Z-Railed

by Holcomb, Joshua

  When he estimated the gap to be just big enough he hollered, “That’s good!” and plowed forward.

  The steamroller lurched into gear, crowding the narrow space between the bus and the concrete barrier. The angry mob of feeders rushed to fill the vacancy, only to be met by twenty tons of machinery.

  “Get a load of this, maggot brains!” Caleb gunned the throttle and pushed the giant rig through the teeming mass of rotting flesh like a hot knife through butter.

  Jesse vomited on the roof as the sounds and sights made him nauseous. It was like a twisted and gory fireworks show that left Jesse speechless and in shock.

  As the heavy steamroller plowed onward each feeder was systematically pulled under the gargantuan roller. As the decomposing innards, organs, and bodily fluids were forced out through the skulls they erupted in an awful crimson spray that would cause even those with the strongest stomachs to lose control.

  Caleb cleared the gap and even he could not continue onward anymore. Stumbling out of the cab, taken over by gagging reflex, he withdrew a stolen Beretta M9 pistol from his holster and began blasting at the remaining feeders, point blank.

  “Shoot boy! Shoot!” he cried out, and quickly changed magazines.

  Choking down vomit and tears Jesse peered down his sights and lined up with the nearest feeder. The two men fired a few more rounds before the last hungry monster dropped to the ground and an eerie silence fell upon the countryside.

  Jesse dropped his rifle and cradled his head in his hands as he began sobbing. “What in the world did we just do, Caleb?”

  Caleb shrugged. “Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.”

  “How can you think that way…? This…. This is disgusting! This doesn’t affect you??”

  Caleb sighed. “I don’t tell many people this; I’ve tried to forget but I’m realizing that’s impossible.” He wiped his brow and continued. “My dad was a heavy drinker and would routinely come home and slap my mama, brother, and I around. One evening before my dad came home I was out fooling around with a baseball in the garage. I ended up creating a long crack in the windshield of his precious Corvette Stingray. That thing was like his baby, and when he came home extremely drunk he was pretty angry. Only problem was he blamed my mother for it.” A tear slid down Caleb’s cheek.

  “My brother and I were hiding outside the kitchen window watching my dad stumble in and start screaming at my mother. He called her a damn liar, shoved her around, and then grabbed an iron skillet off the stove and began bashing her skull with it.” Caleb let out a loud sob. “I wouldn’t wish that sight on my worst enemy, Jesse.”

  Jesse stood in stunned silence for a full minute before mumbling a quiet, “I’m sorry, man, I didn’t know.”

  Caleb suddenly laughed uproariously and slapped Jesse on the back. “I’m just fooling with you, man! That story was just a load of bull spit!” He shook his head and walked away, still laughing, his back to Jesse’s stunned face.

  VII

  Interstate I-75

  Jacob and Franklin loaded up Jacob's pickup and headed south on I-75. Rotters and occasional un-cleared accidents littered the way, slowing their progress, but they remained vigilant and pushed onward. As they neared the bridge spanning the Kentucky River, Jacob slowed the truck to a crawl. "Something significant happened here," Jacob noted.

  Franklin nodded in agreement at Jacob’s obvious statement, staring at the blood-stained drums of the steamroller and the smashed carnage before him. A small, coagulated pond formed around a run-off drain now plugged with gore. He shook his head wordlessly. No matter how much of it he saw, he just could not get used to seeing the violently shredded remnants of human life. .

  "Human life is not meant to be seen this way… Heck, it’s not supposed to be this way at all, let alone seen..." Franklin said sadly. “Just normal folks living their lives until…” his voice choked and trailed off.

  "When you put it that way..." Jacob wiped a tear away before Franklin could see. "I reckon they were all just like you and me at some point..."

  Silently and reflectively, they remained unmoving in the idling truck, Franklin thinking of his family; Jacob wondering what was coming next. The jovial mood that had rested pleasantly over the two of them as they went on their mission had disappeared and solemnness now hovered over their hearts.

  "Well, let's keep moving," Franklin finally said after a few moments of saying nothing. He inhaled deeply and exhaled raggedly before saying, "We need to go get what we came for. We have to survive."

