Zombie Road (Book 2): Bloodbath on the Blacktop

by David A. Simpson

  “At ease.” Cobb said when he wanted to get started. “Let’s get this going so we ain’t here all night. You can get to know each other later.”

  “First off, Gunny. Is the town cleared and ready for all these people to wander in there tomorrow? No surprises?”

  The meeting went smoothly. Collins went over some security details. Tina had been in the hydroelectric plant at the dam and was fairly sure they could get it up and running. Gunny laid out their plan for the wall and even though everyone considered it dangerous to go into Dallas, all agreed it would be a formidable barrier and quick to build. Tommy said he could rig up something to get the container loaders off of the train so they wouldn’t have to take Griz’s truck into the city. When Gunny found out about Liza’s spreadsheet, he wanted her to send any farmers or vets they had out to the farm to take care of the cows. She consulted her lists and said they didn’t have anyone that knew anything about trains but Griz quipped again, “how hard can it be? You don’t even have to steer.”

  “Well, you have to make sure the switches are the way you want them.” Carl said quietly, barely heard by Gunny.

  “Wait a minute!” Gunny said loudly over some of the people that were talking. “You know how to drive a train?” he asked Carl.

  Carl looked like a deer in the headlights at all the attention suddenly focused on him in the now quiet room.

  “Well, uh no. Not really. I kind of played some train simulator games. On the computer.” He trailed off, mumbling and feeling dumb for even opening his mouth, knowing these men were going to laugh at him.

  “Those were some hard games.” Tina came to his defense. “They were just like real life. People actually used them as training aides when they were testing for their license. You had to actually learn all kinds of things, it wasn’t just pushing the X button and driving.”

  She didn’t know if that was entirely true but she had seen him play them and they did look pretty complicated. Besides, Carl needed to stand up for himself. Just because he wasn’t some gun-toting Army Seal Team Green Beret Commando didn’t mean he didn’t have something valuable to contribute. From the sounds of it, these guys might wind up in Mexico if they didn’t have a little help. And Carl really did know a lot about trains, even if it was only through games and books.

  “Really?” Gunny asked. “We need 400 rail cars. Can we pull them all at one time?”

  “How much do they weigh?”

  “No idea.” Said Gunny. “A lot.”

  “Uh, well,” Carl said looking at the ceiling in thought “you could but without knowing how much tonnage you’d be pulling, the safest way would be to put some locomotives in the middle and some on the end as pushers. You have to consider the tractive values and adhesion factors and inclines of the grades and of course the coupling classifications are another aspect.” His mind was reeling, remembering hours he’d spent hauling freight and meeting time schedules sitting at his keyboard. “Without other locomotive traffic to consider, you could certainly extend the standard length because you wouldn’t have to worry about fitting onto the sidings to let other trains pass.”

  Gunny looked over at Griz. “You understand any of that?” he asked.

  “Yup.” He replied. “I understand we have us a train engineer who’s going to Dallas.”

  “And about a million zombies hot on your tail when you come back in.” Cobb said. “They’ll be coming right up those tracks behind you. I’ll have teams standing by to take them out. We’ve got enough ammo to last us a while.”

  “I’ve got some ideas.” Tommy said. “We’ll figure something out.”

  They hashed over a few more things and although Carl was pleased to actually be of use, to be able to contribute something important, he was nervous about going into the big city. It was going to be dangerous. He’d learned to trust these men, he’d seen them in action, but shuffling and coupling that many cars would be noisy and take some time. He started working out some safety protocols in his mind, things that would have to be done a little differently than in the game. The hours he’d spent coupling and decoupling rail cars, the compulsive desire to get ‘licensed’ on every locomotive in the sim, even the old steamers, was actually going to pay off. If Dad could see me now, he thought a little grimly. It was clear to him, this whole project had fallen on his shoulders. He was responsible for the safety of the entire town. Of everyone! The soldiers would get them into the railyard but if they didn’t come back with 400 railcars for any reason, it would be his fault. Carl of the Prius, as they called him. He smiled. He did his best work when he put off studying for an exam until the very last minute, when he was under pressure. He could pull this off. He knew more than enough to make this happen. He was already typing notes and doing calculations on his phone.

