What Zombies Fear 3: The Gathering

by Kirk Allmond

  He had a beautiful, safe place to live. He had food and shelter. Security was a little scarce these days, but he considered that a work in progress. Frye would be dealt with. The farther they got from his attempted abduction of Max, the more anger Victor felt. That fuck came to my house to take my child. He killed my people and threatened my family, thought Victor. The end of Colonel Frye would not be an easy one. He thought of several options for his end but ultimately settled on tying him to a telephone pole next to a radio blaring a Lady Gaga CD on repeat.

  It took about four hours to get to Lynchburg, Virginia, the first major town they would be going through. Just before the city limits, Victor stopped the train. Marshall and John had the doors open and were looking for threats when Victor rounded to the back of the train.

  "We're a few minutes above Lynchburg right now; I expect we'll see some zombies. Leo and John, would you join me up in the locomotive? I'd like for all of us to know how to drive this thing. Bring your packs too, please."

  Leo strapped on her gear, and John picked up a huge black duffle bag that clanked as he picked it up. Victor shot him a look as he jumped down out of the train with it.

  "What ya problem, mate?" he asked.

  "Did you bring enough?"

  "Yer man Shelton brought a crate of magazines for the H&K, and with the fifty we had, I have two hundred full thirty-round magazines. The first six hundred zombies we come across will die very quickly. Then I'll need you reloading mags for me."

  "Geezus, John," Victor said. "Save some for Leo here!"

  "I have no doubt she'll get her share."

  "You bet I will. I'm still faster than your bullets," she said.

  "No one is using any powers. John, no crazy shooting. Leo, no teleporting, no running a thousand miles an hour. No abilities that will draw the slightest attention to us. I worked too hard to make this mission a secret. I worked too hard to keep our mode of transportation quiet. The last thing we should do is draw any attention to ourselves, until the time is right or we have no other option."

  "Aw, why ya always gotta take the fun out of it?" asked John.

  "Because Max is back there. Because we're not going to do anything that puts him in jeopardy."

  The three of them climbed up into the huge engine. Victor showed them where he had posted the start-up checklist.

  "Don't skip any steps. You can't rush this," Victor said. "Now get this thing moving."

  Tookes had familiarized himself with several makes and models of locomotive prior to scouting this one out. He wasn’t sure they had any idea what they were looking for, but they did manage to find each of the dials and gauges they were looking for. The two of them got the huge generators fired up in just a little longer than it took him the first time. That was a comfort, both that they had experience and that if they had to they could do it. Victor knew that if something happened to him, they could get out with Max. Sure, Leo could teleport Max pretty far. Sure, the three of them could probably fight their way out of almost any situation. Nevertheless, one never knew with zombies.

  Victor had a bad feeling. It had been gnawing at the pit of his stomach since they started this whole plan. He had no idea how they were going to find Renee. What if they got there and she was dead? What if she'd already left? Asking Max to talk to her was not an option. There were too many possibilities, too many things that could go wrong. Victor was going to have to rely on his own abilities. The closer Victor's relationship was to someone, the further away he could follow their aura. Renee and Victor had always been close. Maybe not as close as he was to Marshall, and Victor could see Marshall's aura through almost any building and for sixty miles if they were outside. He believed he could see Renee's aura from at least thirty miles away. Right now, from here in the locomotive, he could see Max and Marshall sitting on the floor of the steel train car. He could watch Max's aura move and tell that they were playing a card game, most likely Memory, Max's current favorite game.

  "Be careful with the thr..." Victor said as he was thrown against the back of the locomotive. "Throttle."

  The train hurdled forward on the tracks. Victor watched Marshall and Max end up in a pile through the layers of steel separating them. "Back it off easy!" he shouted. "The brakes are," this time he was thrown towards the front of the locomotive into the gray-painted sheet steel that separated the engineer’s compartment from the gigantic generator, “made for hauling tens of thousands of pounds. They're very touchy also."

  "Now you warn me!" yelled Leo.

  Vic laughed and said, "I learned the exact same way. I hit the same spot in the wall. Let’s get going. Try to keep this needle on about twenty miles per hour. John, come with me."

