[SYSTEM RECORD: FILE #020]Subject: Biological Contamination / Asset OverlapLocation: Ghost Ship, Cabin 01 (Approaching Sorting Center)Time: 07:18 AM

  [Investigator's Record]

  The corpse's neck snapped upward.

  Dry, carbonized joints popped. The entity's jaw unhinged, revealing a hollow throat glowing with the same furnace-orange embers as the Conductor. Slowly, two blackened, fused hands raised toward my dangling rubber boots.

  It was going to grab my ankles.

  If it pulled, the remaining tendons in my left shoulder would tear completely. I would fall directly into the purge zone.

  I couldn't kick it. The physical recoil of a downward strike would swing my center of gravity backward, tearing my hooked left bicep completely off the steel rail.

  My blood was an unhandled exception. I needed a system overwrite.

  I grabbed the frayed strap with my bloody right hand. I didn't have the leverage to unloop it. Bracing my core, I gripped the strap and yanked violently outward, away from my chest. The rotted canvas snapped under the sudden tension.

  I let gravity do the work.

  The stiff, baked canvas shell plummeted.

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  It slammed squarely into the corpse's upturned face, driving the entity's skull violently back against the headrest. The heavy bag settled over the corpse's chest and lap, completely covering the drop of fresh blood.

  The entity's glowing throat choked on the canvas. The blackened hands froze inches from my boots.

  At the far end of the aisle, the LED board erupted in a burst of static, interrupting the passenger manifest.

  [COLLISION DETECTED: SEAT 14-B][RESOLVING ASSET OVERLAP...][AUTHORIZED CARRY-ON DETECTED.][OVERRIDE ACCEPTED. BIOLOGICAL CONTAMINANT OBSCURED.]

  The glowing embers inside the corpse's throat died out. The jaw snapped shut beneath the heavy fabric. The entity went completely rigid, returning to its dormant state, pinned beneath the approved luggage.

  I forced a sharp exhale through my nose, fighting the burning agony in my left shoulder.

  I reached out with my bleeding right hand, gripping the cold steel rail directly instead of the swinging handle to share a fraction of the weight. I didn't unhook my left elbow. I couldn't. Instead, gritting my teeth against the blinding pain, I forced the hooked joint to slide forward along the metal pipe, inch by agonizing inch, the friction burning through my sleeve.

  Five feet. Three feet.

  I reached the end of the line.

  I hung directly above the vestibule separating Cabin 01 from Cabin 00. Directly in front of me was the heavy metal door leading to the locomotive.

  Standing directly in front of that door was the Conductor. His massive, heat-radiating back faced me, leaving a mere twelve-inch gap of floor space directly beneath my dangling boots—sandwiched right between his searing heels and the Bride's seat.

  And sitting in the last passenger seat to my right, less than an arm's length from my dangling body, was the Bride. The oppressive smell of rotting lilies and old formaldehyde wafted from her crimson veil.

  The steel rails ended here.

  I had to drop down.