  The meeting broke up shortly before the 10 o’clock call to General Carson and they went back out to join the rest of the people celebrating the end of their road trip.

  Cobb and Gunny headed over to Cadillac Jacks truck and Wire Bender was already talking to someone on the Ham radio, the mysterious powers of the military hardware in Cheyanne Mountain masking the signal from any unwanted ears.

  “Anything new?” Gunny asked, figuring if he wasn’t needed, he could go grab a cold one from one of the many cases of beer that had been put in the reefers.

  It turns out, there was. They had the satellites locked in and filming all of the nuclear power plants around the world every time they made a pass. The plans the Jihadis had put in motion were working extremely well. Nearly every plant had been visited by the modified tanker trucks. Men had gone in wearing full radiation suits and had come back out with carts laden down with the rod handling casks. The glass lined transport casks had been loaded into the tankers that appeared to be water filled and concrete lined. If they had the proper experts and manpower, they could have said definitively what they were, who made them and when. But all Carson had was a handful of overworked, sleep-deprived soldiers barricaded deep under a mountain in Colorado. They had cleared their sector and had food and water now from the mess hall. At least they weren’t battling zombies and slowly starving anymore.

  The trucks had all traveled to isolated areas along the coasts and the casks had been offloaded to small fishing boats that were equipped with winches and booms to haul in heavy nets. From there, they had been making trips out to deep sea oil tankers. The casks were loaded onto them and then when an area was filled, they would encase them in concrete with the mixers they had mounted on deck. It was a well-planned operation and everyone was still amazed that a group of warring tribes that didn’t even have running water in many parts of their countries could pull it off. They had outside help was the prevailing idea. Big help.

  Since every country was affected, it must have been some One World Global Depopulation group. A powerful one, Wire Bender insisted. He and Cadillac Jack went back and forth quite a bit. Wire Bender, well versed in every crackpot theory on the internet and Jack drawing on years of Military Intelligence. Names flew around, ideas were exchanged but no one really knew. It was only ideas from the conspiracy theories of fringe far right or far left internet sites. One of them had turned out to be right but they didn’t know who was ultimately responsible. The Illuminati? The Rothschilds? The Russian Oligarchs? The Freemasons? The Flat Earth Society? The Reptilians? No one knew. The general consensus was that whoever did it were firmly ensconced somewhere deep inside the walled territories of the Middle East. They thought they were safe but they would get what they had coming to them soon.

  The Generals good news was that the North American power plants were all cleared, the trucks had either already delivered their payload to the boats or were in route. That meant the Americans didn’t have to settle in Lakota although he strongly recommended it.

  “Well,” Cobb said when they had signed off a few minutes later. “I’m staying here but I guess you better tell everyone, let them decide.”

  Gunny nodded. “Yeah, it’s their choice
if they want to leave but this is as good a location as any. I’ll call this place home.”

  Gunny went back to the campfire and the party that was winding down. He motioned for the Cowboys to cut the music and they quit midway through a slow number, the half-dozen dancing couples looking around quickly, hands falling to weapons, to see where the danger was.

  Gunny noticed and was little saddened by it. These were the survivors. Instincts, raw guts and luck had kept them alive. It was a shame something as simple as the music stopping caused them to grab for weapons and push wives behind them in a protective gesture. He raised his hands in a placating manner.

  “It’s alright, folks.” He said. “I just wanted to tell you some more good news. General Carson and the team under Cheyanne Mountain have been poring over the satellite images and he says all of the nuclear power plants in North America have been cleared. The people that did this to us want this country for themselves. They didn’t want it to be radiated wasteland.”

