Outbreak: The Hunger by Scott Shoyer Page A

is happening here and soon I won’t be able to see a goddamn thing .
    I hold Fi close as the train continues on its way.  We round another corner and I can see that everyone’s eyes are focused on the landscape, trying to see if there are more dead animals out there. 
    We pass a thicket of bushes that I recognize from our many rides along this exact route.  I know we were getting to the part of the ride where we begin to go down an incline.  The incline lasts about fifty to sixty feet and ends in a rather sharp turn.  The conductor will start braking the train at about thirty feet so when we hit the curve, we’ll only be moving slightly faster than walking speed.  The scenery at the end  is breathtaking.  We’ll ride through this part full of bushes and trees only to see it open to a beautiful view of the Hill Country: large, green hills that reach up to touch the radiant blue, cloudless sky.  It’s a beautiful view and Fi’s favorite part of the ride.  There is also an antique-looking broken-down wagon where the curve begins.  Fi always points to it and asks me what it is.  She knows exactly what it is.  It’s just another one of our daddy-daughter things.
    I feel Fi looking up at me and manage to put a smile on my face.  She knows I’m worried about something.  How can she not?  It’s written all over my face.  My wife always tells me I wear my emotions on my sleeve and I try not to around Fi, especially if I’m worried about something.  The last thing I want to do is make her as concerned as I am.
    I turn  just as the train begins to descend to look at the other passengers and the conductor.  It seems the others are pretty content on writing off what they saw as some kind of “zoo event.”  I wish I could do the same, but I’ve seen too much weird shit  today to convince myself everything is all right.  I catch the conductor looking around at the landscape.  I’m guessing she is trying to  spot any more animals, alive or dead.  At least there’s another adult here on full alert.  As she is looking off to the right, I see her squint, as if she sees something.  She then freezes and, unconsciously, her jaw begin to drop. She saw something, and whatever it was, it saw her. 
    She reaches down for the walkie-talkie.  I turn to see if I can get a glimpse of whatever scared her.  As she brings the walkie-talkie to her mouth, I see a golden-yellowish flash sail over the conductor, but with the cloudiness building in my eye, I can’t be absolutely sure of what I saw.  One thing is certain: whatever that flash was, it took the conductor’s head clean off her shoulder’s and left behind a headless body with a walkie-talkie clutched in its hand.  It happened so quickly that she didn’t have time to utter one word of warning or even let out a scream.  Blood spurts in geysers from her neck. The people sitting directly behind her, unaware of what has just happened, are being covered in her blood. 
    I look at the floppy-hatted girl quickly, and judging by the look on her face, I’d say she saw exactly what I did.  She turns pale in front of me as the blood drained from her face.  Another passenger catches my attention only because of his reaction.  He is sitting behind the floppy-hatted girl and also saw the flash remove the conductor’s head, but what catches my attention is that he doesn’t seem shocked by it.  Almost as if he expected something like this to happen.  I begin to yell back at the man, but am distracted  when a woman starts screaming.  This sets off a myriad of screams and cries from adults and kids alike.  Fi is trying to turn to see what has happened, but I hold her close, her face covered.  “It’s okay, sweetie,” I lie.  “Someone just cut themselves.  They’ll be okay.”
    “Did they stick their hand out of the moving train, Daddy?”
    I can’t help but smile.  “Yes they did, sweetie.” 
    “Are they going to be okay?” she