Just then the door leading to the next train car creaked open. Standing in the doorway is a tall and broad man in a long black coat; a pair of white rectangle framed swirl glasses resting across his crooked nose. This man is known only as 'Wacko' by the few whom survived close encounters with him. Wacko steps forward into the train cabin; his boots landing with heavy booms as he passes the pregnant woman and the little girl. The observant eye would see the dark blotches of dried blood upon his hands and the fresh streak trickling down the chin of his stone cold face. He takes a seat at the far end of the cabin, in a seat that permits him a view of the other two passengers.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Which one, which one?</span>thinks Wacko as the corner of his mouth begins to quiver...