Zombie Crusade: Evolution

by J. W. Vohs

  Ted agreed, “I know it, and they’ll get us through. I have a good feeling about this mission; it’s the right thing to do. I feel really happy about being able to help you guys out with something important.”

  The trip to Chicago was as uneventful as it was slow. They kept the train at fifteen miles an hour so much of the daylight was used up before they rolled into the sprawling metropolis’ rail yards. The soldiers had lost count of how many times they’d seen packs of hunters as they’d crept along the tracks through the countryside of Indiana. The creatures were drawn to the noise and movement of the massive locomotive and the cars it hauled, but since it was the first time they’d seen such a machine and no humans or other prey were in sight the flesh-eaters would eventually lose interest in the train and return to whatever they’d been doing before they were disturbed. More than a few prayers were uttered by the men in the boxcars as they approached the city. Everyone hoped that the hunters would remain disinterested in the train once it came to a stop and Simmons’ crew had to begin the process of finding and connecting the fuel cars they needed, as well as adjusting the switches necessary to transfer them to the Union Pacific line that headed northwest once clear of Chicago.

  A beautiful sunset was unfolding in the crisp, late-August air as they finally coasted to a halt in the middle of the rail-yards. At least three different packs of hunters had been sighted in the vicinity, and one of them had even came up and inspected the machine before moving on. Everyone aboard the train kept perfectly still and quiet as they waited for full dark, having decided the night before that they would try to complete their work on the rails with night-vision equipment. The problem was that fewer than half of the soldiers had NVG’s, and they knew that if Simmons and his crew were attacked by a large force they would have to retreat back to the protection of the boxcars and fight it out in daylight. Needless to say, nobody wanted that to happen.

  Two hours after their arrival Carter decided that the night was as dark as it was going to get and gave the order for the mission to begin. Simmons and the other rail-men had explained their strategy back at The Castle, which was to first locate the fuel cars they wanted to attach to their own locomotive, then move on to the switches that would need to be set. There was no way to avoid making a lot of noise once the actual work began, so the hope was that they could pick up the fuel and make the switches at locations separated by enough space so that they could all re-board the train and allow the situation in the surrounding area to settle down as they hid in the cars and slowly made their way to the next stop.

  Simmons found the fuel cars two miles down the tracks, both sitting on a siding that that would require the locomotive to roll by for a mile before being able to back up to the location. The good news was that the cars were already hooked together, so only one connection would need to be made. The bad news was that the site was surrounded by other sections of trains that would severely limit the field of vision for the fighters. The soldiers guarding the work-crew would have no choice but to leave the safety of their modified freight cars and move out into the maze of locomotives and other rolling stock sitting on the dozens of nearby tracks. This type of operation would have been difficult to safely conduct with state-of-the-art communications, as it was now, any fire team that found itself under attack could potentially be cut off from reinforcement given that utilizing walkie-talkies while fighting off the infected could prove to be a difficult endeavor.

  Ultimately, Carter decided to keep the guards posted in positions close to the work crew, even though that would mean that hunters could easily move through the surrounding cars and approach to within than ten yards from the humans before being spotted. The soldiers moved out in six groups of five fighters, with ten people being kept in reserve under Carter’s direct command. Each of the groups had at least two soldiers equipped with NVGs, one of whom would constantly be facing Carter and using hand signals to keep the observers informed of developments unfolding within their line of sight.

  When all of the teams were finally in place and Carter’s observers had all of them in sight, he told Simmons to begin the hook-up. The process was very noisy from the beginning, and when the connection was made the crash was so loud that the soldiers expected every hunter between them and Lake Michigan to come howling down on their position at any moment. In the end it wasn’t quite that bad, but the fighters were too busy to notice that they were only dealing with dozens of attackers instead of hundreds. Packs of flesh-eaters came running from every direction, with uncanny precision regarding the exact location of the noise from within the maze of rolling stock that confronted them as they emerged from their nighttime cover to investigate the sound.

