Markos jolted awake as a sharp shriek rang out. Cursing, he reached for a weapon as the train jerked under his feet, lurching. The Traveler was back, they must have-

“What the hells do you think you are doing private?” Someone barked down at him. Right after the train whistle blew, and unobscured by that hazy state between sleep and awake, its resemblance to the shrieks of the flying Traveler faded.

Above him, a military doctor stared down at him, expression unamused. Markos’ fist was only a half foot away from his face. “You chose a fine time to wake up at least. I was just heading over to wake you up anyway. You came on board with Captain Haskil and the wounded soldier he was bringing back?”

“Yes. Sorry, sir,” he said, getting to his feet. “Is she alright? Is she alive?”

“She’s alive. Does your friend have a Lucky trait or something private? Must have. Every piece of shrapnel missed the Femoral and the Anterior tibia. She’s got some blood from an iron drake, I’m assuming is why having her foot sliced off didn’t bleed her out. She’ll live. How well she can walk afterward is another story. Going to need a priest to fix it up fully, and those are in short supply.”

That might be a blessing in disguise for Hervosare. An injury that bad might keep her off the lines for months. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Been about twenty minutes. It's not easy to rest on this rickety train line, I’d imagine. Tracks are all kinds of fucked up after the last week.”

“Felt like the most restful twenty minutes of my life,” Markos muttered.

“Any sleep would feel like that at this point, private. Everyone’s run ragged. You have any immediate superiors wondering where you are?”

“As far as I know, last of my unit. We were holding one of the docks along the underground sea. A Traveler did their best to flood the entire area and, as far as I know, succeeded.”

“Well, if your unit is gone, I imagine you’ll probably be sent back on the evacuation trains for now. As the Captain said, the officer running the bridge probably isn’t keen on incorporating remnants into his defense. Go back to sleep, private.”

It was certainly tempting, but Markos resisted the urge to sleep. He needed to do something else first.

“Speaking of Captain Haskil, sir, do you know where he is? I want to thank him.” He got up, trying his best not to disturb those still sleeping.

“Supply car. Past the flatbed, then one cargo car, then a passenger car. He wanted some privacy to himself. Listen, you can find your own way there, private. I’ve got maybe five minutes before I have to check up on people I sewed up half an hour ago.”

Markos nodded as the Doctor walked off. At least it was a direction. He could rest, but now that he was up, sleep didn’t have the same grasp as a half hour ago.

The vibrations of the train on the track weren’t making it easy. Maybe there’d at least be a better place to sleep back there.

Getting up, he began the trek back through crowded flatbeds and passenger cars. There were always other Scaverians to maneuver past, people trying to rest, but he eventually worked his way back.

“Hold up private, you got business back here?” The last part of the car held a small group clustered around a hastily set up ammo box turned table, playing cards. A large corporal with a scar bisecting his scale patterns had spoken up, now getting up from the table.

“Reporting to Captain Haskill, I was told he was back here, sir?”

“You were told correctly. He wanted some privacy and didn’t want to be disturbed, so I shouldn’t let you pass. But he can deal with you if you make him mad. Just wait a second.” The corporal went to the side, strapping something to his back, emerging with a flamethrower at the ready. “Behold our anti-Traveler weapon. I’ll let you have some privacy, but I gotta hold watch while you cross and till you get back. Olak, you look at my cards, and I’m roasting you with this.”

“Why are you only warning me?”

“I know you, is why only you get the warning. Come on.” The corporal motioned for Markos to follow.

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The door opened, and the wind immediately hit Markos and the corporal. The corporal eyed the forest as the train rushed by it before nodding.

Markos stepped from one car to the next, opening and closing the door behind him. The corporal remained, seemingly in no hurry to return to his card game.

The ‘supply’ car was a converted passenger car from before the war. It certainly wasn’t military grade, with its expansive interior, individual cabins, and actual amenities. There might be an actual toilet onboard it as well.

They’d filled the interior with crates, boxes of supplies packed tight. He opened one out of curiosity and found a row of rifles packed into it. Replacements that had never been needed. He grabbed one and checked the bolt. Not much protection, but it was something.

