Z-Railed

by Holcomb, Joshua

  “You said you know where we can go get some concrete mix, right?” Caleb asked.

  “Yes, as well as a gravel pit. I figure we can make two trips tomorrow with Steven’s truck to get all the supplies we need.”

  Steven nodded in acknowledgement as he glimpsed Jesse and Katelyn quietly slip away from the group, and go outside. He glanced at his watch. 20:00. “Time to go,” he thought.

  “Are you calling it a night?” Franklin asked, as Steven lifted himself off his chair and stretched his arms.

  “Yes, I wasn’t feeling too well today. We have a busy day tomorrow so I should be well rested.” Steven lifted up the tent flap and waved corporately to the group. “Good night, everyone!”

  The damp night air greeted Steven, as his eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light. He artfully sidestepped the tent pegs and guy lines, and made his way to his temporary sleeping quarters.

  He sighed, longingly, as he unzipped the flap to his personal tent and slipped inside. The permanent living quarters for newer residents in the refuge were not yet completed, forcing the newcomers to build their own shelters for now. Steven had been lucky, keeping the spare tent in the bed of his truck.

  Steven watched as faint lantern lights bobbed and weaved through the night; some heading to other tents, others directly into the old farmhouse that stood watch over the center of the stockade.

  A feminine giggle broke Steven’s concentration and his eyes zeroed in on the location. He glimpsed the silhouette of Jesse and Katelyn, bottle of bourbon in hand, disappearing into a side building attached to the barn.

  This is going to be too easy, he chuckled within himself. Steven quietly opened a trunk in the corner of his tent, the rusty hinges squealing in protest. After a minute of rummaging around he withdrew a musty cloth and a bottle of chloroform.

  “First things first,” he muttered, and crept through the shadows towards the farmhouse.

  * * *

  Jackie grunted as she neared the top step and yanked open the door. She skillfully swung the hot pail of water through the opening and set it on the brick hearth in the kitchen. The flames from the fire outside danced in her eyes as she split the scalding water between two sinks. Adding a quart of cold water to each, it was soon a comfortable enough temperature to wash dishes with.

  Jackie slogged her way through the pile of dirty dishes and then began scrubbing furiously at a large pot, attempting to remove the coating of burned food from the bottom. Thoroughly concentrating on her task, she failed to notice her husband sneak up behind her.

  “You need any help?” he suddenly whispered in her ear.

  “Oh gosh!” Jackie jumped and slammed the pot in the sink. She grabbed a towel and swatted Franklin. “You scared the crap out of me!”

  Franklin circled his arms around his wife and chuckled. “Truce! Truce! Sorry about that.” He kissed her forehead. “Are you almost ready to turn in?”

  “Yes,” she sighed. “I’m thinking about letting this pot soak overnight.” She kissed Franklin lightly on the lips. “I’ll be up in a couple minutes.”

  “Sounds good.” Franklin strode upstairs to the bedroom he and his wife occupied.

  Jackie quickly cleaned up her mess, before blowing out the candle on the windowsill. As she turned around a sudden creak in the floorboards startled her.

  “Alright, Franklin! That’s enough! No more of this tonight!”

  Silence ensued and Jackie took two more steps towards the staircase before, out of nowhere, a dark figure stepped into her path. Before she could utter a sound a damp musty cloth was pushed to her mouth. Jackie’s eyes rolled back into her head and everything went black.

  ***

  Katelyn giggled again as Jesse shut the door and set the lantern on a small table in the corner of the room. The small room attached to the barn had been turned into a bedroom for Jesse, with one window on the east side being the only visible access to the outside world. An old box spring mattress had been erected on one side, with a simple mirror and wash bowl on the other.

  Jesse’s body sat down on the bed with a thud, leaning against the wall as he set the half-empty bottle of bourbon on the nightstand. In a drunken stupor, Katelyn followed suite, still clutching her boyfriend’s hand.

  Putting her head on his shoulder she slurred, “Jesse, you are the bestest boy I could after ask for.”

  Jesse smiled. “I still don’t know how I was able to get you interested.”

  “It seems like forever ago that we first went out… Our first date and we were chased by those creatures...”

