Apocalyptic Beginnings Box Set

by M. D. Massey

  He screamed and whistled and made as much noise as he could. It had the intended effect. Much of the pursuit moved in his direction, rather than try to follow Jones between the trains. Soon he was a pied piper with fifteen or twenty infected in the wake of the train. He turned around to watch the front of the flatcar.

  Victoria and Jones swapped positions, so he could help Grandma walk along. Victoria ran ahead and climbed the moving ladder and sat on the edge of the car, facing Jones. The big man picked up tiny Grandma between both arms and fast-walked until he was a few paces ahead of Victoria.

  “Oh dear!” Grandma yelped.

  Jones planted his feet and started swinging her backward, then forward, backward again, and then he swung her forward with just enough force to gingerly pass her off onto Victoria's lap.

  “No, I can't,” Grandma wailed, much too late. Victoria wrapped her arms around her.

  It appeared to be as smooth a transfer as anyone could expect at 104—if they were inclined to hitch rides on random trains in the middle of the night. Jones was tall enough and strong enough to get her up on the flat car, but he had to make sure his feet weren't caught under the train. Once Grandma was safe, he jumped back.

  “Oh, mercy me,” Grandma continued to complain. Liam hoped she hadn't been hurt but was glad it wasn't him passing her up … he thought of the wheelchair far behind.

  Jones ran ahead again and jumped up on the ladder himself, easily mounting the flat surface. From there, he was able to help a few stragglers who were unable to get on the coal car ahead of them. Several times, he leaned over and grabbed their arms and pulled them up.

  As they solidified their position on the back of the train, they rolled by the body of one of the police officers who was injured earlier in the day. As far as Liam could tell, he was the only person from their group who didn't survive this hasty exit.

  Looking backward, he had a wave of inexplicable sadness for the sick people behind them. They were normal, healthy humans only a few days ago. Each had a family and many stories to tell about who they were and what they wanted out of life. This disease, plague, whatever it was called, had brought ruin to them and made it necessary for good people to engage in horrific acts of violence. He felt sorry to be a part of that violence, sorry they were dead, but if he was true to himself, he was also very glad to have the tools and the friends to stay alive in this dark time.

  He looked at his sports watch. The glow function allowed him to see the time was 4:15 a.m.

  We survived for one more night.

  Or do I have to see the sunrise for it to count?

  15

  Slow Grind

  Liam only saw a small portion of the rail yard when they arrived from the north. Now, sitting on the train rolling through, he was able to get a sense of how big the place was. He estimated there were hundreds of cars sitting on dozens of rail lines, in a confusing jumble of single cars, strings of cars, and scattered engines.

  Many of the stationary train cars had frightened people hiding in them. As his train moved by, people sprang out and tried to jump on the one train that appeared to be going somewhere. It was still moving slowly enough that the jump wasn't excessively dangerous, but with zombies in the wake, you didn't want to blow your chances. Most made it on the first attempt, but a few people tried and failed on cars ahead of Liam and thus ended up on the final one with him. One man—possibly a little tipsy from drugs or alcohol—blew his chance on every ladder he encountered and was only saved because Jones pulled him up at the very end of the last car while arms from the dark reached for him.

  By the time they'd left the yard, they had perhaps twenty new people on the last car.

  Once the excitement was over, he checked on Grandma. She sat with her back against a tire of one of the tractor-trailers parked with them. Victoria sat next to her. There was just enough light to identify them.

  “You two look comfortable,” he said with a smile. “I'm sorry I lost your chair. It was a lot heavier than I predicted.”

  “I'm thankful you thought to get me up here with Jones' help. That was worse than Mr. Toad's Wild Ride.” She giggled a bit. “I can't believe I did that! The ladies in my quilting group would think I’ve gone mad.”

  Victoria smiled at him, as best she could, given the state of her facial injuries.

  “Why are you so happy?” Liam inquired.

  “Well it isn't because of what you screamed back there,” she said with humorous sarcasm. “No, if I'm smiling it's because you got us out of another tough spot. By my count, that makes, ohhh, about 100 times you've saved my life in the past two days. Thank you.”

  “Well, I got us into the mess, so I had to get us out, too.” He tried to laugh it off.

  “So where do you think we're going?” she replied, more seriously.

  “There are tracks down this bank of the Mississippi River all the way through the suburbs of St. Louis. I think they even go close to my house. Wouldn't that make things simple?”

  “But we aren't moving very fast.”

  “True. It beats walking, though!” There were a couple of disturbing things toward the front of the train. First, something up there was throwing sparks in all directions on the train tracks. Second, whatever caused those sparks also caused a horrific grinding and screeching sound. Taken together, it appeared the train was pushing a rolling lightning-and-thunder show.

  Still, they were moving. They were safe for the moment. He cautiously imagined things finally looked brighter.

  Jones came up next to him. “Thanks for drawing those zombies off me,” Jones said. “That was some quick thinking.”

  “Call it even for your help getting my Grandma to safety. Where do you think this train will take us?”

  “Dunno. I live and patrol north of here, so I'm not familiar with the part of town we're in now, or where we might go. I've always heard it was a safer beat down here south of St. Louis, but looking at it now, I'm not so sure.”

