My Sniper System in a Zombie Apocalypse World-Chapter 100: Cast Out

Moments later, the squad commander stood at attention before their superior.

"Sergeant Thomas, take your squad and check it out." their superior ordered.

"Yes, sir," Thomas said, saluting sharply. He gathered his squad and moved toward the scene to check on Jaren.

The squad moved quickly, weapons raised. As they reached the car, a single infected child darted toward them with unnatural speed. In a coordinated volley, the nine soldiers took it down instantly, leaving it no chance to escape.

"Alpha, proceed with caution," Thomas called, signaling his team forward.

He led them into the room where the children had been. What he saw made his stomach twist. His friend had turned, hunched over the corpses of the other infected kids, devouring them with terrifying speed.

"Shit... Jaren," Thomas cursed under his breath. The Jaren they knew was gone; in his place was a frenzied, infected soldier, lunging with unnatural speed. Thomas barely had time to react. He squeezed the trigger, the rifle cracking, and the transformed soldier collapsed immediately.

"FUCK!" Thomas cursed, breathing hard. He steadied himself and keyed the comms.

"Sir... Jaren’s dead. We’ve neutralized two infected and one more that we took out," he reported.

"Search the area. Make sure there are no others, and find out how they got inside," the superior ordered.

Thomas’s squad moved through the car methodically, clearing each corner. No more infected appeared. The team exchanged uneasy glances, silently questioning how something like this could have happened aboard a secured train.

Suddenly, one of the soldiers froze, staring at the corpses of the infected kids. "Sir... these kids..." he said, voice tight. "They were some of the survivors we rescued."

Thomas spun toward him, eyes wide. "What?"

"I’m certain, Sir," the soldier continued. "I saw them just a few hours ago. They weren’t infected then."

Thomas’s stomach dropped, then keyed the comms quickly. "Sir, we just found something. Those kids, they were rescued survivors... and now they’re infected."

"What do you mean? Didn’t they pass quarantine?" his superior’s voice came back, sharp and alarmed.

"One of my men is sure, Sir. They were cleared," Thomas replied.

"You’re saying... those who cleared quarantine could still turn?"

"That’s the only explanation, Sir. We checked every corner. No infected could have gotten inside from the outside." Thomas said grimly.

A long silence fell over the comms, heavy and tense, even the superior was stunned into thought.

Finally, Thomas broke the quiet. "Sir... what are your orders?"

After a long moment, the reply came. "All survivors recently rescued from Hudson City, find them. Separate them from the rest immediately. Do it now."

"Copy, Sir," Thomas replied, as he relayed the orders and began moving his squad.

...

Meanwhile, on Car 8, where most of the survivors including Jaxon’s group had gathered, the train’s speaker system crackled to life:

"Attention. All survivors from Hudson City, proceed to Car 17. I repeat, all survivors from Hudson City, proceed to Car 17. This is a mandatory order."

"What? What’s going on?" Burgors mumbled, still chewing on a piece of steak, his brow furrowed.

Jaxon, Natasha, Elaine, and the rest of their group exchanged confused glances.

Suddenly, a squad of soldiers appeared, moving quickly toward them.

"Are you Jaxon Hawk?" one of the soldiers asked, voice sharp.

"Yes. That’s me," Jaxon replied, nodding.

"You and your group need to come with us," the soldier ordered.

"Excuse me, sir," Jaxon asked, trying to stay calm. "May I know why we’re being transferred to Car 17?"

The soldier shook his head. "It’s an order. You’ll be briefed once you arrive."

Jaxon glanced at Elaine, Elena, and the others. They returned his glance, sharing his confusion, but none of them resisted. It didn’t seem like they were in immediate danger. After all, the train’s staff had been nothing but hospitable so far.

A sudden shout broke the uneasy silence. A group of survivors from Hudson City, older men and women, were arguing with soldiers nearby.

"Why are you separating us from the others? We’re under government protection!" a man in his forties barked, his tone sharp and commanding, like a politician used to being obeyed.

"This is a mandatory order from our superiors," the soldier replied, standing his ground.

"But you promised us safety! I won’t go unless you give me a valid reason!" the man insisted. Others around him began questioning the soldiers too, voices rising, frustration and fear echoing through the car.

They had just begun to relax, finally tasting warmth and safety. Now, that security felt fragile. Being separated from the rest of the survivors made the air heavy with unease.

Jaxon tightened his fists slightly, sensing the tension building.

Thomas, standing with his soldiers, frowned deeply. "Take them away. Use force if necessary," he ordered, his voice cold and firm.

The argument escalated, led by the politician, as soldiers began grabbing the resisting survivors. The group fought back fiercely, struggling against the trained soldiers, shouts echoing through the car.

Suddenly, Thomas drew his pistol and fired a shot into the floor. The loud bang echoed through the car, freezing everyone in place.

"You all are being separated because there is a high possibility that you are infected," Thomas announced, his voice steady but grim.

"What?" the politician stammered, disbelief painting his face. His eyes widened, and around him, the other survivors began to murmur in shock.

"But... we passed quarantine!" he protested.

"It doesn’t matter anymore," Thomas replied grimly. "There are survivors from your group who turned after passing quarantine. No bites, no scratches, nothing to indicate infection. And yet, they still became infected."

A stunned silence fell over the car. Survivors exchanged nervous glances. No bite marks? If that was possible, then anyone here could be infected. Fear and doubt began to creep into every corner, unspoken but palpable.

Thomas clicked his tongue, sensing the rising tension. The laughter and relief that had filled the car disappeared instantly. This was exactly why he had hesitated to give the reason here.

"Then why are we the only ones being separated? What about the other survivors here?" the politician demanded, still trying to argue.

"Everyone else has been here for days," Thomas replied evenly. "They’re less likely to be infected."

The man opened his mouth to respond, but a survivor from another city cut in sharply.

"You all just go in there. Stay away from us."

The politician’s head snapped toward the voice and froze. The man staring back at him had a cold, unsettling expression, almost as if he had already judged them infected. Not just him, others nearby wore the same wary, unwelcoming look.

"Get out of here!" another voice shouted.

"Don’t touch us! You might infect us too!"

The whispers grew louder, echoing through the car. Fear and suspicion spread like wildfire. Jaxon’s group, and the survivors from Hudson City, suddenly felt the weight of every eye on them. They weren’t just being separated, they were being cast out.

Behind him, Jannah and Hiromi clutched his clothes tightly, their small hands trembling.

"Big Brother..." Jannah whispered, her voice barely audible, her wide eyes full of worry.

Cindy, Elaine, and her students were speechless, unsure how things had turned so quickly, from safety and relief to distrust and fear.

Jaxon’s jaw tightened as he realized how quickly the world could turn against them, even here, in what was supposed to be a safe place.