The more they fired, the more undead followed the sound. A wall of them ran straight at the bedraggled sailors and when Scratch and Stabby opened up with the machine guns to slow them down, bodies splintered and imploded. Bridget and Hollywood swung up to the roof, ran for the front of the train and started laying down their own fire over the heads of the gunners below them. Gunny watched the destroyer empty, saw the last men running down the gangway with a bulky case and had one hand on the brake release, the other on the throttle. Griz was in the other engine doing the same thing, waiting for the command to give full gas and plow their way through the masses.
Gunny hadn’t seen the bike come back and hoped the kid hadn’t gotten himself killed. He should have circled around as soon as he led the horde off. He should already be back inside and ready to slam the ramp closed. The horde was almost on top of them. The wall of lead they were throwing at it was killing hundreds but there were thousands and they kept coming. Kept stumbling, falling, getting up and shrieking their dusty blood hungry screams. Scratch and Stabby went through belt after belt of ammo as Hollywood and Bridget emptied magazines and slapped fresh ones in as fast as they could. The smell of gunpowder filled the air along with the haze of gun smoke and sprays of black blood. Hollywood and Bridget, from their vantage point on top of the train, tried to kill the fastest runners streaming past the piles of carcasses but they saw the tragedy coming and there was nothing they could do about it. A few hundred of the sailors were still sprinting for the ramps and some of those were already starting to close, the men cranking them up before the horde could get inside. The undead fell into the running men, drove them to the ground and more screams of fear and pain filled the air. Bridget tossed her AR when the last magazine emptied and rolled over the edge. She grabbed the ladder, slid to the catwalk, pulled her pistols and jumped over the rail, fire spitting from both guns. Hollywood cursed and followed, his long leather trench coat flowing around him. There were no more battle lines, the terrified living and the keening undead were all mixed together, fighting and dying, tearing with teeth and cutting with blades. The pair from Lakota dove into the writhing mass of bodies, their guns spoke the language of death and they sent deader after deader crumpling to the ground with holes blown big in their heads. The fighting was frenzied and round after round exploded faces at point blank range. The pair spun, ducked, dodged and wove an intricate bullet ballet, their minds calm from a thousand hours of training. Black Locust Spitting with both guns killing to the front flowed to Kitten Comes Calling as she dropped to a knee and blasted jumpers from opposite sides. Hollywood twirled, always an inch out of their reach and killed with the surety that came from long hours of practice. Their hands knew the ways of war. Their fingers knew how to fight. They knew how to kill.
Their cacophony of gun blasting madness bought some of the sailors enough time. A few precious seconds that was the difference between life and death. Others went down under the gnashing teeth and tearing claws. The pair didn’t bother wasting breath urging them to hurry, they pumped lead into the undead, they splashed heads, they dodged leaping bodies and they killed until they ran out of reloads. Putrefying blood covered them both and by the time the slides locked back for the final time they had worked their way over to the train. They leaped for the catwalk, swung up the ladder and scrambled for the roof leaving the hungry faces and reaching arms behind.
The train jolted and started moving as they lay on the roof, gasping for air.
“That was dumb.” Hollywood finally said.
“Yeah.” Bridget agreed then laughed. Her hands shook now that it was over, now that the biting faces were ten feet below and couldn’t hurt her. “Pretty much.”
Hollywood sat up and looked back at the carnage, at the forty or fifty unmoving corpses they had cut down. That meant there were forty or fifty sailors that hadn’t gotten bitten. They were still alive and safe inside.
Maybe.
“We need to make sure nobody got bit.” Bridget said. “We can still lose a whole car if someone turns.”
“Hey, there’s the kid.” Hollywood said and pointed at a figure running along the top of the container wall. The undead followed his foot falls and half a hundred were joined by some of the horde streaming in from the streets.