  A mixed shout went up, some cheering the nuclear threat was over, some cursing the Muslims.

  When they settled down a little he raised his voice to be heard and said “That means you don’t necessarily have to stay here, in Lakota. You can go anywhere.”

  They hushed at that news and quiet murmurings were heard as this was quickly discussed.

  “But we’ve already cleared this place.” someone said

  “And there’s plenty of water here and you said we could build a wall around it!” someone else joined in.

  More spoke up and it sounded like most people were in favor of Lakota. All the hard work was done, they had been on the road and were tired of running and this was going to be home. They were staying.

  “I’ll be staying.” Gunny said. “I’m just saying everyone is free to make your own choices.”

  “Who put that guy in charge?” Collins heard from the back of the crowd as she was making her rounds. It came from a burly man in dirty overalls. He was tall, bald, heavily muscled, tattooed and was wearing a goatee. He and his friends had just joined the group earlier in the day and they were passing a bottle of whiskey among themselves. They hadn’t helped with any of the town cleanups and from the smell of them, they’d been drinking their way through the apocalypse. They looked like a rough crowd, maybe wildcatters. Maybe professional layabouts. Maybe fresh from a jailbreak. In this new world, you could be whoever you said you were. Nobody knew your past and it was easy to reinvent yourself.

  “He’s the new president.” said a woman with a .357 strapped to her hip, the statement inducing laughter from the group of men.

  These guys could be trouble. Collins hoped it was just the drink making them act like asshats. They were new so she tried to give them the benefit of the doubt. Hoped they were just coming down from the constant fear of a few weeks of fighting and terror and that the Wild Turkey was doing the talking for them.

  She looked back to the front of the crowd. Back to where Gunny was talking in his down-home way, the Kentucky drawl coming through. He needed a haircut, his beard was graying and there were stains on his jacket. Blood stains. But the people he had led here seemed to love him. They would follow him to where ever he told them to go. They’d seen him risk his life more than once and had listened to Stabby’s overblown tales of his heroics. Sure, they didn’t believe everything but they knew it was true anyway. They knew he’d risked it all the first few moments of the outbreak to save everyone at the Three Flags. Knew he was the one who figured out the cause of the virus. They knew he’d led a convoy of desperate people thousands of miles across dangerous lands and hadn’t lost a single person. They knew he’d killed hundreds by himself clearing Lakota. He and his crew had stood firm in an onslaught that left the streets flowing in undead blood. He had led them to the promised land.

  “There’s one more thing.” he said. “We’ve been broadcasting this is the safe haven, this is the place to come to if you can. The people that released the virus can hear it too. They will know where we are. They’ll be coming after us, sooner or later.”

  The people all fell quiet, considering the fact that there might be a small army of fanatical Muslims wanting to finish them off. The people who had nearly succeeded in killing the whole world would come gunning for the last of the American’s who had survived their plague.

  Cobb spat on the ground. There was a heavy silence as they considered his words. Men with guns who wanted them dead would know exactly where to find them.

  “Good.” Griz proclaimed loudly. “Then we won’t have to go looking for them.”

  The crowd erupted with shouts of “Molon Labe” and “we’ll feed them to the hogs.” They seemed to agree with Griz. They wanted payback and this would save them the trouble of tracking them down and blowing up mosques. There would be time for that later.

  When he got them settled down again, Gunny said “I guess we should make this democratic, like. Show of hands, who wants to stay, make this our new home?”

  If there was anyone who didn’t, surely they were outnumbered 200 to 1.

  “We’re home, then. Wind it down soon.” he said over the cheering. “Big day tomorrow. We’re all going house shopping.”

  He turned and melted back into the crowd, heading for his truck. No guard duty tonight, thank goodness. A full night’s sleep lay ahead of him.

  The burly man laughed raucously again but not in humor. It was mean and derisive.

  “I didn’t vote for him. He ain’t my president.” He boomed, slurring his words a little. “I’ll stay up all fuckin’ night if I want to and there ain’t a damn thing he can do about it.”

