The Zombie Road Omnibus

by David A. Simpson

  People came trickling in nearly every day. Sometimes a single individual, sometimes families, at times whole groups of survivors who had heard the broadcast. They were never asked to disarm or give up anything they brought with them, but they were made to wait until they had been interviewed. The Sisters needed to check them over for bites or sickness, and Sheriff Collins would explain the rules of Lakota. It was also pointed out the possible danger looming over them from the Jihadis. If they still wanted entry, they were welcomed and told to take any empty house they wanted.

  There was a disproportionate number of vets that came in. Most of them that had been in the wars were like Scratch. They’d never eat Haji bacon, or buy anything from the Salaam Company. They wouldn’t touch it and their wives knew better than to buy it. They’d been quick to figure out what was happening and quick to react. They didn’t have the blind sheep mindset many people did. They didn’t depend on someone else to take care of them, and all of them had firearms close at hand.

  By the end of the week, the number of people coming in had slowed to one or two a day. Everyone that heard the broadcast had rushed here, not knowing the nuke plants were being decommissioned. There were nearly five hundred people now. Of those, almost two hundred had some type of military experience, even if it was only the Reserves or the Guard. Another hundred were able-bodied men who knew their way around a weapon. They were seasoned and tough. They had to be, to still be alive and make it to Lakota.

  It was Sunday evening and they were going over the plans one last time. They had maps from the gas station and the more detailed county maps from the courthouse spread out on the conference table in the “War Room”.

  “Well,” Cobb said, “the three hundred Spartans held off a million Persians. I can hold this town with a few hundred men.”

  “Yeah, but they all died in the end,” Carl thought to himself, but knew better than to say anything out loud. These guys were getting ready to go outside the walls and raid an ammunition plant. At least he would be safe. He got to stay inside the train and Tommy had welded rebar mesh over the windows.

  Cobb was going to remain in Lakota with most of the men and women to defend it, although they weren’t expecting any trouble. After the zombie battle earlier in the week, they were getting low on ammo. Even though many of the houses had a box or two, and they had the thousands of rounds they’d taken from Wal-Mart, they had expended a lot during the battle. Everyone coming through the gates were heavily armed, and a lot of them had more ammo and food than anything else. When it came time to load their vehicles to make the dangerous trek to Lakota, toys and clothes were left behind to make room for an extra shotgun or tins of bullets. They volunteered some of their stash, but still, with 500 gun-carrying people, the only thing they had an overabundance of was .22 caliber.

  Gunny addressed the rankingest officer that had made it to the safety behind the walls. Not just because he had the rank, Gunny wouldn’t follow that old protocol anymore, but because he was smart and experienced.

  “Captain, you and your men will take the two end locomotives and head for the plant. You’ll force this rail switch over once you cross it so the empty cars can be shunted off to the Union Pacific line.”

  He indicated a spot in the middle of McAlester where the two rail lines intersected. “We’ve pulled zombies out of that town three times now with trains, killed thousands every time. Hopefully we’ve depleted most of the population, but regardless, you should have enough firepower to keep them off of you for the few minutes it takes to switch the tracks over.”

  The Captain nodded. He had come in with a group that had banded together at a hotel in West Memphis. There had been forty of them when they started out in Arkansas. Only him and twelve others had survived the journey.

  “Once you get them switched, shag ass down to the depot and give us a sitrep. You’ll go in the rail gate here,” Gunny tapped a spot on the map. “That place will be sealed up tight. I know they had to be a high target area when all this began. All the gates should be locked down so you won’t have to worry about traveling hordes wandering in, but there will be a lot of military people. With luck, most of them will be trapped indoors. We know all the bases got hit hard with the Haji bacon.”

  There were muttered curses from a few of the men. Some of them had only learned of the contaminated meats in the last couple of days and the wound was still fresh and angry.

  “Start figuring out where the arms rooms are and how to get in the ammo bunkers,” Gunny finished.

  “Roger that,” the Captain said. “We’ll find the fork trucks and use them as battering rams to break down the doors if we have to. Get the ammo, load the rail cars, bring them back here.”

  He had been on leave with his wife and two kids, doing the whole Elvis thing. Touring Graceland and then on down to Tupelo to visit his birthplace. He had been riding a desk at Fort Hood, but his Lieutenant years had been with the 1st Armor out of Fort Bliss. He seemed competent, had done a tour in Iraq, and he did a pretty good Elvis impersonation. Gunny thought he would get the job done. He had lost quite a few men on the trip here, but they didn’t have the advantage of Tommy’s shop to up-armor their cars. Most of them had been overweight businessmen who had panicked for one reason or another. It had been their first time in a life or death situation, and there was no one there to pull them through. Artie tried. He tried his hardest to get everyone through, but there was no fixing stupid. He wouldn’t sacrifice his family because one of them wouldn’t listen to his advice.

