Rolling Thunder - 03

by Dirk Patton

  I slung my rifle and squatted, reaching for the edge of the roof to help me swing down onto the platform below. Before I could move any further Jackson placed a big hand on my shoulder, holding me in place.

  “Sorry, Sir. This is an NCO’s job, not an officer’s.”

  “Fuck off, Master Sergeant. I was doing this shit when you were still in diapers.”

  “Yes, sir. You were. And you were an NCO. You know how this works.” Before I could say anything else he had moved past me, grasped the edge of the roof and swung down with more agility than I would have guessed he possessed. Fuck me. Sitting back and letting someone else get the job done just wasn’t the way I liked to operate, but he was already down there and needed fire support.

  Still on one knee I brought my rifle around and started taking out infected as quickly as I could pull the trigger. I was acquiring targets at less than 25 feet, hardly needing to aim at that range, and every time I pulled the trigger an infected fell dead. The minigun was keeping a large buffer zone open on one side of the train and I was piling up bodies on the other.

  Jackson hit the platform and drew his pistol, much better for defending himself in the tight confines between the two train cars. Shooting a female that was scrambling out from under one of the cars he stepped out and put one foot on the derailed car’s platform, holstered the pistol and bent to grab the decoupling lever. Try as he might, he couldn’t make the lever budge. Apparently it was jammed tight from the tremendous forces of the train going off the tracks.

  Moving back onto the rear car’s platform he squatted and rested his weight on his left leg, using his right to start hammering on the lever with the heel of his boot. The lever had just started to move when Jackson’s boot was grabbed by a male infected that had crawled out from under the platform he was squatting on. He lost his balance and fell back on his ass, thankfully staying on the platform. I noted this out of the corner of my eye as I engaged four females that were charging in. I couldn’t shift my aim or they would be on him.

  Fortunately, Jackson was far from needing help. Yanking his foot free he whipped out his pistol, shot the male in the head before dispatching another one that was squirming its way out from under the front car. He squatted back down, drew his leg back and kicked out hard. The lever squealed in protest then popped free and swung a full ninety degrees, banging against its stop.

  Jackson didn’t waste time, leaning forward quickly, grasping the coupling pin and pulling. With the trouble he’d had with the lever I expected the pin to be jammed, but it came out easily enough. Apparently easier than Jackson expected as the amount of force he used was more than needed, the extra momentum sending him off balance. He stumbled sideways and was about to recover when a female came around the front corner of the rear car, leapt and wrapped him up in an embrace.

  They fell to the platform, the female tearing at Jackson’s body and face. She was a big woman, heavy with rolls of fat, but she was tall too and I didn’t doubt she outweighed him by a good fifty pounds. They rolled on the platform, Jackson futilely pounding her head with his fist. I had stopped shooting for a second, hoping for a clean shot at his attacker, but they were moving around too violently for me to risk it. Shifting back to fire at more approaching infected, I noted out of the corner of my eye that Jackson and the female rolled off the platform, bounced off the coupling and fell to the ground between the two cars.

  Damn it! Sitting down on the edge of the roof, legs dangling into the gap I scooted forward and dropped onto the platform. Shooting three more infected I looked down and saw Jackson still locked in battle with the female, several more infected crawling along the ground under the cars about to join the fray. I shot the ones that I had angles on their heads, then had to engage more females charging in.

  A hand slapped onto the platform an inch from my boot as an infected reached for me and missed. I lifted my foot and stomped on it, feeling the bones break as I ground my foot on top of the fingers. I knew the pain wouldn’t register in the infected brain, but no matter how immune to pain they are they can’t grab you with a broken hand. I stepped back as the other hand appeared at the edge of the platform, then the face appeared and I put a bullet into the center of the forehead.

  Glancing down I saw that Jackson was in trouble. The large female still had him wrapped up and two males had a grip on his legs, pulling themselves up his lower body and trying to bite through his uniform pants. Shit. Slinging my rifle I jumped into the gap, both feet coming down hard on the back of one of the males. Pulling my pistol I leaned down, angled the weapon so the round wouldn’t hit Jackson if it went through the infected’s head, and pulled the trigger. I shot the second male in the side of the head and tried to get a bead on the female, but still didn’t have a shot. Stepping forward I finally had a target but was tackled by a leaping female before I could pull the trigger.

  She hit me square in the middle of my back, knocking me forward into the steel platform on the back of the front car, face first. Nose first, for the second time in twenty four hours. Fuck that hurt! And I was a little stunned, my forehead also having bounced off the metal. The female was on my back and she wrapped her legs around my waist and arms around my throat as she shoved her mouth against the back of my neck.

  Clothing and vest saved me from being torn open, but she had one of her forearms locked directly on my throat and was squeezing for all she was worth. I couldn’t breathe and nearly panicked. Training doesn’t make you superman, but it does prepare you to deal with unusual situations. Knowing what to do prevents panic which is often more dangerous than your enemy.

