Chapter 3

The train roared through the tunnel. The windows were black, reflecting the dim lights inside. In Car 8, Jennifer held a metal pole tight. Her hands shook a little, but she didn't let go. The baby in Chloe's arms whimpered, its tiny face red from crying. Chloe rocked it gently, her purple hair falling over her eyes. Behind them, the door to Car 7 rattled. The infected pounded on it, their growls loud and angry. Cracks spread across the glass like spider webs.

Jennifer looked around. Car 8 was quieter than Car 7, but not safe. People sat in their seats, staring at her and Chloe. Some whispered to each other. Others clutched bags or phones, their faces pale. A man in a green shirt stood up. "What's happening back there?" he asked. His voice was loud, scared.

"People are sick," Jennifer said. "They're attacking. Don't go near that door."

The man's eyes widened. "Sick? What kind of sick?"

Jennifer didn't know how to explain. "They bite. They… change. Just stay away."

The man sat down fast, pulling his bag close. A woman next to him started crying. The air felt heavy, full of fear. Jennifer turned to Chloe. "We can't stay here," she said. "The door won't hold."

Chloe nodded. "Where do we go?"

Jennifer looked toward the front of the train. "The conductor. He can help. He has to know what's happening."

Chloe hugged the baby tighter. "Okay. Let's go."

They started walking down the aisle. The pole felt cold in Jennifer's hand. Passengers watched them pass. Some asked questions—"What's going on?" "Is it safe?"—but Jennifer didn't stop. She didn't have answers. She just kept moving, Chloe behind her. The banging on the door got louder. A loud crack echoed. Jennifer glanced back. The glass was breaking. They didn't have much time.

In the conductor's cabin, Ken stared at the camera screens, his jaw tightening. He had never seen anything like this. He didn't know if Paul was alive, and he didn't want to check the cameras to find out.

The radio buzzed. "TGV 4721, this is control. Help is on the way. ETA twenty minutes," a voice said.

"Twenty minutes?" Ken snapped. "People are dying now!"

"We're doing what we can," the voice replied. "Lock down the train. Stay safe."

Ken threw the radio down. Lock down? How? The infected were spreading. He switched the camera to Car 9. He saw the woman with long brown hair—the one with the baby. She was moving forward with a teenage girl. They looked scared but alive. Ken felt a pull in his chest. He had to do something. He couldn't just sit here.

A loud bang came from outside the cabin. Ken turned. Someone was at the door. He grabbed a wrench from the tool shelf—big, heavy, good for hitting. He opened the door a crack. The woman with brown hair stood there, holding a pole. The teenage girl was with her, cradling the baby. Behind them were others—a pregnant woman, an old man, a man in a suit. They looked desperate.

"Let us in!" the woman with the pole yelled. "They're coming!"

Ken hesitated. He didn't like crowds. He didn't trust strangers. But the banging from Car 7 echoed down the train. He could hear the growls. He opened the door wider. "Get in. Fast."

They rushed inside. The cabin was small, barely big enough for all of them. Ken shut the door and locked it. The woman with the pole turned to him. "I'm Jennifer," she said. "This is Chloe." She pointed to the girl with the baby.

"Ken," he said. "Conductor."

Jennifer looked at the screens. "You see what's happening?"

"Yeah," Ken said. "It's bad."

The others crowded in. The pregnant woman sat on the floor, holding her belly. She had dark hair and tired eyes. "I'm Marie," she said. "Thank you for letting us in."

The old man leaned against the wall. He was thin, with white hair and a cane. "Monsieur Dupont," he said. His voice was calm, but his hands shook.

The man in the suit stayed near the door. He was tall, with slick black hair and a gold watch. "Pierre," he said. He didn't look at anyone, just stared at the floor.

Ken counted. Six of them, plus him. Seven people in a tiny room. Too many, he thought. But he didn't say it. He pointed to the screens. "Car 7's gone. They're breaking into Car 8 now."

Jennifer stepped closer. She saw the infected on the camera. They smashed through the door, spilling into Car 8. Passengers there screamed and ran. Some didn't make it. The infected were fast, grabbing people, biting them. Jennifer's stomach twisted. "What are they?" she asked.

"Don't know," Ken said. "They bite. They turn. That's all I've got."

Chloe rocked the baby. "They're monsters," she said. Her voice was small.

Pierre laughed, sharp and mean. "Monsters? It's a disease. Probably some flu gone wrong."

"It's no flu," Jennifer said. "Flu doesn't make you eat people."

Pierre shrugged. "Whatever it is, we're stuck."

"No," Ken said. "We're moving. Train's still going."

Marie looked up. "Can you stop it?"

