by Derek Gunn
His cabal followed him blindly, exposing themselves to the deadly, invisible rays. Some reacted immediately and fell screaming in agony into the smouldering ruins below, others laughed and flew over the rubble and upwards into the light of the sun. Others still managed to make their way through the gauntlet of death but, as they rose into the air, they did not cry with joy. Instead their flesh grew mottled as the radiation corrupted their organs. Sunlight burned them from the outside and the radiation seared them from within.
Many faltered long before they rose high enough to burn; while others limped into the air, hoping their bodies would adjust and accept this new existence only to cry out in pain and fall to the ruins below. Von Kruger did not count those who fell. They were not important. The attrition rate was high but the rewards would be higher still. He did note that there were fewer than he had hoped though. He caught the eye of Ventredi but ignored the Lieutenant’s worried frown. He was committed to this road. He had hoped to survive the gauntlet with fifty augmented vampires. Fifty would carve him an empire. Fifty out of over two hundred? Surely that was not too many to ask for.
As he led those who survived up into the morning light, he cast a worried glance behind him. He did not count the number who followed him but his impression was that there were far fewer than fifty.
* * *
Flynn watched in growing horror as the streams of vampires pitched into the ruins of the nuclear fires. Radiation was Von Kruger’s secret. Who would have thought that such a feared horror could cure the vampire of their greatest weakness? But at what cost? Hundreds had flown into the burning embers but so few had flown out the other side. Von Kruger was taking a huge risk. Should he risk his own life and those of his cabal to match Von Kruger or could he weather the storm of Von Kruger’s daylight attacks?
Sunlight was his enemy. If he left his vampires as they were, then Von Kruger would decimate his thralls during the day. No one would be able to stand up to him, even with so few soldiers. But dare he risk everything? Was he prepared to find out if he too would survive or would he pitch puking and rotting into the ruins below?
The morning light was growing stronger and he could feel the pain of his skin burning as the first rays caressed his exposed flesh. He had to decide quickly or he would be caught out in the open and it would be too late for either path.
“I will take one other with me into the radiation cloud,” he said.
The vampires pulled away from him in the air, but their fear of him was greater than their terror of death from below.
“You others return to the cabal and tell them of this discovery. If we survive we will join you. If not, prepare for Von Kruger. You do not have long. For what it is worth, my advice would be to risk half your forces to the radiation so you have some defence during the day.”
He turned abruptly and flew down into the cloud. It was not bravery, he knew. If he stayed any longer he knew he would return to camp and all would be lost in the not too distant future. He really had no choice if he wanted to survive. He refused to cower in hiding during the day hoping that Von Kruger and his forces did not find them. The fire of the sun began to blacken his skin and the agony inside grew. It was like he was boiling from within. Was this a good sign or had he left it too late. He closed his eyes and flew onward into the ruins and hoped for deliverance.
* * *
Harris watched McAteer trot for ten steps then walk for ten before picking up the pace again. Harris was leaning over trying to catch his breath after running for the last few hundred yards. His lungs burned and his legs felt like rubber after struggling through the snow drifts. Warkowski was in similar shape beside him. McAteer trotted past them with a smile on his face and saluted exaggeratedly.
“It’s about stamina not speed, Harris,” McAteer called over his shoulder and Harris grunted as he struggled to catch up. “The English invented this,” McAteer continued as Harris fell in step with him. “You can travel twice as fast as walking but don’t get exhausted from running constantly. Quite clever really. They marched through Spain and France to kick Napoleon’s butt this way.” Harris was amazed as his heart slowed its mad tempo and his muscles stopped aching.
They were very exposed here and for the first time that night Harris wished it would snow again, but the clouds were already clearing to reveal a bright blue that mocked him. It would take Carter a while to sort out his vehicles but not that long. They tried to keep to the heavier drifts which slowed them down but would make tracking them in a vehicle impossible.
“Do you think we bought them enough time?” Harris looked over at McAteer whose previous smile had been replaced by a worried frown.
“I don’t know.”
Harris sighed a little breathlessly as they broke into another trot. “Without the wounded, I would have said they were already on the train wondering where we are but there were so many wounded, and they would have to stop too often to treat them. I really don’t know.”
The men continued on in silence, each one weighed down with their own worries. Most of the men had family in the desperate caravan ahead. Harris’ thoughts were dominated by his worry for Sandra. Was she still alive or had the journey proved too much for her? The last few years had been busy with survival and saving those he could save. Now he wondered if it had been worth the sacrifice.
For the remaining humans their time had now run out. All over the world, or wherever they used the serum at least, humans were already dying if Pat’s timetable was accurate. He had done all he could. If his own team and the community survived this night, then the time had come for him to concentrate on those people. No more risks. No more mad missions. He looked up at the sky and sent a silent prayer that Sandra would make it and that he would be given a chance to show her how much he loved her. His heart suddenly skipped a beat. He couldn’t ever remember telling her that he loved her. Surely he had? Had he been so wrapped up in others that he had ignored her to that extent? He was certain that she knew he loved her but knowing was different to being told.