Something moved in the corner of his eye, and he raised the rifle, barrel snapping towards the movement.

Sitting at one of the benches along the wall was Captain Haskil, leaning against some of the supply crates, his back to Markos.

“Captain? You gave me a scare,” Markos said with a chuckle, walking towards Haskil. “Bit jumpy, I guess. What are you doing back here by yourself?”

Nothing but silence in response. The officer must have dozed off. He couldn’t blame him. Everyone was tired.

“Captain?” Markos shook the officer’s shoulder.

The other Scaverian's head tilted, then fell. Makros stared in stunned disbelief at the cut-open neck before him as the Captain’s body fell. Streaks of blood coated the neck stump and the front of the body, blood still pumping from the open wound.

A knife appeared in the middle of the air, flying towards him.

Markos dove forward. The knife passed overhead as he hit the floor of the train car without a sound.

He screamed. No noise emerged. The Traveler had cast Silence. Boxes and chairs moved as the Traveler maneuvered. They didn’t even try to hide their presence.

They were between him and the door. Something flickered up above, and a knife emerged into existence.

His rifle was up in an instant, blocking the knife. The knife sliced through the barrel, rendering his weapon useless.

He threw the one piece of his rifle forward, hoping to hit his invisible foe. He started running back towards the other car, screaming even as no sound emerged.

In desperation, he threw the other half of his rifle, the window on the door shattering as it impacted.

The door on the other end half-opened, the corporal from before on the other side. Half a second passed as a knife flew over Markos, only to embed itself into wood as the door slammed shut just as fast.

Bullets blasted through the doorway, glass shattering as wood splintered and disintegrated. Markos dove for the ground, trying to keep out of the line of fire as the roar of the guns matched a shrill shriek of annoyance from outside the train.

A dark-cloaked figure appeared outside the window, leaping from the train to the trees outside. They flickered out of sight just as swiftly as they’d appeared.

Something bent the branches on a nearby tree, a humanoid hole briefly forced through the foliage before they whipped back into place. The corporal moved to it, yelling a warning as he stuck the nozzle through the shattered glass.

Chemical fire spat out, taking root swiftly among the trees. Fire sprouted and quickly spread in the second Markos had to see. Then it was past, vanished as the train roared past. The corporal cautiously put his head out the window, looking behind them.

Markos went to the corpse. He knew it was futile, but he still went. Haskill’s head lay on the floor, kicked by the Traveler under a row of seats during the fight. He gingerly grabbed it and moved it back to the Captain’s body.

“Is he your CO?” The corporal asked, pulling his head back into the car.

“No. We met on the way here. He helped me get someone out of here.” Markos closed the Captain’s eyes, then looked around the floor till he found the lizard tags, grabbing one of both Haskill and Sasdiv’s.

“Have you been to the cars behind us?” The corporal asked quietly. The door opened behind them. More Scaverians entered with rifles at the ready.

“No,” Markos responded, getting up and staring down the length of the rail car. Silently, they all began to walk down towards the door. Other bodies were on the way, soldiers who must have been resting or sleeping. Sets of gouged-out eye sockets stared into Markos’ own.

Markos reached for the next door, quietly dreading what he would find. Maybe the Traveler had leaped directly for the supply car in which the Captain had taken a moment. Mouth dry, he opened it.

The rail car was just as packed as it had been before with soldiers, every space occupied. None of them moved. None of them breathed. Occasionally, a body part would slough off, flesh finally giving up under its weight.

Occasionally, a body twitched, but they weren’t alive. Unseeing eyes in a head more gash than face turned to face him. Necromancy.

Markos moved back. The flamethrower spat once, twice, then he and the corporal retreated up a car.

They abandoned five cars. Twenty continued their journey, leaving the swiftly burning wrecks behind. The bridge was only a few miles now.

***

I couldn’t make it on board the Train. They found me. I leaped off since I couldn’t kill them all before they radioed ahead. Is Henri with you? Corpses were starting to move.

He’s with us. A few others. Not far behind you now. Find another way in if you can. We need that bridge.