  Vic grabbed Sammie and his pouch of ammunition from the corner of the engineer’s compartment, and then he and John walked out on the catwalk on the side of the locomotive. The train was going about twenty, which was just about as fast as Victor could run at a dead sprint. He wasn't really built for speed; there were many normal humans that could outrun him. Once they were out of the compartment, Vic climbed up a ladder and sat down on top of the engine next to John, holding on to a small bar that was mounted to the engine.

  "I want to stay out here and keep an eye out for anything in front of us. If I see something, I want you down on the catwalk ready to either shoot it or tell Leo to stop the train. There's a camera monitor in the engineer’s cabin she can watch, but it doesn't point very far forward!" Vic yelled over the very loud diesel generator they were sitting on.

  The train rattled along the tracks for another twenty minutes before the passengers started to see suburban neighborhoods on either side of the tracks. They saw the occasional zombie look up, usually followed half a second later by a bullet from John's pistol, removing its head. Vic knew that zombies could communicate telepathically, and he didn't want to risk any getting the word out. In addition, it always felt good to reduce the population. The locomotive was so loud, it could be heard about the same distance as a gunshot. They weren't too worried about the noise, as there was nothing they could do about it. However, any that saw Victor or John were put down. Due to Victor's visibility advantage and a superior rifle, he was able to keep the score about even with John. His 30.06 was the superior weapon for single shot encounters, no matter how quickly John could fire his guns, and he couldn't make the bullets faster.

  They were about halfway through the city of Lynchburg, Virginia, when they had to stop for the first time; an orange semi and trailer were parked across the tracks. The trailer was for what looked like a grocery store; there was a giant red tomato painted on the side of the trailer. The caption read - "Freshness Shown Actual Size."

  Leo brought the train slowly to a stop a few feet from the semi. John dismounted and hopped in the cab. If it were a normal truck, they could just put it in neutral and use gravity to help get it rolling down the hill. This truck, however, had air brakes, which were seized. On a tractor-trailer, the brakes engaged unless there was enough air pressure to hold them open. It was a safety thing. The problem was that these brakes had probably been locked for the last five months, sitting out in the rain, and it would take a lot of work to get them to disengage, which was more work than they had time to do.

  Marshall was the one that came up with the solution. "Hey, Vic, if we use a chain to hook the truck to the locomotive and drag it around, someone could steer the truck off the tracks and, I think, give us enough room to get by. Like when we were kids water skiing, jumping the boat's wake."

  "Damn, Marshall. I knew I kept you around for a reason," Tookes said.

  The plan worked flawlessly. The cab of the truck bounced and skidded sideways as it jerked from being across the tracks to parallel. Once that was done, Marshall jumped in the truck and steered hard to the right as they reversed the locomotive. The tractor-trailer’s rear wheels never turned, but they managed to drag it, steering with the front wheels off to the side of the track.

  The crew had been stopped there, workin
g for a little over two hours, when John called out, “Contact, north side, fourteen walkers." His H&K rattled off in full auto mode. "Threat neutralized,” he said, like the script from some bad TV war movie.

  "Thanks, John," said Marshall, grinning.

  They rolled the rest of the way through Lynchburg at roughly the same pace, a fast jogging speed of about twelve miles per hour. Out on the far side of town, in the relative safety of an overgrown farm meadow in the mountains of southern Virginia, the crew stopped for some food and to stretch their legs.

  When they were finished eating, Victor said, "Hey, Max, how do you like our trip so far? Is it fun in the back?"

  "It is fun, but we need to go now. There is a bad guy following us, and I can't hide from him for much longer. He hasn't seen us yet, but he noticed that a bunch of his soldiers are missing.”

  "All right, let’s go inside the boxcar. We're getting out of here. Leo, you're with me. John, I'd like you and Marshall back in the car."

  They loaded up in their positions and got the train rolling down the tracks while Victor thought about how he wanted to handle this situation.

