Among the Dead Book 2 (Among the Living)

by Long, Timothy W.

  The worst was in the streets. As far as he could see, bodies lay blackened. Some were curled and others wrapped over objects. Four bodies were crisped around the hulk of a car. Whatever had struck had melted parts of the automobile.

  The air smelled of carbon and melted plastic. It reeked of burning fuel, and when Les got a full breath, he exploded in gasping coughs that drove him to his knees.

  LeBeau coughed, as did the others. Then he reached into the red cooler and extracted a can of Olympia beer from a bath of water. He held it out for Les, who took it, popped the top and drank half the can in three massive swallows. The belch that followed was the most satisfying of his life.

  “Where’d the beer come from?”

  “Over there.” LeBeau gestured over his shoulder. “Some of the workers musta had it stashed in a corner.”

  It was afternoon, but the city was dark. Les followed a massive plume of smoke as it rose over the waterfront and clouded the sky. As he stared up, a tremendous flash of light lit the sky to the north. He looked that way and was almost blinded for the effort. An explosion ballooned out and engulfed an entire city block.

  “I know that smell. They using gas … some kinda incendiary shit that don’t destroy the buildings. Just the people.”

  “Fuck me.”

  The others had trudged up the stairs to join Les. Grinder’s lanky frame came into view and took in the sight. He whistled and shook his head.

  “That is the most metal fucking thing I have ever seen in my life.”

  Misty leaned on Grinder for support, then seemed to realize what he smelled like and pulled away, nose wrinkling. She probably didn’t smell much better, Les thought. After sweating through the slip of a dress all day then being buried in a building, she looked like the survivor of a nuclear war.

  “What now?” LeBeau asked.

  “Now? Now we wait,” Les said and sat down on the concrete floor.

  “Wait for what?”

  “The fucking cavalry.” LeBeau grinned.

  “I don’t think anyone is coming for a long time,” Les said. “A long time. We’re on our own.”

  LeBeau cackled like that was the funniest damn thing he’d ever heard.

  Mike

  The train lurched from side to side as we continued to build acceleration. The voices around us rose as we sped up; people were excited to be getting the hell out of town, and I was one of them. The long days of being cooped up, wondering if I would ever see the outside world again, worried that the dead would somehow breach the walls and attack us, had taken their toll. It was a constant struggle to hold on to some semblance of humanity.

  But the panic of those around me had been the worst. Rumors became news, and there was very little real information. Now, though, we were on our way. I didn’t think I had ever been more relieved in my life.

  I thought the first scream was simply one of the passengers on the lower level yelling as we moved out of the city. The next few were anything but jubilant.

  A howl of pain rose like I had heard too many times over the past few days. I didn’t want to believe what I’d heard. I tried to stand, but the press of people kept me in place. I stared toward the stairway, but it was packed with people. No one could move, but everyone was looking in the same direction.

  Then it grew silent as voices shushed each other.

  “Are they okay?” a child’s voice asked.

  “What was that?”

  “What’s going on?” Voices babbled but not as loudly as they had before.

  Then a commotion broke out, and there were more screams. Someone called out for help. Then another screamed in pain or frustration.

  It was maddening not being able to see what was happening below.

  Cries grew, and people tried to shuffle back from the stairs only to meet a wall of other people. There was simply nowhere to go.

  Claustrophobia pressed in on me. I stared out the window and tried not to think about the screams. People called out for help at the top of their lungs.

  I gulped and tried to breathe, but panic was setting in again.

  Something thrashed and made a racket beneath me like someone was trying to get through the floor.

  “What the hell is going on down there?” I said loud enough to get the attention of the others in my little quad of chairs.

  Nelson also looked panicked, something I was not used to seeing. In the short time I had known him, he was steady, solid as a rock, always in control and normally armed to the teeth. Now he looked just like us. A man sitting in fear.

  One of the guys at the head of the stairs smashed in the safety glass covering a fire extinguisher just over the stairwell. He ripped the red cylinder out and held it like a weapon.

  More screams, and the panic hit. People tried to climb over each other to get away from the stairwell, but there was almost nowhere to go. Then the passengers on the other side of the train started yelling.

  “One of them got on,” Nelson said softly into my ear.

  “Oh shit,” I said.

  We were completely trapped. I was going to watch an entire car of people devoured. They would change, everyone who was bitten. Then would become deaders. It was the end for all of us, and I had no escape.

  “When they get close, I’ll take care of it,” Nelson said and reached down. He tugged up his pant leg and dragged out a handgun. He carefully popped the magazine, took a look at the load, slid it back home and chambered a round.

  “You won’t be able to get all of them.”

  “Only need two rounds,” he said with a grim nod.

  “Wait, maybe they’ll stop the train and rescue us. Or let us off.”

  “This train ain’t stoppin’.”

  Seconds became minutes as we all stood or sat, transfixed with fear. Some still tried to push away from the stairs while others simply stared, mouths wide open. Still others babbled in fear.

  Eaten or shot in the head. What a choice. If I had to face being attacked, not standing a chance against a half-dozen or more of my fellow passengers trying to rip my guts out, I would settle for the lead.