  “My team will be riding in on the second set of engines, pushing a few hundred of the empty railcars,” Gunny said. “We’ll shunt them over on the spur that you switched for us and then get back out on the main track.”

  “Now comes the tricky part,” he said. “If we have a shit ton of them on us after all that noise, we won’t be able to get down to switch the tracks back. We’ll run back toward Lakota for a few miles to lead them out, then get reversed and try to eliminate as many as we can on the way back in. We’ve got to get to that intersection, switch it so we can go straight, and then have enough time to switch it back so Carl can get rid of all the other rail cars.”

  Carl agreed that was best, but told them again, they didn’t really need the locomotives, they could just abandon them on the side track. Gunny didn’t want to lose them, though. They were valuable assets, incredible killing machines. Maybe even an escape route if things really went bad with hordes of zombies, or hordes of Muslims. He didn’t want them buried in the middle of four hundred empty rail cars if he could help it. He had plans for them.

  Gunny reiterated, “We need to keep the engines, even if we have to run in and out of town a few times until its clear enough to switch tracks. Once we’ve managed to do that, we’ll radio you, Carl. You’ll be clear to run the other two hundred cars down the side track.”

  “Once I have them off, I disconnect and head back here,” Carl said. “We’ll run these two engines over the bridge on the other side of town and park them on it.”

  “Exactly,” Gunny finished. “One more barrier for the bad guys if they try to ram through town with a train of their own.”

  “Finally, we’ll run our engines down to the plant and park on a siding. If the Captain needs help, we’ll come in guns a-blazing. If not, me and my crew will head back into town and take care of the Casey problem, unless he starts taking shots at any of you. If you see him, feel free to take out any targets of opportunity.” He looked up from the maps.

  “Pretty simple, boys and girls. Any questions?”

  There were none. They had gone over the plan dozens of times, tweaking it with every new bit of input. They all knew no battle plan survived intact once they made first contact with the enemy, but this one was fairly straightforward. Barring mechanical failure, or men failing from fear, it stood a better than average chance of going off without a hitch. But there were backup plans for nearly every step of the way, just in case.

  The next morning,
before the sun was peeking over the horizon, the Captain and his crew of fifty seasoned men crowded onto the first locomotives and got them rolling. Bridget had wanted to be on their team, and although she had performed admirably in the zombie battle, this was a lot different. Captain Wilson had chosen men that had some combat experience. She was assigned as a guard on Carl’s train, and she accepted the job with grace and gravity. Gunny had to appreciate how far she’d come, how much she’d changed in the past few weeks. She wasn’t a helpless girl anymore. No longer a damsel in distress. She had gone from always having the perfectly painted nails and properly pouting lips, to learning how to sink the blade of her knife hilt deep into the eye socket of the undead. She was naturally pretty and she hadn’t gone back to the practice of makeup and hair care like some of the other women, now that they had water to bathe in every day. She didn’t care about clothes that accentuated her big bosom or her shapely bottom. She cared more how well they fit so they wouldn’t interfere with quick access to her guns or her knife. She didn’t care if the shade of her blouse brought out the color in her eyes. She cared if she had sturdy pockets to carry extra magazines.

  A half hour after they left Lakota, the Captain came back on the radio to let them know that the track was switched and ready. There was only a small zombie presence in town and they were chasing them out toward the Army base.

  Gunny and Griz got their trains rolling and started pushing the empty rail cars toward the side track. Scratch, Stabby and Lars rounded out the team. They worked well together. Even though Griz and Scratch were constantly doing their best to annoy each other, when it came to clobberin’ time, they were deadly professionals. They made it in less than an hour, got disconnected and were back on the main line in no time at all. They managed to get the tracks switched back without having to make a run in and out of town to lead the runners off and then it was Carl’s turn to shunt his two hundred cars.

  Once they had the tracks switched back, he and Griz got the loco’s out of town to find the siding they needed to keep the main tracks clear. They were both getting pretty good at being engineers. The plan was for the Captain and his crew to load up any rail cars that were at the depot with as much as they would hold and pull them back to town. General Carson had said there were dozens of boxcars there, either waiting to be loaded with finished products, or unloaded of raw materials. It was impossible for him to tell. Maybe they would get lucky and there would already be boxcars filled to the brim with 5.56, .50 caliber and 7.62. They could hope.

  37

  McAlester

  Day 24

  Gunny and his crew hopped off quickly, as soon as they were shut down, and headed straight into the woods across the tracks. They wanted to get some distance from the engines. Any followers would be there shortly, bashing themselves against the still ticking and cooling metal beasts until they knocked themselves senseless or finally gave up and went back to wandering aimlessly.

  They crossed over the old county road and started looking for a house with a suitable car in the driveway. Something with some leg room, Griz had said.

  They set off at a brisk pace and a half mile later, they found what they were looking for.

