by Derek Gunn
Josh was running forward before he formed a single thought, and he managed to catch Hammond before the man fell to the ground. His right arm was missing and his stomach was an empty cavity, his intestines already lay in a heap.
“Did I get him?” he managed to croak and Josh nodded.
“Yes, my friend. You got him.”
Hammond nodded once and then sighed and died.
Josh heard a crunch and he looked towards Tanya who had come to his side. Her boot had caved in the vampire’s skull. Grief and hate fought for domination on her face and eventually she gave in to grief and the tears rolled down her cheek. Josh rose and took her into his arms. There was movement behind them and Josh sighed. If the thrall reinforcements had already arrived then he didn’t have the energy to fight them. He held Tanya tighter and braced for the impact, but nothing came.
He released Tanya, looked behind him, and saw the rest of the raiding party. They looked sheepish, having run from the vampire but Josh called them forward.
“We don’t have much time,” he managed to croak through his dry throat. “Let’s get what we can and destroy the rest.” The men nodded and set to work. Tanya put her hand in his and squeezed hard. He squeezed back and watched the others strip the weapons and ammunition from the dead thralls. Others started the vans and began to drive across the flat terrain to the rendezvous point. They would unload the supplies in the mountains far from their cave and then drive the vans further into the city and abandon them. It would take them a few days to get the supplies and everyone back to the cave but this was the only way to ensure they were not tracked.
There was a shout from one of the jeeps and one of the men held up a preloaded, single shot smooth bore bazooka.
“Shit, a bazooka will come in handy,” he whispered.
“It’s an AT4,”Tanya said almost unconsciously. Josh was about to question how she knew that and then shrugged. None of them knew very much about each other. They had all been thrown together by fate. If she wanted to share her past with them then she would, if not then he wasn’t worried. She had already proven her reliability when it counted.
“Alright, people. Let’s wrap it up and get out of here,” Josh said.
Chapter 14
Aidan Flemming felt his pulse quicken as they approached the train station. Wind hurled snow into his face but he kept his head up despite the cold. He wanted to make sure the building hadn’t been damaged more than it had been. The last time he had been here there had been extensive collapse and a lot of debris. This had been caused by the thralls shelling the city before the serum had defeated the humans. The main tracks were clogged with the more modern trains, each one left abandoned where it had stopped once the power had dried up.
They approached the station from the east and he could see the interior of the main passenger area from where he was. The main roof had come down from a stray shell a long time ago but the damage was far worse now. The ice had done its work, creeping into small cracks and freezing, expanding the cracks into ribbons of damage inches wide. Some of the main supports had weakened enough that the main pillars had crumbled and collapsed. As he looked into the main complex he was glad he had not left the steam engine in there. Most of the tracks were blocked with rubble or entire sheets of roofing.
Maybe some things were just meant to be, he thought. He led his party over the tracks. The snow was just high enough for the sleighs to clear the metal ridges but some of the heavier sleighs got stuck and they were forced to stop and get everyone to push. Flemming could see the service building now but it might as well have been miles away. The wind howled through the broken station creating an eerie whistling and the snow lashed against them as they pushed and pulled at the sleighs. Everyone was short tempered at this point, just wanting the journey to be over and he could hear the curses and shouts of pain and annoyance as some of the sleighs stubbornly remained caught between the tracks.
One of the sleighs holding one of their generators refused to budge and no matter how hard they pulled and kicked at it they could not lift it over the last inch. Finally Flemming called a halt to their attempts and told everyone to go to the service building. If they had time later they could try again. Maybe the snow would be higher then and they would be able to pull it easily over the final hurdle. It was more important that everything else was loaded before they wasted any more time on one sleigh, even if it was one of their only two generators.
The service building was just wide enough to house two trains side by side. It was built with red brick and had a number of windows along the length of the building, most of which had been boarded up a long time ago. Most of the glass was so covered in dirt and grime that he couldn’t see inside. At the entrance was a modern corrugated gate that was firmly closed with a large lock holding a thick chain in place. At the other end there was a large wooden door that had hinges that allowed it to swing outwards. Flemming led his team to this door and pulled at the handle. He hadn’t locked it before but the door resisted his attempt.
He pulled harder but the door remained stubbornly closed. A number of men came up to him and added their strength to his. The door came free with sharp crack as the ice finally gave way revealing the back of the train. There was a cheer from behind him but Flemming felt his heart sink. From where he stood he could see the damage to the carriages that had been caused by the thralls’ gunfire months ago. Jesus, he thought. He hadn’t remembered the damage being quite so bad. How had anybody survived?
The carriages looked as though they would crumble with the slightest pressure. Bullet holes stitched along the metal sides and the wood panels were torn and rotted. There didn’t seem to be a single pane of glass that was not broken to some extent, many of them looked like jagged teeth with their wickedly sharp points gleaming in the dull light. The cheers dried up as the others saw the extent of the damage. Flemming walked along the length of the train taking in the scene. They would have to move the train out into the open and see which carriages they would be able to use. Maybe they could take some of the carriages from the other trains and replace the worst of these ones.
