This wasn't a random murder. This was a message.
A young man named Timmy has tried to take more than his share. The Enforcers—the brutal guards from the front—arrive. They are clean, armored, and alien. Their leader, a cold-eyed man with a shaved head, doesn't speak. He just watches as his men pull Timmy into the darkness of the junction.
The day begins, as always, with a lie. A cheerful, tinny announcement from Mr. Wilford, the train’s enigmatic creator, promises "eternal balance." Then, the rations come: the "protein blocks," black, rubbery, and tasting of everything but food. A child, six-year-old Miles, tries to trade his dessert—a single hard candy—for an extra block. The transaction is crisp, desperate. You can see the hunger in the boy’s trembling fingers.
"Layton," she whispers, the music swallowing the words. "The front isn't sending a message. We are. We know who killed Sean. And we know who's going to kill the next one."