(Daddy?)
Ken kept shaking his head. Not only to shed the strands of the nightmare that clung to him, but now also to shake loose the sound of a dead son in his mind.
“Ken?” Aaron sounded like he was choking back tears. “We don’t want to do this. None of us do. That’s why I went back to talk to you in the first place.”
“Then why’d you attack me, Aaron?” Ken nearly shouted the words. Bitterness replaced desperation; anger a welcome replacement to fear. “Why’d you tie up my friends and family?”
“Because we didn’t know.” Elijah. “Because we needed to figure out what to do, but the stakes are too damn high to take a chance on you running.”
“I wanted to see if you had any other ideas, Ken,” said Aaron. “Any other way of getting back at these things.” Ken looked at the cowboy. He was sincere. “I don’t want to be killing anyone, Ken. Never liked that, no matter what job I was doing. And I like your family. A lot.”
But….
Ken heard the unspoken word. But….
But I’ll do what has to be done.
But I’ll make myself do the unthinkable.
But I’ll kill your children if it’s the only way to save the world.
And Ken, in that moment, could think of no way to save his family, and no way to convince Aaron – or himself – of the wrongness of that.
57
Someone sobbed.
At first Ken thought it had to be Maggie. His wife, terrified for their children, for what was going to happen, or perhaps for the possibility – if not the actuality – of what Aaron and Theresa were saying.
But it was Elijah.
The big man had tears coursing down his cheeks. He was looking to the side, into the cab. “Don’t you see?” he said. “Don’t you understand?” He wiped his eyes. His gun didn’t move. “We’re all dying. This thing, it’s some kind of attack, some kind of invasion. And we might be able to stop it.”
His gun lowered. Not all the way. Just enough to point at something close to the floor. Something small.
“No!” Ken heard himself scream in tandem with his wife. Buck, too. And Christopher took a step up before stopping as Theresa swung her gun toward him.
“You’re a good momma,” said Elijah. “I know that.” Sobs wracked his huge body. “My momma was a good lady, too. She died when my neighbors pulled her to pieces. Didn’t deserve it.”
“And you think my girls deserve this?” screamed Maggie.
“None of us do,” said Theresa. Ken couldn’t be sure if she was speaking to Maggie, to him, or to herself. “That’s the point. Don’t you see that’s the point?” She looked like she was on the verge of tears as well. That scared him most of all: they really were good people. Not sadists or opportunists. Not people who wanted to take advantage of the end of the world to play out some power fantasy that bathed them in the blood of children.
They honestly believed this could save what was left of humanity.
The box was still whining that grating whine. Grit in his synapses, impeding his thoughts. Confusing him.
“My brother died,” said Theresa. “We’ve all lost people. None of us got to choose who or when.” Her gaze hardened. Focused fully on Ken. “And you don’t, either.”
His heart sank as he heard the implication in her words.
58
Ken leaped forward. No thought, no planning. Just motion. The primal thing that screamed to protect his offspring, that demanded that his line continue.
Something boomed. A second clap of thunder.
Then he was somehow past Christopher. Pushing under Theresa’s gun. It went off –
(Again? Was she the one who fired, or was it Elijah? Are the girls already dead?)
– and the sounds of the squawking box, the engine, everything all disappeared in a loud ringing that created a halo of sound around his world. He screamed in pain, but didn’t hear that, either. Just the single sustained tone.
No time to care. Theresa was covered in body armor. Body shots would be minimally helpful.
He did something he normally wouldn’t have considered. Something ruthless.
Something awful.
And he did it without hesitation. His family was at risk.
One hand swept her gun up as it fired.
The other hooked out. A hand turned into a claw. Yanked at her throat.
He felt the thick threads that bound the gash in her neck tear. Theresa gagged. Blood gushed. Warm on his skin, red on his hands.
He knew he could kill her. Could rip away in one smooth motion and she would be dead and he could take the gun and that would be that.
“It’s the right thing to do.”
Dorcas’s words – some of the first she had said to him – came back.
He stopped short of killing Theresa. Let her fall to the floor of the cab, grabbing he throat. She might still bleed to death, but he wasn’t going to pull her apart right there. He’d give her a chance.
That was more than she’d been prepared to give his girls.
Past her. Into the cab. He snatched Theresa’s gun from the floor where she’d dropped it. Hoped the safety wasn’t on. Hoped it was loaded. Hoped he could shoot it accurately.
Too many things to hope.
Two massive forms struggled beside the train’s controls. Buck had leaped on Elijah. Elijah was below Buck, driven back by the other man’s mass, by his frantic attack.
But Buck wasn’t a fighter. Not a trained one, anyway. Elijah sent a pair of punches into Buck’s kidneys, and the older man staggered back, gagging in pain.
Elijah pointed his gun.
Ken pointed his. The huge black man hadn’t noticed him. He could save them all.
A weight slammed into him from behind.
“Sorry, bud,” Aaron whispered.
59
Aaron drove Ken forward, and at the same time the cowboy’s hand slammed over his shoulder, driving into a nerve on his right bicep that half-deadened Ken’s arm. His gun drooped. He couldn’t help Buck that way.
