by Dalton Wolf
“Boomer, roll over. I can’t get a clean shot,” Sarah suggested.
Boomer did not have that option. The man was far too strong and he could only gag and choke and paw at the death hold around his throat. Suddenly the man turned Boomer to face the train, trying to use him as a shield and his hold lessened slightly, just enough for Boomer to get a ragged breath and some renewed energy. Realizing he could never get the more powerful hands to break their hold, Boomer tried reaching the rebar he had slung across his back. He needed both arms to release it, though, because it always caught on the leather straps inside his poorly engineered sheath.
I knew I should have had Hef make me somethin’, he lamented, fighting off dreamland as the world around him morphed into a dark, spinning tunnel with occasional, flashing fire flies.
The big man had taken at least a hundred nails to the face, chest and arms and now focused every particle of energy from his crazed anger and pain into crushing the life from the one person within his grasp. He was succeeding. With his last ounce of defiance, Boomer twisted in the big man’s grasp enough to kick the behemoth in the groin once, twice, and then one more time. The man loosed his grip the slightest fraction, but that was enough for Boomer to get another breath. I’ll do this one breath at a time. Drawing in a deep but ragged breath, he stretched his arms up and grasped the end of the rebar and ripped the entire sheath from his back, bringing the middle of the bar down on the giant man’s head once, twice, then one more time and the man finally let go with another scream of rage, dropping Boomer and stumbling backwards.
Boomer raised the rebar to shove it into the man’s eye-socket, but the great behemoth reached out and grabbed both arms and began slowly forcing him to the ground. With one powerful twist Boomer was on his knees again with the man’s impossibly powerful arm around his neck squeezing again with the strength of a python. The young man put every ounce of energy into prying the arm from his throat while the man’s other hand held him tightly against the ground.
Oh shit. Trip was right. I can’t win, Boomer finally admitted as his arms gave out and his face slammed against the street. But when a man’s strength fails him is the time for those who love him to carry him forward. And Boomer’s friends at least really liked him. Musical tinkling and the hiss of compressed air sounded from close by and the big man’s arm relented around Boomer’s throat. Although he lacked the strength to even roll from under the man, as the big body crashed to the ground, Boomer glanced up to see Gus holding Scaggs upright over him, the silver wand of her air gun still pointing at the giant’s face. Refusing to cry, he did, however, let out a relieved sigh that left his lungs sounding a lot more like a sob than he liked.
With a grunt, Gus put all of his weight into one leg and rolled the big man to the side, leaned over and spat, ”Stinking Chickenhawk,” sending more blood spraying out than he’d intended, as he had not intended to send any.
“Is he dead?” Scaggs asked.
Without hesitation, Boomer rolled over and shoved the rebar into the man’s eye socket and through his brain, leaving the rod pointing into the sky like a sundial.
“He is now. Stupid asshole.” He spat. “We were trying to save you,” he added before reaching down to pick up the dropped armor and swords. He left the rebar in man’s skull and the trio wobbled back to the train. Seconds later all three were back onboard, a concerned Athena pulling the heavy metal hatch shut and spinning the submarine-style pressure lock into place behind a staggering Gus and Scaggs.
Hef revved the engine and everyone on board eyed the wall of cars, benches, tables and various other junk and equipment the people had stacked across the road to block the powerful train.
“You think we can break through that?” Calvin asked.
“Not without backing up and coming at it. And they would probably just switch the track on us again to keep us from it. Also, I’m uncertain what they have placed on the track behind us.”
“We’ve got time. We can send up the drone and pull out the vehicles and keep the intersection clear.”
“You sure they even have that much fight left in them?” Hephaestus asked, seeing only a few heads timidly peering from behind the cars and trees along the roadside.
“They’re still out there, watching,” Gus coughed gruffly, looking sideways through his open, cross-shaped gun-hatch with his least puffy eye.
“Yup,” Calvin mumbled, using a set of what looked to be opera glasses.
“So, pull out the Hedgehog, clear the tracks and keep the switch clear while we back up and bust through?” Gus suggested feebly.
“We do not have to, Jackass,” Hef huffed angrily and shoved Gus into a padded chair so the doctor could check him out.
“What do you mean?” Scaggs asked weakly from a chair in the corner where she was currently being examined and bandaged by both the doctor and Athena. She winced with nearly every touch of the doctor’s fingers on her chest.
“I mean, the reason I told you to wake me if anything happens to slow or stop our journey is because I have other methods of making things happen.”
“What, you’re a fracking magician? Can you make us fly?” Scaggs slobbered through a gob of bloodied saliva.
“You needed sleep,” Gus wheezed.
“Not so much that I need to see two of my friends die,” he hissed and his dark eyes watered, but were quickly blinked clear.
“And why did you not at least send Gimp Bait and GI Jane out there?” he pointed to the pair of military Privates. “That is what they are here for, after all.”
Gus and the others looked around with guilty expressions. The two privates, however, shrugged and nodded confirmation that this was, in fact, their jobs.
“That actually never occurred to me,” Gus admitted ruefully.
“Let the military do the dirty work. It is what they are trained for. And although we support and respect our military, remember that they are only along because Calvin said they could come. Let them earn their place on my train.”