"Not yet," Ken said. "Tunnel's too long. Next stop's twenty minutes out."

"Twenty minutes?" Pierre yelled. "We'll be dead by then!"

"Shut up," Jennifer snapped. "Yelling won't help."

Pierre glared at her but stayed quiet. Monsieur Dupont tapped his cane on the floor. "We must work together," he said. "Or we all die."

Ken nodded. "He's right. We stay here, they'll find us. We need a plan."

Jennifer set her pole down. "What's ahead? Where can we go?"

Ken pointed to a map on the wall. "Sixteen cars total. We're at the front. Car 7's lost. Car 8's next. We've got time if we move forward."

"Forward where?" Chloe asked.

"The engine room," Ken said. "It's past Car 1. Locked tight. Safe."

Marie rubbed her belly. "Can we make it?"

"We have to," Jennifer said. "We can't stay here."

Pierre crossed his arms. "And if they catch us? Then what?"

"Then we fight," Jennifer said. She picked up her pole again.

Ken looked at her. She was tough, he thought. Not like most passengers. He didn't like people, but he didn't hate her. "Okay," he said. "We move to the engine room. Stick together."

Chloe hugged the baby close. "What about this little one?"

"We'll carry him," Marie said. "I'll help."

Monsieur Dupont smiled. "I'm old, but I can walk. Let's go."

Pierre rolled his eyes. "Fine. But if it goes bad, I'm not dying for you people."

Jennifer ignored him. She turned to Ken. "How do we get there?"

"Through the cars," Ken said. "Car 1's close. Then the engine room."

"What about weapons?" Jennifer asked.

Ken held up his wrench. "This'll do. Grab what you can."

Jennifer nodded. She looked at the others. "Anything metal. Heavy. We need to hit hard."

Chloe set the baby down and grabbed a broken seat arm from the floor. It was small but solid. Marie found a water bottle—plastic, but full. She could swing it. Monsieur Dupont had his cane. Pierre didn't move. "I'm not fighting," he said.

"Then stay out of the way," Jennifer said.

Ken checked the screens. Car 8 was falling apart. The infected were everywhere, chasing people. Some passengers made it to Car 9, but not many. The growls came through the walls now, closer. "We go now," Ken said. "Before they reach us."

He opened the cabin door. The tunnel's black walls rushed by outside. The air smelled like oil and metal. Car 1 was just ahead, connected by a narrow walkway. Ken stepped out, wrench ready. Jennifer followed, pole in hand. Chloe carried the baby, staying close to Marie. Monsieur Dupont limped behind, cane tapping. Pierre went last, hands empty.

The walkway swayed as the train moved. Wind blew hard, cold against their faces. Ken reached Car 1's door and pressed a button. It slid open. Inside was quiet. Rows of seats, mostly empty. A few passengers sat near the front, looking confused. They hadn't heard the chaos yet.

"Keep moving," Ken said. He led them through the car. The passengers stared. "What's wrong?" a woman asked.

"Don't stop," Jennifer said. "Something bad's coming. Get to the front."

The woman frowned but didn't move. Ken kept going. The engine room door was at the end of Car 1. Big, metal, locked with a keypad. He typed a code—5-3-9-1. The door beeped and opened. "Inside," he said.

They piled in. The engine room was loud, full of machines and pipes. The floor vibrated under their feet. Ken shut the door and locked it. "Safe for now," he said.

Jennifer set her pole down. "How long?"

"Till Bordeaux?" Ken asked. "Fifteen minutes."

Chloe sat on the floor, rocking the baby. "Will they find us?"

"Not if this holds," Ken said, tapping the door.

Marie leaned against a wall. "I hope you're right."

Pierre paced. "This is crazy. We're locked in a box, waiting to die."

"Stop it," Jennifer said. "We're alive. That's what matters."

Monsieur Dupont nodded. "She's correct. We must stay strong."

Ken checked a small screen by the door. It showed Car 1. The passengers were still there, but something moved at the back. Shadows. Growls. The infected had reached Car 1. "They're here," he said.

Jennifer grabbed her pole. "Can they get in?"

"Not easy," Ken said. "Door's tough. But they'll try."

The baby started crying again. Chloe shushed it, her eyes wide. Marie held her belly, breathing hard. Pierre stopped pacing and stared at the door. Monsieur Dupont gripped his cane. Ken raised his wrench. Jennifer stood next to him, ready.

A loud bang hit the door. Then another. The infected were outside, pounding. The metal shook but didn't break. "Hold on," Ken said. "We just need to hold on."

Jennifer nodded. She didn't know these people yesterday. Now, they were all she had. Strangers, stuck together, fighting to live. The train sped through the tunnel, carrying them toward Bordeaux—and whatever came next.