Jesse was struggling to pull himself atop the trashed train car when Franklin approached him from behind. Franklin could see two shards of glass embedded in his already injured leg, and multiple gashes across his back. It was clear Jesse wasn’t going to get far.
Franklin grabbed Jesse with his one good arm and flung him backwards. Jesse toppled over and landed on his back, screaming in agony, but didn’t get up. He was clearly defeated. A look of painful despair and agony had washed over his face. He was suffering, and he was ready for it to be over.
“Just finish me off!” Jesse sobbed, as Franklin just stared. “I don’t want to live anymore! Just do it!”
Franklin didn’t utter a response. His weary mind wandered back to the earlier days of the outbreak when he had met Jesse; a scared young man he had helped save along the Kentucky River on a dark night. He was a man in love and determined to do whatever it took to save his girlfriend, Katelyn. The two had become so integrated into Franklin’s group of survivors that he almost thought of Jesse as an older son.
Then there had been that bastard Steven, who Franklin still hadn’t located, and he had kidnapped the two women they loved. The bond forged during the attempted rescue had deepened their relationship, ultimately. That is, until Jesse’s disappearance and eventual betrayal.
A twinge of sympathy briefly surfaced on Franklin’s bruised face as he stood there watching. But no, he told himself. It has to be done. He turned his back on Jesse and saw a large splintered section of timber balancing precariously on what looked like a mangled coupler.
As the mass of feeders drew closer Franklin gave a mighty shove of force against the beam. The imbalance caused it to slide forward and fall right towards Jesse’s stricken position on the ground. A fresh scream emanated as the beam landed squarely on his injured leg, crushing it against the ground and driving the shards of glass deeper into his leg.
Franklin painfully clawed his way up through the wreckage and perched himself atop the car and watched the scene below him unfold. He could hear Jesse’s rapid breathing as he realized it was truly the end of the road.
The nearest five feeders closed in on Jesse’s position and flung themselves upon the helpless young man. One started chewing on his face, while another delved into his shoulder. The third used bony hands with gnarly fingernails to pierce Jesse’s gut and rip it open. The last two began sharing in devouring his entrails.
A wave of newfound pain spread through Jesse’s body as more and more feeders descended on him, all wanting a bite to eat. His body was torn apart with a ferocity that would have made lions on the African savannah appear tame and docile.
Franklin turned his face away from the gruesome scene, but could not block out the agonizing screams of misery slicing through the air. A tear spilled from his left eye as he listened to the young man’s dying cries. After a minute the struggling ceased, and Franklin assumed Jesse had finally succumbed to death.
He pulled the cigar from his pocket and cut off the end with his teeth. As some of the feeders became aware of his new perch, Franklin knew it was only a matter of time until they achieved their goal of devouring him too. Looking over at the wrecked locomotive next to him he knew it would either be death by cannibalism, or by a massive explosion of steam.
Franklin’s hand was shaking as he withdrew the lighter from his pocket. He placed the cigar between his bloody lips and drew in forcefully until the cigar was burning well. He exhaled deeply and watched as three feeders were reaching the precipice of the splintered wall Franklin had used to get up high.
Maybe two more minutes before they get to me? Franklin thought. He silently wished the locomotive would explode, but he guessed at this point the pressure relief valves had done their job. Guess I better make this cigar count.
Franklin leaned back and looked at the sky as he puffed heavily on the cigar. The aged tobacco began seeping through the roof of his mouth and into his body as he smoked furiously. He began to feel somewhat relaxed, even in his injured state as the tobacco brought even just a miniscule sense of relief to his current state.
He closed his eyes and tried to think about his son. Franklin hoped he was still alive. Surely there would be a man and woman left alive in his refuge that would take Seth into their care and raise him to be a strong respectable man. The last thing he wanted was for his son to turn into the blood thirsty revenge seeker that his father had been transformed into over the last few months.
Franklin began sobbing as he lay there, looking at the sky. The emotions of the day finally caught up to him and it was more than he could bear. He choked violently as he inhaled some of the acrid smoke, but continued drawing on the cigar to dull his senses and forget about his impending doom.
He could hear the feeders dragging themselves across the side of the car and Franklin knew he had only seconds left until they began devouring him. He squeezed his eyes shut and prepared for the searing pain of teeth ripping into his flesh.
As Franklin willed himself to die, the sudden piercing shriek of a turbofan engine filled the atmosphere. Seconds later an incessant buzzing overpowered Franklin’s senses. He weakly opened his eyes in time to see the unmistakable silhouette of an A-10 Warthog streaking low over the ground. The buzzing was followed by a loud swoosh as the beast unleashed a volley of rockets.
“Holy shit!” Franklin exclaimed, suddenly overcome by a renewed burst of adrenaline. He flung the cigar from his mouth and sat up just as a second aircraft swooped in on the horizon. Franklin watched as the pilot held the aircraft steady and lined up on the masses. “Yeah! Get ‘em!” Franklin whooped and hollered.
As if on cue, the buzzing once again reverberated through the air as the pilot activated his 30 millimeter Gatling gun. Franklin stared in awe as a large swath of feeders was almost vaporized. The rapid fire of the weapon simply chewed through the ranks of rotten flesh in the blink of an eye, leaving virtually nothing left that was recognizable as a human body. Everything was lost in a cloud of red mist, dirt, and debris.
“Hot damn!” Franklin yelled, as he remembered the feeders reaching for his legs. He hastily kicked them away and was filled with a renewed energy to continue fighting.
