Dawn crept over the horizon like a slow exhale.
The fires of London were only a faint glow now, swallowed by fog and distance. The train sat still at Eastline Station ... a battered titan cooling in the chill morning air, its hull streaked with soot and fresh welds that caught the first light like scars made of silver.
For the first time in weeks, the survivors could hear the wind again.
It carried the smell of wet grass and rust, mixing with diesel and smoke. Somewhere beyond the mist, birds tried to sing ... thin, uncertain sounds that barely reached above the quiet hum of cooling metal.
Kazuma was already awake, walking the length of the train with his notebook in hand. He moved with the same mechanical precision that had carried them through the night, eyes tracing the details of every plate and coupling. The man didn't know how to rest; motion was the only thing keeping his mind from collapsing inward.
Mike emerged from the sleeping car behind him, yawning like a bear. "You're doing a checklist already? We just pulled a miracle through a collapsing city."
Kazuma didn't look up. "Which means today exists on borrowed time. Borrowed things must be used efficiently."
Mike smirked. "You and your efficiency. Ever thought of taking a day off?"
"Maintenance doesn't take days off," Kazuma said, crouching to inspect the undercarriage.
"Neither do crazy people," Mike muttered, rubbing his neck. "Guess that makes us even."
Leina stepped out next, wrapped in her jacket, hair messy and eyes tired. She handed Kazuma a cup of lukewarm tea from the dented kettle they'd salvaged. "You two arguing already? The sun's barely up."
"We're not arguing," Mike said. "We're… bonding aggressively."
She rolled her eyes. "Well, keep it down. Some of us are pretending we slept."From the engine car, Luna's soft voice called out, "Kazuma, I've run diagnostics from the night run. The coupling stress nearly exceeded tolerance during the bridge impact."
Kazuma straightened, taking the papers she held out. Her hands trembled slightly, but her expression stayed steady.He studied the notes in silence, then gave a single approving nod. "Good work. We'll reinforce the hitch before departure."
Luna blinked, almost startled by the praise. "You mean..."
"Yes," he interrupted gently. "It'll hold."
Leina raised an eyebrow. "Was that… optimism?"
Mike chuckled. "Nah. Just mechanical confidence disguised as human emotion."
They all laughed ... tired, brittle laughter that somehow felt good. It wasn't joy, but it was close enough to remember what it used to feel like.
By mid-morning, the group was moving with quiet rhythm.
The clang of wrenches, the hiss of welding torches, the murmur of short arguments about fuel efficiency ... all of it blended into a kind of living heartbeat around the train. They stripped away bent plating, patched the coolant lines, and checked the reactor's intake pressure. Every spark and hammer strike was a declaration that they were still here ... that the world hadn't taken everything yet.
When Mike looked up from prying a rusted panel loose, the sunlight caught on the countryside beyond Eastline.
The fields were empty but green ... faint signs of life clinging to a dead world.
He stared at it for a long time, then said quietly, "We really made it out, huh?"
Kazuma's voice came from behind him, calm but distant. "For now."