They followed the path to see where he was headed and saw the gantry coming up quickly as they built up speed. Hollywood checked to make sure the rail car ramps were up then watched as the boy sprinted for the crane. It straddled the tracks so it could load and unload the trains and the containers were stacked up in lines around it. The containers were too far away for him to jump to the train, it was a twenty-foot gap, but if he got on the gantry, there was a set of tracks ran right underneath it.
“Wonder what happened to his bike?” Bridget asked when she saw what he was trying to do.
“Dunno.” Hollywood answered. “But if we’re going to pick him up, we’re on the wrong track.”
They rolled to their feet and ran along the tops of the rail cars to the front of the train.
“We gotta switch tracks!” Hollywood yelled as he slid down the ladder and cut through the lead engine.
He pointed at the kid running along the container tops and Gunny swore then hit the brakes to slow them down.
“Go!” he said. “Hurry before they get too deep and overrun us!”
Hollywood shoved through the door and grabbed the controls of the switching arm and ran it out. Bridget snagged a handful of magazines from the crate as she dashed and her bullets started dropping bodies. The machine guns still thundered as the boys continued to blow the undead off the tracks, only quieting long enough to swap out glowing red barrels. Fires and smoke poured up from the other side of the city and the dry screams of the undead surrounded them. The rotting corpses clawed at the train, threw themselves at it and tried to climb over the railing. Thousands poured into the port from the surrounding town and the big guns couldn’t cut them down fast enough. Hollywood was working blind, the undead were already forty deep in front of the decelerating train and he couldn’t see the tracks as the bodies tumbled and rolled. He guided it by instinct, felt it through the controls when the switcher slipped into the groove of the tracks and sliced through the bodies. Spilled blood and guts greased the rails and they slammed over easily. The train lurched as it made the turn way above the recommended speed and the dead tumbled higher and higher against the concertina wire strung on the railing.
Gunny throttled up hard, tried to kill as many as he could, ground them into the rails because he only had one chance to get it right and get on down the road. There wasn’t much track ahead of them, it only went a hundred yards past the gantry before it ended at the bump stop and he slammed the brakes to full and hit reverse. The steel wheels cut through the slimy bodies as over four hundred tons of diesel locomotives fought for traction and started sliding to a halt. They had to be fast, the number of undead kept increasing and when the train stopped to reverse, they were going to be swarmed. There were too many of them, the only safe place was going to be inside the train but Hollywood couldn’t switch the tracks back from there. He had to be on the deck or they’d be stuck on a short run of less than a half mile. End of line at the ocean to end of line at the containers. The train would be buried with no way of switching the tracks until they killed enough to clear the deck again.
Xavier didn’t know if they would leave him. He wasn’t one of them, he was an outsider and his rescue would be risky. They might keep going, not risk the lives of thousands to save just one. He hoped they would, he thought they would but he wasn’t sure until he saw the train switch over to the side track. He went from full sprint to full slide as he neared the end of the last six stack container. He grabbed on to the edge briefly to slow his drop as he fell to the next bright green box some twelve foot below in a five-stack row. Even in his near panic as he slammed into the metal and rolled to his feet, he thanked them under his breath. They weren’t going to abandon him. The undead were every
where, thousands surrounded the train and thousands surrounded the containers screeching up at him. He ran for the gantry as the train screeched under it, bounced off the stop and the spinning wheels caught traction to send it back the other way. It was a long jump between the last container and the brightly painted crane, a good ten feet. Enough room for the giant tires to roll up and down the aisles. Xavier pumped his arms and ran faster. He knew this was his only way out, this was a one-shot deal. The crew from Lakota might risk everything once but they wouldn’t do it twice. Once was risky. Twice was suicide. If he didn’t make the jump, he would fall nearly forty feet into the horde. If he chickened out and didn’t try, they would leave him behind to get away before they were buried by the undead. He hit the edge and leaped, hands reaching for the railing on the stairs leading up to the control room. It came at him fast and he slammed hard, nearly fell and barely got an arm wrapped around a pole welded to the expanded steel steps.
