The Vampire's Apprentice

Alain pushed through the train cars, the stock of his shotgun pushed into his shoulder as he went. Thankfully, the cultists Az had killed stayed dead, and so there was no danger of any of them rising up to attack them from behind.

"So," Alain said without looking back as the two of them moved through the train. "Any idea what these people want?"

"None at all," Az replied. "And that's the truth, Alain."

Somehow, Alain had his suspicions about that, but he knew better than to question Az right now. Instead, he merely let out a soft exhale and continued moving on.

"Where's Danielle's room?" Alain asked.

"Just up ahead," Az answered him. "She's towards the very back of the train, I caught a glimpse of her ticket when she went to show it to the staff."

"Of course she is…" Alain let out a tired sigh.

He was about to start talking again when gunfire up ahead caught his attention; without hesitation, he took off running towards it. The door to the next train car was closed; he threw it open, and very nearly had a chunk of flesh bitten off by an undead man who had been lurking on the other side. Alain fell to the ground with a panicked yelp, the living corpse falling on top of him, gnashing its teeth to try and reach him even as Alain held the man back.

Thankfully, it didn't last long; Az picked the corpse up by its head, and then crushed it like a grape, spilling its contents across the floor before unceremoniously dropping the now-headless body onto the train car below.

There was no time to rest, though – moans from up ahead caught Alain's attention, and he turned to find that this train car had been almost completely turned into undead.

"Fuck me…" he breathed as he scrambled to his feet, again tucking his long gun against his shoulder. "Always undead, isn't it?"

"It would seem that was," Az replied as the corpses continued to shamble closer. "One of the cultists must have been taken out by a guard, then turned and proceeded to infect the people in this car. Bad way to go."

"How do you want to handle this?" Alain asked.

"I'll take care of the undead. You push forward and find Danielle. And if you see any cultists, don't leave them alive."

Alain's thoughts drifted back to the family in the other train car, the dead children still fresh in his mind.

"Believe me," he said, "I won't."

And with that, Az launched himself into the crowd of undead with a roar, tearing into them like a hot knife through butter. Alain, meanwhile, took off through the crowd, pausing only to shoot any that got too close for comfort. Within mere seconds, he'd made it to the end of the train car and stepped into the next one, throwing the door shut behind him.

The moment he stepped into the next car, a bullet ricocheted off the wall next to his head. Alain reacted immediately, throwing himself to the floor as his shotgun barked once; in front of him, a black-robed cultist's left calf was disintegrated in a spray of blood and gore, and the man fell to the ground, screaming bloody murder as he clutched in vain at what was left of his ruined leg.

More bullets came his way, and as Alain rolled into cover behind a row of seats, he was able to see three more cultists in the back of the train car, all armed with revolvers – three more in black robes, and one in white. His eyes narrowed, even as he ducked back into cover and reloaded.

Once his weapon was topped off, Alain stuck it around the corner and blind-fired a single shot to try and keep his opponents' heads down. The incoming stream of gunfire tapered off just enough that he was more confident in stepping out into the open, and so Alain stepped out from behind cover, cycling and firing his shotgun as fast as he could. The onslaught of buckshot pellets forced the cultists into cover; as his shotgun ran dry, Alain let it hang from its sling and ripped both his revolvers from their holsters, holding one in each hand as he advanced. A black-robed cultist popped up from behind cover and Alain didn't hesitate to turn his head into a canoe with a single shot.

The dead man fell to the ground with a crash, his revolver slipping from his grasp and clattering to the floor. Alain re-cocked his revolver, the mechanical sound echoing through the train car like a clap of thunder.

"Who's next?" he demanded. "Hm? Anyone feel like trying their luck?"

For a moment, there was silence, but then one of the cultists did something unexpected – he tossed his revolver away and raised his hands above the row of seats he was hiding behind.

"I surrender!" he shouted. "Just don't kill me-"

That was as far as he got before a gunshot cut him off. Alain flinched at the suddenness of it; that hadn't come from him. Of course, he didn't have to wonder about what had happened for long, as the white-robed cultist suddenly leapt out from behind cover, a manic grin on his face as he leveled his revolver in Alain's direction. Both men took aim and fired at the exact same time.

The only difference was that Alain's aim was true.

