Rolling Thunder - 03 (22 page)

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.

Vibration under his feet in the steel deck caused him to
look up and around as the first locomotive passed through the defensive
perimeter that had been set up at the eastern entrance to the bridge.  The
bridge gained elevation slightly as it approached the middle of the Mississippi
River and he had a perfect vantage point to watch the train approach. 

He couldn’t see through the thick glass surrounding the cab
where the train’s engineer sat, but he could see the two figures sitting on the
roof of the rearmost car.  Even though he couldn’t recognize features at this
distance, he could tell from their relative size and shape that this was the
Major and the Master Sergeant.  That meant the bitch was driving the train?  Surprised,
Roach moved deeper into the tightly pressed crowd of people, not wanting to be
recognized as the train approached. 

The train slowed, seeming to take forever to reach where he
was waiting, but as it approached Roach was able to see into the cab and smiled
tightly when he saw the bitch at the controls.  She brought the train to a stop
and the people around him immediately started moving towards the few cars that
were in tow.  He moved with them, cutting diagonally until he was at the access
platform at the rear of the lead locomotive.

Stepping up he quickly climbed the narrow, metal stairs onto
an even narrower catwalk that hung on the side of the giant locomotive.  He
moved fast, not running, but as fast as he could walk on the narrow grating. 
There was a large mirror outside the cab that would afford the engineer a view
down the side of the train and if the bitch happened to look up she would see
him approaching.  Despite the tactical vest he wore, Roach was still in just
his boxers and she couldn’t help but recognize him even if she didn’t see his
face.

In the mirror he could see her working a variety of controls
with one hand while pushing her long hair off her face with the other.  She was
distracted, and felt secure for the moment, not watching her surroundings, but
she could finish what she was doing at any second and look up.  What would she
do if she saw him?  Lock the cab door?  Was it already locked?  Sound the horn
and bring the Major running?  He had to surprise her.

Roach was twenty feet from the door when Rachel flipped the
final switch on the control panel and looked up.  She didn’t look in the
mirror, rather looked directly forward at the nearly four miles of bridge ahead
of them.  On the far side of the river she could see several helicopters
hovering, tracers from their weapons visible even in the bright sunlight as
they kept the infected from flooding onto the bridge.  She looked to her right,
north, up the river which appeared to be running swift and strong, swollen by
the same storm that had been pounding Nashville.

She was turning to look to the south when the door to the
cab was yanked open and before she could react Roach was in the cab with her,
knife tip pressed to her neck.  She caught her breath, thought about going for
her pistol, but he pressed the blade hard enough into her flesh to draw blood. 
Rachel could feel the warm blood as it trickled down her throat, continuing
between her breasts.  Without consciously thinking about it she recognized that
he’d only made a superficial cut, nothing dangerous, but deep enough to draw a
lot of blood.

“What the hell do you think this is going to accomplish?” 
She stared into his eyes without moving a muscle.  Madness stared back at her
and her blood ran cold.  There would be no reasoning with this man.

“You belong to me now, bitch.  Think you’re so fucking high
and mighty because you’re running around with that big fucker.  You run your
smart mouth, flash your tits, shake your ass and you’ve got him to make sure no
one calls you on it.  Well, he’s not here, is he?”  Roach giggled.  Couldn’t
help himself.  He also had a raging erection and the solution for that was
standing right in front of him.

“Look, I don’t know what you think I did or said, but if I’ve
offended you I’m truly sorry.”  Rachel had no clue what he was going on about. 
Had she slighted the man during one of the few brief moments they’d ever seen
each other?  Not that she could remember, but he certainly thought she had.

Roach nodded, smiled, and then punched her in the stomach
with his left fist.  Rachel was focused on his eyes and didn’t see it coming. 
The blow knocked the wind out of her, momentarily paralyzing her diaphragm so
she couldn’t draw a breath.  Before she could recover he grabbed and spun her
around, savagely shoving her upper body across the control panel so she was
bent at the waist.  He moved behind her, pressing hard against her ass with his
manhood.

Something in Rachel snapped at that moment.  She still
couldn’t breathe, but reacted faster than Roach thought possible.  Slamming
backwards with her lower body, Rachel knocked him away from her, taking another
cut on her cheek as the knife moved past her face.  Spinning, she kicked out,
heavy combat boot landing squarely in Roach’s stomach and knocking him back
even further.  Her diaphragm unfroze and she took a deep breath and screamed
out all the pain and anguish she’d been carrying since her attack in Atlanta as
she moved in, intending to beat Roach to death with her fists.

He had been caught by surprise, but he’d had women fight him
before.  After the blow to his stomach he’d been knocked back, but backed up
another step and feigned that he was more helpless than he really was.  When
Rachel screamed and charged, leading with her hands held out like claws ready
to tear him open, he stepped inside her reach and slammed the top of his head
up into her face.  If Rachel hadn’t recently had two serious concussions that
she was still recovering from, it might not have stopped her, but she wasn’t in
any condition for another blow to the head.

