World of Corpses (Book 1): World of Corpses

by Cook, Scott W.

  My guts heaved at that. Andy and a wounded Rivers were caught at the end of the train with dead heads slouching toward them. I gritted my teeth, “Can you make your way toward us on foot ahead of them?”

  “Negative,” Andy said, “they’re already too close. By the time we climb down off the car…”

  “What about moving along the top of the train?” I asked hopefully.

  There was again that pregnant pause that ate up too much valuable time, “I could do it… but I’m not sure about the Gunny. The spaces between cars are too wide to jump, so that’s a lot of climbing in her current circumstances.”

  “Where’s she hit?” I asked.

  “Right bicep,” Andy reported, “I’ve field dressed the wound and applied a splint, but I suspect there’s bone damage.”

  “Mother fucker…” I grumbled quietly.

  Smitty fidgeted a little, “Hey, if them stiffs are coming, we either gotta set up to fight em’ or get the hell outta here.”

  “Sounds like a big munch,” I said, forgetting that nobody else knew what that meant, “Fighting is just a waste of ammo.”

  “A what?” Smitty asked incredulously.

  I grinned, “Two or three zombies is a gnaw. Anything over three and about to ten is a chomp. From like ten to fifty is a gobble and fifty to a few hundred is a munch. Anything past that is just a fucking horde.”

  Smitty actually looked over at me, “Are you shittin’ me?”

  “Nope,” I said with a grin, “Gotta call them something, right?”

  “Fuckin’ squids…” he mumbled.

  I eased my knife away from his throat and gave him a little breathing room, “you military?”

  “Was,” Smitty said, “Did two tours in Iraq with the hundred and first. Left as a Sergeant.”

  “Then you should fucking know better, Sarge,” I said, “then to attack without warning or identifying your enemies. Not just dumb but immoral as well.”

  Smitty chuckled, “Army was a long time ago, Captain. I’m no hero or paragon of nationalism. Just a guy trying to keep his little band safe. It’s a fucked up world and you have to do what’s necessary to survive.”

  “I get that,” I replied, “But you’ve lost two men already for nothing.”

  Smitty blew out his breath, “Six. The two you got and another on the other side of the train. And your people back at the end killed two and wounded another. He can’t walk… and ghouls are coming.”

  I frowned, “and two of mine are back there too…”

  “Fortune of war, Navy,” Smitty said coldly, “Nothing we can do now.”

  I shot him a look and grabbed him by the front of his black shirt, “What kind of pussy shit is that? There’s always something to do, Smitty. You just don’t give up!”

  Smitty shrugged, “I’m all ears.”

  “Have your people withdraw,” I said, “Including the guy that’s trying to sneak up on us from our left. Tell them to bug out and go back to their hidey holes. You and I will take care of the G’s and get your wounded man and my two people.”

  Smitty looked disbelievingly at me, “You’ve got to be shittin’ me. Are you some kind of crazy Rambo motherfucker or what?”

  “I’m a SEAL,” I said, “And I don’t leave men behind… ever. Now tell them.”

  Smitty sighed and took his radio off his belt, “Everybody pull back. Retreat to safe haven. I’m remaining to go after Franky.”

  There was silence and then a woman’s voice said, “Smitty… are you compromised?”

  He looked at me for a long moment and then said, “Negative, Janna. We fucked up here. Captain Decker is going to help me get Franky.”

  The woman sounded dubious and yet hopeful, “For real? No tricks?”

  I held up the captured radio, “Ma’am… my name is Captain Sam Decker, U.S. navy SEALs. This is no trick. The situation is getting critical. The less living bodies on the field the better. I promise I’ll do all I can to get your husband.”

  There was a surprised little squeak from the radio, “How did—“

  “Lucky guess,” I said, “Now please, all of you withdraw before the ghouls catch sight or scent of you.”

  The final man on Smitty’s fire team came out of the woods looking bewildered and holding his rifle pointed down. Smitty nodded and pointed to the train.

  “Blue two, red one,” I said into my radio, “Get back to the loco. I’ll be joining you shortly. Red three, one of the men you fired at is wounded. Is there time for you to retrieve?”