  Chapter 10

  Followed

  As they sped down the tracks, the train was hurtling at near maximum speed. Victor felt a deep fury stirring within him. He was just starting to feel human again and sincerely believe that there was light at the end of the tunnel of death and destruction. Now there was a super on their tail, and even at top speed, the train could only go about sixty miles per hour. Almost any super, even those that couldn't fly or teleport, could easily run twice that speed. If it wanted to catch us, it could, he thought. It had to have been waiting for something. It made Victor uneasy that he couldn't see what would happen next, and he had no desire to fight it that close to Max. It made more sense to draw it off the tracks. The more angles and possibilities Tookes considered, the more he was convinced that there was only one way to make sure his son would make it out of this safely. He had to face it alone.

  He slowed the train to a crawl.

  "John," he called out to his friend. John walked up behind him and leaned against the door with his arms crossed. "About three hours south of here, there's a town called Danville, Virginia," he continued. "The train tracks double up right here; see these two sets right as the train goes under Route 29?" he asked, pointing at the map.

  "Ya, mate," the Aussie said with a nod.

  He circled that spot with a wax pen that was tied to the counter. "I'll meet you there. Get there. Don't come back and don't look back. Just keep Max safe. I'll see you there in eight hours." John raised his eyebrow and began to protest, but Vic cut him off with a smile. "Trust me, John."

  He scoffed and said, "All right."

  Tookes hit the throttle lever, and he jumped from the still moving train. As he jumped, he tucked his body close together and hoped that it wouldn't hurt as he hit the ground. He wasn't that lucky; he hit the hard ground on the far side of the track and rolled repeatedly, curling his body around the rifle to protect the scope.

  He switched his vision to what he had started to call "aura view" and started scanning. Zombies didn't have an aura, but it was more than not having an aura; it was a negative aura—a total void of everything that made a person a human. The idea of a void in a creature that looked human still made Tookes uncomfortable. He scanned behind himself and located a "void" up in a tree a couple of miles behind him.

  "Parley?" he sent it.

  "Sure."

  Victor stood in the middle of the tracks, waiting. His adrenaline was running high, and Tookes was positive that this wasn't going to end easily. There was a rush of wind, and Bookbinder appeared in front of him.

  "Good afternoon, Sir," Charlie said.

  "Charlie! I'm sorry I let you die," Victor said sadly, his head down.

  "Oh, you didn't let me die! I'm so much more than what I was before. I can fly now!” he replied with a big, wide smile he'd seen so many times on Bookbinder's face.

  "Sure, you can. But you're not Charlie anymore. Charlie is dead. You, you are a parasite that looks like my friend, and you probably have a few of his memories."

  "I have all of his memories. And aren't memories what make us what we are?"

  "No," said Victor, the idea more clear in his head now. "Memories shape us. It’s our soul that makes us what we are, and you, ghost of my friend, have a distinct lack of a soul."

  "So what did you want to talk about?" the thing that looked like Charlie asked him.

  "Why are you following us?" Victor asked plainly.

  "Laura sent me to keep an eye on you last week. I'm surprised you didn't catch me sooner. Where are you going?"

  "We're headed down to Miami," lied Victor. "I hear the weather is nice, and I could use a vacation. I could use a little break. I've been killing you guys like it’s my job and I'm looking for a promotion."

  "Laura noticed. She's very smart, you know. You'll never win this war you're trying to start."

  "I tell you what, ghost of Bookbinder," said Victor, shoving his guilt over the loss of his friend into the far corner of his brain. "I made Laura an offer once," he said as he drew himself to full height. Cold steel filled his eyes. "Withdraw all the zombies on the east coast from Pennsylvania down through Florida, and she can have the rest of the world. I'll stop killing your kind off. If she does not agree to my terms, I will end every one of you, Laura included." The fire burning inside him possessed Victor. "Every. Fucking. One," he said ominously.

  Bookbinder wasn't buying it. "Tookes, you have to know how ridiculous that sounds. There are billions of us," he replied.

  "Ahh," Tookes said, equally confident. "But there are four of us."

  "What does that even mean? We'll bring hundreds of thousands of zombies to your front door."