  The unnerving aspect of the attack, from the defenders’ perspective, was the fact that the hunters came silently at first. For many of the soldiers every battle they’d fought had been precipitated by howls and snarls after they’d been visually located by the beasts. This time the creatures were on them before either party sighted the other, and the first sign of trouble for Carter and the rest of the soldiers in the command car was when nearly all of the signalers from the fire-teams posted around the work site began frantically motioning for help before jumping into the fray taking place around them.

  Suddenly everyone could hear the sounds of battle echoing all around the place where Simmons and his men were completing the connection of the fuel cars with the small train. Carter had no way of knowing who was most in need of help, so all he could do was push down his rising anxiety and keep an eye on the workers. Finally, after several agonizing minutes in which the reserve soldiers could do nothing but wait, Simmons shouted over to Carter, “That’s it! We’re connected. I’m taking my men into the locomotive; let me know when you want me to take off.”

  Carter immediately fired a flare gun into the air above them, which was the prearranged signal for all fighters to retreat to the protection of the freight cars. Then Carter shouted over to Stanley Rickers, “Take half your squad east for thirty yards and I’ll take half west! Help get our people on board but don’t let yourself get cut off.”

  Carter led five experienced fighters, including John and Tina with their NVGs, along the tracks to the front of the locomotive, listening to the sounds of his people shouting to one another over the howls of the hunters as they struggled to disengage from the monsters and retreat back to the train. Two groups came around an engine twenty yards away, moving as quickly as they could as four soldiers did their best to keep the monsters off of them as they stumbled and fought to keep up with their comrades.

  Carter only had time to shout, “NVGs turn and fight, everyone else get back to the damn train!”

  He then found himself standing shoulder to shoulder with five other fighters, forming a line that enjoyed flank protection on both sides from the freight cars on the lines next to them. Carter had been an expert marksman by the time he was ten years-old in the mountains of Kentucky, and his time in the Army had taught him how to make every shot count, even in the most dangerous and stressful situations. He calmly began shooting the charging hunters in the forehead every two seconds, and the other men in his line were doing nearly as well. In less than a minute they had created a wall of dead and dying flesh-eaters that allowed them a few seconds to gain some space for their retreat as the remaining monsters climbed over the mound of corpses before them.

  Carter could see soldiers clambering into the freight cars under the covering fire of their buddies who’d reached safety before them, and he allowed himself a brief moment of exultation before a pack of hunters hopped through the space where two boxcars connected and cut the humans off from the train. The creatures they’d been fighting crashed into them from behind, and Carter knew they were in big trouble until he heard Todd Evans open up with the M1A from his position on top of the modified car. The fighters dropped to the ground as the Ranger sniper quickly put down the pack of five that had cut off Carter and the others, then began looking for targets he could engage w
ithout endangering his fellow soldiers fighting to regain their feet and continue their retreat.

  Carter had been in this position before, and he didn’t waste time trying to keep the pistol in action as he pulled his short sword and began viciously stabbing into the hunters scrambling to pull his armor away to get at his flesh. In a few seconds he’d killed two of the beasts and wounded one, creating the space he needed to regain his balance and try to help his buddies. He grabbed one of the soldiers who’d managed to nearly fight his way free and pulled him to the side of the melee where they kept their backs against the boxcar so Evans could keep on thinning the herd with his rifle. A moment later two more men broke free and joined Carter, but the final soldier lay unmoving on the ground in spite of the fact that he was now covered only by dead hunters. Two of the men reached down and grabbed the wounded soldier’s feet to pull him free of the pile of bodies, until they saw that the fighter’s helmet had been torn off and his head was dangling from his torso by only a ragged strip of bloody flesh.

  Evans had resumed his firing and Carter looked up to see that a large pack was approaching at a run from about thirty yards away. He hated to leave the dead warrior, but the safety of the living was his primary concern. “Leave him!” he shouted over the noise of battle. “Get back on the train, now!”