  “But that’s in the past.” Jesse gently stroked her hair. “We have had a new start here. We are safe.”

  Katelyn’s confused mind was stuck in the past as she continued, “You first kissed me in Caleb’s Humvee, down next to the Kentucky River.” She leaned over and tickled Jesse’s cheek with her nose. “That’s when I knew you were the man for me, and I flew in love.”

  “Do you mean fell?” Jesse teased.

  “Shut up you silly boy!” She playfully swatted Jesse. “I’m throwing myself at you. Just kiss me.”

  Jesse gazed into her eyes, his vision dancing as much as the lantern light flickering on the wall. His heart fluttering wildly out of control, he pressed his lips against Katelyn’s cheek.

  She giggled and cried, “You are so drunk you can’t even find my lips!”

  “At least I can keep my grammar straight!”

  Katelyn lay silent for a minute before whispering, “We should get married.”

  “Unless you know any non-dead preachers or judges I think we are plumb out of luck,” Jesse smirked. “Swing at a miss.”

  “Oh Jesse… then you’re going to have to do the next best thing.”

  “Which is?”

  “Spend the night with me, and don’t leave until morning.”

  Jesse hovered millimeters above Katelyn’s face, stunned, by what he just heard. His addled brain struggled to maintain a sense of reason in the face of this situation, but it was to no avail.

  He hesitated for only a few seconds before the alcohol clouded over his mind once again. With his skin burning feverishly, and his heart bouncing in a thousand directions, he gently pushed Katelyn backwards and was soon lost in a world of fireworks.

  * * *

  Impeccable timing, Steven thought, as he peered through the smudged glass window. In the waning lantern light he could see the two still figures lying on the bed, an empty bottle toppled over next to the lantern.

  He silently padded over to the faded wooden door and forced it open. Even Steven could not help but be embarrassed, and hastily put a blanket over Katelyn’s exposed form.

  Without wasting a second he pressed the chloroform soaked cloth to her face, as added insurance, and finished wrapping the blanket around her body. As he prepared to put her over his shoulder, Jesse’s body stirred and slowly he sat up.

  “I’m so sorry, friend,” Steven muttered. He briskly slammed Jesse’s head against the wall. The splintered wood punctured skin and blood gushed forth as Jesse slumped over into unconsciousness.

  Steven lifted Katelyn’s body and quickly carried her through the darkness to his truck. He carefully laid her down next to the still form of Jackie, and then slipped into the cab of his truck.

  Firing up the engine he hoped that the individual on night watch at the gate was asleep. However, as he drew closer he found this wasn’t the case. Steven put the truck in park and stepped outside of the cab. He was dismayed to see that Caleb was on duty for the night.

  “Steven? What are you doing going out right now?”

  “Hey, Caleb.” Steven stretched, and walked to the base of the ladder, leading to the top of the platform overlooking the stockade.

  “Where are you going, man?” Caleb inquired again.

  Steven stepped off the top rung and stood in front of Caleb. “Hey man, if I tell you something can you keep it between us?”

  Caleb looked puzzled.

  “I re
ally need a fix, and I have a stash on the other side of the field. I just need to run out there real quick.”

  Caleb shook his head. “You know the rules. We can’t open the gate at night unless it’s an emergency.”

  A frown developed on Steven’s face. “I’ll cut you in! I really need some now, man!” Clearly, Caleb wasn’t buying it, as he began eyeballing the bed of Steven’s truck.

  “Why do you have blankets in your bed? And… Is that a foot sticking out?”

  “Jackie! Jackie?!?” Franklin’s commanding voice pierced the night air. “Jackie, where are you at?”

  Caleb was distracted by Franklin’s sudden plea and failed to see Steven withdraw the pistol from his belt and push it into his diaphragm.

  “What the…” Caleb was cut off midsentence as Steven fired a 9mm round deep into his rib cage.

  “I’m s-s-so sorry, Caleb.” Fresh tears cascaded down Steven’s cheeks as he lowered the dying soldier to the wooden platform. “You have no idea what’s going on here… They are making me do this.”

