Having gone back into the first engine, Dakota was sound asleep despite the constant noise of the engine. The steady drone of the train had a soothing effect on Dakota. The constant thump thump thump of the train as it made its way down the tracks had a calming effect on the crew as well. Most of the group just stared at the scenery went by. Traveling out of the hills of southwest Virginia and into the gentle slopes in Tennessee afforded them a little better view of their surroundings. Not necessarily a better view in terms of what they saw.
The first sign that there was anything amiss was the first rail crossing that they passed. The arms that kept people from going across the tracks still came down as the train crept by. Scattered vehicles on either side of the road left a good indication of the mayhem that had started a few days before. Families stranded in cars that had no chance of getting out of their vehicles before the undead ravaged through. No life was spared, no consolation for the unsuspecting damned. Several walkers still eyed the train as it passed through the different railroad crossings as they made their way through Tennessee.
There was little to no human presence even as they went past the three major cities in northeast Tennessee. The train chugged through past Eastman Chemical Corporation. The massive amount of chemicals spilled forced Joe and the others indoors until they had passed. They did not know what exactly was spilled across the ground as they drove past, and none wanted to find out. After they had passed by the chemical spill, they went past several small towns in Tennessee, each one affording another glimpse of Hell as they did. The smoke from fires burned out of control all across the Smoky Mountains, giving the name of the area a literal meaning. The false serenity was almost peaceful as long as Joe did not look at the small picture. The big picture was still the gorgeous scenery of the rolling hills of Northeast Tennessee; the small picture was death and destruction at a phenomenal level. The vast, open expanses that northeast Tennessee offered were of some comfort to them compared to the cramped, limited sight that they had before. The mountains had blocked a great deal of their line of sight to their surroundings, but as they eased further into Tennessee, the mountains became less severe hills, offering up a much needed change of scenery and affording them a better sight of what was ahead as well as what surrounded them.
Joe sat at the controls of the locomotive as the day wore on. It was not a tiring job by any means, nor was it easy to just sit back as the world that they once knew passed them by, but there was a lingering feeling that the whole operation was going a little too smooth. They had not seen any major group of zombies for at least the last four hours. Not that anyone was complaining, but they had passed several towns and areas that should have had an abundance of civilian population. The occasional walker that had passed by at these areas was not the bulk of the population that should have been there. That begged the question for the group of – where the hell did they all go. Joe picked up the handheld radio off his belt and called for Ronnie to take over the controls for a while. He raised Balboa on the other end of it and asked if he had seen anything amiss.
“To be quite honest, I haven’t really seen any of those damn things since we came past Kingsport. It’s kind of weirdin’ me out a little.” Balboa had the same indication that Joe had. There simply was not a whole hell of a lot of anything.
“Yeah, what’s worrying me is that there are no people of any kind. This thing ain’t exactly stealthy and nobody has tried to wave us down since we left Rural Retreat.”
“How far along are we anyway? We’ve been goin’ for almost eight hours and we aren’t even out of Tennessee yet. How’s the fuel reading?”
“Between half and three-quarters. No problems there. I’ve been actually kinda enjoying not havin’ to look over my shoulder for a little while.”
“Same here. Hey, by the way, what are we gonna do for sleeping arrangements?”
Joe pondered the question before pressing the mic to key up the radio. He had only taught Ronnie how to drive the train, no one else knew anything on how to keep it going or how to get it started. Joe was the only one that had read the manuals on the ins and outs of the locomotive. “Shit. I didn’t even think of that. I taught Ronnie how to drive the thing, but I don’t guess no one else looked over the manuals did they?”
Balboa laughed in the microphone. “You read my mind. I have no clue how to run this big bitch and I’m pretty sure all that shit got left behind didn’t it.”
Oh shit, Joe thought, we didn’t get the damn maps.
Joe took a brief pause before answering. “No we all bugged out pretty quick. Didn’t even get my good pants.” The phrase elicited another laugh from Balboa over the radio.
