It was like watching a comedy act with a live grenade on stage as a prop, and while Jerry usually loved comedy acts, this one had stakes too high for him to get any level of comfortable. 

The weird young man on the floor cracked a joke. Victor's hand twitched while holding his gun. And Jerry? He felt like the guy in the audience debating whether to laugh or run. 

They were all stacked behind the beam like a really bad game of survival Jenga — Jerry first, Stacy crouched beside him, Luna leaned after, supporting 60 percent of her unborn belly on Stacy and the other 40 on Jerry's shoulder. Mr Simmons was hovering over Luna, making sure he didn't lean heavily on her and in the process, showing impeccable balance. Lawrence's wheelchair was at the back, the man himself leaning as far ahead as he could to the point where Jerry was worried, he would fall off. All of this just to get a look at the standoff happening between a possible murderer and a stone-faced military man who had led them miles away from disaster with the tough love of a drill sergeant.

Victor's low voice sounded out perfectly audible from the other side. "What's in the bag?"

The man on the floor stretched out and questioned with a cheeky look. "Would you believe me if I said guns?"

His head immediately sounds "Oh, shit!" alarmed.

Jerry shifts his weight ever so slightly —

—and Mr. Simmons loses his balance. Followed by Luna who then trips up over Jerry, all dropping down like the conclusion of a bad Jenga game, except they were saved from falling to the ground by the one and only Stacy, love of his life. She grabbed Luna, supporting her fall while cushioning Mr. Simmons as well.

Jerry, however, was not so lucky.

He hit the floor with a dull thud.

Silence.

"Oh," the man on the floor drawled, his voice lazily amused. "More guests. Let me just set the table." He swung a switchblade between his fingers, the smooth, practiced motion way too confident for Jerry's liking.

Victor's aim didn't waver. "Drop the weapon."

The guy gave Victor a slow, incredulous look, as if Victor had just asked him to sprout wings and fly. "It's cutlery."

"It's a knife."

He turned the blade over, inspecting the edge with exaggerated care. "Huh, so it is. Must've grabbed the wrong one." He flashed a crooked smile.

Jerry, still on the floor, pinched the bridge of his nose. Great. Just fantastic.

Luna, ever the wildcard, tilted her head. "You look like you haven't slept in days."

The man chuckled softly. "Sleep's a luxury."

"So is showering, apparently," she added.

Jerry choked on his own breath.

Stacy folded her arms, all cool authority. "That doesn't answer the question."

The man with the knife spread his arms, the blade still twirling in one hand. "I prefer to let my actions speak for me."

Jerry hated that answer. Especially when clues pointed to some kind of action being taken by a man to kill the outside guy — and this guy was the only living thing here.

Trying to defuse the tension, Jerry cleared his throat. "I'm Jerry," he offered. "This is my wife, Stacy."

The man's gaze flicked between them. "You sure you're married? You look... calm, for a couple spending their honeymoon in an apocalypse."

"I'm very good at pretending," Jerry deadpanned.

"I don't like him," Mr. Simmons muttered, not quietly.

"I'm an acquired taste," the man replied smoothly.

"Like poison," the old man huffed.

Lawrence, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, gestured toward the tattered bag at the man's feet. "What's in there?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" the man said lightly, his smirk sharpening at the edges.

The mood shifted. Jerry felt it — a subtle, sinking weight in the air. A joke that wasn't quite a joke.

"Actually, yeah," Victor said, voice calm but steely. "We would."

Silas didn't move — didn't flinch — but Jerry caught the flicker of something colder behind his smile now.

He didn't like this.

Not one bit.

Victor's voice cut through the tension like a blade of its own. "Name."

The man rocked back on his heels, the knife still flipping through his fingers in an absentminded rhythm. "Silas."

Jerry blinked. Finally, a name to go with the madness.

Victor didn't react, his gun still steady. "How long have you been here, Silas?"

Silas's smile didn't fade, but something flickered behind his eyes. "Long enough to know I'm not the scariest thing you'll meet today."

That... wasn't the answer Jerry had been hoping for.

Victor didn't bother with subtlety. "Let's cut to the chase," he said, stepping closer to Silas, gun still in hand, loose but ready. "We found a dead body on the way in. Know anything about that?"

Straight to the point. Classic Victor. No patience, no warm-up.

Silas raised an eyebrow, then — apparently in no rush — stretched his arms over his head, joints cracking loud enough to echo through the train car. Jerry flinched at the sound. So did Luna, shuffling half a step closer to Stacy and him. Understandable — she had been the one to discover the body, and Jerry figured once you saw something like that, every sharp noise probably felt like a threat.

Finally, after what felt like a needlessly long moment, Silas spoke. "Don't know what you're talking about." His tone was light, almost bored.

Jerry's stomach twisted. The guy wasn't just unbothered — he was playing with them, testing the waters. Seeing how far he could push before someone broke.

Stacy must've caught on too. She rested a steadying hand on Jerry's shoulder, her voice calm but firm. "You said you got here yesterday. That body hasn't been dead long. You either saw it or you didn't. Which is it?"

Silas's gaze slid to her, eyes narrowing just a fraction. It wasn't a threat — not exactly — but there was a quiet weight to the way he looked at people, like he was studying their reactions more than their words.

Jerry shifted, moving half a step in front of Stacy without thinking. Silas's mouth tugged into a quick, amused smile.

"Don't know what you're talking about," Silas repeated, almost like a taunt. "I've been in this coach for a long time now along with—"

The train door slammed open.

Everyone jumped.

A short, baby-faced guy burst in, speaking before his brain caught up to the situation. "Silas, someone dug out Dayne's body and—"

He froze, wide-eyed, staring straight at Mr. Simmons, who looked like he wanted nothing more than a bed, a blanket, and to forget every single thing that had happened today. Honestly, Jerry couldn't blame him. What made it worse was the kid seemed to be having the same thought. The two of them locked eyes — a shared moment of spiritual exhaustion.

Silas didn't move, didn't speak. Jerry turned, half-expecting some slick excuse, but instead caught something else — the faintest flicker of a smirk on Victor's face. Gone almost immediately, replaced by his usual stone-cold glare, but it had been there. Jerry was sure of it.

"You were saying...?" Victor asked, arms crossed now.

Silas stared at the kid — Theo, apparently — long enough that Jerry started to feel secondhand anxiety. It wasn't even an angry look. Just quiet, pointed, and impossibly sharp. Whatever Silas was thinking, Theo clearly got the message, because his shoulders tensed like he was resisting the urge to apologize for crimes he didn't commit.

"I—I'll just c-come back later—" the boy stammered, already stepping back toward the pitch-black night. Honestly, it took guts — the outside looked like a scene straight out of a horror movie compared to the dimly lit coach.

"You kids and your damn procrastination—" Mr. Simmons snapped, grabbing the boy by the collar before he could vanish into the dark. "Since none of you seem capable of standing still and having a proper conversation, let this old man speed things up so we can all get some shut-eye before sunrise."

He stopped. His lips curled into a crooked smile — too wide, too cold.

"Oh. Right. Forgot we don't get those anymore."

Jerry shot a glance at Stacy, who looked just as worn out — tired in a way that sleep wouldn't fix. She didn't speak, just brushed her fingers against his hand — brief, steadying.

And from somewhere beyond the cracked windows, the night seemed to shift, inching closer as if it had heard them both.

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Constructive criticism is always welcome. I'd love to hear both positives and negatives about the chapters so do let me know if you have reached this far...

Thanks for reading!!