are you on the train?!"
Maya's terrified sobs leaked through the speakers: "Dad... Dad, please help us... we're locked in the bathroom... they're trying to break it down..."
"Which car, Maya?! Tell me which car!"
"I... I don't know... the sign says... Car 13! Dad, I am scared!"
Beside Arthur, Rock stiffened, his dark eyes dilating with pure fury: "Maya! Is Claire with you?! Is my wife in there?!"
Through the receiver came Claire's strained, breathless voice, holding the lock from inside: "Rock! Get your ass over here right now! The door won't hold!"
The call went dead as Arthur slowly lowered the phone and looked from Kyle to Rock.
They were in Carriage 9.
Maya and Claire were trapped in Carriage 13.
Between them lay four full-length passenger carriages; packed wall-to-wall with over a hundred snarling infected.
"Find weapons! Spears, range!" someone in Row D whispered excitedly. "They have a long way to go to get through four cars!"
Without a word, Rock slowly pushed himself off the floor, reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a fresh roll of industrial silver duct tape.
He bit the edge with his teeth, ripping a thick strip free.
Then he began wrapping the heavy tape around his left forearm, layer over layer, winding it tight from wrist to elbow.
The theater went completely dead silent.
"Oh yeah, wrap your shit with tape!" a viewer whispered in awe. "Time to take off the sports vest! Shit just got real!"
Kyle stood up, his face pale, gripping his wooden baseball bat with white knuckles.
Arthur reached up, yanked his tie loose, and wrapped it tightly around his right hand until the fabric held his knuckles firm.
Then he looked at Rock, and something in his expression had changed.
The selfish corporate fund manager was slowly giving way to something harder.
Rock gave the duct tape another tug, making sure it was tight around his fists before turning toward the door to Carriage 10.
He glanced at Arthur and then at Kyle. "I will go first. Arthur, stay in the middle. Kyle, keep behind us and watch the rear. If anything gets past either of us, you warn us."
Arthur gave a single nod, his jaw clenched.
Rock rolled his shoulders and slowly cracked his neck.
"Come on. Our families are still in there. We're bringing them back no matter what."
.
….
[To be continued…]
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