Z-Railed

by Holcomb, Joshua

  The cub stared at them, not understanding why his mother wouldn't respond, only looking down long enough to nuzzle his mother's lifeless form.

  "She put up a good fight," Franklin said huskily. "She saved her young'un."

  Jesse nodded, and Tyler continued to weep.

  "Tyler, we got to keep going," Franklin said quietly. "If you can get that cub to follow us, great. But we can't stay here."

  Tyler wiped his face with his shirt and sniffed loudly. He grabbed some beef jerky out of Jesse's bag and offered it to the cub. "Here you go, buddy," Tyler said as the bear ate it out of his hand.

  "All right, Franklin," Tyler said, looking up. "Let's go."

  XIII

  Cincinnati, OH

  Franklin wearily peered at the worn and muddy map, cradled in his hands. As he surveyed his surroundings he finally announced, "Looks like we're here, boys. Keep a sharp eye out.” He ran his finger over the smooth metal of his .45. “I only hope we aren’t too late.”

  Jesse checked the chambers on both his weapons as he struggled to swallow a building lump in his throat.

  "We'll go into the train station slowly," Franklin instructed. "We don't know what's in there, so let's not set ourselves up for failure. You guys follow my lead. Are we clear?"

  Jesse and Tyler nodded and Franklin drew his weapon. “Here we go.” He opened a backdoor very carefully, wielding a flashlight. Jesse entered first, covering to the right, while Tyler swung to the left.

  As Franklin entered, he saw nothing but dry dust and neglect. "No one's been here in a while," he whispered. "Let's stay silent and keep moving deeper inside."

  They continued moving through different rooms, taking their time exploring, examining, but finding nothing out of the ordinary. It was all simple terminal offices that were abandoned at the onset of the epidemic. Finally arriving in the monstrous main lobby, they came to a halt on the third floor balcony.

  "Hey, let's rest a bit," Jesse quietly suggested. Franklin nodded, and they wearily drooped to the floor and leaned against the wall.

  Franklin was soon lost in worried thought. The previous events of being so close to rescuing the girls still weighed heavily on his mind. Why did he take them? What is he going to do to my wife? He shuddered as his imagination was hijacked by morbid thoughts. Terrible images began coming to the forefront of his brain. With his right hand, he rubbed his eyes and tried to make the horrific scenes leave him. It was only when he received a quick slap to his shoulder from Jesse that his concentration was finally broke.

  "Do you hear that?" Jesse whispered. He cupped his hand to his ear and leaned forward. "Sounds like some people are coming."

  All three slid to their stomachs in unison and peered over the edge of the balcony, rifles at the ready. Muffled voices could be heard from below as the group moved closer.

  "If it's Steven and the girls, I'm taking the shot," Franklin ordered. "Gonna cap that sucker once and for all, like I should have done the other day."

  The voices stopped as silhouettes appeared in the opaque glass of the station doors. The doors swung open and several men entered and conducted a half-assed security sweep of the lobby.

  "Nothing here as usual," one man grumbled.

  "Shut up, punk! No one asked you."

  "You both shut your pie holes!" barked a man who appeared to be the leader. He was about six foot, dark hair, clean shaven, and walked with an air of authority as if he expected everyone to always follow his every command.

  "Yes, sir," the other two mumbled together.

  "We wait here until the package arrives. In the meantime, I don't want to listen to your bickering," the leader retorted.

  Franklin did a quick head count. Seven men, plus the leader were scattered in various positions, lounging across the lobby. He took notice of how relaxed they were. They've done this before, he thought. It's a routine.

  He glanced at Jesse and Tyler. Each was watching the men intently. He looked back below and scrutinized each member of the small army.

  Five of the men looked like they were fairly proficient and combat trained. They handled their rifles as if they'd been doing it for years. The other three, despite they armor and weapons, couldn’t hide their inexperience and lack of training.

  "Jones...going to take a leak," announced one of the men suddenly, and moved towards the door.

  The leader nodded and added, "Don't piss on your hands this time." The other men laughed and continued lounging.

  After a minute, the man returned. "Steven's coming with two packages," he announced. "I saw him out a ways."

