We were exhausted as the sun peaked over the horizon. It felt like we had been walking for ages, but we had more confidence knowing that we were going in the right direction. At least generally. I haven't really talked since we had left the settlement; Sam was still weighing on my mind. Any small talk attempt by Dr. Cooper just seemed futile as I stared down at the ground.

Eventually, we were able to make it out of the woods and walked down the cracked asphalt. At least the apocalypse didn't change the road conditions in northern New England. The unmistakable twang of salt in the air was growing stronger; the smell of the Atlantic. Dr. Cooper took small sips of his water bottle and short peaks at the compass.

We finally reached the Piscataqua River Bridge. The large green steel stretched across the river the divided New Hampshire and Maine. The road had a few cars on it, and many of them were left in their original spots. The water below glistened in the sunlight, and the sound of the water was deceptively peaceful. Off to the side of the room stood a green sign with big bold letters...

Welcome to Maine
Vacationland

I stopped in my tracks. It felt like an invisible magical border was in front of me; the world alien in its silence.

"We're in your territory now," Cooper said to me. I nodded half heartedly.

"This is all bit more south than I am," I responded before starting to walk again. We reached the big city of Kittery, I've never liked this town, it's too busy during the summer, and too dead for the rest of the year.

While this was the off-season, and I should be used to seeing fewer people, there was absolutely no one. My stomach tightened as we walked through the empty streets. It didn't look like anything violent happened. It didn't look like anything happened at all. It was as if everyone had just disappeared.

"Where is everyone?" I asked Cooper.

"You're asking me?" He responded back, "I don't like the look of this."

I nodded in agreement, and we continued down the main road.

"We can follow the coastline to Portland, and then go north following interstate 295 and interstate 95 until we reach a more familiar area," I suggested, "Where are you going to go?"

"I'm really not sure. I always thought I'd be someone who would die within a few days, but here we are," he started, "I would try to find my husband, but..."

"But?" I urged him to go on.

"He had MS, and he was going downhill for a while now. We had an in home aid for him daily, but without her, he isn't able to get out of bed himself." His jaw tightened as he told me.

"I'm so sorry, Cooper," I reassured him.

"When your partner has a terminal disease, you start to already mourn them. Before he got bad, we went around the world one last time, and I brought him to all his favorite places. It was like his going away party. I wish I felt sadder than I do, but I feel almost relieved," his voice croaked a little, "I feel guilty; if I'm not sad, did I not care about him?"

I pondered his question, "I think you're just relieved his suffering is over. Tell me about him, what was his like when you two were young?"

"He was born in southern Vermont and was an artist. He always saw potential and beauty in things. He liked to oil paint. We actually met at an art exhibit he was doing in Baltimore in the 80s," he told me.

We continued to walk further in the city. The further we got into Kittery, the more I was able to see the events that had unfolded. The cars lined the streets like a procession, and many of the doors had been left open; their occupants had long since fled. I took a deep breath, and my lungs filled with the familiar salt air. I looked around, Dr. Cooper trailed a few pages behind me, and seagulls flew overhead.

"Keep an eye out for anything that we can use," I turned to Dr. Cooper, my voice low.

"Not sure how much is left, this whole place looks... empty," he said to me. I nodded in agreement.

We continued to walk through, and I saw what I thought was movement behind some of the curtains in the larger homes. Makeshift varacades were enacted with signs warning people to stay out.

"Charming," Dr. Cooper said dryly.

We eventually made our way to this playground; the equipment faded in the sunlight. I found the swing set and sat in one of the swings, using my legs to rock myself back and forth gently.

"Do you think there's anyone left that's not... you know... dangerous?" I asked Cooper.

"If they are, they're definitely keeping their head down," he shrugged.

The distant sound of metal and against metal made us freeze. My heart skipped a beat, and Dr. Cooper froze in place. I motioned for him to stay quiet.

"Let's move," I got up from the swing set, and we continued onward.

As we left the city, the trees thickened, and I glanced back once again before leaving. I tried to imagine the once bustling tourist town that now laid empty, but I felt like I couldn't. The warmth of the town had been replaced by feelings of desolation and anxiety.

The sun was beginning to set, so I know we would eventually have to camp somewhere, but I wanted to make as much ground as we could before that would happen. This area is populated enough that I'm not too worried about having to sleep out in the woods. I adjusted my pack on my shoulders, and I looked out at the bay and the horizon; Dr. Cooper continued to lead the way with his compass.

It felt like every branch crackling or any rustle in the leaves left us feeling anxious. The silence wasn't helping.

"I don't like how silent it is," Dr. Cooper murmered.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," I responded.

We continued down the asphalt, the sky slowly getting darker. A soft breeze brought the faint smell of smoke, and it made me stop in my tracks.

"Do you smell that?" I asked him.

"Yeah... smoke. Could be a campfire," Dr. Cooper suggested.

I glanced around, trying to find the source of the smoke; the forest was dark. We continued on, the path widening, and the moonlight lighting the uneven ground in front of us. That's when we heard it - the faint rhythmic rumbling beneath our feet. I yelped as I felt the vibrations.

"Do you feel that?" My voice was tense.

"Yeah, it's faint but steady," He said, looking down at the ground, "What do you think it is?"

Before I could answer, a sound followed. A distant rumble. It wasn't thunder, or wind, anything like that. It was mechanical.

My pulse quickened, "That's not possible."

The sound continued to grow, accompanied by metal screeching, like steel against steel. I grabbed Coopers' arm, and I pulled him into the trees. The sound grew louder and reverberated in the forest. It was unmistakable now: the rhythmic chugging of an engine and the steady cadence of something moving over steel tracks.

"Is that a train?" I asked while turning to look at Dr. Cooper. His eyes widened, and he looked at me. It must be something else. The blackout wiped out everything: cars, planes, generators. How is a train still functioning?

The piercing wailing of a steam whistle cut through my thoughts, and I saw it. I flinched and covered my ears. A massive black shape emerged from the darkness, and a hurricane lamp was attached to the front, which provided a faint glow to the front.

The Waterville 470

I could recognize that ancient steam train anywhere. The train was an imposing sight on front of me. Sam was really interested in old trains like this, I remember when we went up to see the Ghost Trains up by Eagle Lake. He talked about it for months before we were able to get up there. His absence continues to weigh on me like a rock strapped to my chest.

We watched in stunned silence as the train moved past, it's whistle blew one more time as if it was announcing its presence to the empty world.

"What just happened?" Cooper chuckled in disbelief, "Did that really just happen?"

"I don't know how... but I think it did," I responded.

Cooper stood up, brushing the dirt off of his knees, "We need to find out where that train is going."