Kyle stood in the wrecked train car, breath catching in his throat.
The world around him was silent… too silent.
Blood was everywhere. It coated the floors, the seats, the walls.
So much of it that he felt sick just looking at it. Some of it was fresh, some already dried and dark.
The air was thick with the smell of smoke and iron. Sparks flickered from broken wires above.
The lights buzzed, blinking in and out. Casting unsteady shadows over the torn-apart interior.
Bodies were slumped over in their seats. Motionless, lifeless.
The passengers… all of them were dead.
Kyle's legs locked in place. His arms wouldn't respond. It was like something was holding him down.
Chains he couldn't see, heavy and cruel. He couldn't move, couldn't speak. He was trapped, forced to watch.
Then he saw her.
Anaya.
The little girl from earlier. She had laughed when her mother told her to stop bouncing in her seat. She had waved at him. Smiled.
