Author's Note: Congratulations. You just unlocked this story's first "bad end!"
If you're sensitive to gore and graphic character death; I strongly suggest you skip this chapter, pretend you didn't make this choice, and proceed to Chapter 56. If "Corpse Party" levels of gore don't bother you, then continue below and watch the sparks fly.
…
Zed Levin was a good person, but even good people had their limits. As much as Cyrus wanted to believe Zed's offer to hide them was sincere; Lodge Owners had to think about the safety of the entire Lodge first. If it was a choice between keeping two guests safe and keeping everyone else safe, Cyrus knew what choice he'd make.
He wouldn't vote in his favor, either. "Grab what you can, but don't take anything heavy. You'll only weigh yourself down."
On travel days, they packed efficiently: consolidating their laundry, food, and extra inventory into the larger bags. Their backpacks were for day-to-day traveling only: passports, PokéStats, address books, some Pokémon medicine, a couple of snack bars, a bottle of water, one change of clothes, basic toiletries, and their wallets. Cyrus also had a pocketknife, but Cynthia didn't need to know that. They hopefully wouldn't have to use it.
The backpacks were enough. Everything else was a lost cause. Maybe Zed could mail their things to the Hydrargyrum Lodge, but Cyrus wasn't going to lose any sleep over that. They could always buy more of these things in the next town.
For a moment, he thought Cynthia would challenge his decision. Instead, she firmly nodded her head to show she was in complete agreement. "Okay. Let's do this."
"You're making a mistake!" Zed called out, even as Cyrus reached for the door. "Please, I'm begging you! Let me move you to one of the other rooms and—"
"No, Zed." This time, it was Cynthia who spoke up. "I'm scared, but I'm not about to put more people in danger. We have to run." With that, she walked past Cyrus and began her descent down the stairs. He promptly followed behind her, not even bothering to check and see if Campanella was coming too.
He felt a tad guilty for hoping she wasn't. There was no way they could sneak out with somebody that loud in their party.
During the daytime, the top floor was one of the most relaxing parts of the Kalium Lodge. As chaotic as downstairs could be, this was a sanctuary for anyone who could afford a private room. It reminded Cyrus of his quiet dinner with Renata, the kind words Dr. Plutarski wrote in his recommendation letter, and making amends with Cynthia after their first real argument.
That room had been safe once. Now he could only view it as a trap.
It was also uncomfortably cold. He could see his breath and parts of his face were already turning numb. Although he managed to stop his teeth from chattering, he couldn't stop his body from shivering. Out of instinct, moved closer to Cynthia. She was trembling, too; and probably for the same reason.
He had anticipated stumbling around in the dark, but the lights were on in some of the private rooms. "I guess the commotion upstairs woke up some of the guests," Cynthia whispered, cringing. "That's not good."
Cyrus placed a finger to his lips, hoping Cynthia would understand he wasn't shushing her to be rude. Something could be lying in wait. The more noise they made, the easier they'd be to locate. To prove she got the message, Cynthia pretended to pull an invisible zipper across her lips and winked at him.
Their first obstacle was their old room. The door was still open, meaning anything watching them from the bay window would see them walk by. It was also why the hall was deathly cold. Something broke the window, and that same something was probably waiting for them to return.
Cyrus crouched, preparing to move past the room in a horizontal fashion. Crawling on all fours wasn't very dignified, but at least he'd be harder to spot in the dark. There was just one problem: his body didn't want to move like that. When he tried to hoist himself back up, some of the stitches in his back stretched to an uncomfortable degree of tightness.
Noticing her friend was struggling, Cynthia stopped what she was doing and helped him back to his feet. As appreciative as Cyrus was, he hoped she wouldn't do that again. Jet was after Cynthia, so she needed to take every available opportunity to run ahead; even if that meant leaving her friends behind.
Passing by the other rooms was a different type of challenge. For their room, all they had to worry about was being seen. For these others, they didn't want to be felt or heard. Cynthia walked on the tips of her toes and Cyrus did his best to take slow, cautious steps. He just wished the floors were made of concrete or covered in carpet. By complete accident, he stepped on a noisy plank.
All the blood from his face drained when he heard a woman in a nearby room ask if someone was in the hall. When the doorbell started to rattle, he grabbed Cynthia's arm and sprinted toward the stairs. He was internally kicking himself for his lack of stealth. Now all they could do was make a mad dash for the door and pray nothing was expecting them in the parking lot.