  Screams grew louder and the thumps harder as those below fought for their lives.

  A splash of blood coated the man at the head of the stairs, but he stood resolute. He had the fire extinguisher over one shoulder like a lumberjack. But there was no way to swing it. He was not a small guy, but he had to keep his other hand on the overhang to keep from being pitched forward.

  A ripping sound, and that was all it took. The train had been a nightmare before; now it was pure chaos as people fought to get away from what was coming.

  “The emergency stop, someone hit it!” a voice cried.

  “Someone find the emergency stop!” The cries came louder and faster, but the train did not stop.

  A passenger across from us had been staring at the window. He reached up, grabbed the red handle and yanked it down. Air whistled in as the window came away from the side of the train but didn’t slip off.

  “Stop!” a woman across from him yelled and tried to bat his hand aside as he went for the other handle. If he popped that one, the window would break off. But we were moving fast. Buildings rushed by as the train continued to speed out of the city. If someone tried to jump, it would mean an almost instant death.

  The man at the head of the stairs fought something on the stairwell. He bashed down with both arms, extinguisher rising and lowering as he beat something to a pulp. He paused and leaned over to catch his breath. Then another must have crawled over the corpse, because he started swinging again.

  I stared at the emergency handles on the window on my side and wondered what would happen if I pulled them loose. My choice of death was up to three options now.

  I shook my head at the morbid thought of dying on the train. The very thing I thought had been my salvation. I grabbed for the cell phone in my pocket, intent on calling Rita one last time. Maybe this time she would pick up, or at least I would get voicemail. Then what would I
say? Some last platitude? Some final words of love? Should I tell her I forgave her all her mistakes? Should I tell her that I forgave her for Andy’s death?

  And there it was. At last, I said it to myself. Even as my life drew to a close, I admitted it. The words were only in my head, but they were so big they might have been written across the clouds by a plane trailing smoke.

  I had always tried to share some of the blame, tried to convince myself that we had taken our eyes off Andy for those critical few seconds. But it wasn’t me at all. It had been Rita in an alcoholic daze. It was then that I realized how much I loathed her.

  I screamed when one of the deaders came up the stairs and overwhelmed our guardian. He fought for all he was worth, but another deader must have grabbed his leg, because he fell backwards and was quickly pulled down the stairs. The next victim in line kicked and fought, but it was too late. Another one had made it up the stairs and latched on to the woman. She flailed her arms and screamed for help, but everyone around her was too busy trying to move out of the attacker’s range.

  The smell of blood—and worse, feces and urine—assaulted the upper layer of the train. I’d always read that people lost their bowels when they died. I never thought I was going to witness it firsthand.

  Nelson had his eyes glued to the carnage. He couldn’t look away. His arm kept twitching like he was going to raise the gun and start shooting, but he didn’t.

  “How many rounds do you have?”

  “Not enough,” he mumbled.

  The press of people grew so heavy that I felt the air constricting around me. I wanted to claw my way out of my seat even as others shoved toward the center of the train. Then someone had had enough and popped the emergency releases on another window. The cabin was suddenly filled with air as it howled into the little cabin, reminding me all too much of the wails of the dead from below.

  I gasped as the air pressure changed, but my ears popped within seconds, and I could hear the screams again.

  They were getting close. The dead were taking the passengers and converting them so that more joined their fold.

  A helicopter ripped by overhead, and Nelson once again watched it. Then he raised his gun, swiveled in his seat and blew a hole in one of the attacking deaders.

  The sound was loud in the tiny space, and it made my ears ring.

  Another passenger popped a window loose. It flew past the side of the car as we rumbled along the tracks. I followed its trajectory until it struck the ground and bounced a couple of times, then shattered. It wasn’t much, but it gave me a very brief distraction from the nightmare around me.

  They were getting closer, and Nelson was in a full panic. He fired a few more shots, counting out loud each time. A woman with a small child tried to huddle near us, practically lying in the lap and arms of a seated passenger who went into full-scale panic when she restricted his movement. But she held her ground and shouted over and over, “Shoot them all, kill them all!”

  That wasn’t going to happen.

  Nelson dropped another one, and for a few seconds, we had a respite. The cabin seemed to pause, and for a moment, I thought maybe all of the deaders had been put down.

  Then they came howling up the stairs. A nightmare horde of the dead. Men and women covered in blood, screaming for the living. Mouths gaping, wounds leaking. Limbs missing. Three, four, then there were seven.

  I’d had enough. I reached up and ripped off the red handles that held the window in place. We had been slowing for a few minutes, but I had no doubt that my actions would probably lead to my death.

  The window came loose and flew off. I was going to wait until the very last second and then jump. Some didn’t care to stick around and leaped out. I closed my eyes, because I didn’t want to see what was happening to them.

  When I opened them again, it was to a whirlwind as air assaulted my face. It ripped at my shirt and wanted to pull me out the window. But the only thing I saw was a huge black hole.

  Nelson had the gun pointed at my face.

  “Face or chest, man?” he asked me, and I wondered what the hell he meant. Then it dawned on me.

  “No!” I yelled.