  The soldiers reluctantly and gently eased the body of their fallen comrade to the bloody ground and set off toward the trap doors at the bottom of the modified cars as quickly as they could, Carter following as soon as he was sure they would all make it in time. As they came under the protection of the rest of the men waiting for them with silenced .22s in hand, Carter knew that they had survived the first major challenge in the plan to form a rail connection with Utah, and Vickie had her first opportunity to demonstrate the value of having a doctor along for the ride.

  According to the map Simmons and his men had marked up from memory and brought along as a guide, they were still a number of miles away from the main switch that would divert them onto the Union Pacific line. Carter told the rail-men to accelerate as much as possible in the hope of losing this group of hunters before they had to stop again. As they got underway a count was taken of the soldiers as well as an inspection of possible injuries and damage to weapons and armor. Carter soon learned that two men were confirmed dead, and three others were wounded seriously enough that they would be out of action for the time being. One fighter had a sprained knee, while the other two injured soldiers had suffered concussions. Most of the people involved in the hand-to-hand fighting were bruised and exhausted.

  After a few miles had passed Carter checked with the soldier manning the rear viewing port and was informed that the hunters from the packs that had attacked them earlier had given up pursuit. With that information he then made his way to the locomotive to speak with Simmons and let him know how he wanted to deal with the switch that needed to be thrown. The plan was to slow the train to a crawl until the rail-men had the switch location in sight. Then they would ease up to it as carefully as possible before stopping the train for the rest of the night.

  Carter had decided that he’d made a mistake in choosing to conduct a night operation when noise was unavoidable; if they knew they were going to have to fight he’d rather do it in daylight when all of his soldiers could see what they were doing. Simmons and the others agreed with the change in plans, and assured him that they could take the locomotive very close to the switch in the darkness and be ready to move once dawn arrived. Everyone understood that they had to remain hidden from sight and absolutely quiet after stopping for the night. Carter could tell from the reactions of his squad leaders and special ops men that the soldiers appreciated the chance to rest, and the acknowledgement that the nighttime operation was a hard, but necessary lesson to be learned. Everyone agreed that night-vision was very helpful when trying to silently avoid hunters while moving in the open, but not so great for use in a close-quarter’s scrum with a large number of the creatures.

  Carter used the down time to grab some food and quaff a few bottles of water, and he fought to keep his thoughts and emotions under control concerning the fight his soldiers had just endured. In the Middle Eastern wars and the Zombie Resistance, he’d held the responsibility of command over fire-teams and squads, but he’d never led more than eight men into battle before this fight. Tonight he’d experienced the helplessness of commanding an operation from the rear, and he didn’t like it one bit. He was now in charge of what would have been an oversized platoon in the pre-outbreak Army, and what constituted a large force in the resistance. He simply couldn’t be everywhere at once with this many soldiers, and had to trust his leaders on the ground to safely and effectively engage the enemy.

  Carter knew that he had made a mistake in thinking that a night operation would somehow be more effective than one in daylight because the hunters couldn’t see as well in the dark as his soldiers with NVGs. In a close-quarters fight, especially hand-to-hand, the NVGs could easily be pushed or pulled off of his soldiers, and there was always an adjustment period for the eyes when switching from the devices to normal sight. After all this time fighting the infected he had somehow neglected the fact that the creatures’ hearing was their most acute sense. They could probably hunt blind if they had to; lack of vision sure didn’t stop them from honing in on their prey. The maze of boxcars and locomotives might as well have been a jungle, allowing the hunters to attack his fighters from just a few feet away. Now two good people were dead so that he could hook up a couple of fuel cars to their little train, two people whose families had trusted him to return their loved ones home safely.