The A-10’s circled back around and conducted a second pass, decimating more feeders. Franklin went ballistic pushing, shoving, and kicking the hungry monsters from his position. His heart sank, however, as he saw the aircraft come around for a third run, and they were aiming directly for him.
They don’t even know I’m here, Franklin thought. That pilot is going to kill me!
Knowing he only had seconds to react, Franklin looked to his left and saw a break in the hordes of feeders. Without hesitating he leaped from his high perch in an effort to cheat death a second time. Franklin hit the ground, rolled twice, and scrambled away on his one good arm and knees.
His evasive action was none too soon as the wreckage and surrounding area erupted in a massive cloud of smoke, dust, and particles. A second later the piercing buzzing filled Franklin’s already damaged ears as he continued his frantic escape.
The second A-10 was following hot on the heels of his wingman to complete his third attack. The pilot focused on the largest group of surviving monsters surrounding the stricken locomotive. He cut loose, expelling the last of his ammunition for the Gatling cannon.
As Franklin continued on his flight from danger, he heard the rattle of the aircraft’s weaponry as well as the massive explosion of the locomotive’s boiler. Slugs tore through the thick iron plating and provided an immediate point of release for the steam pressure still built up inside. Smoke and water vapor rocketed out, throwing debris in all directions. The steam seared any feeders in its vicinity, turning them into nothing more than a charred pile of burned flesh.
Franklin was fortunate to be shielded from the steam plume by numerous large pieces of wreckage, but he did not escape the effects. The incredible force and shockwave lifted him off the ground and threw him five feet away. Before he could begin moving aga
in a large section of the paneling from the once fancy rail car came hurtling through the air and pinned his legs to the ground.
“I can’t be stuck!” Franklin bellowed, trying to use his good arm to free his legs. After a minute of futile efforts Franklin realized it was no use, and settled down to watch as the other A-10 came around to finish using its ammunition. Clearly the pilots were only concerned with killing as many feeders as possible.
He looked around him for any piece of garbage he might be able to use to help free himself. As Franklin did so, he glimpsed a bright flash followed by a trail of smoke streak out of the woods half a mile away.
“What the…” Franklin’s voice trailed off as he saw two more exit the trees farther west. Then it dawned on him. Surface to air missiles! He watched helplessly as they soared towards the streaking American aircraft.
The pilot’s instruments alerted him of the impending danger and he quickly launched countermeasure flares from his aircraft and banked to the south. Two of the missiles missed their mark thanks to the evasive maneuvers, but the third one smashed into the tail of the aircraft. The tail was ripped from the fuselage and the doomed aircraft spiraled into the ground, exploding in a massive firestorm of epic proportions.
Franklin’s jaw dropped as he stared at the blazing inferno in front of him. His attention was quickly diverted, however, as surviving feeders located his position and moved in for an easy kill.
“I guess it’s over,” Franklin muttered. He realized he was weaponless, pinned, and it was time to accept his fate. He had made it this far, only to die like a lamb led to the slaughter. There was nothing Franklin could do, so he calmly watched the feeders stumble towards him.
As Franklin stared down the lead monster, its mangled head suddenly blew apart as the crack of a rifle echoed through the countryside. Franklin was doused in a putrid spray as cranial matter rained down around him.
Something big is going on here, Franklin thought, as the rifle sounded again, and then again. One by one the nearby feeders were all dropped. Whoever they are, they have great equipment and crack-shot marksmen.
The shooting stopped and soon Franklin heard the rumble of engines and the distant shouts of men barking orders. He could only watch as multiple Type 99 battle tanks painted with green camouflage rolled into view. Bright red stars of the People’s Liberation Army of China decorated their exterior.
Franklin was speechless as more tanks emerged, followed by dozens of PLA infantry. They fanned out, shooting random feeders still left alive. Some began combing through wreckage while others searched the rotten corpses for anything of value. They were quick and methodical in their movements.
When a group of five of the Chinese forces approached him, Franklin slowly raised his arm into the air in a show of surrender. “I am unarmed,” he spoke. “I repeat I am unarmed!” He then pointed at the panel that had pinned him to the ground. “Can you help free me?”
The soldiers looked at him for a moment and then one of them spoke a phrase Franklin didn’t comprehend.
“What does that mean?” Franklin asked, still not sure if they understood English. Franklin was answered with a swift blow to his head from a rifle stock and he lapsed into unconsciousness.
XXII
Groggily, Franklin awoke alone in a dank concrete block room. A small, sleeping figure lay next to him. Stiffly, Franklin carefully moved aside and looked closely at the figure’s face. Seth! he shouted within himself and pumped his fist in happiness, and then grimaced at the sudden sharp pains throughout his body. The pain pushed the last of the grogginess from his brain, and he quickly became aware of a loud, heavily accented voice
droning on and on in a continuous loop.
“Americans! Time to embrace your freedom in the newly acquired territory of the People’s Republic of China! We have liberated you and our supreme leader accepts your thanks! Let us…”
Franklin tried to tune out the rest as he stood on his tiptoes to peer out a small, smudged glass window near the far corner. Unable to see, he tried to grab the ledge with his good arm and pull himself up farther, but his hand slipped on a small piece of paper tucked in the corner. Franklin sat down and in the dim light he read, “Chinese enslaving surviving Amers. Don’t believe propaganda. If you’re reading this, I’m already dead. Avenge me! --Gen. David Cornhouser, US Army.”
Determination setting in on his face, Franklin leaned against the wall and looked at Seth sleeping on the floor and back at the note in his hand. He growled a vow to the departed general—“Scourge and invader have held our land long enough! And I’ll make them pay the price!”
Z-Railed Page 22