Just a few hours ago, that lobby was teeming with people. Now the only sign of life was a slouched over body at one of the computer terminals. The light from the big analog monitor was just enough for Cyrus to recognize Lulu's hideous yellow flannel shirt. The Hoennese auditor snored loudly as the monitor played nothing back but an endless, glitchy maze screensaver.
Lulu was their friend, which meant she'd recognize them if she woke up. Just as she'd done outside earlier, Cynthia lifted up the hood of her jacket and tightened the drawstrings until only her eyes were visible. Cyrus followed suit and sprinted for the front door, pausing only when he heard a loud, visceral shriek come from the top floor.
The heavy thumping sound of Campanella's boots on the hardwood were becoming increasingly loud. He could tell Cynthia wanted to stick around long enough for Campanella to catch up, but there wasn't time for that. Cyrus ended up pushing her outside, imploring her to run.
"Go! She'll catch up!" He didn't know that for sure, but Cynthia wouldn't budge unless he reassured her. Whatever chance they had of leaving the Trainers Lodge in silence was officially gone, but they still had a shot at this. He wasn't ready to give up yet.
Outdoors was somehow even colder than the room with the broken window. If they stayed still for too long; they'd risk frostbite, hypothermia, or worse. Any bit of dawdling would cost them precious mobility. Cyrus took a deep breath, but ended up coughing. The cold air felt like it was laced with needles. "Which way is the Metro?"
"H-huh?"
"WHERE DO WE GO?!" He just hoped she knew that he was raising his voice out of fear, not anger. Once they were on the train, he'd apologize for shouting. She deserved better than to be snapped at.
Cynthia looked around, trying her best to figure out where they were. She'd spent the past week exploring several parts of Kalium City, but only during the day. The landscape changed at night, especially with most of the lights turned off. Entire city blocks were cloaked in darkness, making every stubborn neon sign's glow that much more pronounced.
One of the few remaining lights was the hospital's bright blue H, as well as some dimly flashing blue lights to show ambulances where to park. That landmark was all Cynthia needed to get her bearings. "This way!" She reached for Cyrus's arm, but was confused when he recoiled. "What are you doing? I'm just—"
"Holding my hand will only slow you down." He could tell she wanted to protest this, but he wouldn't let her. "I'll keep up with you, I promise."
And with both arms free, he could reach for both his Poké Balls and defend her if he had to. Now that he had a Potassium Badge to keep Golbat in check, he could call him out and face off against whatever Pokémon Jet threw their way. Out of everything they had, Golbat was their best bet. Spiritomb was too conspicuous.
It didn't take long for Cyrus to realize Cynthia was in much better physical shape. Not only could she run more quickly, but she also didn't tire as easily. Kalium General Hospital was less than two kilometers from the Trainers Lodge, but Cyrus was out of breath and his feet were screaming by the time they crossed their second junction.
He hoped Cynthia would keep running, but she stopped every time she noticed he was struggling. She gestured for him to follow her into a back alley and then proceeded to place her body flush to a nearby building. "We can go a little slower this way," she suggested. "At least until you're a bit less winded. I know you want me to leave you, but I'm not doing that."
"Don't be stupid," Cyrus wheezed. His heart was protesting all the cardio, even going so far as to restrict part of his airflow. His pulse was so erratic that his uvula felt like it had swollen to the size of a plum. It hurt to talk.
"I'd rather be stupid than get you killed!" That sounded much more like the girl he knew rather than the startled creature who left the Kalium Gym. "If we need to stop for a bit—"
At the risk of looking stubborn, Cyrus firmly shook his head. Slowing down would be fine, but his body would shut down and collapse the moment he went still.
"Okay. Suit yourself, Cyrus. We'll keep going."
As Cyrus tried to catch his breath; he made sure that every step he took was cautious, calculated, and quiet. He kept his body flush to a wall so his silhouette would blend in with the nearby dumpsters. Cynthia did the same. Unless someone or something knew what to look for, they wouldn't notice any motion in the alley.
For the next couple of blocks, Cynthia was quiet as the grave. Cyrus tried to do the same, but the combination of intense cardio and subzero temperatures made it near impossible to hold back his coughs. He did his best to muffle the noise because he feared something would hear him. At least they had successfully made it across the street from Kalium General Hospital.
