Part 2
"Gather around, come get dinner!" A booming voice resonates across the hall, as a grand feast is spread upon a large table, the glass top displaying delicacies of all kinds. Aunty is the foremost to arrive, followed closely by Uncle Bruce, holding a red rectangular metal box in his hand - for a woodcutter doth require his tools. He's happily wedded to the quite quaint dame, Aunty Grace, a lady of noble beauty. Five cherubic younglings, all ranging from the tender age of three to ten and full of youthful vigor - hastening towards the feast with fervent speed and paper airplanes in hand, waving them about with great excitement as they collide with one another in flight, their laughter ringing through the room.
"John, no playing around the dinner table, how many times must I say this?" The lady utters with a puff of frustration, placing his airplane beneath the table. "Why do you do this to me when your father isn't around?"
Her companion could not attend this nonce event, for it was customary. The humor of John turns bitter as a sour lemon, causing him to no longer attempt to converse with the other younglings, who hastily stow their airplanes out of sight from his mother. Painting his mother as a villain, this thus worsens his humor further. She lets her eyes roll to the back of her head.
"Here boy" Uncle Bruce reaches into his pocket and produces a small box, withdrawing from it a wooden airplane with an aged patina. " Just don't tell Sabatha okay?" He winks at the boy, who happily nods in agreement, placing his index finger upon his lips and performing a little dance upon his shoulders, his eyes squinting as if to keep this moment a secret.
"Oh, Xander don't just stand there. Come" Mine own only aunt says to me as the lady pats the table beside h'r with a bright red grin on h'r visage. The lady's Aunty Pat.
Walking down from the dram stairs separating the inside of the house from the dining table. T's me. Ev'ryone turns backeth at me and smiles. Coequal Aunt Grace smiles at me as the lady hast taken a seat beside h'r wood-cutting husband. From what mine ears hath heard, Uncle Bruce had to taketh leave from his studies to attend to mine own mother, who was great with a child carrying me when my father, mired in an affair with another nobleman, could not attend to her. Verily, my father wast gay, and he knew not how to confess his state to his jointress, a union that lasted for seven long years. My mother, however, being a shrewd mistress, did come to know of his secret affections later on, and did secure from him half his property, tooketh full custody of us, and did remove henceforth.
My mother wast left so heartbroken by his betrayal that she almost did fall into a deep slumber whilst carrying me. 'Twas a miracle that I was born. Yet Aunt Grace doth not regard me as one. I eye her.
"My boy here is studying for QWUG, he's very busy so he forgets the time," she exhales, yet still put meat to my trencher and yanks out my chair. She beams but 'tis a false mien. Meseems mine own mother is fearful - dreading that I should turn out like my father; not solely belying his wedded state with men, but also ensconcing himself in adultery. Howsoe'er, that point she doth not share with my Aunt Pat. Forsooth, my Auntie's homosexuality is known to all, yet we meddle not with Her amorous affairs. My mother neither cozets nor opposeth Her, but endures in silence - desiring but peace.
Aunt Sabatha, wife of mine own uncle, fixeth stern eyes upon me. Jealous she may be. Devoutly so, she must be. For 'tis in recentness that I resolved to enroll at the utmost university - after seasons of sloth and inaction.
Lo, Olivia descendeth now, frolicking with a sachet of Flaming hot chips dipped in peanut butter. Peanuts, to her, hold an endless charm. In goups, chunks, within pyes, icings, straight from the jar. Verily, her offspring shall cherish peanut butter more than mine own ardor toward studies. Olivia beareth child, and soon shall deliver. She acknowledgeth me not, however, as she sitteth by Richard, her lord and husband. And yet unsurpisingly, he's a neurologist.
I settle on the cushioned seat, and relish the romantic aroma of the repast merged with music from behind. The broth afore me hath a familial fragrance. Soft, sweet, and like dewy old-smelling grass.
Methinks of my companions back in mine homestead. Home. And then I comprehend how much I do ill-miss them; how we wouldst play football for mine own hours, gabbing on the phone until the late hours of nightfall, then arising early to commence the morning with the tasks of the gym at four of the clock. I do recall how we would oft ready to spend the day with football, only to waste it by watching moving pictures or conversing of the loveliest maidens in school. Those fools entangling me with their gratuitousness and me just obliging them. It doth unsettle mine own heart. I do miss their bickering over Bicentennial High - our rival school. We have 'beef'.
'But one of our cheerleaders is a vegetarian and one of theirs is too, so is it still considered beef?'One of the guys had questioned one day. I miss my fools.
