The men hesitated, sweat streaking their faces under the midday sun. One of them straightened, panting. “We’re just scaring it more,” he said. “Maybe we need to change tactics.” Ethan glanced around helplessly. A few passengers had climbed out of the train cars to watch, murmuring to each other. Someone held up a phone, recording. The whole platform buzzed with restless energy.
“Anyone have food?” Ethan asked suddenly. “Something it might come to?” A man near the benches raised his hand. “My lunch,” he said, holding up a paper bag. “Perfect. Bring it here.” Ethan tore off a piece of bread and crouched, holding it out. “Hey, buddy… look here. See this? C’mon.” His voice was gentle, coaxing, hopeful.