Outbreak: The Hunger by Scott Shoyer Page B

asks.
    “They’re gonna be fine, sweetie.”
    The train continues to pick up speed as we descend the hill.  I look over to see the curve about twenty feet away.  There’s no way we were going to make the bend going this fast in this piece of shit train. 
    My adrenaline continues to pump through my system.  Now is the time to react and protect Fi and myself, or sit by and put us in harm’s way.  I can’t worry about scaring Fi any longer.  I turn to the people sitting in the front of the train.  “Someone get up there and grab the brake.  We’re going too fast for that curve!” I yell, trying to be heard over the screaming woman in the first row of seats.  And someone slap that screaming bitch , I think.
    One older man about fifty years old doesn’t exactly hear me, but sees me pointing to the curve ahead.  He is able to put one and one together and realize we are going to derail unless someone grabbed the brakes.  He is two rows behind the conductor’s seat.  He taps a man in front of him on the shoulder and I can see his mouth moving as he points to the curve.  The younger man just stares blankly at him before turning his back.  The older guy then grabs and shakes his shoulder.
    We are thirty feet from the curve.
    Finally, the older guy  stands and climb over the seat to get closer to the conductor’s car.  He shoots the younger guy an icy stare as he moves past him.  Unbelievable , I think.  That younger guy has two young kids and won’t do a goddamn thing to help .  In times like this, you don’t think about being a hero, and that is the furthest thing from my mind.  I am thinking about surviving and protecting my little girl.  I remember that day in Philadelphia in 1980 as I watched my best friend being mauled to death by a feral dog.  I’d stood in terror that day and watched someone die, then swore I’d never let that happen again.  Especially not with my own child.  The screaming woman shakes me back to reality.
    The older man has planted one foot onto the conductor’s seat and tries to  push the unfortunate woman’s body off the train.  Kids and adults alike are crying, but now have something positive to focus on.  This older man was risking it all to help slow this train down.  He pushes the headless corpse off the train and sits down.  As he reaches for the brake lever, another flash, this time brownish-red, shoots across the conductor’s seat.  I don’t even have time to blink.  When I am finally able to process what has happened and focus through my deteriorating eye, I expect to see another headless body.  Instead, I hear panicked, pained cries from the older man.
    Whatever that flash was took off the man’s arm at the shoulder.  Even through my bad eye I can see the blood draining from his face.  The younger man that ignored him before is now on his feet trying to help him.  Too little too late.  In another second, the brown flash finishes off the older man, but this time, instead of just his head missing, the entire top part of his body is gone.  All that is left is an exposed ribcage on top of wobbling legs.  Half of the man’s heart is left behind, spewing forth its contents all over the already-bloodied first row passengers.
    No one screams this time.  Shock settles into both the kids and parents along the front row almost instantly.  What the fuck could do that to a human? I ask.  I look to see the floppy-hatted girl looking right at me.  This time, she doesn’t seem as shocked as when the conductor was decapitated.  Either she is coming to terms with what is happening or she knows what is going on.  I look past her to see what kind of expression the older, armless man has on his face this time.  He is gone.  I quickly scan outside the train to see if he has already bailed out.  There is no trace of him.
    We are twenty feet from the curve.
    “Get ready! Brace yourself!” I yell to the girl and to any other passenger who can hear me.