  Turning away from the elbow of the arm that was pressing on my throat, I used the platform to prevent her from turning with me. As I turned, I leaned forward and pushed her arm up and away, popping lose from the choke hold but not from the legs locked around my waist. She was pressed against me, flailing for a better grip as I got my left forearm up under her chin and forced the snapping teeth away from my face. Scrambling with my right hand I finally gripped the Kukri that was sheathed at the small of my back, drew it and stopped the fight with a sharp thrust into her lower back. The blade severed her spine at the waist, her legs instantly going limp and releasing. She fell to the ground and I quickly dispatched her with another thrust to the throat and up into her skull.

  I spun around and came face to face with Jackson. He had finally gotten the leverage he needed on the larger female and stabbed into her head with his Ka-Bar. More females were charging in and we shot them down as we scrabbled up onto the front car’s platform. I bent at the waist and Jackson clambered up my back, stepped onto my shoulder and leapt to grab the edge of the roof. He quickly pulled himself the rest of the way up, turned around and on his stomach extended his arms down to help me. I was reaching for his hands when my feet were pulled out from under me and I crashed down onto the platform before rolling into the space between the cars.

  A male had crawled out from underneath the platform I was standing on and had reached up and grabbed my ankles. I was now face to face with him, no weapons in hand as I’d already put them away for the climb onto the roof. Another male fell on me almost immediately and started trying to bite into my side, fortunately only able to chomp down on my vest, but he was working his way towards my face. My legs were pinned under the weight of both infected, my rifle stuck under my body and none of my other weapons accessible. A female screamed as she charged in, heading directly for my unprotected head.

  40

  Captain Roach had spotted the Major and the bitch, and was closing on them through the crush of evacuees when the Black Hawk had appeared overhead and dropped a fast rope extraction line down to them. He had watched in frustration as they, along with the powerfully built black soldier, had been lifted into the air and flown back towards the disabled train.

  The idea to pick them off with his rifle was so tempting he started to raise it, then thought better of what he was doing. Sure, they were easy targets hanging there only fifty f
eet in the air, but the crew in the Black Hawk would spot him and turn him into hamburger with their minigun before he could run ten feet. Lowering the rifle he cursed, turned and started running with the evacuees again.

  They weren’t leaving. He knew that much about the Major. They were up to something, and they’d be back. He was certain of that when ahead he spied the bushy tail of the Major’s dog waving as the animal trotted alongside a teenage boy. Roach would bide his time. He was good at that. Had all the patience of any successful predator.

  As he ran he shot several more infected, then intentionally aimed just a little off target and brought down two women who were running by themselves. No one seemed to notice, at least no one said anything, and the thrill of killing amongst a group of people without being noticed brought out a small giggle that threatened to become full blown laughter. Roach suppressed his joy, getting his emotions under control and reminded himself he had bigger plans. Plans for the bitch, and if he played games now he might be found out and lose his opportunity later.

  Just ahead of him people were streaming around two Hummers and a Bradley that were doing their best to fire over and around the evacuees at the infected that were in hot pursuit. A few dozen soldiers on foot tried to fill in the gaps between the vehicles, several more on top of the Bradley, adding the fire from their rifles to the fight. Roach pounded through the space between the two Humvees and slowed to a walk as the evacuees in front of him stopped running as well, feeling they were safe behind the big military vehicles.

  Several soldiers were moving through the milling people, yelling for them to continue out onto the bridge, that there was a train coming to pick them up. So that’s where the Major went. He had some plan to get the train moving again to save the survivors that had made it this far. Roach smiled, excitedly anticipating the moment when he could put a bullet into the Major and get his hands on the bitch.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” A young soldier was looking directly at Roach, approaching with his rifle held across his chest. “You aren’t supposed to have a weapon!” It was one of the National Guard soldiers that had stripped him and tied him to the seat on the train when the Major recognized him.

  “I’m just trying to help.” Roach said, moving directly towards the soldier. The man stopped a couple of feet in front of him, not recognizing the danger, but Roach kept coming. When he was right in the man’s face he grabbed the rifle to control it, whipped out the combat knife sheathed on his stolen vest and buried the blade into the man’s stomach. With a swift twist and cut, he disemboweled the man, pulled the blade out and stabbed through the mouth that was open in a silent scream of pain, piercing into the brain.

  “Infected!” Roach shouted, pushing the body onto the ground and backing away. People didn’t even question or stop to look, they just gave the corpse a wide berth, a couple of them even slapping Roach on the back in thanks as they ran past.

  41

  Two shots rang out and the female’s scream was cut off as her head deformed from the impact of high velocity slugs. Her momentum was enough to carry forward and crash down across my upper body. I was now buried under infected, but at least the female’s corpse was momentarily protecting me from the advance of the males.

  I squirmed, struggling against the weight of three bodies lying on me and the grasps of the males as they tried to pull my arms to their hungry mouths. Adrenaline was surging and I was on the verge of completely freaking out when there were more shots that sounded very close, both males going still. A moment later the female’s corpse was lifted off of me and I looked up into Jackson’s grinning face.

  “Forget how to fight when you pinned on those oak leaves?” He asked, hauling one of the males off my legs then twisting to shoot two females that were charging in.