The white-robed cultist fell to the ground, a fresh .45 caliber hole bored straight through his heart. Alain, meanwhile, felt wetness blossom against his right cheek and wiped at his face with the back of a hand; it came back slick with crimson, and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of it.

He'd just been grazed by a bullet. A few more inches, and he would have been killed.

The thought would have made him shudder, if it weren't for the fact that there was still another one left.

Alain's eyes narrowed, and he re-cocked his weapon. "Step out. Now."

For a moment, the last remaining black-robed cultist did nothing, but then, just like his ally before him, he tossed his gun away and stood up, his hands raised in surrender.

"Don't shoot!" he shouted out. "Please, have mercy!"

Alain's grimaced, his grip tightening on his pistols. "You mean the same way you had mercy on that family of four earlier?"

The cultist blinked, recognition crossing his face. "W-wait, I didn't-"

Alain didn't wait to hear the rest, instead firing both revolvers into the man's head. He slumped to the ground, dead before he'd even hit the floor. Alain didn't even spare the body a glance, instead stepping past him as if it were the most casual thing in the world.

He paused only to put a bullet in the white-robed cultist's head, then moved on to the next train car.

XXX

Thankfully, Alain didn't run into any more opposition as he made his way through the rest of the train cars. Apparently, the cultists had started on both sides, then tried to work their way towards the middle of the train; the three of them had gotten lucky that their room had been in the middle, otherwise things would have been much more difficult than they'd ended up being.

He could only hope and pray that Danielle had been similarly lucky.

The next train car he approached had a few undead in it, but he was quick to dispatch them all with a shot each, grimacing as he did so. The world had certainly gotten a lot more dangerous in the time since the Veil had been officially lifted; now, civilians were openly being caught in the crossfire. This was a brazen attack for a cult to perpetrate; he could only guess as to what their goal had been.

Not that it mattered, of course; they needed to be stopped either way.

Finally, Alain reached the second-to-last train car, just in front of the caboose. This one was much more ornate than the others he'd passed through had been, surpassing even the car that him and his friends were staying in. There were a few rooms on either side of the car; he counted four in total. Two of them had already been opened and their occupants murdered, but the remaining two were still closed. Alain approached the nearest one and gently knocked on it.

"Anyone in there?" he asked through the door. "My name's Alain Smith, I'm here to help. Danielle, if this is your room, please say something!"

He got no response, which wasn't much of a surprise. Alain furrowed his brow, then moved on to the next one. He was about to knock again when a gunshot tore through the door, grazing his abdomen; Alain winced and fell to the ground as pain blossomed across his stomach.

Good thing, too, because the next series of shots would have torn directly into his chest.

Alain drew his revolver, wincing as he rolled to the side and posted up near the door, behind the thickest part of the wall.

"Danielle, is that you?!" he called. "It's Alain!"

"Nice try!" she shouted, squeezing off another round; Alain winced when he heard it pass by, though thankfully, the wall protected him.

"It's really me, damn it!" he growled. "This is no time to be acting crazy! Come on, you know who I am – you hired me to find your father!"

There was a pause before she answered again.

"Oh, so now you want my help?" she demanded.

"Help has nothing to do with it," Alain snapped. "I'm here to make sure you're okay."

"Yeah, well, I'm doing fine, thanks for asking. So you can go ahead and stop the train now, because I want to get off."

"Believe me, I would if I could, but I can't right now. Az and Sable are on it, I'm sure."

"Hmph. Whatever you say."

Alain breathed a sigh of frustration. As he did so, a wave of exhaustion suddenly washed over him, complete with some more pain from the wounds in his face and abdomen. He winced, pressing a hand against his most recent gunshot wound; it truly had been a graze, same as the other one, but that didn't make it pleasant.

"Look," Alain offered, "I'm gonna go help my friends clear the rest of the train. You stay here, and don't open this door for anyone except one of us. If someone tries to force their way in, shoot them in the head, otherwise they'll probably come back as a living corpse. Understand?"

After a moment, Danielle replied. "Yeah, I've got it."

"Good." Alain forced himself to his feet, letting out a heavy breath as he did so. "Okay, let's-"

His statement was cut off by the sudden grinding of metal on metal. The ear-piercing noise made him wince, and he went to protect his hearing, but he didn't get the chance to. The train suddenly jumped the tracks, and just like that, Alain was airborne.

The last thing he remembered before hitting his head on the ceiling was the train cars decoupling and leaving the track all around him.