The civilian terminal, once a major train station, had been completely transformed, and Ampelius couldn’t help but to be a little impressed by it. It sat deep underground, which made it the perfect place for a base of operations. And he noticed the passages to the surface had been sealed off with reinforced steel and rubble, while still guarded by armed sentries who never left their posts.

  But for what used to be a busy transit hub, was now a fortified shelter, crowded with soldiers and civilians alike. Large crates and broken furniture were turned into barricades, and supplies, such as a food, water, and medicine were stacked high against the walls beside makeshift tables.

  Many people carried what little they had left, but most drifted aimlessly, wearing that hollow, far-off look of the broken. And then there were the ones who saw opportunity in the suffering, those who would prey on desperation just to make a quick profit.

  Ampelius followed the line of volunteers down a narrow service corridor lit by flickering lamps made up of various ingredients. He felt the air grew colder the deeper they went. The small space felt alive as he heard voices barking orders, the grinding of gears, and the hiss of steam.

  The full scope of the operation came into view as Ampelius stepped onto the platform. The loud clanging of machinery and the steady hum of engines vibrating through the floor beneath his feet. Right off, the smell the oil, metal, and smoke of an industrial haze was quite strong, and it clung to the back of his throat.

  The train itself was sitting idle, being refitted with layers of heavy armor, which was a far cry from the sleek civilian transports he remembered. Thick steel plating ran along its sides, and gun mounts had been welded near the windows.

  A soldier led the volunteers down a narrow hallway and into a storage area that had been converted into an armory. The walls were lined with weapon racks, with stacks of ammunition crates on the floor, and attachments in a sealed container.

  Everyone herded into a line, waiting their turn. Ampelius watched the people ahead of him receive their weapons, each one holding whatever they got a little different. Some handled them like old friends, while others held them like a cursed object.

  When it was his turn, the armorer barely looked up. “Here is your issued RISAR-35,” the man muttered, sliding the rifle across the table. Ampelius reached out, feeling the cold metal against his palms. The semi-automatic rifle felt alien in his grasp, very light in all the wrong ways, awkward to hold.

  His cousin would have called this a stripped-down imitation of the military-standard RIAR, but cheapened for civilian use. He shifted it uneasily in his grip; it didn’t feel like a weapon meant to fight monsters, more like something meant to make him feel armed, like a false sense of security.

  After a short rundown from the armorer, Ampelius joined the others. They formed into a broken formation as two Roman Principales moved along the line, their eyes scanning each volunteer for weakness and appearance. Their stares made every twitch and every flicker of hesitation feel like it was being weighed and recorded.

  After the inspection was conducted, they were herded toward the train to board. Corvinus stood in front of the ramp, greeting each volunteer personally with a handshake and a bottle of water. This gesture caught Ampelius off guard. He thought it was pretty simple and unnecessary, but meaningful.

  Corvinus’s grip was very firm, his eyes hard, assessing each person himself. For a brief moment, Ampelius respected him for it. Then the thought sank in: this might be their last handshake. He couldn’t tell if kindness was real or just the practiced mask of a leader trying to hold a crumbling unit together.

  Once aboard, everyone did their best to get comfortable where they could. They waited while the soldiers filed in, each one greeted by Corvinus with that same firm handshake he’d given them.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  About twenty minutes later, the train finally jolted forward, with the steady grind of wheels echoing through the cars as it picked up speed. Ampelius shifted around while resting his rifle in his lap.

  One of the Principales stepped forward to introduce himself. His Latin accent was faint but still noticeable.

  “I’m Principale Felix,” he said. “Now listen carefully. You’ll follow my orders exactly. Our job’s simple, we are to hold the rear of our assaulters. Nothing will get past us. If we fail, the whole mission falls apart. So, rest while you can; we’ll be arriving within the hour.”