The train below him was moving, picking up speed. He hooked a leg, pulled himself on to the stairs and bounded down them, his feet barely touching. He doubled back once and wished there was time for one more flight down but the engine was almost below him. It was now or never. He swung over the railing and jumped for the roof some six or eight feet away and fifteen feet below. He landed on the dining car, fell to his knees and threw out his hands. His breath was coming in huge, sucking gasps as pain shot though his legs. He didn’t trust himself to stand and crawled to the ladder. He dropped down to the catwalk, avoided the reaching hands and hungry mouths that screamed as they were ground down. He hobbled into the cab and hurried to the front door. The undead were pulling their way over and through the wire and the big guns were silent. Both were out of ammo and the crew were fighting the deaders off with blades. Xavier yelled his thanks at Gunny then burst through the front door and aimed a blast at the chomping faces. His grunts and curses were lost in the screaming, keening cries of the undead, the yells of Stabby and Scratch and the booming of Bridget’s pistols.
The train rocked around the curve, cleared the side track and Gunny slammed the brakes again. The wheels locked and slid along the gore covered rails as he pushed the throttle forward.
The crew formed a wall around Hollywood as he manipulated the controls and tried to get the switching arm locked in place. Xavier’s silent microwave gun dropped deaders everywhere he pointed it. Scratch stabbed his sharpened rebar fist into one head after another but every time one fell another took its place. Stabby swung with both arms, his long wolverine claws sinking deep with every blow. Bridget aimed for the ones dropping in from above, from the tall stack of undead tumbling over the top of the wire. The train lurched to a stop and the steel wheels spun until it found traction and started forward again. The zombies piled up on the arm, covered it and Hollywood couldn’t see if it was positioned right or not. He could only rely on the feel as it tore through the writhing bodies. The train picked up speed, Griz and Gunny both had their throttles maxed out. Hollywood ignored the mayhem happening all around him and concentrated on the job. He didn’t watch the endless stream of flyblown corpses still running in from the town. He didn’t think about how hard the train was struggling to get moving. He didn’t consider that they might be struck on a half mile long stretch of track with no way of getting off, trapped inside a giant metal coffin until they died of the godawful stench from the reeking bodies.
He felt it when the track slid over into place and jerked the controllers back to collapse the arm. The train picked up speed and a wave of undead began rolling away, pulling the climbers down with them. Concertina wire ripped open papery skin and more rotting guts slopped onto the already slick deck.
“Go!” He yelled “We’re good, get inside!”
The crew fought side by side and backed towards the door, shooting, stabbing and blasting the faces as they clawed their way past the wire and railing. Xavier was the last through, his silent killing wrist bands dropping body after body until he pulled the door closed behind him. Everyone was covered in gore, splattered with putrid blood and yellowing brain pieces. Even Xavier had been splashed by the mess left by the blades and point-blank gun shots and dripped slime on the floor.
The train was steadily gaining speed and they all breathed easier when they knew they had enough momentum to power through the rest of the horde. The undead started breaking and spinning away as they watched the port disappear behind them. Scores of freshly turned undead in navy uniforms led the horde as it chased after them.
“One more job to do before we can relax.” Scratch said quietly.
“We need to reload before we start.” Bridget said, her voice heavy.
“Start what?” Xavier asked.
“Checking those that made it in for bites.” Hollywood said.
“What do you do if they’re bitten?” the boy asked.
Nobody answered.
They didn’t have to.
He realized why they needed the reloads.
18
Star Wars
“I’ll do it.” Xavier said and they all turned to look at him.
“It’s… it’s much cleaner, more… humane.” He finished and stared at the floor.
They were on the lower level of one of the converted rail cars. Eighteen men were restrained with ropes, some with fevers running high, already incoherent and their breathing rapid. Some looking frightened and angry. Some yelling and arguing vociferously that they hadn’t been bitten.
