Escape From Dead City

by John McCuaig

  “You’d all better stay in here,” Arthur said as he looked around outside trying to get an idea what was happening. “I don’t know why we would be stopping here. We should be getting green lights all the way down to the coast; I know for a fact that there are no other trains running on this line today. I’m going up to the front to find out what the hell’s going on.”

  “I’ll come along with you too,” Margot said as she kept staring out of the window trying to see for herself what had brought them to a stand. The she turned back to her sister and in a sarcastic voice she said, “This time the two of you can stay in here just twiddling your thumbs.”

  “No way on earth is that ever going to happen, young lady,” Pauline said as she pulled herself up from Gordon who still had a cheeky schoolboy smile spread across his face. “We’ll all go up front and see for ourselves what’s going on. I don’t want us split up until we find out.”

  Margot flashed her one of her famous looks and just muttered, “Whatever.”

  Strung out in a line all four of them slowly made their way up to the front. They still found it pretty tough going getting anywhere near the front of the packed out train. Dozens of the grim faced soldiers were moving backwards and forwards along the thin passageways, forever peering out into the pretty fields ensuring that none of the undead were getting anywhere near the train. It was quite a while before they came across the lead soldier coming right towards them. Walking directly in front of them was the one they called Colonel Harry Page.

  “And where the hell do you lot think you’re going,” he barked as soon as he saw them approach. “Get back to your own carriage now.”

  “Haven’t you forgotten something mister soldier man, I work on the railways,” Arthur said, pushing himself past the others to get right to the front. “What I’m saying is that there’s not much that I don’t know about this route and its workings.” He carefully got himself a little bit closer to the tall, heavyset man. “Surely you should be using every asset that you have at your disposal?” He sure loved to quote the old movies.

  Page looked down at him with his cobalt blue eyes for a few seconds before letting out a long and mighty sigh. “Very well, young man,” he said. “However, I’m warning you now, you’d better be as bloody good as you say.”

  “That’s a good choice you’ve made sir, if you don’t mind me saying,” Arthur had his chest puffed out wide. “And I promise that you don’t have to worry about me, I’m very, very good.”

  With a simple wave of his hand, Page took the four of them ahead all the way up to the baggage car where their journey had first started. One of the train crew, the actual driver by the look of him, was already there; he was talking away to a couple of the soldiers. Colonel Page however was not one to stand for any ceremony; he marched right in between them.

  “Tell him everything,” he barked the order to the driver as he pointed to Arthur. “I want you to tell him exactly what you’ve told me.”

  The driver, with a slightly puzzled expression, looked over at the smiling young man and the rag tag bunch of others behind him before speaking up. “We’re stuck behind a red signal, we can’t go past it.”

  “You’re bloody joking, aren’t you?” Margot butted in. “For Christ’s sake, just drive through the damn thing, you idiot. I don’t think you’re going to get in trouble from anyone now!”

  “Shush honey, please just leave this to me,” Arthur said as he gently placed his hand on her forearm before turning back to face the old driver. “The signal is fitted with catch points then, I take it?” he said.

  “Yes, that’s right,” the driver replied, glad that at last there was someone on board who knew what he was talking about. “If we go by the signal the points have been thrown so that we’ll be derailed straight away, we’ll just end up sitting down in the dirt.”

  “And there’s no answer from the signal box either I suppose?”

  “Nothing,” the driver slowly shook his head. “The cab radio itself seems to be working fine but no one will answer us. I guess they must have all just left when this frigging nightmare kicked off.” His face looked like he wished he had done the same.

  Arthur took another long look out of the window, trying to get his bearings. “Where is the nearest signal box anyway, how far away is it?”

  “Too far I’m afraid, it’s away on the other side of Maidstone,” he pointed to the front of the train and shook his head once. “Jeez, it must be pretty close to five miles from here.”

  “Well then, I guess we’ll just have to go outside and move over the points for ourselves,” Arthur said as he quickly removed his coat. “I can do it all manually, I know how to. I just need to get on the outside for a little while.”

  He turned around to face Harry Page again and motioned his head towards the window. “Would you care to join me out there Colonel? I’d much rather be going outside with you and some of your guys watching my back.”

  With another small snigger, the soldier called over to one of his men. He was given the orders that ten of their best marksmen were to get ready to go out of the train with him and protect this civilian while he worked. They were told they needed to protect him at all costs.

  “And I’m coming along too,” Margot said as she also started to remove her flimsy jacket as well. “I’ll help them to watch your back Arthur.”

  “No frigging way miss, not a chance in hell,” Page said as he chambered a round into his mean looking handgun. “One of you out there is more than enough to look after; you’ll be staying right in here, young lady.”

  “I’ll be just fine, darling,” Arthur said as he got close to the door. “Don’t you go worrying yourself; I’ll be back in next to no time.” He then gave her a wink. She looked far from pleased.

  “Hey you two, can you please quit all the damn chatting,” Page said as he pressed a button at the end of the coach which slid open the door revealing the wide outside. “We need to get going before we start to attract some company.”

  The door opening sent the smells from the fields flooding in.