  Liam didn't know the big man well enough to judge if he was joshing him. “I do wish we could communicate with the engineer. We could ask him,” he suggested.

  Jones smiled in the moonlight, then pulled out his radio. “Jones here. Anyone have any idea where this engine is pulling us? Over.”

  They waited for a few minutes and only heard one curt response of “No idea.”

  “Not very talkative tonight,” Liam offered.

  “No, we got beat up pretty bad. Losing the captain like that. Losing all the others. Rough day.”

  The conversation died, and Liam had nothing to add, so he excused himself to be alone for a little bit. He took a seat well away from the car's edge and watched the world go by. In the dark, it was difficult to see landmarks or guess where they were, but he had no illusions they had gone very far. In fact, they were going so slow, many of the zombies trailed behind them now. Others came out of the darkness from the city-side of the tracks and often tried to grab for the train only to find themselves bounced along until it went by. A few fell between the train cars, and one or two got sliced in half when they were run over.

  They kept coming out of the darkness.

  There may have been the faintest hint of the approaching dawn, but it could have been his mind playing tricks on him; he wanted the night to end so badly. The train ride was nice but being surrounded by moaning terrors was enough to drive a person mad. Not knowing where he was going was similarly stressful. He imagined it was safer to the south, but what did he know? Maybe it was way worse.

  For a few more minutes, he was lost in thought, wondering how much longer he could stay awake under such conditions. He felt himself nodding and wasn't going to fight it. He vaguely wondered if he'd have another vision of Victoria, but he quickly shut that out. The adrenaline of the jump up to the train had all but worn off.

  Without warning, the train lurched to a complete stop. The adrenaline flooded back. It started to overflow as the train reversed—into the horde emerging from the blackness.


  It's just not fair.

  * * *

  2

  He was awake now.

  The rear car backed into a mass of zombies, though not fast enough to do any real damage. A few might have been pushed down and gotten caught under the car, but most bounced harmlessly to one side or the other. They weren't tall enough to grab anyone up on the flat car—the men and women all moved to the middle, underneath the two trailers.

  The backward movement didn't go on for too long. The train came to a halt. That's when the shooting started.

  Based on the flashes of light reflecting off the glass of the industrial buildings in the area, he was confident the trouble came from up by the engine. Many of the undead headed for the commotion, although the bulk of those surrounding the last car remained at their post because food was right there.

  Jones' radio crackled.

  “The train started up a dead-end siding. The engineer had to back up, so we can change the track switch by hand. We're also pushing and pulling another engine with its brakes locked. That's the fireworks show. We need time up here. Out.”

  Jones glanced at him, then at the rest of the people on the last car, and finally on the horde of zombies congregating nearby. “Everyone with a gun start shooting at these things. Especially the ones moving that way!” He pointed toward the engine.

  He looked at Liam and said he only had a few more rounds for his shotgun, so he was going to save those. He pulled out his service pistol, a Glock 22, and checked the mag. There was no safety on that model, so he got right to it.

  Liam yanked out his Mark I, threw off the safety, and took careful aim at the nearest target.

  Bang!

  He hit right in the center of the side of the zombie's head. It collapsed on the spot, like a good zombie.

  Yippee Kai Yay! You're dead!

  Victoria was at his side with her gun. Together, they took aim at the next nearest pair of zombies and shot.

  “Yes!” Liam was quite proud of his shooting. It had been a while since he'd last been at the range to practice, but the little pistol was very stable and easy to shoot.

  Victoria's didn't go off as planned—she'd forgotten the safety. She quickly disengaged it and got in on the second shot with him.

  They both missed.

  From there, they fired at will, always at the closest zombies moving forward, which meant they had to avoid shooting some of the others who were still hounding them at the side of the rail car. It was distracting to leave them alive.

  Why not kill them?

  He took aim at one of the zombies standing in the front row and put a bullet through his eye. He did that for four others in quick succession, amazed at how good he was at shooting. In moments it was reload time.

  Victoria hit some but missed many of those on the move.

  She was soon out and had to reload, too.

  He got his brick-sized box of 1,000 rounds out of the backpack, and together they huddled over it, like kids over their first gross of bottle rockets.

  When he was done, he banged out all nine rounds on the zombies level with him as he knelt on the deck. He was nearly finished when Victoria got busy with her next nine rounds. She again aimed for those who were walking.

  He reloaded.

  Nine hammers slammed.

  He reloaded.

  Nine more hammers slammed.

  It was the first time he got to use his gun the entire trip. He indulged in a kind of bloodlust. He was mad as hell at the zombies for ruining—everything. He couldn't even enjoy a proper time with this girl because they sullied that, too.

  A couple of the other men with guns had taken the massive bloodletting—like Liam—as an invitation to shoot any of the bloody targets they wanted. They aimed at the easy pickins' right in front of them, which added to the stack of undead below. Several zombies struggled onto the pile of their mates and could almost shimmy their way onto the deck.

  Liam reloaded for the fourth time when Jones tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Hey, Liam. What the hell are you doing?” He pointed to the dead standing right up against the side.