  "Reckon you're right."

  ***

  The bridge behind them, the two men re-focused themselves on their task to locate Larry’s farm and possible weapons stash. Armed with a five year old atlas, they made a few wrong turns, but finally found his farm and pulled into the long gravel and dirt driveway. As they bounced over and through the potholes, a few chickens squawked and scattered in front of them. Turning a corner, a white run down house with wooden siding came into view.

  "You sure this guy lived alone?" Jacob inquired. “I don’t want to run into an infected buzz-saw in there!”

  "He sure talked like he was a lonely fella. Better knock to make sure."

  Jacob cautiously walked up the porch steps to the front door and rapped four times, waited a few seconds, and then tried again. No answer or any sounds from inside.

  "Door locked?" Franklin asked.

  Jacob turned back to try the door, when a lone figure staggered back and forth across the driveway trying to catch one of the chickens. Even though they were in no particular danger from it, it came out of nowhere and freaked them out a little bit.

  "Dadgum thing comes out of nowhere like that. Kind of scares the crap outta me!" grunted Jacob.

  "Yeah... same here," affirmed Franklin, while rubbing his face with his left hand. "My nerves are shot."

  With the rotter preoccupied with the chickens and seemingly unable to catch them, the two decided to worry about him later. Jacob tried the door to the house and found it locked, so with a well-placed boot, he kicked the door open and stepped inside. The stench of a musty, unclean house greeted him strongly and he covered his face with the front of his shirt in a feeble attempt to mask the scent. Franklin stepped in behind him and exclaimed, “What’s that smell? Did the old man have a nose?”

  Jacob grunted and began to carefully walk through the junk piled floor-to-ceiling in the living room. Stacks of newspapers, car parts, greasy rags, and leftover boxes of take-out Chinese food were all examples of the potential avalanche waiting to happen. Only a small path meandered its way deeper into the house, and Jacob unsuccessfully peered deeper. “This guy was a bona-fide hoarder, Franklin! We could work harder than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest and still spend weeks here searching through all this stuff. Would it even be worth it?” he asked frankly.

  Franklin shrugged. “Maybe not, but we’re here now at least, so let’s follow this path and look around to see if there’s anything out in the open that we might find useful. But I sure as heck don’t want to stay in this house any longer than I have to.”

  Despite Franklin’s hope, walking through the rest of the house revealed nothing useful to them. Even the kitchen was a bust, filled with rotting food, some still in the grocery bags it was brought home in. The path ended abruptly in the doorway of a room marked “office”.

  “Well, I guess that’s it,” Franklin said disappointedly.

  They turned to leave, but Jacob stopped and hissed, “Hush!” Franklin stood stock still and joined Franklin in listening intently. A low, very faint snarling sound could reach their ears. “Where is that coming from?” Jacob whispered.

  Franklin listened again, straining to determine the exact location of its origin. “I think—It might be coming from under that pile of papers!” he hissed back.

  Jacob grabbed a broken mop handle and poked it at the pile inside the room causing a mini-avalanche of yellowing papers. “Agh!” he yelled, startled by loud snarl of
the woman who was trapped underneath.

  Franklin jumped back too, but he saw that a decrepit filing cabinet had tipped from the weight on top of it, pinning her against the pile behind her. “Lucille,” he said simply, recognizing her from the old picture he had seen in Larry’s wallet.

  “Well, one of us has to do it,” Jacob informed Franklin. Franklin sighed and slammed the butt of the gun against her aged skull. Satisfied that she was now gone, the two turned to leave the house.

  Retracing their steps through the crowded hallway, Jacob’s foot slipped out from under him on a pile of loose magazine pages. He fell hard against a rickety old door and disappeared through it. Franklin hurriedly picked his way through the trash and yelled down into the darkness. “Are you ok?” he exclaimed.

  “I’m fine!” Jacob shouted. “There’s a basement here! You won’t believe what’s down here!”

