I thought of what I remembered of Sam Craig, in the few minutes I had spent around him. Mr. Sam Craig had had that reliable air about him. Not refined and fancy, but reliable and trustworthy. He had been older, but he was still sturdy and solid. He seemed like that nice old dude who was major of a small town no one had heard about. He seemed like that guy you could ask to help fix your garage door. Gray hair, warm eyes, you know, reliable.

But not now.

He still looked the same. It wasn't like his hair went from grey to black, and his skin changed from tan to hulk green, or he had horns, or anything.

But it was like a different person was wearing the Sam Craig skinsuit, and that was just so wrong.

This Sam Craig was strong, jagged and sharp. His eyes were roaming around like he couldn't see, and the veins in his neck were bulging, blue and purple and terrible.

Craig started attacking. It wasn't a person, but a part of the train. It was a copper contraption that looked important. It dented and there was a hard crunch. Jesseme was standing next to me and looked very pained by the destruction. "Not the air admisor! There is no spare!" She moved her gauntlet-ed hand, and I swear, the form of the dented metal moved and reshaped itself, like the damage was undone. She was suddenly pale.

The men moved, the nearby brit rated people scrambling upward. The gentleman who had voiced his support of me appeared behind Craig, seizing the wrench and attempting to free it from his hands.

There was a struggle, both men struggling to remain standing on the curved roof of the engine. The gentleman was successful, and at last pried the tool free.

He was completely unprepared for the brutal upper cut Sam Craig threw, or the following elbow to the face.

No more harm happened, however, as Hawthorn, despite being further away, still beat the rest of the brit rated people there. He was like the shadow of a mountain, despite being huge moved silently and swiftly. He was behind Sam Craig, and seized him in a choke hold.

"Help me." he said, as Sam Craig thrashed like he didn't need to breathe. But he did need to breathe, and after a few moments he stopped thrashing. Hawthorn placed slender handcuffs on Sam Craig, and other brit rated people finally climbed to the top, and worked together to pulled Sam down.

I had stood there, absolutely useless.

All I could think was zombie virus.

And I was terrified that now I could never go home, because I might be a carrier and bring doom the whole world.

What if everything I thought here became true?

Had I caused Sam Craig to turn because I had the power to manifest my sleep deprived musings to the world around me? Was I even alive right now? Maybe I hadn't gone traveling through the universe sea. Maybe I had just had a stroke.

"Help me." Jesseme said. "I need to see that I repaired the damage."

Oh. Probably still alive. I couldn't avoid my curse of being in the right place at the wrong time to help people. I helped so many people move, plan parties/weddings/funerals.

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Mrs. Lee was long gone. I hope she had just retreated, and not that the zombies got her. "Don't touch any of the blood." I told Jesseme as I acted as her crutch. "Or bodily fluid." There was only a skinny sidewalk for us to walk on, and the massive engine itself. We had to lean far to the side for the brit rated people carrying an unconscious Sam Craig away. "Or even breathe the air. In fact, we shouldn't be here at all."

She looked disapprovingly at me. Clearly I had disappointed her by not being more fool hardy. "Where is your adventurer's spirit?"

"I left it next to my phone charger." I grumbled as I helped gimpy girl closer to where the action had happened. She was barely upset.

I needed some stiff upper lip myself.

"Deputy Constable, I need to examine my work." Jesseme said.

Hawthorn and the initial gentleman were talking with another woman. Oh, it was Mrs. Lee. She wasn't dead after all.

"I would warn against touching blood, bloodily fluid, or even breathing the specific air, but my young companion seems to have already warned you." he said, approvingly.

Take that. Dad likes me better!

The gentleman who had sprung first into action nodded. "Wise. Those who are name bound bear many traps. The Shadow Ilk are here."

Hawthorn looked really really pained.

I didn't hear the next part, as I helped the injured Jesseme up the train ladder. Whatever this coal stuff was, it didn't seem to leave a lot of ash.

Finally I was up. "Good work with Mr. Craig." Hawthorn said to me.

Why was he proud of me. I had messed up. I didn't understand. How had I so wrong about Sam Craig? He hadn't been dangerous...But now he was. Not that I had been super confident that I was a good character checker for the Deputy Constable. But that had been my one job.

I had pegged at least four people as likely suspects, including a lady in a wheelchair sitting in the car nearest the engine. Hawthorn had dismissed me, but I had thought it was odd that despite the crash, she hadn't tumbled out of her chair even a little.

But now I was wrong.

"Stay together." Hawthorn said. "There will be more."

The gentleman took off his coat. "Lt. Burnbree, miss. I've fought the bound before. As I was mentioning, perhaps I can be of use to you, officer?"

"You pledge you are yourself, free and true?" Hawthorn said, and his words felt...different. Smoother, more musical. Like you couldn't lie to him.

"I am myself, free and true." he said.

"What is name bound?" asked...the fancy steam engineer! Yay, I didn't need to reveal my ignorance.

"Something that doesn't exist, Miss Rogers." he said. "Something that shouldn't. You don't see it here in the city."

Hawthorn was nodded, watching. Fighting had disrupted the work of fixing the train. "My young companion probably has seen it before. It's far common in the far countryside."

Jesseme looked at me with respect.

Shoot, I really needed to betray my ignorance now. I wouldn't die for pride.

Lt. Burnbree smiled disarmingly. "It's like those fairytales. When you misspeak and give away your name."

"That's an old fable." she sputtered, like her world of niceties and norms was crashing down. Noob. I had been displaced from my entire world, and you didn't see me sputter. I was probably in shock or something, and may need to speak to many many mental health specialists...but take that!

"There are many things which are real that we wish were not." Said Mrs. Lee.

Another person jittered and shook suddenly, and I felt uncomfortable. This was the zombie virus, and we needed to see who was bit.

"What do we do?"

"We overpower them with numbers until we subdue it. Miss Rogers, please stay away. We cannot lose you And don't trade your name for a favor. You always know when you talk to the ilk, the hair on the back of your neck will rise."

I shifted. I wasn't a steam engineer. I hoped I wasn't expected to fight zombies. "I am not really good for fighting strong men with hammers. Can I find the ilk thing?"

"No. I have a more important task for you. We need to bring back the foresters."

And now I saw the real reason he had sent them away.

To keep them away from the zombie queen.

"I still think it's the girl in the wheelchair. Why didn't she move in the crash?"

"That is a good point. Just travel along the rail. A scout will see you and come. It may be an ambush. Remember your first skill."

I could throat punch, but I wasn't sure how well that would work out twice.

But it was better than nothing.

I was probably heading towards the incoming barneys. But I'd rather punch barney than a zombie.

"Sounds good."