  “Better this way. You’re a good guy, Mike, kinda dumb about some shit, but you’re a good guy. Gonna miss you. Maybe we’ll grab a beer together up there.” He let his eyes drift upward.

  A deader was only a few feet behind him and had his eyes set on Nelson. I pointed, but he didn’t even bother looking. He lowered the gun so it was pointed at my chest.

  That was when something bright lit the sky.

  Even the deaders paused to look toward the light. My mouth dropped open, but not for long. A blast rolled toward us, lifted the train off the track, and then set us down again.

  Windows blew inward, and bags were lifted off the overhead bins and pushed against the walls.

  Nelson no longer had the gun pointed at me. I watched his face as his mouth gaped open, and I swear he mouthed the word “Lazarus.” Then the train went sideways, and I blacked out.

  Mike

  One nightmare after another. That was my life for the past week.

  A figure loomed over me, cut out the sun. I thought maybe it was someone I knew, but my vision was jagged and filled with blurry forms. Someone slid their hands under my shoulders and dragged me. I wanted to get up and not be a burden, but nothing seemed to work. I told my legs to help me stand, but they were just rubber. I told my hands to reach up and break contact with the person who was pulling me, but they ignored my pleas.

  We were on top of something. I knew this, because when I craned my head around, I didn’t see the ground, but that was fine. I needed a nap anyway, so the person dragging me could just stop, lay me down and let me sleep.

  A howl came from somewhere far away, however, and that meant something to me. I felt fear. I felt regret. I felt loss. I felt like jumping up and running, most of all.

  “Mike!” a familiar voice said from far away.

  “What?”

  “Wake up, man! We’re about to be zombie chow. I swear I’m gonna leave you.”

  “Okay, leave me,” I replied.

  A shape levered itself out of a gaping hole. It was a man, or had been until recently. A long strip of skin dangled from its forehead, torn off, hair hanging and bloody. I wanted to throw up but didn’t have the energy.

  A few other figures moved around us, but they slid and shimmied over the edge of the precipice on which we were perched.

  Then a blast struck my face. Someone had hit me.

  I looked up at Nelson. I had no doubt that he was the source of the pain on the side of my face. It worked in the movies, so I guess he decided to try it. Slap a dazed victim, and they should snap right to. I didn’t exactly leap right back to alertness, but I did partially return to myself.

  Another deader clawed its way out of the wreckage, and I remembered the train. I remembered the dead eating their way up from the first level, killing everyone in their path.

  I no longer wanted to sleep. I wanted to jump off the edge of the train car and run until tomorrow.

  The ground must not have been far, because Nelson laid me down on the edge of the car and went over the side. I stared in horror as he deserted me. The deader had his eye set on me but was dragging a shattered leg, and it was the only thing that kept me alive.

  A hand grabbed and pulled me, none too gently, off the edge. I thumped to the gravel-covered ground in a pile of pain. Every single jagged edge found a place to make a mark on my body.

  I rolled to the side and thought I might be able to breathe again. I set my hands down and got on all fours. That was when the deader fell off the train and landed in a heap a few feet from me.

  That was all it took for my battered body to respond. I backed up, skittering across the little rocks as I tried to get to my feet.

  The deader rolled over and attempted to stand as well.

  Nelson put his arm under me and tried to help support my weight, but I was still to
o weak. He tugged me back as he tried to crabwalk out of the path of the deader, but together, we were twice as slow. It wouldn’t take long for the deader to catch up with us. If he latched on to a leg and got a bite of either of us, we were done for.

  He staggered to his feet, the broken one bent beneath him. But he did a better job of moving than we did and covered half the ground in a second.

  “Shoot him!” I tried to scream, but it came out a whisper.

  “Lost my gun. Fuck, find a weapon. Grab a rock or something!” Nelson yelled back.

  “Help!” I cried weakly.

  “Help!” Nelson yelled, and he really put his military bearing behind it.

  The deader dropped and got its hand on my ankle and used me as an anchor to pull itself to my body. I tried to kick but had no strength, and my foot brushed its head. Then another of the creatures tumbled off the side of the train and made for us. I howled, but it was useless.

  Sunlight gleamed on silver as something floated out of the sun. Then there was a flash and the deader’s head leaped off its shoulders.

  I shook my head at the magic trick.

  “You look worse than me,” a familiar voice said.

  “Kate,” Nelson said.

  “Heard you guys yelling. I watched White-and-Skinny here get on the train. I was on the car right next to you guys. Lucky for you, eh?” she said.

  People moved in on our location, and luckily, they appeared to be alive.

  Alive. I gasped as they closed in. A few had weapons and moved toward the train. Someone took my arm and lifted me from Nelson, then helped me back and away from the wreckage. As we backed up, I got a glimpse of the carnage.

  The massive train was sprawled sideways and had been scattered across the landscape for as far as I could see. Survivors pulled themselves down from atop the cars. Bodies lay everywhere, and others were being lowered by the living.

  “I got you,” a guy said. He and a couple of others joined in and helped us away from the cars.

  “Where’d the explosion come from?” a guy helping Nelson asked.