  Franklin eased himself down the creaky steps. As he reached the dirty basement floor, he stood open mouthed at what lay before him. Shelf upon shelf held boxes of all kinds of ammunition. Guns graced another wall and wooden crates were stacked on another. The light from the small basement windows streamed in, showing a work bench in the center of the room covered in gun parts, oils, and rags.

  Jacob chortled at Franklin’s expression. “You look happy,” he laughed. “Now pick your jaw up off the floor and tell me what you think.”

  "I think this guy might have been a little bit paranoid," observed Franklin sarcastically. “Prepared for war he was.”

  "Hrmph, talk like Yoda you do," Jacob replied. "He was a gun hoarder is what he was. It's going to take us forever to take this out of here."

  "We'll just take what we need for right now," Franklin decided. "What's in these crates?"

  He popped one open to reveal some grenades. "Wooo, doggie! And we'll take some of these!" He tossed a few in his backpack. "Might come in handy."

  Jacob loaded up on ammo for the weapons they already had and scanned the guns up on the wall. "The ATF would have had a field day here! This guy has fully auto weapons, grenades, and all sorts of illegal stuff. Where did he get it all?" he exclaimed.

  "All I know is that I'm loving the guy," Franklin replied. "If he hadn't been as paranoid and crazy as he was, we wouldn't have any of this right now."

  "Good point," Jacob admitted, grunting as he picked up an armful of ammunition boxes and walked towards the door. "Well, we should get back before dark. I really don't want to be out after the sun goes down."

  ***

  They hurriedly began loading up the truck and finished just as the sun's rays were beginning to lengthen and cast shadows across the landscape. "I reckon if we hump it, we can get back before it gets too dark."

  "Yeah, let's not just talk about it; let's do it," Franklin urgently replied. He opened the door and jumped in, and Jacob followed suit.

  Jacob stomped on the gas and maneuvered his way through the winding country roads back out to the interstate. As they drove up the on-ramp, they noticed that northbound I-75 was more of the same as when they came in--accidents were scattered about and stray rotters stumbled to and fro. Enjoying the cool breeze and satisfaction of a mission accomplished, they didn't say much as they drove past both the human and metal wreckage. As they were nearing the bridge over the Kentucky River again, Jacob slowed the truck to maneuver around an overturned minivan and Franklin opened his mouth to make a comment about what they had seen earlier. All of a sudden, Jacob jammed the brake pedal into the floor board, flinging Franklin forward in his seat and slamming his face into the dashboard. "What the heck is wrong with y...?" Franklin shouted, rubbing his bruised face.

  "Shhh! Listen!" Jacob hissed, silencing Franklin.

  In the darkness, the two could hear a woman's screams piercing the air over the drum of the nocturnal insects.

  "We gotta help her!" Jacob hissed again. Another scream pierced the air, sending chills over the both of them.

  Franklin didn't answer. He was already checking his .45, making sure he was loaded and ready to go. He clenched his teeth and slammed the magazine back into the handle of his gun and then grabbed a long-handled flashlight. He summoned up some courage from some reserves he didn't know he had and stepped out into the woods.

  "You coming, jackwagon?" He tossed the words over his shoulder at Jacob.

  "Right behind you, wuss. Let's go be heroes."

  VIII

  Kentucky River

  The haunting cry of an owl pierced the night air as a cool sudden breeze swept through the gorge carrying the weight of the Kentucky River. A cold front was moving in across country, carrying a depressing dampness with it.

  The small elm branch currently in the fire burned through and crashed into the smoldering embers, sending sparks into the air. Katelyn jumped as a spark landed on her bare arms and left a small burn mark. She frantically brushed at it and shivered as the cool wind blew through her hair.

  Caleb yawned, and stepped back from the tree he had been learning against. He wiped the sweat off his rifle stock and flexed his fingers before saying, “This weather is making me uneasy.”

  “What do you reckon we do next?” Jesse asked as he withdrew a small pot of boiling water from the fire. He carefully poured some of it into a dehydrated beef stroganoff meal he had scavenged in Lexington, before passing it to Katelyn.

