Alain and Sable both stacked up right next to the door, one of them on either side of it. From outside, they could both still clearly hear gunfire, along with the screams of the passengers.

"What do you think?" Sable asked. "Bandits?"

Alain shook his head. "My guess is no; we're not that lucky. Alright, we'll go on three. One… two… three!"

As soon as he'd finished counting down, Sable threw the door open, and they both rushed out into the hallway, Alain going left and her going right. Alain brought his Winchester 1887 up to his shoulder, scanning the area for threats, but the only thing he could see from his position were dead passengers strewn across the train car ahead of him.

Whoever had done this, they'd moved fast, and by sheer chance, had completely missed their compartment.

"Sable," Alain said. Footsteps from behind him heralded her falling in closer to him; without looking back, he motioned for her to stick close. "I'll take the lead. Be a dear and keep anyone from coming up behind me, would you?"

"But of course," she offered. "After all, what would I do without my new apprentice?"

"Didn't think you cared that much," Alain said as the two of them began to carefully move through the train car.

"Don't give yourself too much credit – if you died, it'd be a stain on my reputation."

Alain rolled his eyes. "Glad to hear you care about me so damn much."

They pushed to the next train car, the one littered with bodies. Spent shell casings rolled across the floor as the train lurched across the tracks; apparently, whoever was doing this had either left the engineers and conductor alone or had replaced them with men of their own. Whatever the case, it only solidified Alain's belief that they weren't dealing with average train robbers and bandits.

"Hey," Sable said, getting his attention. "Where did Az go?"

Alain shook his head. "No idea. If I had to guess, he probably went to the dining car for a drink."

"What makes you say that?"

"That's what I would do if I were in his position."

He couldn't see it, but he imagined Sable probably rolled her eyes at that statement. "Be serious, Alain."

"I am," he retorted. "He's been really moody lately. Something has him worked up. Knowing that, the bar is a natural choice."

"So that's where you want to go first?"

Alain shook his head. "First, we need to secure Danielle. I'd prefer not to let a payday that big slip from our grasp, if you catch my drift, plus she's exactly the kind of person who's liable to do something stupid and get herself in trouble. Once we have her under control, we'll start looking for Az, assuming he doesn't find us first. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Sable said. "Okay… do you want to split up?"

"No, but we'll cover more ground that way, so unfortunately, that's what we'll be doing," Alain stated. "Go back the way we came and check the cars up front. I'll check the ones in the rear."

"Right. Try not to get yourself killed – like I said, I still have a reputation to uphold."

And with that, Sable took off. Alain listened to her run off for a moment before letting out a sigh, adjusting his hat, and then tucking his shotgun's stock back into the pocket of his shoulder before pressing on.

It was time to go to work.

XXX

As Alain threw open the door to the next train car, he reeled from the stench of what awaited him inside.

"Jesus…" he muttered, as the scent of gore, coppery blood, and smokeless powder hit his nose. In an enclosed space like this, it was overpowering, even with the windows open and the train still moving.

Alain pressed further into the train car, taking note of the corpses that littered the floor. There had to be about a dozen of them, all riddled with bullets, but there was no sign of the people who had murdered them. He could certainly hear them, though – gunfire continued to echo through the train cars like rolling thunder, drowning out even the sound of the train as it careened along the tracks.

Alain double-timed it to the next car, and was about to throw the door open when a series of bullets ripped through it. The rounds missed him by inches, and he hurriedly flattened himself against a nearby wall, sliding down to a seated position on the floor as he did so. And not a moment too soon, at that – another hail of gunfire tore through the paneling where his head had been just a moment before.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Thinking quickly, Alain threw himself back-first onto the floor, and again, cheated death for a third time as more bullets cut into the space he'd just been sitting at. Gritting his teeth, Alain threw caution to the wind and took aim at the door, then blind-fired three payloads of buckshot through it, cycling his weapon's lever-action as quickly as he could. Three spent brass shells hit the floor, steam still rising from them, just as several pained shouts filled the air.

Alain knew better than to press on this early, however; he hastily rolled out of the way and into cover as his adversaries began to blind-fire at him in turn. Rounds gouged out jagged wounds in the floor of the train, exposing its mechanical underbelly and the tracks below.. Alain, for his part, took the opportunity to reload, thumbing loose shells into his weapon as fast as he could.

He wasn't a moment too soon, either, as the door to his train car suddenly opened, and several people came marching in, their boots resounding against the train's metal flooring. Alain didn't think so much as act; he spun out from behind cover and pressed the barrel of his shotgun flush with the first man's head, then squeezed the trigger; the gunman's skull simply ceased to exist as a shell full of buckshot utterly pulverized it, showering the area and anybody nearby with blood, gray matter, and bone fragments.

