Rolling Thunder - 03 (21 page)

Jackson and I ran the length of the roof of the locomotive,
leaping the gap to the next one and continuing on.  The Black Hawk that had
given us the ride had gained altitude so the rotor wash didn’t blast us off into
the waiting arms below, but followed us down the length of the train.  I was
glad they were hanging around like a guardian angel.  The sea of infected that
pushed up against both sides of the train was so thick I couldn’t see the
ground they were standing on.

Reaching the last car that was still on the rails we trotted
to the back and looked over the edge into the gap where the coupling was.  I
had to take it on faith that there was actually a coupler down there because I
sure couldn’t see it for all the writhing bodies that jammed into the gap.

“Get our friend up there to start clearing out a buffer zone
so we can get to the coupler.”  I said to Jackson, gesturing at the hovering
helicopter with a thumb.

He nodded and made the call on the radio, a moment later the
door mounted minigun jumping into the fight.  The heavy, high velocity slugs
tore into the infected bodies surrounding the gap between the cars and in an
instant turned them into steaming piles of meat, shattered bones poking up here
and there.  While the door gunner did his job, Jackson and I dropped some
grenades into the gap, stepped away from the edge to avoid any shrapnel that
might come our way when they detonated, then moved back forward and started
picking off targets.

We were able to clear the area, but we couldn’t stop firing
or the infected would flow back into the void.  I tossed the last of our
grenades, leaned away from the gap for the detonation, then resumed shooting. 
By now we had a pretty good pile of bodies on each side of the opening, and it
looked like there was no time like the present to go uncouple the cars.

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.

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 feet 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.

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 the
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.