Military Fiction: THE MAC WALKER COLLECTION: A special ops military fiction collection...

by D. W. Ulsterman

  “I would never let anyone harm you, Dublin. Never.”

  Dublin remained silent, looking back into Reese’s eyes. Then she gave him a small smile before hugging him tightly as she leaned up to whisper into his ear.

  ‘Right back at you.”

  XXXIV.

  Reese, Dublin and Brando sat in the rusted out military jeep. A small toggle taped to the right of the steering column was used to start the vehicle. Despite its quite ragged outward appearance, the engine quickly fired up and idled smoothly.

  Within a few minutes the three returned to where Reese had left Mac and the others when he ran off to save Dublin. Mac was standing alongside Bear, and though he looked weak, Reese was simply grateful to see the older man back on his feet and breathing with far less discomfort than when he had last seen him.

  Bear looked as immovable as ever, the only indication of the grenade attack being a shallow scratch that ran from his forehead to the bridge of his nose. He was agitated at not having recovered sooner from the grenade blast to have been able to assist Reese with going after the bandits who had taken Dublin.

  “I’m sorry, Reese, by the time I was sitting up you were already gone. Then I found Mac and wasn’t sure if I should stay and help him or head out after you. Looks like you did fine on your own, though.”

  Reese quickly outlined what had happened back at the bandit encampment – a story that left Mac smiling back at both him and Dublin. Mac was proud, knowing he had played a significant part in teaching both of them the skills needed to protect themselves in a life and death situation. Today, that teaching proved successful.

  Dublin’s eyes scanned behind Mac and Bear, looking for Yakov and Cooper Wyse.

  “Where are Cooper and Yakov? Are they both ok?”

  Bear pointed back at where the train had been left a mile or so behind them.

  “They both walked back to the train. Well, more like the Russian limped back with Cooper helping him. Yakov had this thing…a piece of rock that the grenade blast had shot into his leg. Dumb asshole that he is, he just grabs onto it and yanks it out. Blood everywhere. So much that we all start thinking he’s gonna bleed out right in front of us. So Cooper rips off part of his shirt and ties it tight around the leg, and they start heading back to the train where we have a med kit with our supplies. Cooper says he’s stitched up plenty of animals before, so the Russian shouldn’t be any different.”

  Reese was looking at Mac intently.

  “And what about you, Mac? How are you feeling?”

  Mac’s eyes fell to his feet momentarily before he looked back up at Reese.

  “I’m ok, Reese. Been better…but I’m ok.”

  Reese decided now was not the time to push Mac on what was wrong with his health. That would have to happen soon – but after they were back on the train and traveling to Manitoba.

  Right before they all got into the bandit’s jeep to drive back to the Russian’s train, Mac pointed some sixty or so yards in front of where they were standing.

  “Good thing the Russian stopped the train. The bandits had placed explosives on the track. Probably would have derailed the train. Apparently Yakov’s got these motion detectors sitting all along this stretch of tracks – about seven miles worth. Anyone starts messing around on or near the tracks and his monitor inside the locomotive lets him know. He says this area has always been trouble for bandits because the terrain allows them easy access to the tracks. Once we get past here, that danger is quite a bit less, and then when we start heading back northeast, we’ll be so isolated, there’ll be almost no danger of bandits. Smooth sailing he said. When I pointed out we were on a train and not a sailboat, he told me to go to hell – said that while blood was pouring out of his leg.

  “I’m really starting to like that Russian.”

  Just before Reese put the jeep into gear Mac used his handheld communicator to let Cooper know they were all headed back to the train.

  The drive back to the train was brief, and upon arriving, Reese and the others found both Cooper and Yakov working to replenish the engine’s firebox with coal. Actually, it was Cooper who was doing the shoveling as the Russian stood scowling, muttering under his breath how the rancher was shoveling, “too slow – too slow”.

  Seeing the others, Cooper offered them a big smile as he stepped from the locomotive and gave both Reese and Dublin a brief hug.

  “Reese, I take it you killed the bandits who took Dublin?”

  Reese gave a brief nod of his head.

  “Yeah – I did. With Brando’s help. He tore out the throat of one of them.”

  Cooper Wyse didn’t appear surprised at the mention of Brando’s recent heroics.

  “Sounds about right. That dog can flat out fight if it’s needed. As for you, Reese - well done. Did good.”

  Yakov remained inside the locomotive, trying to shovel coal on one good leg. The other was wrapped tightly in white gauze.

  Mac nodded in Yakov’s direction while addressing Cooper.

  “Get him stitched up ok?”

  Cooper shook his head as he glanced back in the Russian’s direction.