  “I think it would be wise if we found a place out in the forest to hole up and fortify a bit.” Caleb shivered as a drop of condensing fog rolled off a pine needle and landed directly on his neck. “Maybe we can make supply runs into the local neighborhoods. There’s just not as many of those feeders out here in the-“

  “Can we please not talk about those things?” Katelyn sharply interjected. “I’m thankful I didn’t have to see the details of what you guys did up on the bridge, but it’s not possible to flip a switch and pretend all this bloodshed doesn’t bother you.”

  The sharp cry of a coyote reverberated across the water, and Caleb gripped his rifle. “This is life now, honey. I don’t like it any more than the next guy.” He gripped the pot containing the remaining hot water as Katelyn passed it to him, and he poured it into his meal. “At least, this is life in Kentucky now. I have no idea what the rest of the country is like.”

  “Those are somebody’s families and friends and relatives we are killing!”

  “They are trying to kill us,” Caleb said. “I watched one of them rip apart one of my army buddies.”

  “I get that… I just…”

  Jesse poked a stick into the fire and spoke up. “It bothers us too, Katelyn, but we just can’t think about it.” He put his arm around her and pulled her close.

  Caleb sighed, and then withdrew a pair of night vision goggles from his belt. “Jesse, you and Katelyn get in the Humvee. I’m going to take a quick walk around the perimeter to make sure everything is clear before we bed down for the night. Keep your rifle close.”

  Jesse wolfed down the last couple bites of his meal and threw the packaging on the fire. “Come here,” he motioned to Katelyn. He opened the door and helped her inside.

  “I’m cold,” Katelyn whispered.

  Jesse found the cheap wool blanket he had hurriedly packed into a grocery sack and draped it over the two of them, before getting comfortable himself.

  “Katelyn, I’m not taking this lightly. I just need you to know that I’m trying to do what I can to help us survive and keep you safe.” He looked outside for any sign of Caleb. “Caleb might seem like a rough guy, but he’s looking out for our best interests.”

  “I know.” Katelyn snuggled up against Jesse and looked at him in the darkness. “Please just be patient with me. Just know that I’m glad I was with you when this happened.”

  Jesse looked back at her and smiled. “Honestly, I would have gone looking for you if you weren’t with me. You’re too pretty to let the rotters get you, anyway,” he said smoothly.

  “Aww!” Katelyn giggled as she scooted closer to Jesse. Gazing into his e
yes, she whispered, “Kiss me.”

  Jesse could feel his pulse racing as he slid his right hand behind her head and pulled her lips to his for the first time. Electricity coursed through his body and all the troubles of the current world faded away.

  Several minutes later, the couple were still lost in their embrace when a shrill scream followed by three loud bursts from an M4 rifle rippled through the air.

  Katelyn gasped and recoiled back in the seat. She frantically tried to scan the dark woods outside the vehicle but couldn’t see past the fog that had coated the windows. The hair stood up on the back of her neck and she trembled in fear.

  Jesse used his left hand to wipe the window and gripped the stock of his rifle with his right. He pressed the butt tightly against his shoulder and looked down the sights, straining to see anything that would clue him into what had happened in the darkness. Nothing but the faint sound of human breathing could be heard.

  “Caleb should be…” Katelyn was cut off midsentence as a large rotten corpse rushed at the window. She let out a high pitched scream as the beast clawed at the glass and struggled to get inside.

  “Get away from the door!” Jesse ordered, and pulled her back. He aimed his rifle again and prepared himself to pull the trigger.

  In an instant, however, a large blood spatter appeared and a hefty knife protruded from the feeder’s temple. A split second later Caleb materialized out of the darkness and rushed into the driver’s seat, firing up the engine.

  “We’re getting out of here!” Even in the darkness Jesse could see the fear in his eyes. “There’s a whole group of them; ‘bout four dozen stumbling down the ravine!”

  “Why so many?” Jesse cried.

  “If I had to guess, I’d say it had something to do with our fire. Or maybe just plain bad luck. I don’t know!” Caleb put the vehicle in gear and spun gravel as he clawed his way up the steep dirt road. “I have to get us back to the main road!”