  A crackle, “Negative. Zombies are already up to the car. I think I know who it is. He was on the right side of the train. He might have a chance if he stays in the woods and is quiet.”

  “We’ve got to draw the zombies off him,” I said.

  “A hundred or more?” Smitty asked, “What do you want to do, make noise and bring them up here?”

  “Not exactly,” I said. I held up my radio again, “blue one… have you figured out how to drive that thing yet?”

  “Affirmative,” Tony replied, “she’s ready to roll.”

  “Outstanding,” I said, “Then put her in reverse and back down the tracks. Go back about a mile and then come to a stop. Once stopped, blow the whistle three times.”

  “Roger that,” Tony replied.

  “Blue two and red two are enroute to you now,” I said, “Don’t wait, start moving. It should be easy enough for them to get aboard. Red three, hang on back there.”

  I got a round of affirmatives and handed Smitty back his dead friend’s radio.

  “Now what?” he asked as the train began to ever so slowly creep backward. It was accelerating, but it was barely noticeable at first. Tony was taking it easy and also letting Andrea and Vicky catch up and climb aboard without too much trouble.

  “You and I make our way west and get your buddy,” I said, moving to the edge of the tree line and starting to walk with the train. Smitty was beside me with his rifle held at the ready.

  “We’re just going to walk out in the open?” he asked.

  “For now,” I said, “My hope is that the zombies will follow the train. If not, then when it moves off, my man will blow the horn and that’ll get their attention.”

  Smitty scoffed, “Including every ghoul within ten miles.”

  I shrugged, “Yeah, but how many can that be?”

  Smitty chuckled sardonically, “You’d be surprised. We’re staying out here west of the cities because it’s safer… but I figure there’s five to ten million stiffs between Miami and Jupiter. They stay mostly in the cities. Not sure why, unless there are still people hiding in the urban areas…”

  “Or the G’s just don’t have any reason to go anywhere,” I said, “They seem to respond to stimulus but they also have an inertia to them. Like… they’ll come after a person if they see them, or hear a noise. Yet if nothing happens after a while, they’ll just sort of stop and stand around. They also seem to take the path of least resistance…”

  “It sounds like you’ve been studying these stinky fucks,” Smitty said.

  The train was now rolling faster than our pace and the cars began to slip slowly by us. I nodded, “Sort of. I’d like to figure them out so we can defeat them. I’d like to get this world back.”

  Smitty laughed. It was not a happy sort of laugh, “We had our shot. The fucking military botched it and these things took over.”

  “Yeah…” I said, “Still can’t quite understand it. A predictable, slow and let’s not forget unarmed enemy defeated a modern military. Doesn’t make sense.”

  “Well, here we are,” Smitty observed.

  I nodded, “Yeah, but here we don’t have to stay. And anyway, the more we learn about the G’s the better we can deal with them.”

  “Well, they come a runnin’ when they figure out we’re out here,” Smitty said, “And you just never know.”

  The train was moving at about ten miles per hour now, and as we talked, the locomotive approached and began to slide by. An
drea was standing on the starboard walkway and waved at me, “You okay, Sharky?”

  I waved back, “Yeah, you?”

  She nodded, “Hope this works… and hope you have a plan to meet up with us.”

  I smiled, “Of course.”

  The engine passed, picking up speed.

  Smitty turned to me, “Damn… your lady?”

  I nodded.

  “Lucky fucker,” He mumbled and grinned at me.

  By now we’d gone about two thirds of the distance of the original position of the train and I could see human shapes meandering a few hundred yards ahead. They seemed very interested in the train and more than a few stumbled clumsily up the rail bed and were summarily crushed beneath the wheels of the iron beast.

  I sighed and said, “These things destroyed our civilization…”

  I entered the woods with Smitty beside me. We began to pick our way toward the munch, hoping that by the time we covered the last few hundred yards to Franky’s position that the zombies would have followed the train and left the area clear.

  It was slow going, as usual. Moving through woods at night, even with NVG’s was slow, and when you added stealth into the mix, it set a pace a snail would sneer at.