"Good news: this is the home stretch. All we have to do is make a right up ahead and run toward the red light. And Cyrus?" Cynthia's tone sounded mildly embarrassed, but grateful all the same. "Thanks for staying with me. I'd be way more scared if I had to do this alone."
When she said that, Cyrus felt a bit of warmth creep into his numb face. "You'd be fine," he sputtered, not wanting to look Cynthia in the eye. She made him sound like some kind of badass, but he felt more like dead weight. "You're tougher than you think." He couldn't see that well in the dark, but he was fairly certain Cynthia smiled at him.
That tender moment was cut short by the sound of large feet crumpling snow and ice on asphalt. Whoever it was, they were getting closer. It could be Campanella, but it could also be Jet or a police officer. There was no point in sticking around to find out. "We need to run again. How close is the station?"
Cynthia poked her head out of the alley just long enough to estimate the distance. "Half a kilometer, give or take. You see that building over there: the one with the red neon sign?" How could he miss it? It was the only light still flashing on that road. "That's where we need to go. Do you need a moment?"
The stomping sound was getting closer. On top of it, Cyrus now heard a second noise: the lightweight patter of Pokémon feet. Even with the two neon lights illuminating part of the street, all he could see were two silhouettes. One, he recognized immediately as Jet's Croagunk. In its arms was a banged up crowbar.
Any hope that the footsteps were Campanella's died when he saw the behemoth trotting beside Croagunk. It had to be two meters tall and made entirely of muscle. Either that was Jet's Hariyama or the Gym Leader himself. Either prospect was bad news.
Cyrus backed up, hoping that neither silhouette spotted him; but he accidentally bumped into a trash can and knocked it over. The lid clattered when it hit the ground, startling several feral Pokémon that had been living in a nearby dumpster. As they scurried off in all directions, he knew this was it. They needed to run right now. There wasn't even time for a count to three.
He zipped past Cynthia and ran toward the Metro Station like his life depended on it. It didn't take long for her to catch up and pass him.
The Croagunk shrieked and waved its crowbar like a war banner. "CRUUUUUUH!" it croaked before letting loose a shrill, high pitched cackle.
The noise sparked a chain reaction. Every second, five or six more flats turned on their lights. In some of the windows, Cyrus saw angry human silhouettes. Some had telephones in hand. Others shook their fists and made other rude gestures. One woman even had a child to each side of her. All three made the slit-the-throat sign.
Cyrus bolted through the Metro Station doors, relieved to find they weren't locked. Cynthia rushed past him and propped herself onto the railing of the stairs. Typically, Cyrus would have advised her not to do that because it was so dangerous; but it shaved several seconds off her sprint. He tried to work up the courage to do the same, but couldn't find it.
As he made his descent, he saw red and blue lights flash against the station's white tile. Police sirens wailed as a swarm of black vans parked outside the building. Men in knee-length gray coats stepped out, paired off with Houndooms and Ursarings. "ПРЕКРАТИТЬ БЕГ! БЕГ БУДЕТ РАССМАТРИВАТЬСЯ КАК СОПРОТИВЛЕНИЕ АРЕСТУ!"
Cyrus only recognized three words, but that was enough to pick up the general gist: stop, run, arrest.
If Cynthia had already escaped, he probably would have turned himself over to the KSP and tried to explain the situation; but she wasn't in the clear yet. She was still making her way to the Hydrargyrum train's terminal and Jet's Pokémon were still in hot pursuit. The officer tried to bark something else at the frightened teenagers, but was sucker-punched by the larger shadow and knocked to the ground.
The Metro had flickering fluorescent lighting, so Cyrus could more easily see what had been following Croagunk. It was Jet's Hariyama. The Pokémon puffed up his muscles and began moving toward him. He wasn't very fast, but the ground quivered with every stomp.
Croagunk zipped ahead of his partner, black paws happily holding onto the crowbar. In the light, Cyrus realized something he mercifully hadn't noticed earlier: that piece of metal was completely soaked in blood. At the very tip was a significant amount of red hair…and some kind of grayish-pink matter.
Campanella wasn't coming.
Terrified as he'd been before, this was when the panic finally set in. Despite his best efforts to keep calm for Cynthia's sake, Cyrus could no longer do so. He ran as fast as he could, praying he'd be quick enough to outrun the two Pokémon and catch up with his friend. Every time the KSP shouted at him to stop running, that only motivated him to run faster.
