by E. E. Borton
“We’ll be coming up to our first bridge crossing!” yelled a man coming through the door of our car. “Bruce is going to send a couple of guys ahead to make sure it’s stable. We’ll be stopping for a few minutes.”
“Stay sharp, people,” said Gunny, standing, “but stay on the train.”
“What is that?” asked Tucker, pointing to the quarry. “All those brown spots.”
The exposed white stone was in stark contrast to the surrounding trees and brush on the hillside. Large swaths of land had been excavated to get to the material underneath. At this distance, it looked as if the white hillside had freckles. I knew what it was, but didn’t answer his question. The answer would come soon enough. We started rolling again, but at a slower speed.
The quarry disappeared from view as we chugged through the bottom of the valley and over the bridge above a highway. As far as the eye could see in both directions, abandoned vehicles littered the roadway, but there was no movement. It was as if we were the last people on earth. Well, the last people alive on earth.
As the train cleared the woods and started its uphill climb, the quarry came back into view on both sides of the tracks. The freckles at a distance became a nightmare up close. There were too many to count. They were everywhere.
“Jesus Christ,” said Tucker, mesmerized. “There must be thousands.”
They were in various states of decomposition. Farther up the hill is where they placed the first of the dead on their aboveground graveyard. Most of them were skeletonized. The bodies of the most recent were closer to the tracks. Hands started covering mouths and noses as the breeze coming in from the west brought the stench into the train. Windows were being shut, but it would have been impossible to keep the smell out. There were just too many bodies.
“Looks like the ones closest to the tracks have been here for months,” said Gunny, unfazed by the smell. “If we’d have come through then, we’d all be puking our guts out right now. I guess they put them here to get them into the sun. They decompose faster out in the open.”
“This is unreal,” said Tucker. “They just killed them and left them out here to rot.”
“Not rot, son,” said Gunny. “Decompose. There’s a difference.”
“This is organized,” I said. “The bodies are in rows with enough space to walk between them. You can see fake flowers around some of them. There were just too many to bury. It’s a cemetery above ground, Tucker. There was no massacre here.”
I knew this wouldn’t be the last mass grave we would come across before we reached the city. It wasn’t uncommon for natural disasters to kill hundreds of thousands of people in an instant. I’m sure the same thing happened when our world stopped on a dime. With the intensity and frequency of the catastrophic weather events, coupled with humans killing humans, I could only guess that tens of millions have died since the power did almost six months ago. Throw in our inability to care for the sick and injured, and that number will continue to grow.
A day before the event, there were twice as many births on the planet as there were deaths. At 8:13 on the morning after, more hearts had stopped beating than had started. As far as I could tell, that trend hasn’t changed for the better.
As we passed the graveyard, we were still a few miles from the western edge of Chattanooga. For the train, it would be its most vulnerable stretch to and from our drop-off point at Ruby Falls. That area was sparsely populated and separated from the city by Lookout Mountain. It did have enough people to support the placement of a Wal-Mart, a couple of motels, and fast food restaurants, but not much else. I could see – and feel – the tension on the train increase.
“Four miles to Ruby,” said Gunny. “Check your gear one more time, and make sure you have everything you need. Once you get off this train, we won’t be coming back.”
Each of us unbuckled and unzipped our packs. JD stuffed a few more rifle rounds into his jacket pockets. If there came a time we needed to run at full speed, we wouldn’t be doing it with our fifty-pound backpacks. Those would be the first to go, so our most precious gear had to be attached to us in our clothing or in our hands.
JD and Tucker were carrying their long-range hunting rifles. Doug, Daniel, and I were carrying gifts left behind by the militia. Daniel and I chose two M4 assault rifles that could fire in single-round and three-round bursts. They were light and used the same ammunition.
Doug took it a step further by choosing an M4A1 fully automatic assault rifle. It also used the same ammunition, but had a bit more of a punch from an accessory attached underneath the barrel. It added three pounds to his weapon, but we all felt more comfortable having a grenade launcher with us. (All of us carried different pistols, but they were the same caliber so we could share bullets if someone was running low.) We were a small group that could make a lot of noise.
“Two miles,” said Gunny.
We buckled and zipped. We stood, tightened our straps, and buttoned our pockets in case we had to move fast when we hit the ground. None of us liked the idea of traveling in daylight, but we didn’t have a choice.
Spending the night at home with our families was worth more to us than the cover of darkness. We needed to save that for when we reached the bridges. Pulling out my pocket watch, I calculated that we had six hours to slither four miles through the city before we reached the first of the four river crossings.
“One mile.”
My belly started tightening as much as my straps. The first of several large buildings came into view in the distance as we approached our drop-off location. Gun barrels from our escort team were poking out of every window of the passenger cars. I could see the feet shuffling on the shooter who was manning the machine gun above us on the raised platform. He was scanning both sides of the tracks for trouble.
“We’re here,” said Gunny, shifting his weight as the train executed a fast stop. “How are we looking, gunner?”