The sailors understood, in theory, that a bite could cause them to turn but they had been sheltered from the undead. Their only up-close experience with them had been at the docks. Their ships and subs hadn’t been affected and they had cleared the few off San Clemente Island with withering walls of lead from a safe distance. The bitten had tried to hide their wounds and only the worst, the ones pouring blood, had been forced to come forward. Their buddies covered for them, they didn’t know how fast the poison coursed through the veins, didn’t realize that just one infected could do so much damage so quickly.
They lost twenty men when one of them turned on an upper level and started ripping through his friends who hadn’t believed it would happen so fast. They had hoped for a few days, maybe they could treat the wound, maybe the Lakota people had some medicine. Bridget and Hollywood had raced up the steps and opened fire into the mayhem. After that, using the buddy system, every one checked each other and they did it fast.
“You don’t have to.” Griz said eyeing the boy. “It’s a hard business.”
“I’ll wait until they turn.” Xavier replied. “I can’t kill real people but zombies aren’t people anymore.”
The team exchanged looks and with small nods, they agreed then started moving the men to a more private location to spend their final minutes.
The officers found their way to the lead engine, introduced themselves and offered their thanks.
“Glad to have you onboard.” Gunny said. “They show you where you’ll be bunking for the next few days?”
They nodded, asked if it would be possible to stop and bury the dead then and let him get back to the business of running the train.
Gunny eased the locomotive to a halt an hour later when they were far out in the desert and had some time before the followers caught up. There wasn’t enough fuel to keep running back and forth to eliminate them, he would wait until they were near the wall before he backtracked. Their futile attempt to plow through Tijuana had burnt up most of the diesel reserves. Guards were posted and shallow graves were quickly dug by hand.
A Junior Lieutenant from the sub pulled Gunny aside as their Chaplin said a few words over the men. “We have something we need for you to see in the officers’ quarters, sir.” He said. “Captain Forhees said you should be aware of it before we travel through hostile territory.”
Gunny nodded, thought the Lieutenant was being generous describing the sleeping room to be shared by four men as quarters and stood at attention for the twenty-one-gun salute. Everyone hustled
back on board and a few minutes later the locomotive was moving again.
With a whisper in Bridget’s good ear, Gunny had her grab Xavier and ask him if he wanted to learn how to drive the train.
“Keep him busy until I get back.” he had said. “The captain wants to show me something, some eyes only thing he took off the nuclear sub. I don’t want him wandering in to see what it is. It’s gotta be some kind of weapon and we’re still at Simons mercy.”
“What if he gets bored and wants to leave?” she asked.
“Use your movie star charm. Show him some cleavage.” Gunny said with a grin. “He’s a boy. He’ll be mesmerized.”
She gave him one of those looks. One of those long suffering looks that Lacy had mastered and women must take a secret course in during school.
“Fine.” Gunny said. “Let him drive, show him some gun kata or show him your scars. Just keep him busy.”
He grabbed Griz and joined the Captain of the nuclear sub in their cramped sleeping compartment and after introductions all around one of the Ensigns opened the large plastic cases they had brought from the sub.
Nestled in the black foam was a titanium cylindrical device that had probably cost the taxpayers a lot of money. It was impressive and looked fairly complicated.
“Okay.” Gunny said. “What is it?”
“Electron particle laser.” Forhees said and smiled at the unimpressed stares from Gunny and Griz.
He grinned then went on to explain.
“Remember Reagan’s Star Wars missile defense strategy?” he asked. “Well, this is it. Or part of it, anyway. It didn’t just target incoming ICBM’s. With a set of coordinates we could surface the sub, bounce the beam off a satellite mirror relay and take out a bad guy from halfway around the world with pinpoint accuracy. We never actually used it; it was a secret weapon for emergencies only. You know, just in case Gorbachev got a little too big for his britches we could take him out at any time. When Clinton got in, he mothballed the program but our nuclear sub fleet kept these on board, they were never entirely decommissioned. It’s old tech but still works.”
Zombie Road | Book 8 | Crossroads of Chaos Page 12