Zombie Road | Book 8 | Crossroads of Chaos

by Simpson, David A.

  The warship had slid into the harbor under the cover of darkness and was anchored just beyond a Carnival Cruise line ship tethered to one of the docks. Hundreds of the undead had heard it arrive and were crowded along the sea wall. They were milling around, not yet in a frenzy but sensing the living. They knew they were near and watched the ship with hungry black eyes.

  “They’re in position.” Gunny said when he walked into the dining car. “We’re rolling in five so finish up and get ready.”

  “They’ll be there when we get there.” Griz said and passed him a plate of biscuits, gravy and sausage. “Here, eat something.”

  “The Captain said there are a few hundred zom’s on the docks already.” He told them. “Even with the mortars, we’ll probably be bringing in a few hundred more on our tail. It’s going to get dicey. He’s determined the nearest point to the rail lines. They’ll dock and throw out gangplanks but some of the tracks have container trains. The closest we can get is maybe a thousand yards from where they’ll tie up. We won’t be able to keep the undead off them with gunfire, we’d hit them too. They’re on their own but they have limited ammo. They should be able to power through them. Most of them, anyway. We’ll help where we can but we’ll mostly concentrate on the back trail. We’ll keep the followers from getting close.”

  “And once the shooting starts, that’ll bring in loads more.” Stabby said.

  “Exactly.” Griz said. “Let’s just hope they can run fast, they can cover the ground quickly and get onboard.”

  “We’re gonna lose some.” Gunny said. “There’s thousands of them bottlenecking at the gangplanks. No matter how fast they are, it’s going to take some time. Also, they’ve never been up against a horde before. Some might panic.”

  The mood in the car darkened and they lost their appetite thinking about the inevitable carnage.

  “Can’t we come up with a better plan?” Bridget asked. “Make something they can run through? Something to protect them?”

  “Yeah, if we had time.” Gunny replied. “They’ve been on that ship for four days waiting for us. When we couldn’t get through Tijuana it really threw off the schedule. They haven’t had anything to eat that whole time. They are already weak with hunger, some may pass out trying to cover the distance and every hour we wait, more undead are going to show up. They know they’re going to take casualties. It’s war. It happens.”

  He didn’t add that the ship was running on fumes, they couldn’t go anywhere else.

  “I can lead them off.” Xavier said. “I can take the rail arm off my velocipede. They’ll never be able to catch it.”

  “You’ll probably get hit with crossfire.” Hollywood said. “They’ll be running and gunning.”

  “Not if I pull the horde away from the dock before they disembark.” Xavier said. “The bike is powered with a Tesla motor, it’s wicked fast and super quiet. It has microwave guns mounted front and rear, a lot more powerful than the bracers. I’ll let them chase me away from the docks, kill a bunch of them then circle back. It’ll be easy to lose them in all those stacks of containers.”

  Griz stroked his beard, a habit he’d picked up because he liked the smell. The sandalwood aroma of the beard oil reminded him of what they were fighting for and what all those soldiers deserved. Civilization. Comforts. A place to call home. If the bike could draw most of them off, that meant lives saved. He gave a half shrug at Gunny’s raised eyebrow. Why not.

  “All right.” Gunny said. “Get it ready. I’ll let the Captain know to keep the troops off the deck and out of sight. Hopefully most of them will follow you. We should be there in about an hour if we don’t have any major blockages ahead. Everybody else man your stations, let’s get this party started.”

  Xavier hurried to the converted car hauler where his velocipede was strapped and started disconnecting the rail arm. It was a heavy machine that wasn’t very nimble in the curves. It was hard to control, if you jammed the brakes it would toss you over the handlebars and the acceleration would throw you off the back if you weren’t tucked in and holding on tight. It was great on the rails or long stretches of deserted highway. He could cover a lot of ground in his patrols. Zig zagging in and out of container stacks was going to be a challenge but he wasn’t worried. He had spent many hours in the saddle, he was one of the best riders in Simons guards and patrolled for days on end to help keep the town safe.