  ***

  11:40 A.M

  Outside the train

  It sure was a beautiful, warm country morning, and on any other day it would have been more than pleasant to take a little stroll along by the gently swaying wheat fields. But this was definitely not that day.

  The machine gun holding soldiers quickly showed their expert training and fanned out around their Colonel and Arthur without being asked. The two men walked towards an innocuous looking grey box that was set away over to the side of the tracks and just past the bright red signal.

  “So what’s the plan then?” the grumpy old soldier said as his eyes kept darting from side to side, forever checking out his surroundings for any sign of the beasts. “How are you going to get this to work?”

  “You see all of the tracks are moved over, and in turn controlled by a complex system of hydraulic pumps and motors,” Arthur said as he pointed over to where the tracks split in two. “In times of emergency or indeed mechanical failure, we can bleed off the oil pressure and then wind the points over by hand. Well, I hope that you’ll agree with me good sir, that this little incident should be classed as an emergency.”

  “Don’t be so frigging clever, boy,” Page snapped back. “Just do what the hell you’ve got to do so we can get the damn train moving again. I don’t want to be out here for one second longer than is necessary.”

  “Yes sir!” Arthur shouted out, showing not one ounce of respect either for the man or for the uniform. He actually thought for a second about saluting him but then stopped; even he was not quite that brave, or stupid.

  As they got over to the three-foot-by-three-foot metal box, Arthur pointed down to a heavy padlock on the side and moved his thumb and forefinger like a gun. Page duly obliged his request; a single shot from his trusty pistol blew away the once shiny brass lock. Then in one quick movement, Arthur pulled off the now free lid and threw it far away behind him.
Getting down on one knee, he found a small butterfly valve at the side and after turning it open, he watched as a thin line of golden colored oil slowly drained out from a shoebox-sized reservoir.

  Once it had stopped, he pulled up a long red lever from beside the electrical motor and twisted it clockwise, groaning came from both the box and from away off to the left of them. Page turned slightly and watched as the long metal rails started slowly to go back into the direction they wanted. He started to relax for a moment; he was actually pleasantly surprised, for it seemed the civilian had done all right.

  It was right then that the gunfire started.

  They were no longer alone, on both sides of the tracks they appeared as if from nowhere. Dozens of the undead thundered up from out of the thick wheat fields that surrounded them as far as the eye could see. Every single one of these attackers had a pair of denim dungarees on with a large green name on the front- Heavers Fruit and Veg. They were about to be attacked by an army of farm workers, some very hungry looking farm workers.

  Chaos reigned once more. The well-trained soldiers held their ground at first but the attacking horde was unrelenting, no matter how many of their comrade’s fell before them they still kept surging forwards. Shots after shots hit the beasts but the only thing that put them down was damage to the brain. The soldiers themselves found it hard to change their habits of a lifetime, they had always been trained to aim for the torso, as it was the biggest kill target there was on a human. But they also had to learn quickly that they were no longer fighting just humans. Failure to learn was unthinkable.

  “Hey kid, how much longer is this going to take?” Page shouted over to still busily winding Arthur. “Come on. You’ve got to hurry it up a bit son; we need to get out of here now.” The Colonel was also firing his pistol, helping his men to bring down the beasts.

  “Nearly done here boss man, just a couple more seconds should do it,” he replied as the lever was spun around as fast as he could. Then a loud clunk of metal slamming on metal could be heard, even over the still unrelenting gunfire. “That’s it,” he shouted again. “It’s locked in place; okay we can get the fuck out of here now.”

  It was not going to be that easy. As he stood up he came face to face with one of the undead, they were there in such great numbers that they had started to break through the heavy line of fire.

  The old undead man before him wore a long thick white moustache that was heavily stained, caked with blood and its mouth opened just wide enough for Arthur to see its last few remaining teeth. Before Arthur could even move an inch, it grabbed a good hold of his arm, as he tried to pull himself away the zombie’s jaws locked down onto his hand. With one mighty bite and twist of its decrepit old head, three of his fingers disappeared deep inside its blood soaked mouth. Arthur screamed out with the pain and this call alerted the nearby Colonel. Before the monster could grab itself another taste of fresh meat, a single shot went straight through the middle of its forehead. At last, but still too late for Arthur, it released its iron strong grip and fell down on to the stony ground.

  “Shit!” Arthur screamed out again, as he looked at his hand, blood was pumping out like some sort of mini fountains from those little stumps that used to be his fingers. Looking around he saw that Page and his men were already fighting their way back through the deluge of undead flesh and towards the train. He knew they were leaving without him. They were just leaving him to the hands, and to the teeth of the undead farmers.

  Ducking and diving through the myriad of grasping beasts was nigh on impossible, the smell of his own pumping blood seemed to act like a magnet to the undead. Arthur tried his best to catch up with the quickly moving group of soldiers ahead. Once or twice, the putrid smelling zombies nearly got another grip of him but the memories of that searing pain pushed him on and he fought like a demon against the starving undead beasts. He had just about managed to catch up with Page and the others as they reached the still open door to the train.