The captain appeared genuinely hurt by his words.
“I simply mean that this is your duty as well as the trade-off for our help,” he explained. “Everyone earns a spot.”
“Right,” Gus hoarsely coughed, while Joel and the girls nodded.
The captain nodded too, but she was clearly re-evaluating some things.
“Why does no one ever listen to me?” he continued angrily, working himself into a tirade. “I informed all of you that this is not a train. It is the ultimate survival vehicle. Did I not tell you that? It travels best on the rails, because that takes the least amount of energy from the engines, but with a pull of a lever…” he pulled the big green levers in the middle of the floor that he had been telling them all day not to touch. He then revved up the motors and a deep rumbling vibration shuddered throughout the entire train as the engine and four cars lifted several inches simultaneously onto the custom-designed triangular treads he had spent so long designing and assembling. With the accelerator moved forward, slowly the train began to inch forward.
“…it becomes a street vehicle,” he veered the massive machine north off the rails and then south onto the cross-street.
The green and white street sign the train rolled over read Lincoln Street. Hef laughed a deep, maniacal laugh and pulled an up-til-now unnoticed string fastened to the bottom of the catwalk above as he gunned the throttle. The string opened a valve from the compressors, sending pressurized air thought the tube up through the roof into a dozen air-horns, which blasted like the horns of hell, if there was such a thing. This thunderous exclamation was the last straw for their attackers, sending the remnants of the defeated mob screaming into the night. The combined thunder of dual diesels and air horns echoed through the streets between the buildings and the massive vehicle ripped through the ‘Caution, Train Coming’ gates and into the little town just off the tracks.
Just before the first turn, Hef braced himself by planting one foot firmly on either side of the le
vers sticking up out of the floor and lowering his center of gravity by squatting slightly.
“Hold on,” he yelled, and pushed one steering lever all the way, but pulled the other one back and they turned onto the main thoroughfare, Highway 24—surprisingly smashing into only one building and ripping three or four inches of concrete and plaster free as the big engine took the turn too widely.
“Ooh, misjudged the turn radius a bit. Will have to make a note of that,” he mumbled into his mic, singing a song under his breath.
“Wait!” Calvin yelled. “It’s a train. It’s way too heavy to run on the streets. It’ll just break through the concrete and sink into the dirt or clay, or whatever the hell they have out here in BFE Kansas.”
Hephaestus simply smiled down at his friend. Contrary to the supposed truth of his statement, they were moving, and speeding up to ten mph, and then fifteen. Trip and Sarah shared a look and Athena laughed as they distinctly picked out the words of the song coming from their friend.
“It’s phantasmagorical, a fuel burning oracle…” Hef murmured.
“Are you singing the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang song?” Athena asked.
Hephaestus just continued smiling and humming.
“How?” Calvin asked eventually when the train failed to sink into the roadway.
“I cut the overall weight by three quarters and spread out the existing weight onto much wider inertial transference points…basically we are now using a few dozen wider treads instead of only three of the wheeled dollies that can only run on rails and place a very high amount of weight on very little surface area. It is still almost twice the legal weight limit of the roadways, but that mass is better distributed along the roadway on so many wide treads, cutting down the weight per square foot by a factor of forty-ish.”
“It’s probably still tearing the hell out of the streets,” Calvin noted remotely.
“Possibly. But do we really give a damn about ruining the streets in this town after what they nearly did to Scaggs?” the big inventor asked. “And look at Gus’ hand.” He indicated the four fingers, bent like crazy straws sticking out of a shared malt shake. “He will not be able to throw a twenty-sided die for months and you know he hates letting the computer do it for him.”
“I can toss a die left-handed, dude,” Gus muttered gruffly into his mic, too sore to speak loud enough to be heard in the big engine room.
“About the town, though, Wamego out there,” Sarah nodded out the window.
“Yes?” Hef asked.
“There are over four thousand people in this town.”
“And?”
“Only about a hundred decided to come out in force like this.”
“So?” Hef still didn’t understand.
“So maybe destroying their highway because of a few assholes isn’t the right way to go about this?”
“Hey guys, we can take this highway all the way to our destination,” Calvin interjected, looking up from the map. Clearly he hadn’t been paying attention, but the nasty glares Sarah and Athena sent his way told him he probably should have been.
“What?”
“You’re the one who noticed we’re destroying the highway,” Athena insisted.
“That was before I realized we could finish this mission without going back to the tracks. A little street damage is a small price to pay to save the country, isn’t it?” he asked. All those years in debate might finally be paying off, he thought.
“Let me suggest this,” Hef eyed the two women. “When this is done, we will return here. If we like these people, I will pay to rebuild whatever we break.”
“Deal,” Sarah said.
Athena nodded. “Fair enough.”
“And what if they still want to kill us?” Tripper demanded.
Calvin laughed, his left hand coming up to clutch his chest protectively before realizing there was only a dull ache. The doctor had done his job well. Almost as if on queue, MacGreggor marched back in and pointed at the heavily bandaged Gus and Scaggs, who were both too stubborn to leave.