  “Yeah – you could say that I suppose. Got him back here, tied off the tourniquet a little more, and he grabs a bottle of vodka and pours it all over the wound. Must have hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Drinks about a third of the bottle himself, and then tells me to heat up the backside of that same shovel he’s using now to cauterize the wound. Says he doesn’t like stitches. Calls them a waste of time. I hesitated cauterizing it – figure there’s going to be a hell of a risk of infection. He starts cursing me out, calling me things I don’t even understand, and grabs that shovel himself and pushes the back end of it right up against the wound on his leg. Holds it there for about ten seconds and all you can smell is his skin burning to hell. Terrible smell. He looks down at it, pours some more vodka over it, wraps it up in gauze, and then goes back to shoveling coal like he doesn’t have a care in the world.”

  Yakov leaned out of the locomotive and nodded at Dublin and Reese.

  “Kill the Muslims?”

  Reese answered back.

  “Yeah – we killed them.”

  The Russian nodded his head once.

  “Good. We go soon. Ten minutes. Be ready.”

  Cooper Wyse, himself known to be a man who would rather do than say, shook his head at the Russian’s brevity.

  As Bear rejoined the Russian in helping him shovel coal into the firebox, Mac and the others took their seats in the passenger car and waited for the train to start moving again. Ten minutes later, just as Yakov had told them, the train began to inch its way forward. It was at that very moment Brando’s head raised and he bolted from his position at Cooper’s feet to the back of the passenger car where he began to snarl and bark loudly.

  Everyone else in the passenger car turned their head to follow Brando, wondering what could have the Doberman so agitated. Cooper rose from his seat and began to make his way to the back of the passenger car, his eyes straining to see whatever it was the dog was sensing behind them. The train’s speed was slowly increasing to nearly ten miles an hour.

  “What the hell is that?”

  Cooper’s question was barely heard above the din of the locomotive as it worked itself slowly down the train tracks, pulling the passenger car behind it.

  The others joined Cooper at the back of the train car, looking out the same small window as the rancher was. All of them inhaled sharply at the sight of the hellish nightmare that followed them. Even Mac Walker, who had seen countless horrors during his seventy five years of existence, was both stunned and frightened at the sight.

  “Oh my god.”

  XXXV.

  Hundreds of dark shaped monsters moved quickly toward the train, running with an odd hunched gait where their heads hung well ahead of their bodies, and their claw fingered hands would push them forward in unison with their feet, similar to how a monkey would run. Their sleek, lean, hairless bodies were moving with considera
ble speed – much faster that the train was managing to travel at that time. Unless the train’s speed increased more quickly, the creatures would likely catch up to them within another minute, possibly even sooner.

  A particularly large seeker ran directly ahead of the others, its inhumanly wide mouth growing wider as it let out a prolonged, terrifying shriek that was immediately joined by the many other seekers who answered its call with equally shrill shrieks of their own. Brando began to whimper, sensing the vast number of the monsters now nearing the slowly moving train.

  Without uttering a word, Cooper Wyse opened the passenger car door and stepped to the small outside platform that hung off the back. Both of his Colt pistols were drawn, and he began to take aim, pause a half second before each shot, and then shoot. Each bullet found a target, eliciting a shrieking cry of pain from one of the creatures. Only a few dropped to the ground though. Others, though hit by one of Cooper’s bullets, continued running toward the train. It took no more than fifteen seconds for the rancher to fire off all six shots in each of his guns. He turned to look beside him as Reese, holding one of the assault rifles he had taken from the Muslim bandits, began firing repeated rounds into the dark mass of seekers.

  In the front of the train, the Russian heard gunfire from behind the locomotive and stuck his head out the side and looked back to see the nightmare mass of creatures running to catch his train. Yakov turned around to look at Bear, who was steadily shoveling yet more coal into the firebox, and uttered a single command to the big man.

  “Shovel faster. Shovel more. Strange things behind us.”

  Bear looked back at the Russian with a mixture of confusion and anger.

  “What?”

  His shouted question was ignored by Yakov, who was focused entirely on getting the train up to speed in a shorter time than he would normally have done.. Hoping enough steam was being produced without causing dangerous levels of pressure to build inside the boiler and valves, the Russian released more water into the system while carefully monitoring the water level just above the firebox. Too much and the increase in the rate of speed would be too slow. Too little and the firebox temperatures quickly become dangerous.

  Determining enough coal was in the firebox, Yakov held up a hand signaling Bear to pause his shoveling. The firebox was closed entirely, causing the water temperatures to spike upward. Normally this process would have taken nearly thirty minutes. Now the Russian was attempting to compress it into no more than ten minutes.

  The train’s valves groaned under the strain, as massive clouds of coal ash belched from the exhaust chimney. The speed indicator currently showed just twelve miles an hour.

  Reese quickly emptied the AK-47’s standard 30-round magazine into the seekers. He was able to see at least three of them collapse onto the ground and not get back up. Hundreds more were still closing in on the train, their collective shrieks close enough to overpower even the noise of the moving train. Reese was about to return to the inside of the passenger car to get another magazine but Mac was already stepping onto the platform with his trusted M16. His skin color remained a pasty white, while his breathing continued to be a series of short, raspy, wheezing noises, but the former Navy SEAL had that look of calm determination Reese had become so familiar with seeing on Mac’s face during an imminent threat.