  No one spoke a word after Felix left. A few had leaned back, trying to get some rest, but others couldn’t sit still. Ampelius looked around and studied everyone. Many of the volunteers he was with were struggling to keep their hands from twitching. Some were tapping their boots, but he could tell their nerves were bleeding through in their own way.

  One man’s hands shook so bad that his weapon would rattle against the floor, annoying his neighbor. Another just stared straight ahead, lost somewhere between fear and disbelief. Everyone was silently waging their own battles.

  Ampelius had enough and leaned his head back against the metal wall, letting his eyes close. The sound of the train’s rumbling fade into a dull rhythm, and the exhaustion finally dragged him under. But sleep offered little to no peace.

  Something stirred in the dark. A Zavon stepped forward, its body twisting out of the shadows like it was being torn from another world. Its skin looked wrong, thick and sinewed, armored in jagged plates that pulsed faintly with a neon glow. Its eyes were burning like embers, locked onto him with pure hate. Then it lunged, its hands reaching for him.

  He felt the icy grip around his throat before he could even scream. The creature’s breath was rancid, and its touch numbing. He clawed at its arm, gasping for air, trying to break free as his vision blurred, until, suddenly, laughter shattered the dream.

  He jerked awake, chest heaving, drenched in cold sweat. The others were staring at him, some grinning, others looking away, pretending they hadn’t been watching. One of them chuckled under his breath.

  Ampelius rubbed his face, forcing out a shaky breath. “Guess none of you have met a Zavon,” he muttered.

  “What’s a Zavon?” someone asked, nervous curiosity in their voice.

  “It’s what I call those things tearing the city apart,” he said, leaning back. “Once you see one, you’ll know why.”

  He closed his eyes again, but the image lingered. The glowing eyes. The claws. The cold breath. Sleep never came back.

  Moments, or maybe minutes later, Felix’s boot nudged his foot.

  “We’re here. Get ready.”

  Ampelius sat up, stiff and sore. Outside the grimy window, he saw darkness broken only by distant fires. The train slowed, brakes screeching against the rails. The rhythm of movement faded, replaced by the grinding quiet of anticipation.

  He grabbed his rifle and stood. Around him, the volunteers were doing the same. The faint echo of explosions rolled through the tunnel, a reminder of the battles above.

  Fatigue set in, but there was no room for it now. Commander Corvinus was waiting outside.

  “Your task is vital,” he said. “Stay sharp. I don't know if there are any civilians in these tunnels, but if happens to be, they may try to pass through, or look to you for safety. So don’t shoot unless you have to. And use the passcode to verify our own soldiers, though we aren't expecting reinforcements. Anyone without it gets turned away or detained if they try to force there way or resist. No mistakes. Felix will brief you further at your post. Good luck.”

  Everyone moved toward the front of the train. Felix was standing there, scanning everything, the shadows, the horizon, their faces. He moved like a man who’d survived too much to trust anything. One by one, he checked the volunteers’ rifles and gear, pausing at Ampelius. His eyes lingered a moment longer than necessary, then he nodded.

  “You make sure that safety is on, unless there is a threat present." Pointing at his rifle.

  "Alright, everyone listen up. Our soldiers are pushing ahead on foot to conduct the assault,” Felix explained. “We will stay here and guard the train. It’s our lifeline. If we lose it, we’re done.”

  Felix took a moment to speak with Corvinus before turning his attention back to the volunteers. “Alright, the other Principale’s joined the assault team, so you’re stuck with me alone. The Passcode’s M.E.G.A. Burn that into your head. Anyone who doesn’t know it doesn’t belong here. Second, you identify your target before you shoot. Naturally with what's going on the surface, some civilians might be down here. So let's not make their graves part of our mission. Third, the train must be protected at all costs. No matter what happens, it stays within our control. Questions?”

  No one spoke up.

  “Good. Then grab those sandbags from the freight car and set them up here. We’ll need them to form the checkpoint.”

  Ampelius moved with the others, his breath fogging in the cold air as the soldiers ahead disappeared into the dark tunnel. The train became their lifeline; their prison.