  Utopia was nestled up in the mountains in a resort on Lake Morena. They didn’t have walls but they didn’t have undead visitors very often either. The patrols ran the rails and roads in a pattern for miles. The zombies didn’t like to wander through the rocky desert, they stayed on the easy paths unless they were chasing someone.

  Xavier had been on a field trip with a few other boys in his troop when all hell had broken loose. They were on a three-day survival hike, something they were doing to earn their Eagle Scout badges. They didn’t know the world had ended for a few days, not until they got to the retreat at Lake Moreno. A group had barricaded themselves inside the sprawling complex and had been killing off the undead. The area around the resort was mostly deserted, only a handful of residents lived there year-round. It was a tourist destination and in September the families with RV’s and canoes were back home. Corporate retreats and large wedding parties kept the locals afloat during the winter months. Xavier had wished more than once that there had been a wedding or two scheduled with the cyber engineers retreat instead of the drug rehab group. He would have liked to have a few ladies his age at the resort instead of the hard looking women celebrating their five years of sobriety or the engineers old enough to be his mom from the Silicon Valley conference.

  He hadn’t seen a ring on Bridget’s finger, she was the prettiest girl he’d seen in over a year but if he was honest, she scared him a little. Maybe there would be some girl soldiers. Maybe they’d pay him some attention for helping to rescue them. He didn’t really think a beautiful girl would swoon into his arms, call him her hero, but it didn’t do any harm to day dream about it. He looked much older than his fifteen years. At six foot and almost two hundred pounds, he could probably pass for eighteen. He smiled as he worked, got his machine ready and checked the charge on all the batteries. He made sure the mounted microwave guns were set in a wide dispersal pattern. The beams wouldn’t kill as efficiently as a narrow focus but they would take out a lot of the undead with every trigger pull, the guns didn’t have to be aimed. Even if it didn’t fry their brains and drop them in their tracks it would blind them. It didn’t take a direct narrow-beam hit to melt their eyes.

  “Xavier, you ready?” Gunny’s voice came over the speakers. “We’re almost there.”

  He hurried to the call box and answered. “Just say when.”

  “Roger.” Gunny said. “Scratch, fire for effect. Let ‘em know where to go.”

  A few seconds later the quiet whumping sounds of mortars rocketing out of the tubes was heard from the rooftops. Shortly after that the horizon lit up with fireballs and the ground shook with the impact of round after round. Scratch and Stabby saw the flames roll skyward and kept dropping rockets into the tubes. The thunderclap of the little bombs echoed through the town and they saw the undead pouring out of the side streets to start chasing after the lights and sound a mile away.

  The pounding went on for a few minutes then the boys hustled into the car with Xavier’s bike.

  “We’re almost there.” Scratch said “We could see the tops of the cruise ships. You all set?”

  Xavier nodded. He was straddling the silent bike, ready to blast down the ramp as soon as they lowered it.

  “I’ll drop it as soon as we get by this crane thing.” Stabby said as they rolled past the gantry. He didn’t want the ramp to catch the side tracks and get jammed up, maybe even tear it off.

  “Remember to go off the ramp at an angle. Otherwise, you’re going to have problems. We’re still moving along pretty fast, it’ll knock you on your ass.”

  Xavier nodded agai
n and bit his lip. He’d never jumped off a moving vehicle. He’d never had to zip around in a confined area. He’d never tried to get a horde of zombies to chase him. What if he dropped the bike and they caught up to him? What if he shot the microwaves at the wrong time and blinded or killed a bunch of the soldiers? What if he…

  “I see ‘em!” Scratch said. “Only a few hundred and they’re coming right for us. Go!”