  Steven wiped the tears out of his eyes, and wasted no more time. With Franklin already concerned, and knowing the shots would be heard by many, he swiftly unlatched the gates, pushed them open, and yanked open the truck’s door. He cursed as a wad of maps spilled out onto the wet grass.

  Grabbing as many as he could find in the inky blackness he hurriedly threw them back into the cab and spun gravel exiting the stockade. In his headlights he could see several feeders attracted by the commotion.

  “I’ll give ‘um something to be curious about.” Steven stopped his truck outside the gate and retrieved a small can of gasoline from the bed. He quickly emptied the contents onto a section of the wooden walls, and set it on fire with the stroke of a match.

  As he sprinted back to the cab, Steven began hearing shouts of confusion coming from the stockade. They quickly grew distant, however, as he sped down the narrow dirt road towards home.

  X

  Fort Regeneration

  Franklin bolted out towards the gate the instant the shot rang out. As he neared the ladder he saw, to his dismay, Caleb’s limp arm dangling into space. Flames were excitedly licking the dry wooden walls and acrid smoke began billowing into the night air.

  He scurried up, two rungs at a time, and knelt beside Caleb, blood pooled around his torso. Seeing his eyelids flutter Franklin asked, “What happened to you?”

  Caleb weakly opened one eye and gazed at Franklin. As he struggled to utter an answer red frothy blood gurgled from his mouth and dripped from the corner of his mouth. “Steven... He had…”

  “What are you talking about?” A tear slid down Franklin’s cheek as a feeling of hopelessness cascaded over him.

  “He had b- bodies… In his truck.” Caleb entered another coughing fit, only this time he never recovered. A viscous mixture of blood and air bubbles oozed out Caleb’s mouth and his body functions ceased. As his heart stopped beating and his eyes froze open, never to blink again, Franklin lost control, weeping softly.

  Still cradling Caleb’s lifeless body, he looked up, and saw a terrible scene unfolding through the billowing smoke and flames.

  The feeders, attracted by the gunshot and flames, began pouring through the open gates. Screams from men and women alike pierced the night air as their tents were ravaged. As Franklin watched the horde pour in he was momentarily immobilized by the searing pain of Caleb’s death. He finally came to, when Andrew, a recent addition to the refugee camp, shouted to him over the deafening sound of two .357 revolvers.

  “Franklin! Do something or we all die!” he shrieked, blasting two snarling feeders in the head.

  The sudden command pierced deep, and a sudden flash of anger overcame any sadness that had previously clung to Franklin’s heart. The sudden adrenaline rush dulled any pain as he lighted down from the ladder and howled like a banshee. In one solid motion he grabbed his AA12 military shotgun and rammed home a full fifty round drum magazine. As he placed the firm stock against his muscular shoulder he faced the swarm. His face hardened, and tunnel vision enveloped him with a single purpose that craved survival and demanded revenge.

  Buckshot began shredding the rotting mass of carcasses nearest him. Tendons, arms, muscle tissue, and more erupted in a putrid spray. Spent twelve gauge shells rained down on the dew soaked grass as Franklin pummeled the feeders.

  When the nearest feeders were eliminated Franklin began firing more carefully; popping each monster in the head until his weapon ran dry. Without missing a beat he grabbed a medium sized fire fighter axe and waded deeper into the chaos. Andrew and the other survivors rallied behind him, dispatching carcass after carcass until only a few more stumbled in through the gate.

  Maurina, another newcomer and former weightlifter, radiated a commanding presence as she swung a pipe wrench against the side of a feeder’s rib cage, not bothering to aim for the head. Ribs crackled and popped as the hefty wrench met its mark. Another swing dispatched the skull.

  Franklin, seeing a brief calm in the fight, suddenly urged, “Everyone, round up any survivors and get into the house! There’s nothing we can do about the fire!”

  As the charred walls began to crumble, and the flames slowly diminished, the haggard survivors of the camp invasion hastily retreated inside the darkened farmhouse. Franklin, however, scurried through the trashed camp frantically trying to locate his wife.

  After fruitless minutes of searching the darkened tents he rushed into the still lighted room of Jesse. He swung open the door and was shocked tosee Jesse’s naked form crumpled over the bed, and a blood stain streaked down the wall.