My spine feels straight and cold. I arch my back to shake it off and look down at the boy between me; he looks frightened. Horrified. Perchance he is not even within this world anymore? Musing on his family and companions, mayhap considering how we were all within a train and now pursued by dangerous madmen. At least he hath friends. I had friends. Emphasis on 'had.' I begin to ponder whatever hath betid to my cluster of friends. We were a tight-knit group. Indeed, I was the most popular in school, an overachiever, a sportsman of fine skill, a scholar with B+ grades, and omnipresent with all crowds - but my companions were my life, and I ruined all of it for the sake of studying? Studying?!
I began to ponder why I had even aspired to enroll in that university. Ah, right - the family. Mine own mother, forever fretful that I might transmogrify into mine own father - a seducer. I recall her eternally comparing me to mine own sister, with the entire family consorting to her perspective. So then, I deduce that I shall accomplish something incredible, whereof I signeth up for QWUG.
I doth not solely enroll, but mine enlivens for that institution. That academy is home to millionaires and billionaires alike, and I am cognizant that if I desire a chance among the multitude of applicants, I must thrive. I doth not merely shooteth my shot; instead, I devote fourteen hours to studying or any task that concerns these endeavors. In the end, I lose not only myself but mine companions. All this, because I was solely thinking of myself and had not so much as contemplated my friends. They were anxious, and some had visited me, but I had shut them down. Howsoever, what sort of abominable person had I become?
Two of mine friends stuck with me throughout - Raph and Naveah. I do remember how Raph, with quite the vulgarity, did turn away a girl who had fervently attempted to persuade me to accept her invitation to her home. We crossed paths with her as she ranted over her parents' honeymoon out of the city and how I should come over. Truth be told, I wast weary of her unwavering insistence and almost capitulated - until Raph intervened, causing her to nearly fall to the ground. He apologized to me, stating that he wast sorry for bumping into me, completely ignoring the brunette; when she argued, he remarked that he was inebriated. And it went something like this...
The brunette: " Get off me you drunkard, you're so mannerless"
Raph: "And you are ugly, I might be drunk now but tomorrow" He howls "you my Bianca will always remain ugly"
Only Raph's mentioning doth prevent me from forgetting her, or even acknowledging her existence at all, for that matter. The boy beneath me exhal'd a deep sigh that drew me away from my reminiscing. Scanning mine surroundings, I discover a medical kit and a hammer held by a short 40-something-year-old man with a disheveled look. Behind me, a pile of manuals doth lie upon the table beneath the first-aid kit. As I eagerly scope mine surroundings, the door swings open, startl'ng all present; Marlene lets out a tight, squeaky noise.
Mr Craven stands before us, appearing unkempt and ghastly. His suit hath ridden up to his neck and his eyes dart across the room, settling upon me. The sole damsel of our group lets out a shriek as she backs away from the door. Her mouth remains ajar as she clutches the arm of the young man who saved Mr Craven when he struck her.
"Come out here, quickly!" He says but no one makes an effort to move. I grab the axe and it feels light in my hands. It's almost as if I'm holding my pen to write. "I used something to hold the cabins door, come out before they come out her" He frowns and reaches to pull the girl out but the boy she's hiding behind is quick to swat his hand away.
After Mr. Craven and a multitude of foolish individuals had made the decision of our fates - as easily as solving an algebraic equation - with Mr. Fred idly standing by, casually leaning away from us, clearly wanting nothing to do with the ordeal. We had barely depart'd the premises when the infected man did free himself from the ropes that constrained him and did attack one of their group. I turn'd around to see the first victim, and one by one, the others fell akin to a toppled tower of Tetra blocks. My group sought refuge within a storage room while the others rushed recklessly into another cabin, colliding with one another like headless fowl, whilst the infected man pursued them - as though we were all playing a game of hide and seek. Perchance we were. And now, Mr. Craven had shown up at our door, seeking us. 'Twas as if we already had lost.
Something was amiss with him - Mr. Craven. Something different. Had his visage always been so bleak? Was he still fearful? His pupils appeared to be dilated, and his suit seem'd to cling more closely to his frame as though he were concealing something. He constantly darted his gaze about, reacting to the smallest of sounds or perhaps even nothing at all, as we were but a mere door away from over forty other infected individuals.
Infected? Could it be caused by a drug? A drug that causes hallucinations? A drug that made people have an insatiable thirst? I wasn't well-versed in the horror world but my friend, Raph loved a good thrill show. He won't shut his damn mouth about the current latest horror movie or current celebrity gossip of their relationships. I didn't gossip persay...just once in a while to get my mind off of things. To get my mind of family. Off life.