“Ah don’t sweat it. We got all the stuff we needed, that’s the important part. Anything else there Mr. Conductor?”
“Nah, just keep an eye out for anything of interest. The zeds don’t stand much of a chance against this thing, so I’m not really worried about them. Just watch for a train station; if you see one let me know.”
“Damn. We are rolling’ blind aren’t we.” Balboa’s tone changed almost immediately. He realized what Joe as talking about and was thinking the exact same thing. They did not have the maps or have any idea where they were going. The sun was directly overhead of them, so it was impossible to tell which way they were going exactly. Joe eased the throttle back until they were doing around 20 miles an hour. He did not want to get too far ahead in case they got off course. The fact of not having any guidance was unsettling at best. They knew that despite their excellent planning and execution of the situation that they would have to make an unscheduled stop for a map, hopefully another railroad map, or at least a road map. Ronnie looked at Joe quizzically. “Why are we slowing down, something wrong?”
Joe slumped down next to Ronnie at the controls. He held his face in his hands as he told Ronnie the bad news. “We forgot the damn rail maps. I have no idea where we are headed, so just in case we are gonna slow down and keep an eye out for a decent civilized area. We have to stop and get at least a road map. That way at least we will have an idea of where we are. A compass probably would have been a good friggin’ idea too.” Joe kept his head hung down as he delivered the news to Ronnie. He fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette, pulling an empty pack. Frustrated, he crumpled the pack and threw it down. Ronnie tapped Joe on the shoulder with the back of his hand. “You mean something like that?” Joe bolted up out of his lackadaisical state and stared out of the front window of the train.
“Hey, slow us down! Kill the throttle and get us stopped!” Joe stepped out onto the walkway and never took his eyes off the redeeming feature in front of him. A gas station sat at the train tracks, no more than a hundred yards off the railroad. Across from the gas station and down the street half a block was an Army-Navy store. Both stores looked like they had been relatively untouched. He did not see a name for the town as they passed through. They brought the train in low speed, gently slowing down away from their intended stopping point, though the population could not have been more than a thousand, maybe a little more. The town reminded Joe of home in Rural Retreat. He daydreamed for a few seconds before gathering himself and went towards the back of the train and his gear and weapon.
The train stopped a half mile from the rail crossing where Ronnie had spotted a seemingly perfect area. Tall trees towered on both sides of the train, hiding it from prying eyes and keeping it away from the unknown population of the yet unnamed town they had chosen. Joe snapped up the radio and called for Balboa.
“Grab light gear and an empty pack. Weapons and water only, we gotta stop and check this out. Looks like we are gonna make an unscheduled stop. We can get the Humvee out and drive it down the tracks and over the crossing. Should be a piece of cake.”
“You got it. Jamie’s gonna come along, too.” Joe handed the radio to Ronnie and emptied out his own pack contents onto the floor, making room for anything that might catch his attention. Buffey, who had been sleeping near the back of the train with
Dakota, came forth and wanted to know why they had stopped. Joe explained that they had left their only set of maps and they needed to get at least an atlas to make sure that they were going the right way. Joe nonchalantly slung his pack over his shoulder and began to step away. Buffey grabbed his arm and stopped him from moving out of the train car. Joe was about to tear his arm away when his mood and tone lightened. “It will only take a few minutes and this is something we have to get. I will get Chris and Ashleigh to come up here to the front.” Joe pulled away and Buffey again tugged at his sleeve. She did not say anything; just looking at Joe with the sad eyes he had become all too familiar with seeing. “I am gonna take care of us, but I can’t do that if I don’t know where we are going.” A leader could not lead until he knew where he was going. Moreover, Joe needed to know where he was going. However, unbeknownst to either of them, they were still on course, but they were not blind from prying eyes.
The man and woman who had been startled at the sound of the train going by now focused their attention. They heard the train coming to a stop near their hideaway. The man, who had been looking through his binoculars slowly lowered them as the train came to a stop. He looked towards his female companion with a sinister look in his eyes.
“Get hold of daddy; tell him we have more for the congregation.”