Jet's smarmy face was everywhere: every safety poster, advertisement flier, billboard, and television screen. His voice echoed through every speaker, happily announcing the destinations of each platform. "Welcome to the Kinzo Inter-Metro!" The first time Cyrus heard that voice, he'd thought nothing of it. Now that voice filled him with nothing but dread. "Please keep an eye on your belongings at all times!"
Jet's spiel about reporting unattended luggage and having the Metro Pass ready before reaching the turnpike came next. Cyrus knew the whole script by now. As unnerving as it was to see and hear Jet in a prerecorded capacity, he couldn't shake the feeling he was also hearing him in person. He looked around, half expecting to find Jet hiding next to one of his ads.
That momentary lapse in judgment lasted less than a second, but that was all the Hariyama needed. The Pokémon's powerful hands reached for the metal railing, ripped it out of the wall, and hurled it to the opposite side of the corridor. There wasn't even time for Cyrus's brain to register what was going on before he was airborne.
His head and back slammed against the tile, forcing all the air out of his lungs. He tried to steady himself, but the spots in his eyes made it impossible to see where he was going. Instead of securely placing his foot on a stair, he slipped and tumbled down the rest of the flight. Each time his body came made contact with the concrete, more stitches ripped loose.
By the time he finally hit the bottom, Cyrus's body was one big bruise. Blood pooled into parts of his clothes from where his body tore open, but bruises and cuts were one thing. A dislocated shoulder and broken wrist were something else entirely. He wanted to scream, but his lungs and ribs hurt too much to muster anything beyond a pitiful groan.
It was a miracle he didn't break his neck, but that may have been preferable. If his spinal cord had snapped, at least those areas would be numb instead of in agony.
Behind him, he could hear the Croagunk's high-pitched giggling as well as a low, grunt-like groan from the Hariyama. They weren't running anymore. Now that one of their targets was incapacitated, they could afford to take their time. With each step, their shadows grew larger until they completely engulfed Cyrus.
Instead of brandishing the crowbar, the Croagunk had opted to drag it behind him: just so everyone could hear it scrape and clack against the stairs. Once the Pokémon made it to the bottom step, it swung the piece of metal like a pendulum and grinned at its victim. It was getting into position to swing again.
It didn't matter how much pain Cyrus was in. An aching body was still preferable to a dead one.
He tried to force himself back upright, only to flop over when he put too much pressure on his injured arm. This time, there was enough warm air in his lungs for a loud, anguished scream to leave his throat. To his horror, that scream echoed down the corridors. Until that moment, the pattering sound of Cynthia's boots had been getting quieter. Now they were getting louder.
"CYRUS?!" Oh Arceus. She was coming. "CYRUS, WHAT HAPPENED?!"
Cyrus's face was hot and wet, but he couldn't blame it all on the blood. His eyes were so badly clouded with tears that the Croagunk and Hariyama were barely recognizable blurs.
This was it: the point where he realized how truly fucked they were. He wasn't just clumsy and weak. He was stupid, too. Now all he could do was watch as Cynthia lost her last real chance at leaving this horrible place alive, just because she refused to leave him behind.
'Why do you have to be so goddamn noble!? Why can't you do the selfish thing for once and save yourself!?'
Out of the corner of his eye, Cyrus saw Jet's Croagunk tighten his grip on the crowbar and hold it up like a baseball bat. If he tried to warn Cynthia, that thing would hit him. And this time, he wouldn't be lucky. As soon as that crowbar made impact with the back of his skull, he'd either be dead or spend the remainder of his miserable days as a vegetable in some run-down shithole hospital like the one he just left.
It took a moment to work up the courage to make any noise, but all that came out was a pitiful mewl. When he tried again; he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and came to terms with the fact he was probably about to die. At least he wouldn't die a coward. "I'M FINE!" he lied, hoping she believed him. "KEEP GOING, CYNTHIA! I'M RIGHT BEHI—"
Croagunk struck hard, but aimed for his side rather than his head. The pain in Cyrus's chest was unbearable, and he once more found it near impossible to breathe. Cold air was bad. Cold air and running was an even worse combination. This went beyond that because he felt like he was suffocating. The pain alone caused him to cough, but that didn't make it any easier to breathe. If anything, it made it worse.
As his heart pounded with abandon and his breathing turned frantic, Cyrus realized what had happened. The blow had broken a few ribs, and one of them had punctured a lung. One whole side of his body wasn't getting oxygen anymore. Without emergency care, he was going to die here. All he could hope was Cynthia bought his act and changed her mind about coming to save him.