  “That old Lincoln will do,” Gunny said, pointing it out, the nose peeking from behind some shrubbery a few houses down. Scratch, Stabby and Lars spread out in the yard, guns ready. Griz covered Gunny while he approached the house. This time there were no answering moans or pounding on the door. He tried the knob. Locked. He checked the hinges. It opened inward so he reared back and kicked hard, just to the side of the knob. His arm throbbed, even with the shot Sara had given him. He heard the door splinter and with another kick it sprang open. He instantly had his M-4 up and ready, waiting to see if anything appeared in the dimness. The dull pain pulsed with every heartbeat, but he ignored it and waited for a full ten-count before he entered and started searching for keys.

  “Got ‘em,” he came back out after a few minutes and they piled in, bristling with weapons, as he fired it up.

  “Won’t be long now, and we won’t be able to do this,” Griz noted as he climbed in, found the button and started adjusting his seat all the way back to crush Scratch’s legs. “What’s it been? Two weeks?”

  “Seems like a whole lot longer,” Lars said as Scratch lowered his sharpened spike and held it steady, letting it start poking through the back of the seat as Griz kept his fingers on the electric buttons, reclining it, too. “You’re right about that,” Gunny said, looking over his shoulder and backing out of the drive. “Batteries will all be drained in another couple of weeks.”

  When he noticed the Cheshire grin on Scratch’s face, he glanced down to see what he was doing that would warrant such an evil smile. It had to have something to do with Griz. He was right and was already laughing before Griz sprang forward in his seat, yelling in surprise and rubbing his back. He twisted around to see what had pricked him and saw the end of the sharpened rebar spike sticking through the seat.

  “Ha ha, laughing boy,” he grumbled above their snickers, but moved the seat back up to give them room in the back.

  The big Lincoln was quiet as they rolled into the little city and started searching up and down the main roads, looking for the Mustang. They didn’t run into many of the undead. Most of them had followed the sounds of the trains rumbling through over the last few days. The town was mostly cleared out. The few they came across were maimed and slow. They put them down as quickly as they found them, before they started their infernal keening to draw in more. They talked in low tones as they ran a cross hatch pattern up and down the streets, from one end of town to the other. They were especially keeping a look out for bars and liquor stores. Gunny didn’t want to start where he’d last seen them. Anybody with a brain knew that would be the first place the guy you shot at would come looking for you. Setting up an ambush would be easy. He circled around the edges, working his way in, he and Griz constantly vigilant for anything out of place. A gathering of the dead outside a building. Cars parked ‘just so’ to make a road block. Movement on rooftops. An out of place box that might house an IED. Things like that, while the boys scanned the side streets as they slowly rolled by.

  “They’ve got to be here somewhere. I don’t think they would leave,” Stabby said after their 3rd trip through town, slowly working their way to the center. “There’s hardly any rotter’s left.”

  “Yeah. This would be a good place hang your hat, if all you cared about was drinking your way through the apocalypse,” Gunny said. “You could live for a hella long time without lifting a finger. There must be a dozen grocery stores around here.”

  They passed a Super Wal-Mart at the end of town and circled back down a road a few blocks over. They passed a gun shop and Gunny stopped. They hopped out of the car and spread apart, weapons out and ready. Griz went up to check it out and pointed at the broken window in the door. Gunny nodded and turned back to scan his sector.

  “Cleaned out,” Griz said when he came back out a few minutes later. “Sloppy work. A bunch of small calibers left lying around, but a lot of empty shelf space right behind the counter where they usually keep the good stuff. And he rented machine guns.”

  “Just great,” Scratch said. “It keeps getting better and better.”

  Griz had his arms full of boxes of ammo and Gunny popped the trunk so he could dump them in.

  “Plenty more in there. We can get it later. This is enough to either take those guys out, or get killed trying,” he said as they climbed back in to continue their search.

  “So it’s safe to assume they are heavily armed, well supplied, and don’t give a shit about killing folk for no reason,” Lars said. “I’m gonna have fun taking these dickheads out.”

  “Not as much as me,” Griz said. He was still pissed about how Casey had threatened Collins.

  “Hey,” he suddenly said to Gunny. “I don’t even know her first name. You rode with her for weeks, man. Did she tell you?”

  “Prob
ably Grumelda,” Scratch said.

  “Nah, I think it’s Boomquifa,” Lars jumped in, knowing no matter how pissed Griz got, it would all be aimed at Scratch.

  “Her name’s not something stupid like that,” Griz shot back.

  “But what if it is?” Scratch asked in mock innocence and false despair, his hand across his heart. “It would sadden me to tell her that you think she’s stupid and has an ugly name, but my conscience would force me to.”

  “I’m about ready to force a size 12 up your skinny ass,” Griz said, then broke off the rest of his threat. “There, look!”