If Buck was shot, Elijah and Aaron would take Ken out.
If Ken was gone, the girls would follow.
Ken twisted, but he couldn’t gain traction. Stumbling…. Not able to do anything, but he saw Maggie huddled over two still forms. Protecting her girls. She would die like that.
Another form jumped forward. Shoved itself between Ken and the control board as he plunged forward in a half-fall.
Christopher.
The young man didn’t hesitate. He grabbed a bright red lever and yanked it.
The train screamed as the brakes engaged.
The entire train seemed to dip, and what had nearly been a fall converted to headlong flight as Ken lost his footing. Something cracked in front of him.
Maggie screamed. Sally roared, a sound that managed to sound supremely strange to Ken even as he continued flying forward.
He hit Buck, Aaron still on his back. Both of them pounding into Elijah.
Something else hit them. Probably Theresa.
The train kept shrieking. It tilted.
Ken turned with it. Rotating his body. He felt Aaron fly off his back and shoulders, heard the meaty thud of metal on flesh. The cowboy grunted, then made no sound.
The train continued pitching to one side. Ken wondered if Christopher would accomplish what the zombies failed to do and would actually derail the locomotive.
The train shuddered to a stop.
Ken was on the floor. He picked himself up. Looked around. Aaron was up on the control panel, plastered against the side window of the train. Eyes closed, blood streaming down the side of his head.
Christopher was standing beside Ken. Apparently even though he’d lost his carefree attitude, the young man still had the reflexes and balance of a cat. He helped Ken to his feet.
Buck was groaning his way to his feet as well. So was Elijah. The older man made it up first, and kicked Elijah in the thigh. Elijah went to his knees.
B
uck’s next move was a knee to the bigger man’s head. Elijah refused to go down.
The next kick closed Elijah’s eyes. He slumped.
Ken looked for his family.
They were on the other side of the cab. They had slid to the front like everyone else, Sally beside them, Maggie still hunched over the children. Her eyes were open, clear. Staring at him.
She smiled. A sickly smile, one that tried to be encouraging but only succeeded in conveying a sense that she could use a break.
Buck felt around the floor and then the control panel. “I can’t find the gun,” he muttered.
Elijah groaned.
Aaron’s eyes flickered.
Ken rushed to his wife. Helped her up, then looked at the others.
“Time to get off,” he said.
60
Ken felt a bit like he was drunk as he ran down the steps at the back of the locomotive. The world was tilted to one side, and his feet kept sliding out from under him.
No one else seemed to be having that problem. Maybe that was just a misperception. Maybe not. Perhaps he was the only one who had been hit this hard by recent events.
Well, they’ve all just been lounging around, tied to the top of a train, after all. Can’t expect them to be tired.
He almost laughed. The only things that kept the laughter back were the realization that it wasn’t at all funny… and his suspicion that if he started, stopping would be impossible.
He shook his head to clear the fog that seemed to have taken up a semi-permanent residence there, then turned to help Maggie down. She had Liz strapped to her chest again, once more dangling from the slightly-too-small carrier that had made the trip with them through the apocalyptic nightmare.
We get through this, Baby Bjorn is getting a serious five-star Amazon review.
The stairs were slick, and Ken worried that Maggie would slip. The rain had turned from huge but scattered splatters into a near torrent. The drops fell fast and thick around them, each visible as a fat bead that attacked the air on its way down.
Ken was already soaked. By the way Maggie joined him on the sand and dirt below the tracks – sand and dirt that were already beginning to sludge as they shifted to mud – so was she.
Behind her, Buck was holding Hope, half over his shoulder, half against his chest. She could have been a sleeping child, cradled against her favorite relative as he carried her to bed. But her arms were not over his shoulders, not around his neck. They hung loose at her sides. Buck joined Ken and Maggie. Looked around with the air of a bodyguard, or a man transporting the last of his most treasured personal items.
Ken didn’t even think about trying to carry take Hope from the big man. For one, he wasn’t sure he should be carrying anyone right now. For another, Ken suspected Buck was about as likely to turn her over as he was to offer one of his testicles to Aaron.
Sally, as always, wended her way between the two people holding the girls. Staying as close to them as possible. Licking at the girls’ feet every so often. She seemed relaxed, which Ken took for a good sign. The zombies activated – or at least exacerbated – her protective instincts, so if she was this relaxed, they had a moment.
We just have to worry about the monsters who are people.
Ken wondered why the leopard hadn’t protected them in the last minutes; why she hadn’t moved to save the girls. The predator had destroyed anything that threatened them to this point. Why not on the train?
Because he doesn’t attack humans.
The moment his subconscious pushed the thought to the surface it was flatly obvious. Sally had only attacked the zombies. Ferociously, murderously. But nothing against unChanged.
Christopher brought up the rear. He glanced once more into the cab before descending the steps to join the others. “He’s waking up. Fast.”
Ken didn’t have to ask who he was talking about. There were two very dangerous people in there. And one who was beyond deadly.