He approached the engine compartment with more than a little trepidation. This was where he had nearly died. His face began to hurt, as if his skin was remembering the searing pain from the steam. Was he really ready to go through that again? He took a deep breath and pulled himself into the cab. His eyes swept the small area. A number of dials had cracked in the intense cold, their information clouded behind spider lines. It was just as well he didn’t really understand what most of the dials were because he wouldn’t be able to read them anyway. He looked at the main controls and the metal seemed to glint at him, daring him to reach out and touch them so they could spit steam at him. The fire hole seemed smaller now with no fire burning within its depths. He looked behind him and saw the pathetic collection of soot and coal that comprised their meagre fuel reserve.
They would have to unpack the sleighs as quickly as possible. They would be the first things they would burn but he would have to send out patrols for wood and anything else that would blaze as well. He had brought a number of the Emma Logan’s younger companions with them. Many had frowned at his decision as they would not be much good in pulling the heavy sleighs but he had not included them for their strength. He knew that they would be invaluable in searching through the station. This station had continued to operate for a few months after the power had gone so he knew there could be coal somewhere. It would be the Wolverines’ job to find it. He took a deep breath and turned, jumping from the cab and startling the people who had followed him.
“Right,” he began. “Let’s get these sleighs unloaded. Unload everything along the tracks outside along the southern track. Once we get the fire lit I’ll back the train out and get it turned to face the way we want to go. Simmons, let’s get some food cooking. Danny, let’s see if you can get your group to start their search.” Danny Wilkins nodded vigorously and he turned to the other ‘Wolverines’. T
he other kids were about to start running into the station when Danny’s voice stopped them in their tracks. The boy barked orders with authority despite his tender years. Emma had trained her little team well, reminding the kids that this wasn’t a game. There could be wild animals or thralls nearby. He reminded them how important their role was and Flemming smiled as he watched the chastised kids make their way into the station with more care. He turned away. Danny could handle the rest.
“What are you waiting for?” he shouted at the others. Let’s get those sleighs unloaded. Move people, we don’t have that long.”
Chapter 15
The report came in just as the last of the sleighs disappeared into the storm. Harris watched the men struggle with the wounded, figures hunched over into the wind, their gait strange due to the different levels of snow.
Amanda had taken him aside earlier and told him that she did not expect to see more than half of those who were wounded make it to the train alive. He remembered her hard eyes glaring at him, the swell of tears brimming but her jaw set tight. His thoughts drifted as the snow lashed against his face and he replayed the scene. Some of the wounded would die from their wounds; others would freeze where they lay. They would have to try and get those capable of walking to alternate between being carried and walking. It would slow down the rest of those in this party, but it was the only way to keep their blood flowing and generate enough heat to survive.
She had emphasised that anyone not capable of walking some of the way was unlikely to make it. And that meant that, unless Sandra woke up during the march, she was unlikely to be alive by the time they made it to the train. He felt a heavy weight descend upon him. If Sandra died then he really didn’t think he could go on.
He had already decided to remain behind and cover the trains escape if she was not there. He knew that Sandra would glare at him if she was here and knew what he was considering but he just couldn’t bear to face each dawn without her. He sighed as the snow swallowed the last of the struggling figures. The report was crumpled in his fist, its words stark and to the point. ‘Carter two miles out’. He nodded at the young boy who stood beside him waiting on his reply. Another one of Emma Logan’s runners who were making themselves so valuable lately.
Emma was proving herself a very capable leader among the younger generation. It gave him a sense of relief that there was someone who could take up the reins in the future. He wished he could say something to the boy, but he was embarrassed that he didn’t even know the boy’s name. The boy merely nodded and slipped away into the swirling mist towards the caravan with the wounded.
Harris lifted his head and fancied he could hear the rumble of an engine, but the sound was torn away by the wind and he wasn’t sure if he had heard anything at all. He had counted on Carter being impatient and, true to form, the thrall commander had left his heavier armour behind in his haste to find them. He still had a formidable force, but at least they wouldn’t be fighting tanks. He needed to buy the others at least five hours. That would give them enough time disappear and to have their tracks covered by the snow. Initial reports on Carter’s strength estimated six tanks, twelve half-tracks filled with thralls, seven jeeps, and an assortment of lesser vehicles. The tanks were about two hours behind the rest of the force and some of the vehicles were straining to keep up with the jeeps. The snow was a God sent asset as far as this holding action was concerned, though it would also slow down their own escape so it probably balanced out at the end of the day.
He heard an engine again as it strained against poor grip and he knew that the time had come. This was it. This was their Alamo. Either they held here or Carter would cut through them and decimate the others in the open.
He heard a dull thump and the ground shook beneath him. In the distance he could see the brightness of flame through the swirling snow and then it disappeared. First blood to us, he thought. It always came down to blood in this damned world.