  "Two?" one said incredulously. "He's barely competent enough to get one."

  Franklin tightened the grip on his rifle, turning his knuckles white. He could feel his pulse quicken and adrenaline began surging through his body, preparing him for the fight he knew was coming. Fantasies of shooting Steven and all these men passed quickly through his head as he yearned to rescue Jackie. With great effort, he controlled himself, however. He leaned carefully over to Jesse's ear and whispered, "Tell Tyler that we are going to move to the ground floor. We might have high ground up here, but we have no escape."

  Jesse nodded and relayed the instructions to Tyler. Then the trio slowly backed away from the edge and into the hallway behind them. They moved quickly, yet with the silence of cats, and navigated a staircase that brought them to the first floor. Upon arriving, Franklin sent Jesse to the right to a small vending machine room, while he and Tyler moved in behind a ticket counter.

  Crouched behind the counter, Franklin wiped sweat from his brow. He held his left palm out in front of him and watched it shake. He gritted his teeth and willed himself to be still. From his vantage point, a well-placed mirror gave him full view of the front door and several of the men.

  Suddenly Steven swung the doors open, and walked in. At gunpoint he shoved the two women in front of the leader. "I brought two!" he announced with a bit of false bravado.

  "So you did," Jones sneered. "Let's take a look at them."

  Jones walked over and looked the women over. "Nice looking women," he remarked. "What makes you think Adelaide will take interest in them?"

  "Nurse and biologist," Steven said proudly.

  "Oh really?" Jones said, slightly impressed. "That last woman you brought us was good for only one thing.” A sly grin pursed his lips.

  Steven dropped his gaze and looked embarrassed, clearly uncomfortable with this situation. “I’ll make sure our transport is ready,” his voice lowered as he backed away.

  "So talk to me, nurse.” He eyed Jackie like a hyena surveying its next meal. “Are you worth my time?”

  Franklin's blood boiled. It was all he could do to not stand up and fill Jones’ body with hot lead.

  "You really are pretty," Jones continued, as he reached out to touch Jackie's lip. Her eyes flashed and she struck his index finger like a vicious cobra.

  "You whore!" Jones bellowed and backhanded her with his right hand. His finger gushed forth fresh blood and he waved his hand frantically as if it would ease the growing pain.

  Franklin couldn't take any more. He swung up from behind the counter, shouting obscene profanity, quickly drowned out by the sound of his rifle bellowing.

  At that moment, Franklin had tunnel vision and he soon lost sight of Jackie and Katelyn as they fell to the ground in terror. Every ounce of concentration was focused on emptying his magazine into the bastard that touched his wife. The rounds pummeled Jones’s torso, below the body armor, and a crimson rivulet of blood filled the air. The incredible amount of firepower at that range severed the body in half and tissue went flying in all directions. Jones dropped like a sack of potatoes and only when Franklin had to change magazines did he focus on the other combatants.

  Jesse and Tyler were momentarily taken aback by Franklin’s actions, but soon fell in line firing at the soldiers while they still had the quickly evaporating element of surprise.

  One soldier was caught off guard and dropped a
s he attempted to gain cover. The other six, however, quickly established positions and began sending a hail of lead, from automatic weapons, pouring down on Franklin, Jesse, and Tyler.

  Franklin ducked back behind the counter, his second magazine empty, and looked up just in time to see Tyler take a burst of fire to the midsection. He fell backwards and gasped in shock at the sight oozing out of his gut.

  Franklin scampered next to Tyler’s fallen position behind the counter and grabbed Tyler with his left hand, while wildly taking random pot-shots with his pistol, in his right.

  "Fall back!" he screamed to Jesse, as he dragged Tyler through the door and into the hallway. Small chunks of concrete, plaster, and wood rained down as the relentless onslaught continued.

  Jesse barely managed to dive around the corner and let out a sharp cry when he saw Tyler’s bloody figure on the ground. "I'll hold them off! Drag him farther back!" he shouted at Franklin, while popping off a few rounds at the now advancing assailants.

