Ethan ran a hand through his damp hair. “So we stall them—what happens if they break through?” Martin’s jaw tightened as he looked back at the door. “We deal with that if it happens. For now, the train’s moving too fast. We need to get back to the controls.”
The two hurried toward the control room, their boots echoing in the confined corridor. Martin slid into his seat and scanned the instruments. The train was accelerating dangerously as it neared a sharp bank. He grabbed the throttle, reducing speed, but the deceleration was sluggish. “We need all the brakes,” he muttered.