  “I'm killing zombies?” he replied with real innocence.

  “Well, for one you're supposed to be aiming at the walking ones like your girlfriend over here is doing. But also, you're making a pile of bodies below this side of the car. These freaks are almost up to the deck. They're standing on each other!”

  I'm so lethal I made a pile of them?

  He snapped himself out of it and saw what he was doing wrong.

  “Hey, we have to stop firing at the closest ones!” He tried to order his fellow shooters to halt what they were doing, but it didn't stop the two men right away. The noise was intense. The strobe effect of light from each gun’s discharge was mesmerizing. When they paused to reload, he was able to point out what they had done.

  “We can't shoot them if they're close to getting up,” he shouted, “because that would only make it easier for the next ones.”

  He was pissed at himself for getting carried away, but he was also inwardly proud he was able to dispatch so many of them. It felt good to deliver some payback.

  While he was sorting his feelings, Victoria and Jones went back to work on the forward-moving zombies. There were too many lurking in the dark to effectively target them all, but they still tried.

  He was left to tend to the growing problem he had created.

  One of the zombies made it partially onto the deck by grabbing one of the chains securing the tractor-trailer. Another then used his friend as a crude stepping-stone. He was just starting to right himself to stand up when Liam shot him in the head. He rolled back off the train car, onto the pile.

  If I can't shoot them, what can I do? Yell at them?

  The zombie holding the chain seemed—somehow—to know he was providing a service to his fellows. Either by design or by accident, the zombie man shifted while holding the chain but couldn't haul himself up completely. That left him half up and half down—the others used his body to shimmy up like he was a piece of climbing gear.

  Liam shot the chain-holder in the face and the man slithered back down, but not very far.

  The reports of gunshots remained loud in his ears. One of the men previously shooting the front row was doing it again. Liam looked at him in the flashes of gunfire—and was distraught to see the man's eyes had a glint in them. Was he suicidal? Was he purposefully making the pile larger?

  “Hey! Stop shooting those standing by the car!”

  The man did not stop until he was out of ammo again. He racked his shotgun, pulled the trigger without discharging a round, then gave the weapon a funny look.

  Liam walked in front of him as he reloaded. “Hey, remember, you can't shoot the close ones. You're making a pile of bodies for the others to use.”

  “I don't care. We have to kill them all!”

  The man pushed him out of the way and took a step forward. Liam nearly lost his balance as he danced precariously along the edge but grabbed the chain and steadied himself. Hands smacked his shoes. They were too close.

  He could have easily pushed me to my death just now.

  He flopped on the ground under the trailer to take stock of himself. His panic rose and for a moment the shakes returned.

  Two seconds is all it would have taken. Bam! Dead.

  Liam inhaled deeply a few times to regain his composure.

  The loud, regular banging sound began at the front of the train again, making its way to the back.

  He watched the nutter who had almost killed him. The man dodged reaching hands to line up more shots on the nearby zombies, but two hands snagged his legs and he screamed in surprise. Using the legs for leverage, a zombie pulled himself up and took a bloody bite of bare calf. Liam hesitated for a few moments, then realized he had to help, but barely made it to his feet before disaster struck.

  The man shot wildly, hitting the one that bit him but not much else. He kicked to shake its teeth off his
leg, and he lost his balance just as the banging sound reached the last flatcar. The sudden jerk of the now-moving train was too much. The doomed man tipped sideways and fell directly on top of the unbalanced pile of infected still working their way up. The whole stack crumpled under his weight as the flatcar rolled away. He screamed for many minutes as the train clanked up the tracks.

  Each desperate shout reminded Liam, It could have been me. Lose yourself for a second and it could get people killed. Just that fast.

  I won't forget that lesson, sir.

  * * *

  3

  As the train rambled along again, the zombies dropped back into the night. Marty remained at her station, perched near the wheel of the trailer—leaning back to get as comfortable as the situation would allow.

  She saw everything that happened with Liam and the pile up of dead, and she saw what happened to the poor man who fell over the side. She grasped her rosary—currently it was around her neck for safekeeping—and said a prayer for the man. His screams had been heartbreaking as they pulled away.

  Liam had gone to the back of the train and sat away from everyone else, his head down as if he was lost in thought—or praying.

  Victoria used the opportunity to reload and then she sat down next to her.

  “I thought we were goners there. Those zombies were almost up here with us.”

  “You are right, my dear. I think that surprised us all.”

  “I saw Liam go to the back. Do you think he's OK?”

  She chewed on that question. How well was Liam taking the end of the world? She'd always seen him as a bright boy, but somewhat socially awkward. Perhaps not unusual for a kid his age and certainly reminiscent of his dad—her grandson. He was also a shy young man, who only blossomed after some time in college. Maybe her progeny needed to get a broader perspective on life before they began to understand their role in it? Or maybe it just took the right woman.

  She gave Victoria an approving look.

  “Liam will be fine. He just has a lot to process. We all do. So many things have changed, even in this short time. I think his biggest problem is that he feels responsible for me. Not that I blame him, I'm just a frail old lady after all—”