Despite the likelihood that doing so may draw the attention of this...hideousness, Erik calls out to alert the man closest to it, his voice lent an artificial quality through the respirator. "Malfoy? It's coming out..." Whatever the hell it is. Dear god, how ugly is this thing.

At the same time, he begins the customary cautious backing-off, skimming the soles of his boots across the ground to avoid a misstep—the last thing he needs is to go ass over teakettle over here—and reaching back with one arm as though to feel for any objects that may come up behind him. The group's truck is not in collision range, however, and with nothing else but the train and the aberration nearby...

His fingers spread in their glove; the bag in the truck bed stirs discreetly.