The cab spun and Rachel dropped her arms, swaying on her
feet.  Her vision was shrinking and all she could hear was the rush of her own
heart beating a mile a minute.  She wanted to fight when Roach grabbed her from
behind, but despite her brain’s commands her body remained loose and rubbery. 
She felt like throwing up and after a moment wasn’t sure if she had or not.

Roach grabbed the bitch around the throat and slid around
her body, keeping an arm locked around her neck.  Glancing behind him he looked
over the controls for the train.  Everything was clearly labeled and it didn’t
look like you needed to be a rocket scientist to drive the thing.  Two levers
were marked as brake, one for the train and one for the locomotives, and he
moved both of them to the off position.  Another lever was marked throttle, and
he shoved it forward as far as it would go.

Jackson and I had gotten maybe half the people loaded when I
heard the massive diesels in the locomotives throttle up a moment before the
train lurched and started moving.  I was caught completely unprepared and
looked toward the front of the train, thinking there must be something that had
caused Rachel to start the train rolling, but there was no one and nothing near
the lead locomotive. 

I started trotting towards the front of the train, slowly at
first, then broke into a run.  Jackson was right behind me and I could hear him
calling Rachel on the radio.  It didn’t sound like he was getting an answer. 
Dog, who I had put in one of the cars with Max, must have seen me running
because a moment later he fell in next to me.  I was glad to have him along.

The train was picking up speed, but very slowly, making a
lot of noise but not moving faster than three or four miles an hour.  I was
running hard, slowly gaining on the rearmost locomotive, but I’m not a sprinter
by any means and if the train picked up much more speed I would be left
behind.  Ahead I could see the end of the bridge deck and the open space down
to the river and I tried to gauge if I was going to be able to catch the
locomotive.  I couldn’t even guess and settled on putting on as much speed as I
could. 

“Go!”  I shouted to Dog who raced ahead of me and bounded up
onto the platform at the back of the locomotive.  He turned to look at me and
for the first time since I had known him, started barking.  Encouraging me to
hurry.

Jackson, a decade younger, passed me and a few moments later
grabbed the railing around the platform and swung up onto it.  He turned and
shouted, but I couldn’t understand him over the roar of the diesels and my own
breathing.  I ran harder.  The edge of the deck was coming up fast and I dug
deep, drawing on every reserve I had, pushing myself harder.  A few more steps
and I was past the point of no return.  I couldn’t stop in time to not go over
the edge, so it was either jump for the train or go for a swim.  I jumped,
fingertips brushing the rail and missing.

I felt myself starting to fall, then strong hands gripped my
wrist and I was bodily yanked up and onto the platform.  I wound up on top of
Jackson, breathing like I’d just run an Olympic sprint, which for me I guess I
had.  Dog was happily licking the side of my face and I rolled off of Jackson
and onto my feet.

“Guess I owe you one,” I said.

“Two, but who’s counting?”  He grinned and we quickly moved
down the side of the locomotive on the narrow catwalk. 

Transitioning to the next one in line was simple as they
didn’t have nearly as much of a gap between as the passenger cars did.  We kept
moving forward, got onto the second one in line and I trotted as fast as I
could with the narrow footing.  The train was still only moving at around four
or five miles an hour and I was really concerned something was very wrong with
Rachel.

Reaching the front of the second locomotive we moved onto
the lead engine and headed for the cab.  Ahead I could see a large mirror that
would allow the engineer to see down the side of the train behind him without
turning around.  I should have been able to see into the cab, but the mirror
was pushed out at a crazy angle and I couldn’t see anything except the open
track and river below us.

We slowed and moved up to the cab, stopping at the back
edge.  Poking my head forward I peered in through the window.  Nothing.  No
Rachel.  Eyes glued on the inside of the cab and pistol in hand I moved slowly to
the door, Dog on my heels and Jackson right behind keeping an eye on our rear. 
I reached the door into the cab and still hadn’t seen anything.  I was starting
to think Rachel hadn’t been in the cab and maybe the train had just started on
its own.  Was that why it was going so slow?

Roach had seen the Major running to catch the train in the
mirror.  He had pushed on the throttle, trying to outdistance him, but the
lever was all the way to its stop and the diesels were roaring.  Why weren’t
they going faster?  He scanned the controls, made sure the brakes were off, but
couldn’t find anything else to tell him what he was doing wrong.  A myriad of
lights blinked at him, some red, some yellow, and various gauges had needles pegged
in the red zone.  Something wasn’t right, but he didn’t have a clue what it
was.

Turning back to the mirror he saw the damn dog leap onto the
train, then the Master Sergeant.  He wanted to watch, but didn’t want them to
see him.  Dragging Rachel to the door, he popped it open and reached out to knock
the mirror out of adjustment so the Major couldn’t see into the cab as he
approached.  That done, he slammed the door behind him and looked for a way to
lock it, but there wasn’t a lock on the door.