CHAPTER 7
Joe explained the mission for their excursion into town to Jamie as he lowered the ramp to the second boxcar and Balboa slowly proceeded out in the armored Humvee. The massive vehicle bowed the ramps as it slowly descended out of the train. Jamie and Joe walked alongside the vehicle as Balboa pulled it to a stop. Joe went to the driver’s side and Balboa slid the bulletproof glass window aside.
“About a half-mile down the tracks here there’s a rail crossing. Off to the right across the tracks is a gas station and down the road a bit from that is an Army-Navy store. My guess is that there are maps in that gas station, and if not, there will definitely be a compass in that Army-Navy. We get in, get out, and get what we need. You drive along and I will make sure you stay between the tracks. Last thing we need is for this thing to get a flat or a broken axle,” Joe suggested.
“I was gonna say that we could get the Ma Deuce up on the gunner’s seat like it’s supposed to be. We didn’t really have time to do that before, might as well go ahead and take care of it now.” Balboa pulled the brake on the Humvee and parked it. Joe set his weapon aside and clambered into the gunner’s seat atop the Humvee. Balboa grabbed the mammoth .50 cal and handed up to Joe who fastened it to the mount on the Humvee and adjusted the windage for the sights until he was satisfied that it would be accurate. Joe handed the radio to Balboa.
“Make sure they can hear us. Ronnie and Chris are manning the train until we get back,” Joe said.
“Alright, let’s roll. Sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.”
“Amen to that,” added Jamie, climbing into the vehicle as well.
Balboa got back into the driver’s seat and slowly drove down the track. The trees on either side of the road once again gave them a false sense of security as they rolled along. Had they not been in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, it might have actually been fun for them to be driving down the road in the serene surroundings. Joe squinted as they cleared the end of the tree line and civilization reappeared. The dusty single-lane road that ran across the rail crossing looked innocuous enough as the approached it. Balboa eased onto the hardtop road and came to a stop. Joe swiveled around on the .50 cal, offering up a 360-degree view around them. A light breeze and sparse sunshine was the only thing that greeted him. No sound came from the area other than the gentle wind moving the dust along the road. Joe ducked down from the gunner’s seat, keeping his eyes fixed ahead. “Let’s hit the gas station first and see what we can get.”
Balboa gave a thumbs up and mashed the gas, moving the Humvee forward and down the street towards the gas station. Balboa pulled into the parking lot and in front of the convenience store located at the station. Once they were close enough to see the storefront, they could see a sign posted on the facade.
NO GAS NO WATER DON’T ASK
“Hrmph,” Jamie chuckled, getting out of the Humvee and closing the door behind him. “Looks like they don’t have any gas or water, and we shouldn’t ask.”
“Thanks Captain Smartass,” Balboa laughed as he got out of the driver’s seat. Joe climbed down from the seat on the Humvee and joined Balboa and Jamie at the front of the station. After Balboa killed the engine on the Humvee, they were greeted by an eerie quiet. The slow breeze rustled random bits of trash in front of the store as the men walked up and creaked open the door on the old store. Joe came in first, followed by Balboa and Jamie. Joe scanned around the inside of the store as he came in. The sign on the front of the store was not by any means misleading. Shelves were strewn all over the store as well as displays for various soft drinks and chip advertisements. Joe kicked an empty bottle of ketchup across the floor as they ventured further in.
“Well, shit,” he put forth, “I don’t see any maps or anything much else of use.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, brother.” Balboa had made his way behind the counter as was looking longingly at the rack of cigarettes and rolls of snuff that were underneath the counter. Joe looked over to his friend’s wide-eyed delight as he grabbed several rolls of snuff to put in his bag. Joe smiled as he joined his friend behind the counter and helped himself to several cartons of cigarettes. Joe did not know Balboa used snuff, but Joe had been a smoker for years. He grabbed smokes that were not his normal brand, but after he smoked the last of his pack earlier, he was desperate for a nicotine fix. Joe caught Jamie staring at the men as they hoarded their stash. Jamie playfully rolled his eyes and walked down the rows of shelves, looking for anything of interest. After Joe and Balboa had gathered an adequate supply, they zipped their packs up and continued their search of the store. Jamie appeared a few seconds later, zipping up his own pack and grinning. Joe and Balboa looked at him questionable until it was they who were caught staring at him.
