The Train of the Dead

Chapter Eleven

A scream escaped Michael's mouth. He jumped backwards, his heart pounding. He wasn't sure he had seen correctly – but now that he had, he couldn't tear his gaze away from it.

It was half-buried in the dirt, frail and bony. The sickly, greying flesh was cracked and flaking in some places, a strip of pale skin hanging off the lower area. A small foot was weakly attached to the end of the long, thin appendage, hanging to the opposite side in an awkward position. Missing a few toes, and almost all of the nails. It lacked the veins, wrinkles, or body hair of a natural, alive human leg. But it also lacked the artificial shine or smoothness of a Halloween prop. There was no doubt that it had once belonged to a person.

Michael felt bile rising in his mouth. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the sickening sight. Nausea overtook him, causing a disgusted groan to escape his mouth.

"Michael! What's taking so long?" Riku called. His carefree voice sounded so far away, barely registering in Michael's ears. "Are you going to get my bag, or what? You're standing right in front of it."

Michael shook his head, his voice caught in his throat. He wanted to point to what he had seen, but felt himself frozen to the spot. Riku gazed in the direction that Michael was staring at with confusion – and then, an identical look of shock crossed his face. He could tell that Riku had seen it.

He looked confused at first, walking forward to get a better look. Michael winced at the sound of his footsteps as he crossed the platform to the dirt patch at the end. He was tempted to warn him to stay away, but he remained silent. Maybe he was mistaken. Maybe Riku would see that it was something completely normal, not a severed human leg. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him.

His hopes were dashed as he heard Riku's yell of shock. His face paled as he stared down at the remains of the disembodied limb, the flesh losing color and half of the upper thigh buried into the dirt. But he didn't look as nauseous or terrified as Michael felt. Riku was braver than him. Or perhaps more foolish. Instead, he bent down to brush some of the dirt away.

Michael tried to tear his gaze away, but found that he couldn't. Then he immediately regretted it. He felt more bile rise as Riku uncovered more of the limb. There was a torn, fraying piece of dark clothing attached to the upper leg, stained with dried blood. But nothing attached to it. No upper body, no torso. Just a single frail, disembodied leg.

Riku kept clearing away more of the dirt, even as his face paled and shock overtook his previously calm features. His curiosity and bravado clearly overtook his common sense. Michael wanted to yell at him to stop and maybe call him an idiot, but he couldn't get his voice to work.

He felt like he was going to throw up as more disembodied legs revealed themselves beneath the dirt. Some smaller and shorter, others larger and bulkier. The smallest, frailest that looked like they could belong to a child were the most disturbing. Some had bloodied or ragged remnants of clothing attached to them. Others had less of the leg showing, sliced above or even below the knees.

A disturbing amount even had both of the legs together, attached to the bottom of what was once a torso. As if sliced off from above a person's waist. Those ones sickened Michael the most. He leaned over, resisting the urge to heave as nausea rose within his throat. He could taste bile at the back of his mouth, his eyes filling with tears of disgust and terror. And sadness.

All of those grotesque limbs had belonged to people once. People who had walked and lived, and maybe even wandered around near the tracks. And now, they were gone. Buried near the railroad, so close to the unsuspecting passengers. Each limb contained the sickly, lifeless pallor of a corpse.

It's a graveyard, Michael thought, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to prevent the wave of nausea. A graveyard of victims.