  A few minutes later, we heard the echoing sound of the train’s whistle blaring a mile off. It was an eerie sound, so loud and so obviously man made that it didn’t seem to fit into the world we’d inherited. Yet the whistle also sounded mournful, almost ghostly, as if bemoaning man’s fate somehow… or maybe this shit was just getting to me.

  I slipped to the edge of the woods and took a peek. The ghouls were indeed following the train like snakes to the pied piper. I came back to Smitty and smiled.

  “it’s working,” I said, “Where’s your buddy?”

  “Frank…where are you?” Smitty asked.

  There was no response. We stood stock still and listened, and within seconds, I figured out why. The moans of the dead filtered through the woods and sounded mournful in the still night.

  “Shit,” Smitty hissed, “They didn’t all leave.”

  “No,” I said, moving toward the sounds, “I think they’re distracted by your man.”

  Smitty cursed, “You think they got him?”

  I shook my head, “Not sure, but I don’t think so. Let’s move.”

  I left the stealthiness behind and began charging through the brush toward where I’d heard the moans. We broke into a small clearing and saw six of the beasts clustered around an elm tree. In the branches, alarmingly close to the ground was a man trying to hold on. I could see his face with my NVG’s and even in the gray green cast, his face was pale.

  “Frank!” Smitty called out.

  “Smitty?” The man asked weakly.

  The zombies all turned to us at once, they’re behavior going from focused nonchalance to aggression. I swear they looked angry when they saw us. They began to slouch toward us, moaning and snarling and reaching out.

  “No choice,” I said, shouldering my rifle, “Take them out.”

  Smitty and I fired half a dozen rounds in quick order, felling the chomp. We then moved in to deal with Frank.

  “You okay, Franky?” Smitty asked as he reached up to help the man down.

  Now that we were close, I could see that his left pant leg was black with blood. He’d been hit in the thigh and it was bleeding pretty badly.

  “How’d you get up there?” I asked.

  “Didn’t have much choice,” Franky said painfully as he nearly fell out of the tree.

  “Shit,” Smitty said as he noticed the blood. It was all over his hands now, “He’s hit bad…”

  “Let me see what I can do,” I said, “got a flash?”

  “You got them NVG’s,” Smitty said, pointing at my face.

  “Still dark,” I said, “Need more light to really get a good look.”

  Smitty knelt beside me and shined his light on Frank’s leg. I pulled out my KA-bar to cut the jeans away and heard Frank gasp, “its okay… just getting rid of some of this fabric.”

  “You a doc?” Frank asked in a voice filled with agony.

  “No,” I said, “But trained in combat medicine and field surgery.”

  I cut the bloody jeans away and saw where a 5.56 round had entered the man’s thigh in the ham string. I didn’t think the femur was hit but the iliac artery was probably nicked because the wound was pumping gore.

  I unbuckled the man’s belt and slid it from the loops, “I’m gonna synch this down and apply a bandage for now. When we can get back to the train or somewhere stable, I’ll patch you up.”

  As I prepped the wound, I heard Smitty curse under his breath and then he shushed us. Seconds later, I heard it… there were sounds of twigs snapping and leaves rustling as well as moaning coming through the woods.

  “Guess they didn’t all get the message,” Smitty hissed, “Sounds like a half dozen or more.”

  I cursed and raised my radio to my lips, “Blue one… detach all cars and head back for us. We’ve still got company and need a lift. Single click acknowledge.”

  The radio clicked.

  “Now what?” Smitty asked.

  “Now we get back to the tracks ahead of the G’s,” I said, “And get aboard the loco.”

  “Yeah, now that the freight is a mile further west…” Smitty griped.

  “What’s the difference?” I asked.

  “It’s closer to the highway,” He said, “Placed where it was, it was hidden pretty well.”

  I sighed and thumbed my talk switch again, “Blue one, if you haven’t detached yet, start rolling forward first. Give the freight a little momentum, then decouple and come on faster.”

  There was a pause that I read as a what the fuck unasked question and then, “Roger that.”