“What? A fat guy’s stash is just as important as your nicotine fix,” Jamie said, laughing. “A man’s gotta have his Twinkies.”
The men collected their respective vices and got back into the Humvee. Their next stop was a block down the road on the opposite side of the street to the Army-Navy store Joe had eyed from the train. Balboa drove the Humvee down the street to the store and pulled up in front of it and once again cut off the engine. The three men got out of the vehicle and walked up to the entrance of the store. Joe spun around and listened intently for a few seconds before Jamie and Balboa noticed their friend was not in step behind them. Both men instinctively raised their guns at Joe’s sudden stop. Joe held his rifle down and once again listened.
“What is it? You hear more zombies or something?” Balboa scanned the area as well.
“I thought I heard glass crunching. Like someone stepping on broken glass. I don’t suppose you guys heard it, did you?”
“I didn’t hear shit, did you Jamie?” Balboa asked.
“No I didn’t, let’s get inside and get whatever it is we are looking for and get the hell out of here.”
All three men backpedaled until they were at the entrance to the store and went inside. The Army-Navy store was in much better shape than the gas station. Most of the racks were still intact, full of shirts and camouflaged pants. Joe went behind of the counter and immediately eyed several items of interest immediately. A lensatic compass, several glow sticks, and a handful of Ka-Bar fighting knives were in a glass display at the counter. Joe stuffed them into his pack and made his way over to where Jamie and Balboa were putting on new pairs of pants and shirts. The grungy, soiled, and fairly foul-smelling outerwear that they had on was replaced by new multicam combat shirts and ACU-style multicam pants. Joe grabbed a set off of the rack that were his size and grabbed additional sets and sizes for his cohorts. As if to read his mind, the radio crackled with Ronnie�
�s voice. “Everything all right?”
Joe picked up the radio and keyed it up to answer the other end. “Yeah, we’re good. Just getting us some new clothes here at the store. Couldn’t find a map, but I got us a compass and got some new clothes for you guys too. We will be headed back in just a few minutes.”
“Sounds like a big 10-4. Hurry back before the grass-eating natives realize you’re there, man.” Ronnie chuckled as he answered Joe back. Joe grinned at Ronnie’s joke, but then realized that he was right. The natives weren’t exactly the grass-eating type. They were more of the flesh-eating-undead-kill everything they see-type. Joe hurriedly got his fresh set of clothes on and grabbed his rifle. Balboa and Jamie were already getting their gear on when they heard the doors on the Humvee open outside.
“Shit! We got company!” Joe yelled at his companions.
The three men bolted towards the door and saw two figures around the Humvee. One of the people had got inside of the vehicle. Joe grabbed the leg of the woman that was trying to get inside of his ride when the deafening roar of the Ma Deuce went off above his head. Joe and the other men immediately ducked down and tried to get away from the sound of the massive machine gun.
“Where you boys think you’re goin’?” An unnamed voice bellowed out from behind them as they stopped in their tracks. They slowly turned and faced their would-be attackers. A burly, long-bearded man stood in the gunner’s seat of the Humvee with the .50 caliber gun aimed squarely at them. He wore a trucker’s hat and a pair of grease-stained overalls that barely held his portly girth. His jet-black beard hung down to nearly the middle of his chest and matched his nearly black colored eyes. The woman that Joe had grabbed the leg of trying to get into the Humvee clambered out and raised an M16 style rifle of her own. She was wearing a pair of skin-tight blue jeans and pair of women’s cowboy boots that Joe thought was called “Ropers.” She was beautiful, in stark contrast to the ZZ Top look of her accomplice. She had shoulder length, curly brown hair that framed her oval-shaped face.
Six Feet From Hell: Books 1 - 3 Page 21