“I got nothing,” said the gunner, yelling down from his position.
“All clear right side,” said another shooter.
“All clear back.”
“All clear left,” said Gunny, sliding open the steel-plated door.
“Your stop, gentlemen,” said Gunny, stepping aside. “We’ll cover you until you’re out of sight.”
“Thanks for the ride,” said JD, shaking Gunny’s hand and then stepping out into the open with his rifle raised.
After words of encouragement from Gunny to each man stepping through the doorway, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment. It would be the last time I’d let Kelly occupy my mind until we were somewhere I could exhale.
“Take care of our families, Gunny.”
“You have my word, son,” said Gunny, shaking my hand. “Good luck and Godspeed.”
Chapter 29
Ghost Town
Doug and Daniel took point. They were the most familiar with the route that would take us into Chattanooga. JD, Tucker, and I lagged behind a short distance. We stayed close enough to concentrate our firepower if we made contact with anyone looking for a fight. There was still plenty of cover in the woods flanking the tracks, but we could see the tops of the buildings in a train yard ahead of us.
We couldn’t see it through the trees, but we knew the Tennessee River was to our left. Our right side was wooded as well, but just beyond the trees were industrial parks and homes. We would avoid walking on streets or through neighborhoods for as long as possible.
The Kramer brothers stopped and took a knee when they arrived at the edge of the train yard. We caught up with them and did the same. As the main track splintered into several service rails, rows of box and tanker cars blocked our view of the warehouses on the other side. We scanned in every direction as far as our scopes would allow. Nothing was moving except for our train. As it disappeared around a bend heading home, it became us against a city.
“There’s nothing between us and the river except the interstate,” said Doug, pointing to his left. “If the train
drew attention, more than likely curious folks would be coming from our right flank. We’ll stick to the tree line and move through here as fast as possible.”
“How far until we have to cross the interstate?” asked JD.
“About a mile,” said Doug. “Not much between here and there. A few more warehouses, but this area has been rundown for years. Shouldn’t come across too many people, if any. Now, the other side, that’s a different story.”
“We’ll be able to see the downtown buildings from there,” said Daniel. “We’ll lose the woods for cover. From there to the bridges, it’s nothing but industrial parks and a few housing projects.”
“Then we’ll stick to the woods until we run out of trees,” I said.
We made good time to the interstate. As we approached the underpass, we slowed our pace. It was the first of many dangerous chokepoints we’d have to push through. We took our time to make sure the area was clear, but none of us knew what was on the other side. An entire army could be waiting in ambush, and we wouldn’t know until it was too late. Doug was the first to step onto the road.
We did our best to cover him, but our field of vision was limited. Daniel was second in line and moved forward after Doug gave us a signal that it was clear. When he dropped to a knee, the rest of us followed. It was a different world on the other side.
Taking cover behind a dead cargo van, we could see miles in front of us. The inbound lanes of the converging highways were choked with abandoned vehicles. As in Atlanta, thousands of people were making their way into work from the suburbs when the world stopped.
JD moved up to a small car in front of the van. He peered through his scope up the highway and then over to the buildings of downtown. After a few minutes, he scanned the riverfront. He came back to us shaking his head.
“Nothing,” said JD, taking a knee. “Not one person. I didn’t see any camps or smoke either. It’s like a ghost town. If this keeps up, we’ll be over that bridge in an hour.”
“Trust me,” I said, “we won’t. People just learned not to be out in the open during the day. They saw what happened to those who were. No, they’re down there.”
“Maybe you’re giving them more credit than they deserve,” said Tucker. “Wouldn’t surprise me if everyone just got the hell out.”
“All two-hundred thousand?” I asked. “And where did they go? What do we do when refugees or looters come to Stevenson? They’d get the same welcome everywhere else.”
“All right,” said Tucker, taking a moment. “You got a point, but where are they? I mean, are they underground or something? Are they all dead?”
“Possibly,” I said. “I don’t know for sure. I do know that there are some waiting for easy targets to come strolling through their territory.”
“Let’s do our best not to be those easy targets,” said Doug. “This highway is elevated all the way down to the riverfront. We’ll use the vehicles for cover. If anyone starts shooting at us, it’ll probably come from those taller buildings downtown.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” said JD. “They’re still over five hundred yards away. I’d have a hard time making that shot.”
“Okay,” I said. “We’re taking the high road.”
We were moving much faster than I had anticipated. Chattanooga was a much different city than Atlanta. There were only a few buildings over fifteen stories in the small downtown area. Atlanta’s skyline was filled with dozens of them. It took me two days to get out of the metro area on foot. Under different circumstances, I could walk through Chattanooga and leave it far behind me in a few hours.
Our pace slowed when we came across the first signs of trouble. From a distance through a riflescope, the city looked intact. It was a different story once we moved in closer. Burned out cars and barricades impeded our progress. The bodies on the roadside stopped it.
“How long do you think they’ve been there?” asked Tucker, crouching beside a truck near the first corpse.