Alain didn't waste any time trying to chamber another round, and instead dropped his Winchester and drew his revolvers, one in each hand. The remaining two gunmen were still reeling from seeing their ally's head get disintegrated, and so were utterly unprepared when Alain put a .45 caliber round through each of their skulls; both men slumped to the floor like puppets with their strings cut.

Alain didn't dwell on what he'd just done, and instead holstered his revolvers before picking up his shotgun. He cycled the action to eject the spent round and thumbed in a fresh one, then continued on into the train car ahead of him. Here, he was finally able to see the aftermath of his initial salvo of 12 gauge; there was another revolver-wielding man here, though one of his legs had been reduced to something closer to ground beef with shards of bone sticking out of it rather than a human limb. He was clearly dead, as well; his eyes were glassed over and his skin was pale, which combined with the blood pool he was lying in, told Alain everything he needed to know.

However, as he stared at the corpse, Alain took note of something he'd initially overlooked – all four men were dressed in matching cloaks. Three of them were wearing black, while one was wearing white.

"What the fuck…?" he muttered. "More cultists…?"

It certainly seemed that way, at least to him. In his travels with Az and Sable, he'd learned that cloaks were like one massive calling card, signifying some kind of unnatural activity associated with the other side of the Veil. He wasn't sure why that was, but every cult they'd ever run into over the past few months had certainly loved their cloaks.

Not that the three of them were complaining, since it made identifying their targets that much easier.

Of course, the cloaks alone weren't much to go on; he'd need something a bit more concrete than that before he was absolutely certain that a cult was involved.

Alain took a few steps away from the black-clad corpse with the shredded leg, intending to continue on his way, only to pause when he heard the unmistakable growl of an undead behind him. His eyes narrowed, and he turned around to find the man whose leg he'd all but shot off had reanimated behind him, and was now crawling towards him, his eyes empty and his jaws gnashing together, hungry for fresh meat. Alain, for his part, simply let out a tired sigh as he shouldered his Winchester.

"Suspicions confirmed, I suppose."

And then he pulled the trigger, reducing the newly-living corpse's head to mulch.

Alain stared at the new-headless undead for just a moment, then cycled his weapon and continued on his way, renewed vigor in his step.

After all, Veil activity meant another payday.

XXX

Naturally, the next car full of passengers featured nothing but dead bodies. That earned an eyebrow raise from him; initially, he'd suspected that the cultists were wights, based on how quickly the one he'd just killed had reanimated after death, but that didn't explain why they'd opted to simply shoot the passengers rather than try to eat them. Sure, wights were more intelligent than standard undead, not to mention able to rein in their base instincts much more easily, but that didn't explain why exactly none of the dead passengers had so much as a single bite taken from them.

"What the hell kind of wight simply guns down this many people…?" Alain muttered aloud as he walked through the train car. He passed by the bodies of a family, complete with two small girls, all of whom had been riddled with bullets; as he did so, his expression tightened.

Oh, yes. A whole lot of wights were going to die today. That, he was sure of.

A wave of gunshots from up ahead caught his attention, though it was quickly cut off by a round of panicked screaming; the screams continued briefly before being silenced forever, though. Alain didn't panic, however; instead, he approached the door to the next compartment, sidling up to the wall just in case, before clearing his throat.

"Az, you in there?!"

For a moment, there was no answer, but then he heard that all-too-familiar, deep voice.

"Took you long enough," Az grumbled from the other side of the door. "I was wondering when you and Sable would show up."

"Just me, unfortunately." Alain peeled himself away from the wall, lowering his shotgun as he approached the door and opened it, coming face-to-face with Az. The two locked eyes for a moment, then Alain looked past him, taking note of the headless cloaked corpses scattered around the train car. "I take it you've discovered their dirty trick?"

"Mm. I must say, I've never seen a reanimation quite this rapid. Whatever they've cursed themselves with, it means business."

Alain looked back to Az, taking note of how he was pockmarked with bullet wounds, bite marks, and scratches across his torso. None of them seemed to bother him that much, however; Alain wasn't surprised by that.

"Well, it's just me and you for now," Alain offered. "Come on, let's go find Danielle."

"Danielle?" Az echoed. "You'd prefer to look for her over Sable?"

"Sable can take care of herself," Alain pointed out. "Besides, I'm not letting a payday like that get killed so easily."

"Hm… I suppose you have a point. Very well, lead the way."

With that, Az stepped aside, allowing Alain to take point. Alain nodded in understanding, and the two of them continued on to the next train car.