He resolved to tell her the moment he stepped on the train. No matter what was happening he vowed. From now on he would put her first. He just hoped that he hadn’t left it too late.
* * *
Aiden Flemming looked into the fuel area and sighed. Danny Wilkins and the other children had found every scrap of coal and wood that was to be had, including a secreted cache obviously stolen for personal use by a night-watchman. But it was nowhere near enough. It would get them out of the city...probably even to the next state, but then they would run out in the middle of nowhere, isolated and vulnerable.
He had poured over every map he could find. One particularly good map was stretched over a table in front of him at this very moment. He had found it in an old office and it showed every rail track in the county. He never realised there were so many. Of course, many were so small he suspected they were long disused and might be impassable. Others, still, would be blocked with useless modern engines clutching desperately upwards at the long dead electrical lines that had once fed them.
He had to prioritise. He knew for a fact that the main line into Carter’s territory was clear because they had used it in their escape. But that would only bring them deeper into Carter’s clutches. He traced a line from the city that cut to the border between Carter’s territory and that which was once called Illinois. From there it joined a huge spider network of tracks that spread onwards to the west and the south of the country. If they could get that far they could lose themselves in the myriad choices. Only aerial reconnaissance would find them. He knew that Carter did have helicopters but the fuel for those guzzling machines was far too precious to waste scouring the country.
Of course, to get that far they would have to refuel along the way. He looked for areas with heavy forests close to the tracks and found one forty miles from the border and the start of the terminus where they could lose themselves. It would be close. If Carter was chasing them, he could follow them easily along th
e single track they were stuck on. But, if they could manage to get far enough ahead to stock up on wood from the forest then they might just make it. Of course, burning freshly cut wood would leave a very smoky trail but they had no choice. They had to burn something and there were no alternatives.
He traced the line for the hundredth time. Could they make it that far with enough of a lead to be able to stop? The freeway was less direct than the rail line. During its construction there had obviously been pressure to join many towns and the freeway meandered wildly taking anyone using it on a journey that would eat up many more miles than the arrow straight rail line. Carter would also struggle with his tanks so they might just do it.
He had already sent the eager Danny Wilkins and his intrepid team of ‘Wolverines’ into the nearby commercial sector to scavenge for saws, axes, even petrol saws if they could find any fuel cans. If they had enough people cutting they just might cut down on the time needed to get them far enough in the maze of rail tracks to allow them to disappear. It was a desperate gamble but it was all they had.
He carefully folded the map and put it into a small leather satchel he carried. The maps would never leave his possession. They were far too important. Harris had taken him aside before he left and his revelations had shocked Flemming. Harris had told him of the traitor and what they had done so far. Flemming was only to trust the children.
Harris admitted that he didn’t know the traitor’s agenda. It might be that their escape coincided with the traitor’s own plans and that there would be no sabotage. But they just didn’t know. Flemming had kept to himself for the last two days and had kept the adults as busy as he could, loading and preparing for the others. But now they were ready and the thought of someone with the time to plot some terrible ‘accident’ or sabotage that would get them all killed left him shaken. The maps would remain with him until Harris arrived. He looked out into the snowy landscape for some evidence that the others had made it. The storm had stopped, but the wind still drove the top layer of the fallen snow into his face and made his eyes water.
The city looked somehow cleaner with the snow covering the damage and rot beneath. It was like a healthy body rotting beneath healthy skin. He saw three small figures lumbering through the snow and smiled as he recognised Danny Wilkins and the others laden down with a huge pile of equipment on their sleigh. He shouted orders and a number of adults, bored with their inactivity, rushed to their aid. The men lifted the children up onto their shoulders while the others pulled the sleigh over to the train. There were whoops of laughter and delight but Flemming could not laugh with them. His view of these people had been forever tainted with the secret Harris had laid upon him. He wished that Harris had left him ignorant. He never asked to lead. But Harris would only rely on those he knew he could trust and he did feel a swell of pride that he was one of Harris’ trusted inner-circle.
He stared out at the horizon again, peering intently through the snow, hoping yet again that the others would hurry. He had lit the fire in the engine already; steam engines did not just take off when you started them up. You had to have the furnace well heated before you could hope to generate enough power to pull such a load. Unfortunately, every hour they waited, they burned valuable fuel. If the others did not hurry they would not have enough left to get out of the city, let alone the miles they needed to get to the forest.
* * *
Emma Logan woke to intense pain in her feet. She was so cold that her teeth ached from chattering, but it was her feet that hurt the most. Her eyes were crusted shut and she had to strain just to see blurs. She felt herself being pulled along in a jerky motion and realised she was on one of the sleighs. What had happened? She remembered walking and then falling. She remembered struggling to rise and taking a moment to regain her strength and then nothing. How long had she lain in the snow before someone had found her? Why were her feet so sore?