  He hit the switch and the ramp dropped instantly, sparks flying as it dragged along the concrete. Xavier crouched low, twisted the wick and the bike shot out of the opening. It didn’t even touch the ramp, it cleared the ten feet and landed heavily. The big shocks bounced and he aimed right for the leading edge of the running horde. He forgot about his fear and doubt, he was too busy trying to steer the heavy machine. He pressed the horn button and held it as he plowed into the first of the undead. The shriveled thing went flying, bones snapped and the bike shuddered as the crowd turned to chase after him, ignoring the train as it came to a halt. He goosed the throttle and the bike shot forward past the engine. He leaned into a long arcing turn and slowed. He had to keep them close or they would lose interest. He kept beeping the horn and they kept coming, keening hungry mouths and yellow gnashing teeth.

  On the train, everyone was quiet and stayed back from the windows. Gunny had killed the engine and let it coast in, the only sound was the tooting of Xavier’s horn, the shrieks of the gulls and the cries of the undead. Gunny watched as the boy led the pack away. The bike was big, the size of a full dressed Harley, and it looked heavy with the electric motor and batteries. He hoped the kid was keeping an eye out for the tracks running every which way, they’d knock him down in a heartbeat if he hit them wrong.

  When most of the deaders had ran past the front of his train, he switched his attention to the navy ship. The anchor chain was being reeled in and the ropes that had been tied to the dock pillars were drawn tight as a thousand men grabbed hold and started pulling. Gunny didn’t know if it was because they were out of fuel or if they didn’t want to make any noise but the tide was in their favor and the destroyer began moving. The cruise ship next to it dwarfed the war machine and the gangplanks were clanking down on the dock before the ship was tied in place. The crew may have been dirty, hungry and packed like sardines for days but they moved quietly and with a purpose. They were finally going to be free of the uncomfortable misery.

  It reminded Gunny of his first jump at the Airborne school in Fort Benning. It was so hot and miserable, the equipment so heavy and uncomfortable, that everyone was eager to jump out of the plane. They didn’t have any more pre-jump jitters, nobody was afraid, they just wanted out. Anything was better than being cooped up in the aluminum skinned oven for one more minute.

  The ramps lowered on the train cars and they could see the rows of bus seats with packets of MRE’s on every one. Just a few more minutes and they’d be safe. They had gone over the debarkation procedure a hundred times, everyone knew their job and everyone did it. At the wave of a flag from the signalman, the silent sailors ran down the gangways. Most were armed and most only had a single magazine of rounds. They didn’t carry packs of personal possessions. If it didn’t fit in their pocket, it was left behind.

  Xavier thumbed the trigger for the rear microwave gun as he entered a long, straight canyon of shipping containers stacked five and six high and watched in the mirrors as the fastest runners face planted into the asphalt. The ones directly behind tripped, stumbled and fell but their eyes never left the boy on the machine. Their hunger drove them until he toggled the gun again and more fell, their brains instantly cooked. He turned down an alley of tall, brightly colored steel containers and blasted the horn again.

  They followed, jumped over their fallen comrades and screamed dusty screams from bone brittle throats. Xavier blasted them again and another dozen fell as he turned down another long aisle. He goosed the throttle, shot forward and hit the brakes. He waited for more to come around the corner, hit them with the microwaves then sped down to the next aisle. He was staying a safe distance ahead, kept urging them forward with the horn and killing a handful at every corner. He needed to get out to the open again, see if they sailors were almost loaded. He held the trigger down as more poured around the corner. They crumpled in heaps, their barely working brains fried and some with eyes melted and running down their cheeks. He was breathing heavily, not used to maneuvering in close quarters. Muscling the awkward machine around at slow speeds was exhausting but the adrenaline was pumping high.

  17

  Xavier

  The dead kept after him, coming hard and fast, screaming and stumbling but relentless. He took off again, couldn’t remember which way he should turn to get out and started making random lefts and rights. It felt like he’d been running and gunning for a long time and he was worried the train would take off without him if a big horde came in from the city. He rounded another corner, goosed it in a long straightaway, rocketed up to sixty miles an hour then slammed on the brakes to make the next turn at the wall in front of him.

