Sitting in safety now and thinking back to that night, my butt cheeks pucker thinking about what I did next and how stupidly risky it was. There was no other way that I can think of, even now in the light of day, other than what I did, but it had to be done.
Before opening that door to the cabin full of zoms, I trotted back to the cab of my train. I looked at the panel and saw the lights that had lit up denoting the carriages of the extended train. I counted back: 1. the car my engine was a part of, 2. the passenger carriage I brought with me, 3. a car full of undead, 4. guns and supplies, 5. food, 6. woman, children and Adam, 7. more woman and children, 8. morons and murderers. The 9th cab didn’t show on the dashboard readout, presumably on different electrics, and nor did the two locos at the other end.
I pressed the door unlock button for carriages two, six and seven. I dropped everything I had in the cab and grabbed my rebar. That was all I had to complete the next hair raising part of the mission.
Walking with purpose, I strode through the carriages, pausing to hit the door open button on the side of my passenger car. They opened with a whoosh to the cool night air. The sound of crickets and the purr of my engine coming in with a tang of diesel fumes. I marched to the back door of the carriage and opened the door to the dead.