  “Let’s move,” I said, “You get one side, I’ll get the other.”

  Together, Smitty and I lifted Frank to his feet. Smitty was about five foot ten and Frank around six feet. So I had to bend a bit as I put his left arm over my shoulder. Smitty was perfectly upright with the man’s right arm on his. Together, we lifted Frank off the ground and began steadily marching toward the tracks. Not directly, but at an angle to hopefully leave the zombies behind. Or at least long enough to get out in the clear.

  It wasn’t an easy job, either. The ground was littered with branches, covered by thick palmetto groves and then there were the pines. We wove back and forth, making what would’ve probably been a hundred yard walk into a quarter mile slog.

  “Fuck…” Smitty groaned, drawing the curse out. We were both sweating from carrying the two hundred pound man between us. A hundred pounds per man wasn’t that bad, but I had a forty pound pack on and was slightly stooped. And then I heard the moans.

  The zombies were getting closer. I looked over my shoulder and was shocked to see three of them stumbling toward us from less than twenty feet away.

  “Double time it, Sarge!” I said.

  “What the Christ do you think I’ve been doing?” he asked.

  The moans were becoming louder and more aggressive. It sounded like more than a handful, too. We were between a rock and a hard place now. We couldn’t fight carrying an injured man and if we stopped, we’d have to set him down and take up our weapons. The ghouls were just too close for that shit now.

  I could see the tracks ahead, though. No more than fifty yards. That made me feel better, but I supposed it was like being fifty yards from the beach while being circled by a hungry bull shark. It seemed like a hundred miles.

  “Well, this is quite a pickle,” I said cheerfully.

  Smitty was huffing by now, “Are you always this fuckin’ nuts?”

  “Nah,” I said through my own somewhat labored breathing. Smitty was laboring more than me, of course, “I’m usually much more nuts than this.”

  I swear I could feel their breath on the back of my neck. Did zombies breathe? Did they need to? I mean, if they’re dead and all, then why would they need to breathe?
r />   “Shit… shit… shit,” Smitty was groaning.

  Frank said nothing. I think he had passed out or was close enough not to care.

  I looked back again and there were at least two monsters almost within arm’s reach. I cursed, “Do you have a pistol?”

  “Yeah…” Smitty wheezed.

  “Then fucking use it!” I almost shouted.

  We were within steps of the edge of the woods now. Smitty was fumbling with something stuck in his jeans pocket. He was spitting and cursing which was not a good sign.

  “Dammit!” He said, trying to jerk the gun out of the pocket or his waistband or something, “I can’t get it loose!”

  “Of course not…” I grumped, “Wouldn’t be a good horror scene otherwise, would it? Monsters nipping at our heels… gun jammed… Losing ground every second… fucking perfect.”

  “Even if I could shoot them,” Smitty gasped, “There’s a shit ton more behind us, what then?”

  I heard it then. The sound of the locomotive’s huge diesel growling off to our left. I smiled and looked over at Smitty, “We need one burst of speed, Smitty. On three, we give it all we’ve got and get up and over the tracks.”

  “What for?’ he asked. He sounded a bit defeated.

  I moved my right hand up and gripped his wrist which was only an inch or two from my hand, “come on, man. Where’s that army grit I keep seeing in all those movies?”

  Smitty cursed, “Okay…”

  I swear something was scritching at the nylon of my pack, “Three!”

  We lurched ahead, our legs pumping and our shoulders burning from supporting the dead weight. We began to clamber up the rocky slope of the three foot high track bed. It wasn’t easy, either. This apocalypse version of the three legged race was making us as uncoordinated as the zombies.

  We finally stumbled to the top and damn near tripped over the tracks and then half walked, half slid down the other side of the rocky bed.

  “Okay, set him down!” I said, easing Frank to the grass.

  Our little burst had given us a small lead, but when Smitty and I got our rifles up and turned, we saw that no less than thirty of the things were crashing out of the woods. And that included several who were even now trying to get up the track bed to get at us. Thankfully, as I hoped, the obstacle wasn’t easy for the uncoordinated zombies and they were having a rough time of it.