  Jesse stirred as Franklin lifted up his head and inspected the wound. “What in God’s name happened to you? And…” Franklin spied the empty bourbon bottle lying on the floor. “Are you drunk?”

  “My head…” Jesse groaned. “Katelyn…”

  Franklin saw female clothing wadded up next to the bed. “Did you…? What is this…? Huh?—“

  “I did!” Jesse cried, blinking his eyes in the waning lantern light. “But she’s gone…”

  “Did feeders get her?” He looked into Jesse’s clouded eyes. “Answer me boy!”

  “N-n-no!” Saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know who. I just remember opening my eyes to see some man rolling her up in a blanket. Then I blacked out.”

  “Or your mystery man smashed your head against the…” Franklin paused. He suddenly remembered Caleb’s dying words. Steven had bodies in his truck. Steven had kidnapped Katelyn and fled, most likely taking Jackie too. Franklin stood up, and pulled Jesse to his feet. “Put some clothes on and let’s get to the farmhouse now!”

  ***

  Franklin crammed another round into his Colt .45’s magazine and rammed the pistol into his holster. “That piece of crap we let in here caused this whole mess!” Rage was etched into his face as he shouldered an AR15 and placed two boxes of ammunition in a small duffel. “That bastard has my wife too!”

  “Franklin,” Taylor, a middle aged family man, warned, “You can’t go out there tonight!”

  “Like hell I can’t!” Franklin fumed. The vein on his neck pulsed with every beat of his heart, and his face was a dark red. “Every second we sit here that scumbag gets farther away!”

  “I know, man. But look, we don’t even know where he is headed. We just got done fighting a bunch of those feeders. We are battered, and need to regroup.”

  “Franklin?” a young man inquired, as he stepped into the dining room.

  “What!?” Franklin shot back.

  “On our way back in I happened to notice some things I think fell out of Steven’s truck. They were next to his tire tracks…” His voice trailed off as he handed Franklin a weathered and muddy map of Northern Kentucky, and one of Cincinnati.

  Franklin eyed the papers. “There’s a route highlighted… Up north across the Ohio River.” He studied the Cincinnati map. “And to the rail yard.” He turned to the young man, “Are y
ou sure these came out of his truck?”

  “Well nobody here has had any maps. And those mud splatters look like they came from a vehicle.”

  Taylor spoke up, “Franklin, please wait until morning to decide how to handle this. You can’t go after them anyway because our gas reserves are almost gone. We need to make another supply run.”

  Franklin cradled his head in his hands. “I know, I just have a hard time sitting here while my wife is rolling around in the bed of some pick up.”

  “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling.” Taylor placed his hand on Franklin’s shoulder. “We’ll deal with it in the morning.”

  ***

  Steven shook his head in disgust for the third time that morning as he brought his truck to a screeching halt. A large overturned cement truck, and multiple four door sedans formed an impassible barrier on US Highway 27.

  “You have got to be kidding me!” he cried aloud. “I knew the interstate would be bad but why here?”

  Steven fumbled through the glove box, and side compartments looking for his route map. After several minutes he accepted it as a lost cause. In frustration he smashed his head against the steering column, inadvertently sounding the Ford’s horn. The sudden shrill noise caused him to jolt upward and notice two feeders approaching his truck.

  Steven rolled down his window and shouted, “You filthy meat heads want some?” He retrieved a long screw driver from the back seat and waited until the two feeders reached the cab. In one fluid motion he plunged the screwdriver deep into the gaping jaws of one. Grimacing, he forced it upward, driving the point deep into the brain.

  With his left hand gripping the screwdriver his withdrew his 9mm from its holster and popped a round into the other feeder’s forehead.

  “Sick mutants!” he muttered as their bodies fell to the asphalt.

  Steven spun the truck 180 degrees and backtracked until he found Liberty Ridge Road.

  “Maybe this will take me around this mess,” he muttered, spinning gravel as he maneuvered onto the narrow road.

  The long mundane driving of the day, coupled with the boring scenery of Northern Kentucky was beginning to take its toll on his psyche. In an effort to keep his mind sharp, he begrudgingly pondered his past life and what had allowed him to become the man he now was.