  “Blow me, asshole.” I said, kicking the last body off and quickly climbing up onto the platform.

  We repeated the move of Jackson scrambling up my back and onto the roof, but this time I made sure I wasn’t about to have my legs pulled out from under me before I reached for his outstretched hands. He grabbed me and we both pulled. Moments later I climbed over him and the rest of the way onto the roof. I turned and brought my rifle up in case any females were making a leap for us. For the moment we were clear and Jackson called Rachel on the radio to tell her we were ready to go.

  The metal roof under my boots vibrated as the four locomotives throttled up and belched black diesel smoke, then we were moving. Slowly at first, but we quickly gained speed until we seemed to be travelling at a steady twenty miles per hour. All around us the infected pushed in against the train cars. Those that were too close were knocked to the ground, and I was gratified to see the crushed bodies in our wake.

  The Black Hawk that had maintained station over us fell in and was soon joined by another. Both of them used their miniguns to start clearing the infected out around us. They were killing hundreds, the bodies packed in so tightly that they didn’t even have to bother aiming, but for every one they killed there were a dozen replacements.

  We quickly rolled past the line established by the Apaches, bodies and body parts piled up from the high explosive ordnance they were firing. The volume of infected was greatly reduced, but the Apaches couldn’t stop all of them. Females were still in the area, running towards the bridge in pursuit of the remaining evacuees.

  “Jackson. What happened to the second train?” I had completely forgotten about the other train full of evacuees until that moment.

  “Our engineer was able to get a warning out on the radio when we derailed. They stopped in time and the last I heard they had reversed away from Memphis. The Colonel is working on getting them airlifted across the river.”

  I looked at him sideways until he continued, “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. We don’t have the air assets to move 800 people, let alone 8,000. They aren’t going to make it.”

  Thinking about all those people sitting there waiting for rescue until they eventually realized there wasn’t any rescue coming, only millions of raging infected, killed any further conversation as we approached the bridge. I spent the time staring off into the distance, trying to come up with any plan to save them, but there was nothing I could do.

  The tracks were blocked with over a hundred derailed rail cars. Even in a perfect scenario it would take hundreds of men, lots of heavy equipment and days to clear that much wreckage. Air assets were limited at best because of the loss of trained pilots and flight crews to the infection. I suspected that just like at Arnold before the base had fallen, there were plenty of aircraft, just no one to fly them.

  “Has the Colonel tried to find civilian pilots? Most of them will be former military anyway and can probably fly most of what’s available.” Jackson smiled, but it was an acknowledgement that I had a good idea, not a display of humor.

  “Yep. Been there already. Half the pilots flying these Apaches and Black Hawks are over sixty years old. Retired Army, Corp, Navy. You name it. The guy flying the bird we roped out of is a Vietnam vet. Flew medic evac in ’68 and ’69. Hell. It was a Korean war vet that flew the C-130 I was on when we evacuated Fort Campbell.”

  I nodded my head and kept my mouth shut. It was bad and people were going to continue to die. I couldn’t save everyone. Out of frustration I started to raise my rifle, thinking I would pick off the females that were running behind and beside us, but thought better of using up ammo that might be desperately needed later.

  We rode, sitting on the roof, for a few minutes. It wasn’t long before we could hear the machine guns at the entrance to the bridge, keeping the infected from swarming the waiting evacuees. As we approached, Rachel slowed the train and the Humvee that was straddling the tracks moved out of the way to let us pass. Four Black Hawks and a couple of Apaches were supporting the guarding action and for the moment the infected were being held back.

  But just like at the wall in Murfreesboro, they weren’t being stopped. Mounds of bodies were piled high in a semi-circle around t
he bridge entrance, but the infected that were trying to get to the survivors just climbed over the piles of dead and kept on coming. Nothing deterred them, and as soon as we ran out of ammo or retreated they would surge forward unabated and flood every inch of the bridge.

  The rear of the train where we were sitting passed the last line of defense provided by the Hummers and the Bradley, then we were fully on the bridge. Slowing more, Rachel kept us rolling at about five miles an hour, evacuees standing on the bridge deck on either side of the tracks looking at the train cars with obvious relief on their faces. Jackson and I stood up as Rachel brought us to a gentle stop. She really did know what she was doing. Don’t know why I was surprised.

  Scanning the crowd, I spotted Dog standing on the left side of the train, next to Max’s son. Max was in his chair and the rest of his boys stood in a protective circle around him and his equipment cases. People started rushing forward when the train stopped and Jackson and I swung down to the ground to make sure we got everyone on board. Far down the train I saw a figure climb up onto the lead locomotive and disappear into the cab where Rachel was, but didn’t think any more of it as I was nearly knocked over by a very happy Dog.

  42

  The evacuees had gone as far onto the bridge as they could. The solid steel decking that provided a bed for the tracks ended a few hundred feet out over the river, the rails continuing on with only evenly spaced steel girders supporting them. Roach wandered up to the edge of the decking and looked down, pulling back quickly when the swiftly rushing water far below started to make him dizzy. He didn’t like heights, and a poor swimmer, he liked water even less.