She didn't.
He could hear more than just her feet now. She was so close that he heard her Poké Balls clacking together with every step. Then…it stopped. The rubber soles of her heels squeaked on the concrete when she saw him, and then she let loose the most heart-wrenching, devastated sob he'd ever heard. She tried to say his name a few times, but all that came out was hysterical nonsense.
Cynthia reached in her pocket for a Poké Ball—probably to fight off Jet's Pokémon so they could make a run for it—but Cyrus never found out which Pokémon she planned to use. Before she could even get the ball out, Jet's Hariyama pushed his way past everyone else so he could grab her. Cynthia screamed and tried to break free, but it was no use. Hariyama wasn't very fast, but he didn't have to be.
One of Croagunk's black paws curled into Cyrus's hair and gave it a hard yank, forcing him to look at it. The blue frog grinned, stared at him with its piss-yellow eyes, and dragged him toward the stairs so he could sit upright.
"ВЫЗОВИТЕ СКОРУЮ!" one of the KSP officers shouted, pushing one of the shorter men toward a pay phone. "МЫ ХОТИМ ЕГО ДОПРОСИТЬ!" He then hurried ahead of the others with a pair of handcuffs in hand. "Вы! Мальчик! Оставайтесь на месте! Мы получим доктора!"
'You…boy…stop running…' If he wasn't about to say goodbye to this world, he'd pat himself on the back for understanding that much Kinzonian. '…doctor…' They were probably telling him to stay put so they could call an ambulance.
There was next to nothing else he could do for Cynthia, but he still had to try. He'd breathe his last down here. Of that, he was certain. Even if the KSP were being honest and took him to the hospital, Cyrus doubted he'd survive the ride. He could either be a good boy for the Kinzonian Secret Police, or he could fight these monsters one last time and pray that was enough to save his friend.
He chose the latter and called Golbat out of his ball. Even though his Pokémon glared at him, at least it wasn't attacking him on sight anymore. "Huh…h-help…" Cyrus rasped, already worried by how much effort it took to talk. Even a big gasp did nothing to bring the much needed oxygen to his body. His fingertips were turning blue and numb.
"Bat?" Seeing his trainer this badly roughed up invoked some empathy from Golbat. He stepped closer, not sure what Cyrus wanted him to do.
Since talking was becoming increasingly difficult, Cyrus pointed toward the Croagunk. Golbat took the hint and hit the other Pokémon with a Wing Attack, knocking it out instantly. He couldn't exactly tell Golbat he'd done a good job without losing more air, so he gave the Pokémon a thumbs up instead.
Next, he pointed to the hood of his coat and pointed upward with his good arm. 'Help me up,' in other words. Golbat flew over to him, chomped down on the fabric, and helped the boy get back on his feet. It was the first time Cyrus had managed to stand upright since he fell down the stairs. To his relief, his ankles were fine. In fact, nothing in his legs seemed to be broken. His arm and chest had taken the brunt of the abuse.
'Okay…I can't run, but I can walk! And that Hariyama isn't very fast…' He still felt dizzy and needed to steady himself with his good arm. At least he could keep himself stable enough to point in the direction of Hariyama's heavy footsteps and Cynthia's screams. "Heeeeeeehlp…huuuur…"
Golbat screeched at that command not out of anger toward his human, but fear for what could happen to the other human. Cynthia had taken good care of him while Cyrus was hurt. In the end, Cyrus left the hospital and got better. It stood to Golbat's reasoning that he could do it again. If he left Cyrus, maybe he'd be okay. He didn't know what was happening to Cynthia, but she needed him.
The Pokémon flew deeper into the subway, screeching and making noise so Cyrus could follow him. 'Yeah, I know. I'm going as fast as I can!'
His legs were falling asleep. By the time Cyrus made it to the end of one corridor, he couldn't feel his toes anymore. By the next one, he was stumbling because his feet didn't want to cooperate. His ankles were going stiff and everything below his knees felt twice as heavy. In the distance and growing ever nearer were those police officers, once again saying those three words: you. Boy. Stop.
Following the sound of Golbat's voice made sense, but then he passed Jet's Hariyama in the hall. The Pokémon's hands were empty and shaking. It didn't make eye contact with Cyrus, nor did it go near him. All it did was grunt a couple of times and stomp off. Maybe Cyrus was imagining things, but the Hariyama's face appeared to be coated in sweat. The last thing he saw the creature do was punch a wall and make a weird crying noise.