  The people nearby gave him sour looks and glanced towards the deputy as they started to head back to their trucks or cars. One more night then tomorrow… real beds.

  His buddies joined in the laughter and slapped half empty fifths of whiskey together before they took long pulls from them. They had only been in camp for a few hours and were already three sheets to the wind. Collins had seen them come in driving a box truck, all of them in dirty workman’s clothes. Blue overalls, blue shirts and light jackets with their names on them. She assumed they were from a factory and had gotten out when they heard the radio message. Now she wasn’t so sure. Were those prison clothes?

  “Gentlemen.” Collins approached them, trying the soft touch, wanting them to see reason before they got out of hand and something serious had to be done. “Nobody is telling you to go to bed. Just keep it down so others can sleep, that’s all.”

  “Well, well, well.” The big man said. “Looky what we got here, boys. A pretty little thing playing dress up.”

  He took another pull from his bottle of courage and continued, raising his hand to her face, cutting her off when she started to speak.

  “In case you haven’t noticed,” he looked at her badge and nameplate “Deputy Collins, the world is dead. There ain’t no more law and you don’t have no authority.”

  The crowd immediately surrounding them quieted and turned to watch. Collins sighed inwardly. She’d dealt with this a hundred times in the past. Usually at closing time at the local bar. There, she always had backup. A dozen officers were only a radio call away. The drunk would spend the night in jail and if he didn’t hurt anyone, didn’t resist arrest too much, he’d be out in the morning and about ten thousand dollars poorer when it was all said and done after the lawyer’s fees. She wasn’t worried about having backup here. She was worried about these men getting themselves killed by people who wouldn’t show the same restraint a peace officer would. It was a different world now. This behavior would not be tolerated and she needed to either back down and slink away or put the main antagonist down quickly before things went sideways in a bad way.

  “Sir.” she said in her cop voice “You are mistaken. There is law and order here and I do have the authority to enforce it. I’m asking you gentlemen to be courteous to others and keep the noise down. If you need to get rowdy, do it out there somewhere.” She pointed out i
nto the blackness, away from the campfire and the people gathered. More and more were turning to look, craning their necks to see what the disturbance was.

  He turned to peer off into the night, making a slow show of it, playing for the audience then looked back at her, shaking his head. “Nope, sugar. A man might get eaten out there. I’m staying right here and me and my gang will do whatever we want. We ain’t hurting nobody and you, deputy, don’t have any jurisdiction here. That badge says Nevada. We ain’t nowhere near Nevada.”

  By now half the camp was listening. Watching. Waiting for Collins to put him in his place. She hesitated. She was warring with herself. Technically, he was right. She didn’t have any authority here. Gunny was the only one that truly had any official status. Nobody in the chain of command had said she was still a deputy, she had just taken the duty on herself, a continuation of her job. The law applied to everyone, even her. How could she enforce it if she was the first one to break it? Gunny had been listening and saw her indecision. He knew she was such a stickler for rules, she might actually back down from this jerk. He pushed his way through the crowd, stifling his first impulse to smash his grinning face. He pulled out the Sheriffs badge he’d been holding onto since Crow City. He’d wanted to have a little ceremony for her and McBride once they got settled but this looked like a good a time as any. He handed it to her, making sure the drunken men saw it. A gleaming sheriff’s badge that had no county or state identification on it. Simply a 5-pointed star with SHERIFF stamped boldly in tall letters.

  She refused to take it, much to Gunny’s annoyance.

  “You can’t just make someone sheriff.” She said quietly. “It’s the highest law enforcement office in the county. Higher than feds, even. The sheriff has to be elected. Not appointed.”

  “Dammit.” Gunny said then raised his voice. “We’re holding elections tonight.” He said to the quiet crowd, all of them watching the little drama play out. “I nominate Deputy Collins for the office of Sheriff. Anyone else wants to run against her?”