“Help me get these two to bed,” he ordered angrily. “Move. Move. Move.” He ushered them along with a gentle hand on one shoulder each.
“Oh yeah, I’ll help you get her to bed,” Gus mumbled, trying to sound sexy.
“That’s just creepy, sweetie,” Scaggs muttered through an already stiffening jaw.
“C’mon,” Athena grabbed Scaggs’ arm and started helping her to the exit while Gus stumbled along behind them like a drunken sailor looking for his ship at the end of shore leave.
“Everyone might as well stay up until we’ve dropped Doc off. Stay where you are and keep your eyes open. This might not be the last town looking to stop us.”
The massive train with its custom cars continued west down Highway 24 under a steadily darkening sky, frequently lit with flashes of multi-colored lightning.
Agro and Bio Defense
The sky began to cry for the fallen just before they hit the Manhattan city line, a thick, steady drizzle with a history of slowly eroding sprits in even the best of circumstances. Calvin determined to keep his chin up despite the weather. After all, they were in a nearly indestructible vehicle only a few hours away from dropping off the doctor so they could finally head south to a real fortress in the hills of central Missouri.
Nothing can stop us now, he thought, finally feeling confident enough to admit it.
“Uh-oh. That’s a steady rain,” Hephaestus muttered.
“What does that mean for us?” Calvin asked.
“It means we need to get back on the rails,” Hephaestus snorted in annoyance.
Shit! Calvin cursed silently. That’s why you don’t count your eggs.
“Just because of a little rain?” Tripper snapped. “I thought you said this was the ultimate survival vehicle?”
“It is perfect for fewer people, but not so perfect as a mobile fortress for several dozen people with a particular destination in mind and a time frame and specific inclement weather.”
“What does the number of people have to do with it?”
“With fewer people we could have had a much smaller vehicle and the total weight would have been much less. And we are also affected by how much rain this area has seen lately. We can go almost anywhere, but we still need certain conditions for optimal performance. One of those conditions is fairly solid ground.”
“So we’re in trouble?”
“Not immediately. Our highways here in America are actually quite resilient to everything but time, seasonal change, the Army Corps of Engineers and the precociousness of teenagers. We would be just fine on nearly any other day. And we may get lucky today. But if too much water is already under the highway from the storms of the past two weeks, and we get as much rain as appears to be coming our way…we might as easily sink right into whatever is underneath the pavement.”
“Right…um…that…that’s good to know,” Calvin spluttered, diving for the laptop and eying the map for a good place to make the exchange back to the rails.
“Ok. I have it,” he said after a few minutes of frenzied study.
“Just inside Manhattan there’s a place where Highway Twenty-four meets One-seventy-seven. It’s a half block from the tracks and about a mile from the area of the campus we’re heading for. The road looks pretty flat next to the rails so we can jump right back on there…maybe. We’ll stop right here in the intersection,” he pointed on the map to where the highway met a four lane north-south road.
Tripper and Sarah leaned in and Athena jogged back into the room to look between their shoulders.
“First, we’ll unload the Hedgehog with the doc and escort him and the Captain into the facility,” Calvin explained.
“You are taking only the Hedgehog?” Hef asked in surprise.
“Yes. The Hedgehog should be good enough. Faster, armed, armored with a slightly lower-profile. You can put your Dragon back on the tracks and still have the Paddy Wagon and your van in case everyone needs to mak
e an escape some other way.”
“But you will have a lot of people crammed into a small space.”
“No, I’ll just take a few with the soldiers. You need to have the Paddy Wagon here in case you have to evac in a hurry. And all turrets need to be manned.”
“Still, I doubt we will need both vehicles,” Hef rubbed his chin in thought.
“You never know when you might need to abandon ship,” Calvin pointed out.
“I will go down with my ship,” Hephaestus stated emphatically.
“There ain’t no Atheists in foxholes,” Tripper quipped.
“What does that have to do with anything, Tripper,” Hef asked in confusion.
“It means you’ll change your mind when the ship is sinking, so keep the vehicles.”
“Perhaps,” Hef admitted with a smile for his friend. “But if it means I would have to share a lifeboat with you, I think I would rather drown.”
Everyone shared a laugh at Trip’s expense.
“Screw you, Hef. I’m going with Calvin.”
“I think we should at least take either the van or the Paddy Wagon, Calvin,” Athena suggested when the laughing died down. “It will get fairly crowded even with only half of us in the Hedgehog.”
“As I said, I’m not sure we all need to go,” he countered. “There aren’t any reports of Infected out this far yet.”
“Still, if you meet another mob, you might want as many weapons as possible…”
“You’re right, babe. Let me think about it.”
“You’re not going to think about it. You’ve already decided,” she accused him.
Calvin hadn’t told any of the others, even Athena, but he had actually considered disabling the van and Paddy Wagon so that those in the train would have no choice but to head for his uncle’s place if things went sour with the Doc, only deciding against it because Athena might actually be right. They might need help, and mobility was their greatest asset for now. And if something happened to him on the delivery, no one would know what he had done to disable the other two vehicles. Unwilling to let it go now, Athena pulled him aside and the two yelled for nearly five minutes while the others pretended not to hear.