He looked around. The train, he saw, had indeed derailed. It stood at a slight angle to the tracks, useless. Which meant that not only would Aaron, Elijah and – if she could – Theresa be likely to come after them, that likelihood would increase due to the fact that there was nowhere else to go.
The gullies on either side of the train had flattened out. There was hardly any dip now, just an easy slope that dropped perhaps a foot or so. About twenty feet away to one side was thickly forested area. To the other lay fields and farmland, green and lush. Hardly anywhere to hide unless they managed to reach some wooded hills that looked like they were at least a few miles away.
The logical choice – the sensible choice – would be to take to the forest. That would allow them cover, give them a chance to lose themselves before Aaron and the others could hunt them down.
But the forest… that was where the zombies had come from. What if there were more?
Ken looked back. The others were staring at him. Waiting for his directions. That had made him uncomfortable before. It didn’t anymore. Something had changed in him. Maybe when he made that jump from the boxcar, maybe before.
He nodded toward the fields.
“Come on.”
61
The first obstacle came quickly.
Irrigation canals ran throughout this part of Idaho. They ranged in size, from a few inches across and a few inches deep, to yards wide and yards deep.
Before they hit the first field, Ken and the others reached one of the ubiquitous features. Water coursed through it, a steady stream that had been hidden from their view by the tall grasses that sprouted from its banks like a green curtain. The water flowed flat and fast. A bad sign. A bit of white, even some ripples, would have meant it was shallow. This nearly featureless surface meant the rains had swollen the water volume to capacity.
It was likely at least six feet deep. Maybe more.
And they couldn’t afford to just drop down and experiment to see how far it went. Couldn’t risk one of them getting swept away. Drowning. As a teacher, Ken had had the dangers of the canals drilled into him. Idaho had one of the highest rates of child drownings in the nation due to these irrigation features. Two hundred thousand gallons of water a minute could sweep by when at capacity. Even more when rain poured extra water into the ditches.
A few ring-necked ducks and a single trumpeter swan, oblivious of humanity’s end, swam across the water. They dipped heads and fed. Continued on without care for the group at the edge of their domain.
“Anyone see a gate or something else we can get across?” said Buck.
Everyone looked back and forth.
“Hard to tell,” said Christopher. His voice was still grim. Ken already missed the brightness the younger man had brought. He hoped the happy version of Christopher wasn’t gone, just buried beneath a momentary shock, a present grief.
Ken looked at the water. He turned left.
“You see something, Ken?” said Maggie. She hurried after him.
He shook his head. But within a hundred feet they found a control gate, buried below the surface of the rushing water. Perhaps only three inches under the stream, clear liquid flowing over it in strangely hypnotic ripples that formed, broke, formed again.
“Good eye,” said Buck. He looked at Maggie. “Can you get across without slipping?”
“I’ll have to.”
“I’ll go first,” said Christopher.
Ken nodded. “You stand on the other edge, I’ll be here. We’ll feed the others across.”
“I can make it,” said Buck.
Christopher snorted, “What, afraid you’ll go gay if you hold hands with me, Bucky?”
Buck flushed, “Don’t call me that.”
“What? Gay or Bucky?”
“Guys,” said Ken, “we don’t have time for this.” But he was almost glad to hear them at it. It was a bit of normalcy. What passed for normalcy now. Levity’s poorer cousin in the apocalypse.
Christopher slipped across the gate. White splashes rose aro
und his feet as he fairly danced over the buried concrete, miniature explosions that quieted instantly as he passed.
He reached the opposite bank and reached held out his hand. “Come on, Bucky.”
Buck snorted. “I will punch you one of these days.”
Christopher still didn’t smile, but a trace of his old voice returned. “You gotta get across first. I’ve got fifty you don’t make it without dunking like a donut.”
Buck grabbed Ken’s hand and edged out onto the gate. Unlike Christopher, he slid rather than walking, his feet pushing through the water so it didn’t explode but simply sluiced around him.
He couldn’t reach all the way without letting go of Hope or Ken, so he dropped Ken’s hand and walked the last two steps. A bad moment when it looked like he was going to pitch sideways, but Christopher danced his way back out and grabbed his elbow.
“I just gave up fifty bucks for you, old man.”
Buck muttered something under his breath. But he made it to the other side. He passed Hope to Christopher, then reached out over the gate, his longer arm going nearly halfway over.
Ken passed Maggie to him. She was never without contact. She smiled at him as she went.
Then Ken. No one on this side to help him. But he never worried about falling. Not now.
Maggie was still smiling as he stepped onto dry ground.
Then the smile waned. Her face drew tight.
Ken didn’t have to look behind him to know what she saw.
The others were after them.
62
The field beyond the canal smelled like onion.
Ken had seen scallion fields before, but always from the confines of the family car, passing the fields of foot-tall spires in their neat rows that seemed to flip like pages in a book as they drove by.
Now, standing among them, the smell was almost overwhelming. The rain that pounded down made the mud slippery as they ran.
The Colony: Shift (The Colony, Vol. 5) Page 11