"GOLBAT?!" Cynthia called out. "OVER HERE, BUDDY! I COULD REALLY USE SOME HELP RIGHT ABOUT NOW!"
She didn't realize how true that statement actually was. This was the platform for the Kalium-to-Hydrargyrum train. Assuming the post-curfew schedule ran in the same increments as the pre-curfew schedule, a train would dock at the station in less than two minutes.
Hoping to spot his friend's location, Cyrus frantically looked around the station. It appeared to be vacant, but then he saw something right where the station met the subterranean tunnel. Golbat was trying to pull something out of the dark: something much too heavy for a Pokémon his size to manage alone.
'Cynthia!'
Even though his feet felt like a pair of pincushions, Cyrus stumbled over there as fast as he could. His thighs and back were going numb and it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. It would take everything he had to make it over there in time, but Cynthia's only hope of getting out involved having someone else pull her out. That, he could still do.
Even though it hurt like hell, he clapped his hands together to let Golbat know he was here. The big bat had never looked happier to see him.
"Cyrus? Is that you!?" Cynthia asked worriedly. She jumped up and down a couple of times, just to make sure. When she saw her bloodied and battered friend shambling toward her like a zombie, she gasped. "Oh my Arceus, Cyrus! You're—"
He fell over and landed on his knees. Normally, that action would have hurt; but he'd stopped feeling his legs thirty seconds ago. As his breathing devolved into nothing but ragged wheezes and strained gasps, he held out his good arm and mouthed three words to her: "Take it. Climb!"
There was some initial protest in her steely gray eyes, and Cyrus understood why. She probably didn't want to hurt him, especially since he looked so rough. Once it finally dawned on Cynthia that she was in no position to turn down free help, she muttered a quick apology and hurriedly removed her gloves. She tossed them onto the platform and placed her bare hands on her friend's good arm. "Try not to let me pull you down."
All he could do was wheeze, groan, and give her a weak smile to show he understood. And just to be additional support, Golbat latched onto Cynthia's coat and began flapping his wings. He couldn't lift her on his own, but maybe the extra effort would make it easier to climb upward.
"I'll try to be gentle. Tell me if I'm not."
She wasn't. The more the girl tugged and pulled, the more ribs Cyrus felt crack in his chest. His lungs felt like two deflated balloons and his poor heart was on the verge of giving up. As the numbness spread to his stomach, something much worse than his personal suffering registered with his failing nerves.
Not only did he hear and feel the train's vibrations; but he saw a faint light growing brighter with each passing moment. They didn't have minutes anymore. They barely had seconds.
He wheezed a bewildered plea for Cynthia to stop fucking around and hurry up. This wasn't funny. The terrified look on her face made it all too apparent that she agreed; but she couldn't climb any faster without potentially killing him. The only way this would go faster would be if he offered his broken arm, too.
'Screw it. There's no way I'm surviving this, anyway.'
It took every last ounce of willpower to fight his body's pleas for self-preservation, but Cyrus managed to extend his broken arm. Cynthia grabbed hold of it and climbed as fast as she could. "Pull me," she pleaded. "Can you do that!? If you can, you'll—"
The impact was instantaneous, but it still took Cyrus several seconds to process what had happened. One moment, he had his friend by her hands. The next, all he had were her hands. They were still warm and clutching onto him tightly, but Cynthia Shirona was no longer attached to them.
The train made a horrible noise as it came to a halt: like a large car making impact with a wild Stantler. The doors opened and the intercom happily announced in Jet's voice that Train F—Kalium City to Hydrargyrum City—had arrived at the station. Passengers had 90 seconds to find a seat and were reminded to please save the priority seats for small children, pregnant women, the elderly, and the infirm.
Realizing that he may have hit something, the train's conductor slowly backed up. That only made even more noises: an awful squelching sound. When the front of the train was visible again, it was covered in red mist. Everything was so badly mangled that it was next to impossible to tell what viscera used to be Cynthia and what used to be Golbat. The only identifiable things were a piece of Golbat's wing and Cynthia's blood-soaked blonde hair.
Cyrus wanted to scream, but he had finally run out of air. The KSP officers surrounded the platform and began barking more orders in their mother tongue, but it may as well have been white noise.
All he could focus on were those hands…