Knowing time was short, he drug Rachel to the far side of
the cab where a narrow door opened onto an equally small platform and pulled
her through behind him.  The door didn’t have a window in it and he felt safe
for the moment.  The platform was just wide enough for the two of them to stand
on, a light weight chain all that prevented him from stepping off the edge and
into space.  The bridge had narrowed as they progressed, and with just the
slightest push a person would be able to leap off the platform, clear the edge
of the bridge and plunge more than 65 feet to the river below.  Roach was
frightened, but not as frightened as he was of the Major.  He knew he wouldn’t
survive this encounter if he wasn’t smart.

I opened the door to the cab and Dog immediately slipped
through ahead of me.  Following with my pistol up and ready I scanned the
entire area, finding no one.  Lights were blinking on the massive control panel
and two alarms were buzzing, but I ignored them and thoroughly checked the
space.  Dog was sniffing an area on the floor and I stepped over to look. 
Fresh blood was spotted on the metal decking.  Too fresh to have been from the
engineer in the event he had been injured when the train derailed earlier. 
Damn it.  Where was Rachel?  Jackson stepped into the cab and looked around,
holstering his pistol when he was satisfied we were alone.   

Dog kept sniffing the floor and made his way to a narrow
door set into the right hand side of the cab.  Reaching the door he lifted his
muzzle, sniffed the handle and growled.  Jackson and I looked at each other and
drew our pistols.  Moving to the door we put our backs against the bulkhead on
either side of it, Jackson placing his thick hand on the steel lever that
functioned as a handle.  I took a step away from the door, raised my pistol in
both hands and aimed at what would be head height for most people.  Jackson
glanced at me, waiting, and I nodded.  He pulled the lever and shoved the door
open.

Immediately outside the door was a small platform, not more
than three by three feet, and when the door came open the first thing I saw was
Rachel facing me.  She stood there, swaying, looking barely conscious.  An arm
was locked around her neck, a knife point held to her throat right on top of her
carotid artery.  Part of a face was visible behind her head, peering through
her long hair that was blowing in the breeze of the train’s movement.  Roach.

“Let her go and you live, Roach.”  I said, trying to get a
clear shot at his head.  Jackson stepped away from the door, pistol up and
looking for a shot as well.

“Fuck you!”  Roach screamed.  “You’ll kill me as soon as you
have a shot.”  He was staying tightly tucked behind Rachel and if not for her
hair I might have had a shot, but if I was off be even a couple of inches I
could hit her instead of him.

“No shot.”  Jackson said to me in a low voice.

“You have my word.  Release her and you walk away.  No one
will touch you.”  I said, not expecting him to believe me, but telling the
truth. 

“Back out of the cab or I cut her!  I’ll walk away, but
she’s going with me, and if you try to stop me I’ll bleed her right in front of
you!”  His voice was pitched high, on the verge of hysteria.  Despite his state
of mind he was making sure he was well protected behind her and I wasn’t coming
up with any options. 

“I got no shot.”  I said in a voice only Jackson could
hear.  “If you have one, take it.”

“No.”  He replied a moment later.

“OK, Roach.  We’re backing out, but here’s the deal.  If you
put even one more mark on her I will kill you.  Slowly and painfully.  You want
to live, make sure she’s alive and healthy.”  I didn’t lower my pistol, but
took a couple of steps back as did Jackson.

Rachel seemed to be more alert as I started to back away,
eyes that had been rolling in her head finding and focusing on me.  “John…” she
started to say, Roach cutting her off with a tightening of his arm around her
throat. 

Rachel was able to gasp and reflexively raised her hands to
pull his arm off her throat.  Roach had to use the hand holding the knife to
control her arms and when the blade came away from her throat I lunged,
reaching for Rachel with one hand, pistol in the other seeking a shot at
Roach’s head. 

Dog had stayed within a few feet of Rachel and when I moved
he took the cue and leapt, slamming into her chest.  As he impacted with
Rachel, Roach’s knife hand flashed toward him but Dog was faster and locked his
powerful jaws onto Roach’s wrist.  Roach screamed and the knife clattered to
the floor as all three of them started moving.

Roach was standing with his heels at the edge of the
platform.  The small chain, pressed into the backs of his legs just below his
hips was the only thing separating him from open space and the river below. 
When Dog’s hundred plus pounds hit Rachel he slammed her back into Roach.  His
upper body pushed back by the momentum, Roach tried to step back to maintain
his balance, but the chain prevented him from moving his lower body as his
upper kept tipping backwards and finally overbalanced.

With his arm still wrapped around Rachel’s throat, and Dog
locked onto his wrist, Roach’s body went over the chain, taking them with him
as he started to fall backwards.  My lunge carried me to the platform just as
Roach, Rachel and Dog flipped over the chain and started to fall, my grab for
them coming up empty.  I leaned over the chain, Jackson rushing to stand next
to me, and we watched as they fell past the narrow bridge.  The three of them
separated as they fell, moments later making three splashes as they struck the
surface of the river below and disappeared under the water.  Moving and not
thinking, I yanked my rifle sling over my head, handed it to Jackson, stepped
over the chain and leapt into the Mississippi River.