  “Wait, just keep the fuck back,” Page held up his hand as Arthur made for the thin steel steps. Half of the other soldiers had formed a semi-circle around the door, skillfully protecting the backs of the others as they tried to escape the horde. Any beast that got too close to them or the train was soon felled by a volley of hot lead shot deep into their brains. “Please son, don’t you come any closer, or else I’ll have no choice.” He just showed him his gun which acted as more than an ample warning.

  “Hey, don’t fuck about soldier man,” Arthur pleaded. “Just let me get on the frigging train.”

  The Colonels free hand slipped into his chest pocket and once again, he pulled out that faithful small radio of his. “Page to Doyle,” he said, the urge for a quick reply was clearly evident in his voice. “Page to Doyle, please come in, Professor.”

  After a few, long seconds of only the buzz of static she eventually answered him. “Yes Colonel, I’m here now, what is it?”

  “It’s the civilian, Arthur whatever,” he coldly replied. “He’s been bit on the hand by one of the undead. I’ve got him held just outside the train for now but I need to know what your orders are ma’am?” He paused for just a second as he looked around at the rapidly approaching army of attackers. “And Professor, I need you to give me your answer quickly, my men can’t hold them off for much longer.”

  He need not have panicked, for the answer came back right away. “Don’t let him on the train, whatever happens he cannot be allowed to get inside,” she replied in her harsh voice which just as quickly turned soft. “And Colonel, one more thing, no one deserves to die like one of them. Please Harry; kill him before we leave?”

  Page glanced down at the scared looking young Arthur, he had found him to be rather annoying at first, but there was also something about him that he had started to like. It was then that his years of training and conditioning took over, and in a flash, his handgun came up and once more just a single shot was all that was required.

  Arthur seemed frozen in time until he fell backwards, almost straight into the hands of the oncoming horde. The large hole in his head erupted high into the air with a steady mix of his brains and blood plastering the beasts behind.

  Watching this whole sorry episode was Margot; her nose tightly pressed up against the glass window as she strained to see what was happening outside, happening to her man. She had listened to the mass of gunfire and the calls of the undead; she needed to know what his fate would be. On seeing him fall down dead into their arms before her, she let out a chilling scream that was as loud as Arthurs when he was bitten by the beast.

  By this time, Page was back on his radio but on this occasion, he was calling out to the train crew. “Get us moving driver, it’s done,” he shouted into the little black box. “And hurry the fuck up.” They all heard the whoosh as the air rushed out as the train’s brakes were released.

  “Okay, get your arses inside now,” the Colonel called out to his men, who were still firing at their deadly enemy. “You need to move it boys, we’re not waiting around for anyone.”

  One by one they clambered back aboard as the mighty train started to move along the track, fairly slowly at first, but quickly picking up some decent speed. Undead, bloodied hands tried to grab onto whatever they could but they all just slipped away as the train raced away along the track. Scores of them were dragged under the wheels and in a flash chopped up into bloody soup of tiny bits and pieces. Soon enough the massive swarm of the zombies was left far behind.

  All of the Colonel’s men, with the exception of just the one civilian, had made it back into the train in one piece. Even so, there were a couple of the techs already waiting for them inside the carriage, they had been sent there to examine them for any signs of infection. And they all knew who had sent them.

  “Sorry sir,” a sergeant nervously came forward. “But the professor has reminded us of our standing orders. We can’t let anyone out of the luggage car until you’ve been inspected and given the all clear.”

 
Page looked over the man’s shoulder. A line of their comrades stood across from the doorway, with their guns held at the ready just in case. Fear of the undead infection entering their train made them all more than ready to fire on their friends if that was required, or indeed, if that was ordered. It seemed that once again, it did not matter if it was her own staff involved, Mary McGuire would not be taking any chance with the virus.

  “It’s okay son,” Page nodded to the young soldier. “Do what you’ve gotta do.”

  Whack!

  Unnoticed Margot walked up and slapped the Colonel right across the face as he started to remove his flak jacket. This attack was quickly followed by a blob of spittle that flew straight into his eye. Page held back the strong urge he had to hit her; he could all too easily understand the pain and anger that she was feeling. As a couple of his soldiers grabbed her and kept her back, he gently removed a hanky from his pocket and wiped his face clean.

  “Why did you do it?” Margot mumbled softly through the tears. “Why the hell did you have to kill him and then leave him back there to be eaten by those things?”

  “Orders,” he replied as he coldly hung his gun high up on a hook on the wall, making sure that it was well out of the reach of the angry young girl. “I’m sorry for your loss, I really am miss, but I was only obeying my orders.”

  “And who the fuck gave you them,” Margot was struggling against her captors, small specks of spittle still hitting his face again as she started to scream at the Colonel. “I know who it was. I just want to hear you say it, come on soldier man, just frigging tell me who it was!”

  “As you’ve probably guessed already, it was Professor Doyle,” Page said without any sign of hesitation in his voice. He had no real sense of loyalty to that old civilian woman who was away in her plush carriage halfway down the train. He did not care one iota if she was going to be the next one to face the wrath of this young and rather angry woman. In fact, he would probably have enjoyed seeing it happen.