  But there was no alley, no aisle for lift trucks to maneuver. He was at a dead end. A box canyon. That was okay. He had a minute; he’d left them behind and none were coming down the aisle yet. Xavier planted his feet and backed the bike up, straining under the weight of the unwieldly machine. He leaned it over a little, turned the handlebars and gave a little juice. The bike jumped forward, the front wheel hit a Yang Ming container and the big machine slowly tilted over. He strained to hold it up but the angle was wrong. His foot slipped and the bike fell to its side.

  The boy jumped off, put his legs into lifting it and stared around wildly. He could hear them running down the alley next to him. Behind him. Everywhere. Their voices were dry and croaky, their keens rattled like something was broken in their throats and he redoubled his efforts to lift the bike. In the distance he heard the shouts of soldiers and a chatter of gunfire. It sounded a long way away and the fear of being left behind hit him again.

  He saw a ragtag bunch run past the end of the container alley and froze. Dozens hurried by, arms outstretched, bare feet slapping on the concrete, clothes hanging in tatters. Xavier was too afraid to move and hoped they wouldn’t notice him but one of them turned its blackened eyes and stopped. They stared at each other as more undead turned their heads and sniffed at the air. Long moments passed and when his arms began to tremble under the strain of holding the bike, they screamed as one, launched themselves for him. Xavier jerked the bike upright, threw a leg over the saddle and twisted the throttle. The permanent magnet Tesla motor put out almost 400 horsepower, enough to launch a car to sixty miles an hour in a neck snapping three seconds. The bike was a stripped down, two wheeled version and a quarter of the weight. It took a delicate hand on the throttle. In his panic, Xavier wasn’t delicate.

  The bike shot forward, jerked out of his grip and he tumbled off the back. The machine climbed halfway up the container wall before crashing back down on its side. It smashed into the leaders of the horde then started quietly spinning in circles on the concrete, the throttle stuck wide open. It knocked some down, some tried to attack it but the rest ignored the wildly rotating machine and reached for the boy with the wide eyes and look of surprise on his face. Xavier sprang to his feet, ran for a stack of containers and grabbed the bars on the doors. He jumped as high as he could and scrambled the rest of the way up using the rods and handles. He rolled over on his back breathing heavily when he made it to the top but didn’t stay down.

  The big fifty’s mounted on the train added their slow heavy thunder to the gunfire from the M-4’s, the screaming of the men running for the rail cars and the bone-dry roar of the undead as an endless horde ran in off the streets. Thousands of the undead had ran for the explosions and fires on the far side of the city but thousands more had been in a frenzy, lost in the twisting streets of Ensenada. They’d heard the keens of hunger, the popping of gunfire and smelled the unwashed bodies of the sailors. They surged through
the alleys and narrow streets, found the port and added their own dry screams to the hunters running down the bike.

  Xavier was trapped on top, high above the screeching mob below. He looked around desperately, tried to see a way out, a way down. He had to get back to the train but there was no way to get through the horde, the battery for his bracer was small, it would only last a few minutes at most. It could never cut a path through the mob. He spotted the crane they had passed on the way in, maybe he could make his way there and drop down on the roof. He saw a path along the tops of the containers that would lead him to it and started running. He hoped he could make it before they left. He hoped someone saw him.

  The navy men and women poured off the destroyer, their boots loud on the gangplanks, and ran for the train. For the open doors welcoming them to safety. Hollywood and Bridget urged them onward, yelled for them to keep moving to the upper levels first, to hurry, hurry, hurry! They surged inside and ran, they tripped and fell and picked themselves up and helped the weaker members. The only thing keeping them on their feet was fear and adrenaline. Thousands of them had been packed on the three-hundred-man boat without food for four days. They had only had a few drinks of water the entire time and had slept sitting up, back-to-back. Some of the sailors took a knee and started firing at the first of the horde running in. They emptied their magazines then joined the rest of group crowding into the rail cars.