* * *
Carter watched as the jeep was thrown into the air. The thrall manning the .50 calibre gun was slammed against a nearby wall and the sharp snap of his neck breaking was uncomfortably audible in the aftermath of the explosion. Fire erupted beneath the jeep and it turned on its side before crashing into the snow. The passenger was crushed beneath the torn metal and the driver was thrown free, though his legs remained behind in the jeep, his foot still pressed firmly on the accelerator and the engine screamed.
“That was a handheld mortar,” Carter smiled despite the deaths of his men. “We’re close. Spread out and advance. We have them now.” Carter leapt from his jeep and ran for the protection of a nearby building. He watched his men swarm from their vehicles and run to cover. A few of them fired into the distance and he cursed their impatience. His men wore tan weather gear and he cursed again as he realised that the dark colour made them more visible in the storm. The gear was perfect for desert work but useless in the snow. No doubt fucking Harris had his men in white so they blended into their surroundings. He had rushed this foray, he knew, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he would miss an opportunity if he delayed.
He had to get those weapons the humans had. Once he had their amazing ammunition he would not have to worry about the vampires anymore. He would be unstoppable. But first, he had to find the humans. This was the first direct attack on his force so he must be close. He had expected to have to fight for every inch of ground long before this but Harris must have fewer fighters than he had expected if he had waited until now to attack. Maybe this would be easier than he thought.
Another flaming missile suddenly appeared from the snow and slammed into the half-track next in line. There were no casualties but the flaming remains blocked the whole road so it was obvious what their intention was.
“Advance,” he shouted into his microphone and knew his words would be heard by every platoon leader. “They are trying to delay us. There are not that many of them. We must advance.” He saw his leaders rise from cover, closely followed by their men. He had over two hundred thralls with him here, with a further two hundred with the tanks and half-tracks behind. He laughed as he watched the thralls clambering over the ruined buildings and filling the streets. He would have them soon. Suddenly, the front line of thralls stumbled and fell. It was only after the first thrall had fallen that he heard the sound of gunfire. The second line tripped over the dead in front and still others fell to bullets searing the air above their fallen leaders.
Within seconds twenty thralls lay dead and the remainder were scrambling for cover. Carter screamed into his microphone for a flanking manoeuvre and watched as a number of thralls split from the main force and disappeared through the city streets. Carter watched the rest of his force just sit behind cover and he shook with anger. He broke from cover and ran towards the main group, slamming into a wall to stop himself as his feet slipped on the hard-packed snow.
“Send some men around the other way,” he shouted at the first platoon leader he found. “We have to move forward.” The platoon leader looked at him for a moment as if considering the order. Carter felt very exposed for a moment. If this thrall didn’t obey him then he could lose everything. With a shock he suddenly realised that he had ordered the majority of his inner cabal of thralls to stay with the tanks and ensure that they followed with all due haste. In his hurry to catch the humans he had left himself unprotected.
“Now,” he insisted with just enough volume and threat to portray a confidence he did not entirely feel. The thrall leader snapped a salute and gathered together his men and disappeared. Carter allowed himself to breathe out and he felt quite light-headed. He heard the stutter of gunfire in the distance and rallied the remaining thralls to him.
“This is it,” he shouted, straining to be heard over the howl of the wind. “The others are flanking the humans. We must take the fight to them to distract them. Use cover but move forward. You,” he grabbed a thrall beside him. “Take two others and clear that wreck from the road. We need to clear the way
for the tanks. I want the jeeps moving in ten minutes with a soldier manning those .50 cals. Move; we have them now.”
There was a flurry of activity as the thralls rushed to obey their orders and Carter waited until the way was clear before finally following.
* * *
Philip Warkowski eased the breath from his lungs and squeezed the trigger. The Barrett XM-109 thumped into his shoulder like a playful lover and his massive arms held the recoil to a minimum. He was already moving to the next target before the thrall he had hit slumped to the ground without its head. He fired again and then moved back below the ridgeline as he changed position.
“Three more rounds then we pull back,” he called out to the others. He had been assigned the best shots in the community and, while the three men and one woman in his group could shoot, he did not consider any of them to be of the quality he needed.
“Move position after each shot,” he hissed at John Palmer who had dropped under cover as a hail of bullets tore his position to pieces. Jesus, he thought, what I wouldn’t give to have Dee back at my side. Together we could hold off the whole platoon. They had lost so many true soldiers, friends who he had begun this fight with and now all that remained from the original team was Harris and himself. His mind wandered as he recalled those who had fallen but his shots were true each time. He felt no hate for his enemy. In war people died, especially friends. It was part of the life and he had been a soldier for a long time.
“Okay, pull out. We have done all we can here.” The others pulled back reluctantly but they obeyed nonetheless and Warkowski grunted with satisfaction. He was not a natural leader, but Harris had asked him to train and run this small team and he had reluctantly agreed. Harris’ logic was hard to argue against. If he and his team could harry the enemy and make every inch of ground costly the thralls would move cautiously through every street, even when there was nothing there. As long as he and his team appeared enough times to keep them worried the thralls would delay advancing without due care. Every minute delayed was another minute that his family and the others would benefit from.