  "I killed 12,486 of you with a single thought when you attacked my house. You came to my fucking house, and I blew you off like your horde was nothing. I'm stronger now. I've had practice. I'm more powerful than ever. It'll take you a year to gather and bring that many to my house. Half of them will rot by then, and I'll have another year to learn how to kill you in greater numbers." Victor’s aura was usually baby blue, like Max's. As he spoke, it paled until it was the color of arctic ice. "I should end you now."

  "Then take your best shot."

  Tookes started looking at options for attack. He weighed his options. In one, he drew the Sig and fired, which resulted in a miss. Charlie was fast. Jumping at him with a right cross to the jaw was successful, but he couldn't find any follow-ups that didn't result in his own severe injury or death.

  "I'm still weighing my options. I think I may have a use for you," Victor said as he removed his sidearm from its holster, attempting to make that as non-threatening as possible.

  Charlie considered reaching for it, and he thought about running. Victor was having a hard time killing this zombie. He didn't know why, whether it was because he was in Charlie's body or if it was because technically he asked him to come down here.

  "Charlie, I've decided I'm going to let you live for now. If I ever see you again, or even catch a whiff of your presence, I'm going to have John shoot you. You know he never misses, right? You won't have much of a chance. Turn back now; go tell Laura I'm going to kill her unless she agrees to my terms."

  "She won't give up, Tookes."

  "Then convince her to. Use what you know of me from Charlie's memories. You know I won't stop, and you know I'll win."

  "Charlie would have been happy to see you, Tookes."

  "I'm sad to see what you've done to him," said Tookes as he fought to stop tears from welling in his eyes. "He was a good man." Victor waived his hand and said, "You may go now. Do not follow."

  Charlie's corpse disappeared from sight. Victor thought about the conversation. He knew if he kept pushing Laura, he was going to become a big fish. Right now, he was an annoyance. If he became a major threat, Laura would bring something massive down on him, and he was not sure he could sur
vive that. At least not yet, not without Max.

  He ran as he continued to think about his conversation with Bookbinder. About a mile to the east was Route 29, which was his primary goal. His plan was to get to the highway, find a house with a car in the driveway, find the keys (hopefully inside), and start heading south. He had to move quickly; the longer he took, the more time they had to wait for him.

  Tookes risked using a little bit of his power and sent a thought to John. “It was Bookbinder following us. I sent him away but couldn't make myself kill him. If I see him again, he won't be so lucky. I believe he will follow me, not the train. I'm heading for the highway and a car now. Good luck. Keep Max safe, please.”

  Route 29 was a four-lane divided highway through Virginia. Tookes made it to the highway in six minutes. Damn, I doubt I could have run a ten-minute mile six months ago! he thought as he continued to run south along the highway.

  He ran for another hour and a half, covering just over ten miles down Route 29, before he saw a trailer sitting a little ways off the road. He laid down in the tall grass to catch his breath and check the place through the scope on Sammie. The old singlewide trailer house had four windows across the front and was only one room wide. The kitchen window had the blinds drawn, but the place looked empty. There weren't any cars in the drive, but there was a quad parked beside a shed. That was a lucky break; he knew he didn't have much running left in him, and he had burned almost three hours already.

  He walked slowly towards the shed, rifle up. There was a padlock on the door to the shed and no key in the ignition of the quad. If I lived here, I would keep the key in the shed, he thought. I wish Marshall was here.

  Victor looked around the trailer’s yard for something he could use. These people had been the definition of trailer trash. Their yard was a minefield of hazards. From the front of the shed, he could see an old hand saw, a pile of old broken-up concrete, and then he spied what he needed. One large piece of concrete had a steel reinforcement bar hanging out of it. He knew there was no chance of breaking the padlock; instead, he attacked the hasp, where it was screwed into the wooden doorframe. Using the steel as a handle, he repeatedly smashed the hasp with the chunk of concrete, destroying the wood frame, before reversing the tool and sticking the bar down behind it. It pried off easily at that point. The door swung open, and he looked in the dark shed. Hanging on a hook just inside the door was a key. On the floor was a gas can.