She tried to rise but something was holding her down. Straps, she thought suddenly. She had seen the straps they used when she had checked on Conor. They worked like the seat belts found on planes with a quick release clasp. She brought her arms up and patted her body, searching for the clasp. Her gloves were so thick it was difficult to identify what might be a metal clasp and what was just a bundle of clothes.
She grunted in frustration and slapped her hands back onto the bed of the sleigh.
“You see what happens when you don’t follow your doctor’s orders?”
Emma turned her head towards the voice, but she already knew who had spoken, despite the muffling effect of the scarf across her mouth.
“Alright, point taken,” she sighed. “Now, can you please let me up, Amanda?”
“You would have died in another five minutes if Grier hadn’t tripped over you,” Amanda Reitzig admonished her sternly but released the clasp. Emma rose to a sitting position and rubbed at her shoulders and then winced as she moved her feet.
“I’m not surprised they’re sore,” Amanda nodded towards Emma’s feet. “You nearly lost a few toes. You have to take your allotted rests or you’ll drop from exhaustion or frostbite.”
Emma nodded. “How’s Conor?”
“Still with us,” Amanda answered and Emma snapped her head towards her friend.
“Is it that bad?”
“We lost another four in the last hour,” Amanda’s voice cracked with the strain and the devastation of losing her charges. “Jesus, Emma. We lost a fifteen year old boy to the cold. No one checked on him. He snuck onto one of the sleighs and he just fell asleep because he was too tired to walk. He didn’t understand that walking was the only thing that was keeping him alive.”
Her voice was muffled by the scarf, but Emma could hear the devastation in her friend’s voice. “When was the last time you took a rest?”
“There isn’t time,” she answered quickly and began to leave. “You watch those feet of yours,” she warned. “I can’t put them back on if you snap them off, you know.”
Emma watched as her friend struggled through the drifts to the next sleigh. She hoped there was somewhere safe and warm at the end of this journey. She wasn’t sure if any of them could bear to find that such a forced march had been for nothing. It had already cost them far more than they had expected, and she wasn’t sure if any of them had any more to give. She allowed herself to drop gingerly to the ground. Her feet hurt as she put her weight on them but the cold quickly surrounded her and took the pain away. She wasn’t sure that was the best thing for her but she didn’t have much choice. They needed everyone they could get checking on the wounded and those asleep. They had to look after each other—now more than ever.
* * *
The first of the sleighs arrived as the light of the day bled out like a dying corpse. Aidan Flemming nearly missed the struggling figures as he took his last scan of the city before going back to his office. When he saw them he felt relief flush through him. He ran back to the train and shouted for everyone to come out and help. They really didn’t have much time. They had to get the people into the warm and the supplies loaded.
People flooded out into the snow shouting their relief and joy to the struggling figures. Flemming saw the lead figure look up and wearily raise a hand before dropping to their knees. People ran to the figures, taking their weight on their shoulders and helping them back to the train. Others swarmed over the sleighs and began pulling the supplies to the designated areas. Flemming had planned for this moment well and people moved efficiently to their appointed tasks.
He helped an exhausted woman to her feet and half carried her to the train. Before him, he could see others already stripping supplies form the sleighs and throwing them to others who took the precious cargo into the carriages and stored them only to reappear a moment later to take the next one. He laid his charge on a seat next to a funnel that piped heat from the furnace through to this first carriage. It had been Cabreezi’s idea to pipe the heat from the furnace through to the first carriage and it had been a good one. The
heat was wasted anyway as they brought the furnace to temperature and their frozen colleagues would benefit greatly from a warm recovery point.
The carriage was filling up as he left to head back. When he got out, the darkness had already fallen but a steady stream of his people were filing back, helping the exhausted or pulling heavily laden sleighs. By the third trip the flow had reduced to a trickle and he had received a few reports from those recovered enough to talk to him. The caravan of people had become more stretched than they had planned. Delays from exhaustion and burials had forced many to become separated from those in the rear. At first everyone had stopped for burials, but by the third death some of the party were too far ahead to hear the calls to halt the caravan so they had continued on heedless of the slower moving wounded.
The storm had caused others to slow their advance while others had lowered their heads and forged forward towards the warmth and safety of the train. Only half of the huge number of people were with them now. The weaker and the wounded were still a long way back and their very inability to move faster might doom them all. Flemming made a decision.
“We will meet them half way,” he announced, and a few groaned but rose to their feet. They were all in this together; live or die, no one would be left behind.
Chapter 20
Alan Turnbull hovered on the fringes of Kavanagh’s meeting. It was too far to hear clearly, but he was able to catch enough to get the gist of what they were saying. He couldn’t afford to draw attention to himself. He had been taken in easily enough. It hadn’t been hard to convince them as he had been the fourth such deserter from Von Richelieu’s camp that night. It had been easier to blend in with the other new recruits than he had expected.