  Franklin dragged Tyler to a more defensible position farther back into the station’s offices. Jesse's covering fire seemed to at least be slowing down the men, so they were advancing more carefully.

  "Franklin," Tyler groaned weakly. "I'm not going to make it."

  "I know, son," Franklin replied, a pained look on his face.

  A sudden absence of gunfire alarmed Franklin, as Jesse’s rifle fell silent. Soon a loud scuffle was heard, along with somebody shouting, “Don’t kill him! Adelaide might have use for him!”

  “It sounds like they got Jesse. Give me a couple..." Tyler struggled to speak, as a coughing fit gripped him, "a couple pistol mags. I’ll try to take a couple of them with me.”

  Franklin looked into Tyler’s eyes. “I don’t care what anybody told you growing up, man. You’re a good kid.” He patted Tyler’s shoulder. “I’m glad to have you along with me.” He handed Tyler his pistol and placed it in his palm. "You’ve got eight rounds in my .45, and looks like fourteen in your 9mm. Give 'em hell, son." Franklin stifled a tear.

  "Just like the Alamo!" Tyler smiled weakly. He had Franklin help prop him up against a wall. "Now go," Tyler ordered. He weakly chuckled, "If Jim Bowie could see me now!"

  Franklin let out one last sigh, hearing the soldiers close in on their position. He then sprang into action, moving as fast as he could through the hallways until he reached their original entrance point.

  Tyler sat very still, gripping a pistol in each hand. His head sagged as his life blood continued draining. But as three men carefully entered the room, he was ready to go out in style.

  He slowly raised his arms up, and whispered, "Remember the Alamo, you SOBs!" He pulled the triggers as fast as his injured body could stand and his guns belched the brutal fire. He managed to maim two of the men before the rest overwhelmed him. The slug from a well-placed rifle round found its mark between Tyler’s eyes. His head snapped backwards, and a trickle of blood escaped from his mouth.

  Franklin heard the shots, and when silence ensued he knew it was over. As he found a large SUV to hide behind he began sobbing. He cursed himself for Tyler’s death, and for failing to rescue his wife yet again.

  XIV

  Louisville, KY

  The sharp downdraft created by a fall evening thunderstorm blew across the landscape. In a matter of seconds the temperature dropped fifteen degrees, while large cold mass of air blew in from the East. The driving wind brought with it massive raindrops that peppered the landscape with such ferocity the storm instantly soaked anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the path.

  Outside the city, a small fox scampered along the banks of the Ohio River, in an attempt to return to her den. She was already weary from spending the better part of the day hunting food for her offspring, but to no avail. The sudden storm only added misery to her already weary body. As she paused on a seemingly unused rail road track, the sudden blaring of a locomotive’s horn spurred her to continue on to safety.

  The unmarked locomotive tightly gripped the rails as it plowed onward and switched tracks onto a small spur line heading away from the river. The engineer began to decelerate, slowly pulling the fifteen rail cars behind him. The relentless onslaught of rain, combined with dust and debris in the air formed a sticky film that obscured the engineer’s view of the tracks ahead. He didn’t fret, however, having lost count how many times he’d completed this journey. He knew it by heart.

  Five minutes later he brought the aging train to a screeching halt alongside a small, aging, yet efficient, loading dock. Despite the raging storm a small posse, men and women alike, attacked the cars in an effort to unload as quickly as possible.

  To the average person, as the first few cars were unloaded, nothing would have appeared out of the ordinary. Seemingly endless piles of crates containing non-perishable food, medical supplies, construction and masonry materials, and spare vehicle parts were offloaded. Stacked neatly three crates high, workers then quickly wheeled them into a makeshift warehouse with dollies.

  As the workers neared the latter half of the string of rail cars the scene on the loading docks instantly changed. Armed security details suddenly materialized and there immediately became an aura of tension. They maintained close supervision over the workers as they opened up the next series of cars.

  Crates containing a wide spectrum of weapons began to emerge. Rifles, shotguns, pistols, revolvers, submachine guns, and all the way to fully automatic heavy weapons were sorted and arranged in tidy fashion with every guard watching like a hawk. The amount of weapons being amassed was enough to outfit a small army, for sure.

