Chapter 2 - The Severed Line
The silence in the vestibule was shattered by the rhythmic, grinding screech of the train wheels below us.
Marcus stared at the screen, his mouth opening and closing without a sound.
"That's impossible," Marcus finally stammered.
"The safety protocols are hardwired into the mainframe."
I pulled my heavy flashlight from my utility bag and turned it on.
"Nothing is impossible if you have administrative access to the network," I said.
Ethan let out a harsh, dismissive laugh.
"Are you honestly suggesting someone hacked a commuter train?" Ethan asked.
I ignored him and knelt on the floor plates.
"Marcus, help me lift this inspection hatch," I ordered.
Marcus grabbed the recessed handle, and together we hauled the heavy steel grate aside.
A blast of blistering hot air hit my face, carrying the toxic scent of burning rubber and melting copper.
I shined my flashlight down into the dark, roaring undercarriage of the train.
Thick hydraulic lines ran parallel to the steel tracks blurring past us at eighty miles per hour.
I traced the primary cooling line until my light hit a section near the coupling mechanism.
The thick, reinforced steel-braided hose was severed completely in half.
Fluid was spraying violently onto the red-hot brake calipers.
"Look at the cut," I yelled over the deafening noise.
Marcus leaned over my shoulder, squinting into the blinding beam of my flashlight.
The edge of the severed hose wasn't frayed or torn by debris.
It was perfectly smooth, melted at the edges with surgical precision.
"That looks like a thermal laser cut," Marcus yelled back, his voice trembling.
I nodded and pulled myself back up from the floorboards.
"Someone went under this train at the last station stop and sliced the line," I said.
Ethan’s face finally lost its arrogant smirk.
"Stop the train," Ethan demanded, looking at Marcus.
"Pull the emergency brake right now."
Marcus shook his head wildly.
"I can't!" Marcus shouted.
"The digital lockout she just found disabled the emergency pneumatic release."
Sloane stepped forward, her perfectly manicured hands trembling as she clutched her expensive purse.
"What does that mean?" Sloane asked, her voice cracking.
I looked at the woman who had taken my seat, and then at the husband who had given it to her.
"It means we are currently trapped on an eighty-ton bullet that has no brakes."
I looked back at the diagnostic screen, watching a new red warning box appear.
The warning indicated a catastrophic pressure failure in the rear passenger cars.
I typed frantically, trying to isolate the compromised cars from the rest of the train.
May you like
The keyboard suddenly locked up, completely rejecting my commands.
A countdown timer appeared in the center of the screen, starting at exactly twenty minutes.