Maybe Raph would be of great help here. But he's at least 45 kilometers away from me. I wished he was still here though, I won't be in this alone after all. Raph is that type of friend that makes all your worries disappear like smoke. Raph's family.
I shift my legs and handle my axe more when Mr.Craven looks at me with a tilt to his smirk. Um...
"You making it out is very... " The coach begins, his hands are clenched around the hammer from the storage room we were just in and he points with his chin beyond the closed cabin doors. He levels a hard stare at the man.
"Like I said, I managed, it was by luck...I locked the cabin's door don't worry." He shrugs and turns his head to pop the tension in his neck He must be damn lucky.
"Lucky...Hmm...maybe too lucky even" The coach shrugs his shoulders. He sits adjacent to the man and settles his arms on his knee, his shoe continually tapping the carpeted rug, almost in rhyme with the snarls from the room beside us. They have gotten to the vestibule. Both sides.
"Do you have water?" Mr Craven asks as he takes a well-hidden hand to tug at his neck, but stops himself. I stare at this and catch pale skin underneath before he can hide it back. Mr craven is infected. His eyes were gray, not black. His skin tone was a yellow shade. He shouldn't be as sweaty as he is; just like the first man.
The coach hands him a half-filled bottle of water from the table and hands it to him. Mr. Craven's hands shakingly take it from him.
A strand of his hair falls to the ground but the others are all looking out the window or around the cabin to notice. We had all seen the flight attendant attack after just a few seconds of being bitten. How long did it take for her? 10 seconds, he's been here for 4 minutes 12 seconds...13 seconds...14 seconds. And he hasn't attacked...yet. How do I explain this to my mates? I couldn't possibly think of calling out a man who had blatantly disregarded our help and almost pushed us to another cabin most likely infected...Maybe I wasn't seeing it right? Maybe I was simply stressed-
Wait the next cabin should have been filled with people or at least a person, but when Mr Craven had gone there, he didn't say anything of others being there. If there was no one in there from the next Cabin did that mean they had escaped? Maybe the Captain knew of the infection. I recall his last message being for us to stay in our cabins and something strange. Was this the 'strange' he meant? Why would he tell us to stay put? We couldn't even move if we wanted to this whole train ran on electricity...no one really knew how to override the doors manually. That is except me. Shit.
The time and age of technology were so mundane that everyone was caught up in their own world. People did whatever people did. No one cared, no one desired, but all was desired. The only way to prove your worth was through social media. Ask a middle-aged man what he desires and he'll tell you a crypto coin. People are so curious about their fancy gadgets that most won't know how to read an analogue clock. But I wasn't like them.
The captain must have seen the commotion and then made the doors unable to unlock without electricity. He must have seen the first man from my earlier cabin and quickly cut us off because you can turn to bloody cannibals in under 10 seconds just like the attendant and the people after her. But that doesn't add to why people's phones weren't working and why wifi had suddenly been cut. However, if there was no electricity that the train needed without the captain's interference, the doors would naturally go to manual mode. The train didn't. This only means the captain knew of the infection because it had been happening in previous cabins before and had evacuated the people in the next cabin to another place. The captain had left us. He had a family so why not?
This new realization makes me shudder into my seat and a sudden fear fills me. I'm so lost I don't realize Mr.Craven is now on the floor foaming at the mouth. And of course, I'm stressed, but I'm not imagining things.
"Shit, turn him over" The coach is already on his knees and trying to get Mr.Craven on his side. Marlene is huddled into the arms of the boy. I can't think of a name for him. She presses herself into him as if trying to melt her way into his body. The others stay behind as another one of them comes forward and squats beside his coach. He moves his hand to Mr.Craven's throat when Mr.Craven jerks his hand and holds the boy, getting him surprised."
I have a daughter...She's only 5, she needs me" His body keeps jerking and his eyes have turned completely black, colors of nothing leaking out of his orifices. He's crying. Who won't do anything for family?
The next sound that comes out of his lips is no words of a man. He snarls and pushes the coach down, away from him. He grips the strong lean arms of the boy but the boy's quick to react and jerks his hand away causing his hand to get scratched by claws that grew in a second.
"Holy fuck" He screams as he grips his crushed hand. Broken from the inside. Snapped like a twig.
Mr Craven is about to stand up when Marlene is already on it. She takes her duffel bag and whacks him in the head. The force is probably not enough to put him out. But she's not done.As he stands up again, she brings her leg back and hits him back down. His head lands with a thud on the rug, some teeth even falling out of his bruised cheek. She doesn't wait another second when she quickly brings out some ropes and resistance bands and ties him to a pole. Miss ma'am, I believe you're supposed to be screaming now.
"I have a family too, you selfish bastard" She screams but tears prick her eyes.