“Couple months,” said JD, scanning the windows and rooftops of the buildings closest to us, “Maybe more.”
“Not much more,” I said, breathing through my mouth.
“Looks like they put up a fight,” said Doug, reaching down and picking up a few spent rounds.
“A couple of kids back here,” said Daniel, coming around the side of the truck. “Women, too.”
“Guys,” said Tucker, leaning over the cement guardrail. “Look down there.”
We all joined him at the rail. The highway overpass was declining, but we were still twenty feet above the ground. As I looked over, there were too many bodies piled on top of each other to count. As with the open cemetery at the quarry, they were in various stages of decomposition.
“Dear God,” said Doug.
“I guess this is more like what you expected,” said JD, standing beside me.
“This highway would’ve been the easiest way to get in or out of the city,” I said. “Easy picking for a few guys with rifles from those windows.”
“They probably threw ‘em over so as not to scare off new targets,” said JD. “There must be over a hundred down there.”
“Nobody over there now,” said Tucker, holding up his rifle. “But I’d like to get off this overpass as soon as we can.”
“We need to slow it down from here,” I said. “Whoever was responsible for this has probably moved closer into the city.”
“We’ll get off and make our way to the buildings along the river,” said Doug. “Less chance of us getting caught in a crossfire.”
“I agree,” I said. “JD, we need to get you and Tucker to high ground.”
“If we can get up to that roof over there,” said JD, pointing up the highway to the tallest building along the river, “we can cover you all the way to the bend. You should be able to see the first bridge from there.”
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s get off this damn road.”
We formed a line and spaced ourselves twenty feet from each other. Doug was on point with his brother behind him. I was in the middle with Tucker behind me. JD was covering our backsides.
Most of the buildings we were snaking around were warehouses that had a few windows and doors on the front and loading docks on the sides and back. Any opening we came across was met with caution and a raised weapon. One by one, we would sprint the distance between buildings. It was the only time we moved fast.
Daniel and I stopped when Doug reached the steps of the modern three-story building. JD and Tucker continued past us to check the perimeter. We regrouped at the front door with our weapons pointed inside.
“This thing is all glass,” said JD. “Should be pretty well lit up inside. How do you wanna go in?”
“Inner rooms are still going to be pitch black,” said Doug. “This is a big building, and we’ll burn a lot of daylight clearing every room.”
“We don’t have that kind of time,” I said. “Keep a lantern close, but don’t light it unless we come across any signs it’s occupied. Doug, you take point and find the stairs. If it’s clear to the roof, JD, you need to figure out how to barricade the doors from the outside.”
“Got it,” said JD.
“All right,” I said. “Everyone ready?”
Each of us had an assignment when we cleared a room. It was based on the reaction of the first man inside. If Doug went straight in, Daniel would peel to the right and I’d peel to the left. If Doug entered and found an immediate threat to his right or left, Daniel would move straight in past him, and I’d peel in the opposite direction from Doug. Tucker would react to what we were all doing and support any directional fire inside. JD always covered our backside and waited outside of the room. He was also our last hope if everything else went sideways.
A few inches apart, we stormed into the lobby of the building. Doug went straight in, so Daniel and I peeled off to cover our corners. Tucker moved past us and stayed with Doug as he swept deeper into the lobby. The windows had a slight tint, but there was
plenty of light to see any movement inside.
“Clear,” said Doug, standing next to a stairwell door near the elevators. “This is our way up. It’s going to be dark in there. We’ll light up one lantern.”
“Okay,” I said, sliding the pack straps off of my shoulders. “Mine’s the smallest.”
“Of course it is,” said JD, stepping past me as I dug into my pack.
“Always with the jokes.”
“Yep,” said JD, looking down one of the three hallways. “No sign of any squatters. Looks like they just gutted the place.”
“It’s a dental center,” I said, adjusting the flame on my lantern. “I’m sure this was one of the first places to be cleaned out. There was a lot of valuable stuff in here. You’d be lucky to find a piece of gauze or a Band-Aid now.”
“All right, boys,” I said, slinging my rifle over my shoulder and pulling my sidearm. “We’re going to take this nice and slow. Follow me.”
Doug opened the door, and I stepped inside the stairwell. It was littered with furniture and anything else someone could use as a barricade. It might have held off a group for a little while, but it didn’t hold them out for long. As we made our way up step by step, mixed in with the furniture were more bodies. Most of them were wearing scrubs.
At the last landing there was a ladder leading up to the roof. It was a good sign when we saw the hatch was still secured with a padlock. JD pulled the bolt cutters out of Tucker’s backpack. It was one of the few large tools we carried with us. After making short work of the lock, he pulled himself up to the roof. Daniel stayed on the landing while the rest of us went topside.
Crouching beneath the low wall around the perimeter of the roof, we settled into the corner facing the direction we needed to go. JD laid on his stomach and poked the barrel of his rifle through a gutter hole. After peering through his scope for a moment, he rolled over onto his back and looked over at me.
