The wind that swept across the French coast was colder than any of them expected
They had been walking for almost an hour since crawling out of the wrecked tunnel, dazed and limping, when Luna spotted something ahead on the track: an old rail handcar. It sat crooked on the rails, weather-beaten and streaked with rust, but still intact.
Mike let out a shaky laugh. "You've got to be kidding me. France still runs on cartoons."
Kazuma crouched beside it, running a hand along the levers. "Manual pump drive. Bearings are clean. It'll move."
Leina raised an eyebrow. "Move? As in… ride it?"
Dan smirked. "Congratulations, everyone. We've officially downgraded from a steel monster to a gym membership."
Kazuma stood and nodded once. "It's motion. That's enough."
They gathered what little had survived the derailment: the heater, a few dented cans of food, the revolver with its six bullets, and Luna's satchel of notes. Everything else was gone.
Kazuma and Mike took the pumping levers first. The rhythmic clack-clack of metal filled the air as the handcar creaked forward along the track. The landscape rolled by in waves of green—gentle hills scattered with broken fences and the faint shimmer of the sea behind them. It was eerily beautiful.
Leina watched the tunnel fade behind them. "You think they'll follow us?"
Dan didn't turn around. "If they do, they'll have to swim. And I doubt even zombies can hold their breath that long."
Luna hugged her knees, staring at the horizon. "I'm not so sure anymore."
Kazuma said nothing. His eyes stayed fixed on the rails ahead.
By late afternoon, the line curved inland toward a forgotten cluster of warehouses. A sign hung crooked above a half-collapsed platform, its paint faded almost to nothing: Gare de Coquelles.
Mike jumped off as they slowed. "Well, it's not on fire. That's already a win."
Kazuma scanned the yard. "This was a Channel maintenance depot. There might be usable equipment."
He was right. Behind the platform, half-sunk in weeds, stood a Telescopic Railway Locomotive Crane—massive, its arm frozen mid-lift like a sleeping giant.
Leina's eyes widened. "We could move wrecks with that thing!"
Dan whistled. "A mecha for rail nerds. I can respect that."
Kazuma climbed into the cab, checking gauges and lines. "Hydraulics intact. No fuel."
Luna peered up at him. "Wouldn't mechanics keep fuel nearby?"
Kazuma nodded. "Then that's what we find next."
They split into pairs to search the abandoned station. Mike and Leina took the main office—paperwork scattered across the floor, lockers split open, a vending machine long shattered.
Mike nudged a broken chair aside. "Feels weird being back in civilization, even if it's dead."
Leina picked through the debris. "You think people left in a hurry?"
He looked around at the overturned desks and shattered windows. "Either that, or they didn't leave at all."
She glanced at him. "You always joke when you're scared?"
Mike smiled faintly. "Only when I'm right."
Behind the yard, Kazuma and Luna searched the maintenance sheds. The air inside was thick with oil and mildew. Luna stopped at a door marked RÉSERVE DE CARBURANT.
"Kaz," she whispered.
He tested the handle—jammed. "Stand back."
Two kicks and the latch gave way. The smell of diesel hit them instantly. Inside were barrels—six of them, dented but sealed.
Luna's face lit up. "It's still good!"
Kazuma's reply was calm but certain. "Then we siphon what we can. Dan, bring the hand pump."
Minutes later, the metallic trickle of fuel into a jerrycan echoed through the yard. The sound was almost like a music.
Mike grinned when he saw them hauling it back. "Looks like France runs on miracles."
They poured the fuel into the crane's tank. Kazuma primed the ignition. The machine coughed, sputtered—then roared awake in a plume of black smoke.
Leina clapped, laughing with relief. "You actually did it!"
Kazuma's voice was steady, but his eyes softened. "We can move any car we find on this line now."
Dan shaded his eyes toward the east. "Next station's about five kilometers. Maybe we'll find sleeping cars, even ones with working plumbing."
Mike groaned. "I'd kill for a working toilet."
Luna blinked. "That's a worrying choice of words, considering the apocalypse."
Leina chuckled. "Welcome to Mike's humor. It's incurable."
They set up camp near the yard that night, the crane towering above them like a sentinel. The heater hissed softly as it warmed a thin stew of beans and vegetables. The air smelled of diesel and salt.
Luna sat near the flame, sketching the crane in her notebook. "It's strange," she said quietly. "Even after everything, this feels like rebuilding."
Leina smiled. "Because it is."
Mike lay on his back, staring at the stars. "Back to basics. A handcar, a crane, and six bullets. The dream team."
Dan smirked. "You forgot the genius, the athlete, the machine whisperer, and the socially allergic."
Luna blinked. "That's… surprisingly accurate."
Kazuma stirred the stew. "Labels won't keep us alive. Work will."
But even he sounded tired, well Kazuma too just human.
The night deepened, the waves murmuring somewhere beyond the hills. They ate in quiet contentment, not out of hunger but gratitude.
For the first time since London burned, they weren't just surviving.
And for one brief, fragile night, the world felt like it might forgive them for still being alive.