  As the storm intensified, and all the weapons were safely inside the warehouse, the engineer pulled the train away from the platform. He kept the locomotive at a low speed and sounded his whistle as a narrow, derelict looking tunnel, neared. It looked as if it had been chiseled from the rock two centuries ago. Thick blankets of ivy clung to the rain slickened rock surface, and decades of decayed organic material clung precariously to the slope.

  In an instant the horrendous storm brewing outside felt miles away. Instead of the deafening clap of thunder, the soporific clacking of the train riding the rails and the soothing purr of the diesel engine filled the cab.

  The engineer once again applied the brakes and slowed the mass of moving metal until it was aligned with another loading dock. An armed individual signaled for him to stop completely when the last rail car was aligned with a crude fence structure, resembling a cattle chute.

  As the engineer stepped from the cab, he handed over a clipboard and announced, “Twenty-three people total. Here’s the manifest.”

  “It looks like we have a good spread this trip,” the man, whose badge identified him as Victor, said coldly. “Adelaide will be pleased. Who should I tell her was responsible?”

  “Most of them were acquired by Benjamin and Paul.” The engineer thought for a moment. “Oh, and that clown Steven you sent out. He brought us those two girls we radioed in about… from the medical field.”

  “Oh really? Where is Steven? I’m sure his daughter will want to see him.” A smug grin spread across the man’s face.

  “There was a firefight in Cincinnati…” The engineer’s voice trailed off. “Steven disappeared right before it broke out, and we never saw him on the train. We aren’t exactly sure what happened.”

  “Very well. We will make good use of his daughter. Let’s get our cargo accounted for.” Victor unlatched the rail car door and motioned for people to file out into the chute.

  It was simply another mundane operation as far as Victor was concerned. He worked for a body of mercenaries known simply as The Company. Groups were sent out to round up supplies, weapons, and valuable survivors on a weekly basis. Everything was brought back to this central distribution point in Louisville, where it was sorted and sold to survival colonies The Company had established across the country.

  At one point in time, before the outbreak, The Company had been a small, insignificant freight busin
ess on the banks of the Ohio River. Its owner and operator, Adelaide Webster, had capitalized on the perilous situation in the first days of the pandemic. In a matter of weeks she transformed The Company into an efficient profit machine network that kept the American population from teetering over the edge of total annihilation.

  Based on the information provided by the capture team Victor proceeded to divide the group into four categories. The men were divided based on whether they possessed valuable professional labor skills, or if they were deemed fit for manual labor only. Women were split up likewise; only, the ones deemed “un-professional” were set aside for reproduction purposes in the survival colonies serviced by The Company.

  “Joshua Hammond,” Victor spoke to the first man in line. “Thirty years of age, and it looks like you used to be a tobacco farmer.”

  Joshua didn’t utter a response. Petulant eyes stared back, lacking any spark of life.

  “Labor squad it is for you,” Victor continued, flashing a toothy smile.

  A guard grabbed Joshua’s shirt collar and manhandled him through a door where more workers were waiting to ship him off to an uncertain fate.

  “Bethany Fitzpatrick,” Victor continued, as the next girl stepped up. “Nineteen years of age, and a former college student in Lexington.” He looked Bethany over from head to toe. “And quite beautiful if I might add.”

  Small tears ran down Bethany’s cheeks as Victor continued staring. She whimpered and pulled her arms closer to her chest.

  Victor whispered something to the guard nearest to him before announcing, “Jeremy is going to escort you.” He turned back to the guard. “Make sure she is with the others in thirty minutes.”

  A sick smile spread across the guard’s face as he grabbed Bethany’s arm and guided her away from the train, away from the others. Bethany’s screams and pleas for help reverberated through the underground lair until a thick concrete door snuffed them out.

  The line continued until the last two, both women, were prodded forward by a guard.

  “Ah you two,” Victor purred. “Jackie Moore and Katelyn Whitfield. You two are my prized jewels. Ever since receiving word that Steven captured you two I couldn’t believe our good fortune. Trust me, girls, The Company has great plans for you.”