  “Not bad, Reese. You’re getting better. Let’s see what I can do.”

  Like the AK-47, the M16 used a thirty round magazine. Mac had modified its firing mechanism though to make it capable of shooting even faster than the standard design. Using the platform railing as a brace his arms against, Mac aimed the M16 into the center of the seekers and began firing with such speed, the entire magazine was emptied within a few seconds. Before Reese could utter a response, the seventy five year old had slammed another magazine into the rifle and began firing again. This was repeated a third time, and then a fourth. At least thirty of the creatures were no longer running toward them. Still hundreds remained and the seekers nearest the back of the train were now no more than fifty yards away from where Mac stood on the platform.

  The Russian glanced down at his speed indicator as he heard the unmistakable sound of a fully automatic assault rifle firing from the back of the train. He grunted his approval as he imagined the amount of ammunition that was blasting into the dark mass of monsters trying to catch them. The speed of the train was now eighteen miles an hour, and yet, looking back, the seekers were still gaining ground – though not quite as quickly as before. Yakov was giving Mac and the others just a little more time to try and stop them.

  “More coal.”

  Bear quickly complied with the Russian’s order. He had heard the shrieking noises, recognized those shrieks as the things in the woods that had been chasing them before, and knew there were many more of the monsters, whatever they were, now coming after them.

  Mac had emptied every one of his loaded magazines. Dublin was next, holding one of the simple hunting rifles Cooper had strapped to each of the horses when they first left his ranch on their way into Canada. Like Mac, she used the platform railing to stabilize her arms, took aim, and began firing a slow, steady stream of bullets into the seekers, though the hunting rifle only held six rounds. Dublin’s aim proved exceptional though – four seekers dropped to the ground.

  “We’ve killed at least forty, maybe fifty of them – but there’s so many left. And they just keep coming. We don’t have enough ammo to kill them all.”

  Mac’s tone indicated he was growing concerned, which in turn made Reese and the others even more so. The seekers would be on the train in moments if something wasn’t done to stop them.

  “What about those detonation devices the Russian found on the tracks? The ones the bandits were going to use to stop the train? Didn’t he disarm them and put them in here somewhere?”

  Mac’s eyes widened at Cooper’s comment.

  “Where are they?”

  Cooper Wyse walked to the front of the passenger car and took out a small bag and brought it back to Mac. Inside the bag were two small plastic cylinders, not more than eight inches long. Each had a detonator that had been wired into one of the ends of each cylinder, but the Russian had already removed those.

  “No detonators – how would we get them to work?”

  Mac held one of the cylinders in his hand and turned it over several times, then held it up to his nose to smell it.

  “I’m pretty sure this is some kind of Amatol device. Old school stuff. Like a syrup inside of there. We could drop it onto the tracks behind us and then shoot at it. That should be enough impact force to cause detonation.”

  Reese had picked up the second cylinder.

  “Would throwing it be enough to get it to explode?”

  Mac shook his head.

  “No, this stuff isn’t that volatile. Makes it much safer to transport. Although if it’s been sitting for a while, that theory might not hold up as well. It smells newer though. They used plastic for the casing because it won’t vibrate like a metallic casing. Makes it even safer. Also going to make it tougher to detonate though without the charge.”

  Brando began growling again as one of the seekers ran toward them just twenty feet behind the train, its black eyes staring back at Mac and the others as they looked over the explosive devices. Dublin, holding her handgun, calmly pointed it at the creature and fired two shots into its body. As the monster collapsed and rolled onto the compacted dirt and stone between the train tracks, it was replaced by several more that were just behind the one Dublin shot. The things let out a prolonged and angry shriek, the claws of their hands digging into the dirt and stones between the tracks as they propelled themselves forward with even more determination. Dublin fired several more times until she emptied her gun. For every seeker that fell, it seemed three more were behind it.

  Mac turned back onto the platform at the rear of the passenger car with one of the cylinders in his right hand. Cooper, who had just reloaded both of his Colt pistols, took
a position next to Mac, ready to detonate the device once Mac had thrown it.

  “We need to wait until those things are almost on top of us!”

  Cooper said nothing back to Mac, but simply nodded his agreement. Behind both of them, Brando continued to growl with increasing menace at the growing number of seekers who were closing the gap between them and the back of the train. Nearly thirty of the things were close enough that both Mac and Cooper could note the rows of thin, sharp teeth that were exposed inside of the overly wide, open mouths of the creatures. They could hear the odd clicks and shrieks the things were using to communicate with one another. They could see the sinewy cords of muscle flexing with each bounding motion forward of their arms and legs, and hear as the things’ hands and feet hit the ground and vaulted them forward with considerable speed.