  Just then a familiar face appeared above him as he sat brooding in the corner. Maddy Johnson had saved Carter’s bacon at Fire Station One when he didn’t see a group of zombies sneaking up on him as he was focused on helping Deputy Little make it into their escape vehicle. Since then she had proven herself as fine a warrior as he’d ever seen, and she was just eighteen years-old. Maddy looked down with a wry grin, “Care if I join ya?”

  Carter motioned to his left, “How’d ya do in the fight tonight? Ya’ll ok? Is Zach all right?”

  Maddy’s face lit up as she explained, “Ol’ hammer boy killed just two while I was lighting ‘em up with my pistol; I’ve been rubbing it in ever since.”

  Carter shrugged, “Yeah, well, I’ve seen him mow down a helluva lotta infected with that sledge of his. But what I wanted to know was if either of ya was hurt?”

  Maddy grew quiet, “Naw, just some bruises, but one of our guys got slammed into a freight car and damn near split his helmet in two. And I heard that we lost two people out there.”

  Carter glumly nodded, and after a moment of silence Maddy continued, “I thought we’d have the advantage at night, especially after hearing about all the things David’s group did on their way over here. Never occurred to me that NVGs wouldn’t be much use in close combat. I know that there’s been times in the past when Jack would beat himself up about losing people after he ordered them to do something. I don’t want you doing that, Carter.”

  The tough Ranger just shrugged and confessed, “I shoulda thought of it.”

  Maddy shook her head, “Nobody thought of it; why should you be special?”

  Carter didn’t answer, so Maddy argued, “Look, I can’t tell you how many times after losing a game I’d sit around and think about a hundred ‘what-ifs’. But the bottom line is that in the heat of the moment, when you’re going up against someone as determined as you are, you just don’t always get it right. Now, I know war ain’t sports, but if you think about it the concept is the same: you gotta beat someone. These hunters are damn good killers, and we get the best of them every time they come after us. But you know as well as I do that we eventually make mistakes. It’s inevitable in war, and these mistakes get people killed. Now, if you can’t accept that and learn from this and go on, then turn over command of this mission to John or Tina.”

  Carter frowned, “Don’t think I a
in’t tempted to do it.”

  “What’s stopping you?”

  Carter let out a long sigh, “I know you’re right ‘bout everyone thinkin’ the plan was a good one.”

  “Hey, what makes you so sure we wouldn’t have had an even rougher time back there in daylight? That place was a freakin’ maze and those hunters were gonna be right up on us before we could see them, no matter what time of day it was. How many times have we mixed it up with those things on the ground up close like that and not had people get hurt? Not very damn often! Now get on your feet, and go talk to the squad leaders. Then go around and check on the soldiers. There’s only about thirty of them. A minute or two with each one would really lift their spirits.”

  Carter gave a small smile and shook his head, “I still remember that night ya spoke yer mind out at that fire station when nobody knew who ya were—just some high school gal with a big mouth. Then ya and Zach suggested the break-out when we was trapped after them zombies pushed us off the wall.”

  He looked a bit sheepish as he finished, “Someday you’re gonna be the one givin’ me orders.”

  She laughed at that, “I sure as hell hope so, Carter, I really do. In case you didn’t know it, Deb is one of my heroes, so I’ll be proud to be following in her footsteps.”

  Simmons and his men were true to their word and managed to pull the train to within fifty yards of the switch before they stopped for the rest of the night. Carter set up a double guard rotation and ordered everyone to do their best to get some sleep, form up at dawn, and go from there. As soon as he felt confident that the soldiers were taken care of for the night he grabbed a pair of NVGs and quietly slipped up into a shooting perch to have a look around the area.

  Unlike the last place they stopped, there were fewer rail lines and only one other train in sight at this location. Trees and brush lined the northern edge of the of the rail bed, with a chain-link fence to the south. There were also hunters pawing against the side of the train and walking along the outside of the cars as if they were curious about what the object was. He counted nine of the creatures, most of which began to wander off toward the trees when they realized there was no food associated with the large machine that had rolled to a stop in the middle of their hunting grounds.