Z-Railed

by Holcomb, Joshua

  “We rose up to bring order back to this land and give our species another chance at life! You failed miserably with your first government, now it’s our turn! You will submit to us or you’ll end up like this bloke here!” Jesse fired another round into the still corpse before holstering his weapon.

  “For who knows what is good for a man during his lifetime, during the few years of his futile life?” Katelyn suddenly piped up. “He will spend them like a shadow. For who can tell a man what will be after him under the sun?”

  “Silence!” Jesse bellowed, “before I kill you!”

  “Then do it!” Katelyn begged. “Go ahead and do it you yellow coward! You’ve snuffed out any desire for life in my soul! I’d rather be dead than alive knowing you’re running about condoning rape and selling precious life as a product on a shelf! I don’t know how you arrived at this point, Jesse, but you’ve become a monster. Just remember that sooner or later a monster can be stopped. You can’t control people through fear indefinitely!”

  Jesse lashed out and gripped Katelyn around the throat. “Lies! Lies! I’m trying to make your life better!”

  Tears streamed down Katelyn’s face as she choked, “You won’t win.”

  “Let go of her!” multiple laborers exclaimed. “She’s a pregnant woman, for crying out loud!”

  Katelyn wheezed and struggled for air as she said, “Jesse, I know my purpose.” For the first time in weeks a sense of determination was present in her eyes.

  Katelyn’s left arm rocketed forward and grasped the pistol contained in Jesse’s holster. The sudden movement caught him off guard and he released his grip in an effort to stop Katelyn’s actions. This resulted in Katelyn using her other arm to lash out at Jesse’s body. She used his body to propel herself away in a backwards summersault as she clutched the gun. Cries and cheers emanated from the colonists and laborers in support of her struggle.

  As she regained her footing she opened her mouth and bellowed, “Hostis humani generis!” [Latin for ‘enemy of the human race’]. Katelyn slowly raised the weapon and said, “I’m sorry it had to come to this, Jesse.” She aimed the stolen weapon squarely at Jesse’s chest and tightened her finger on the trigger.

  The sound of a gunshot resonated through the air and complete silence followed. Disbelief gripped the crowd as Adelaide, who had stood poised mostly in the shadows until this point, had stepped forward at the last minute to save her protégé. She had calmly fired one round into Katelyn’s skull, and now stood silently, arm still extended, as Katelyn’s body froze upright.

  When her body finally toppled forward time seemed to stand still for a moment. Neither Adelaide nor Jesse dared say a word. Neither one of them had expected this simple visit to morph into the current situation.

  It was the captured workers and members of the colony that finally broke the silence. In a tremendous roar that grew in crescendo they rallied and launched themselves at the Company’s mercenaries. Gunfire erupted as the armed soldiers gunned down the helpless men and women.

  Jesse retrieved his pistol from Katelyn’s fallen body and joined in the chaos. It didn’t take long, however, for the kidnapped victims to overwhelm the armed guards. One by one they fell to the ground and were systematically beaten with rocks, boards, and some had their own weapons turned on them.

  Adelaide sensed the ever increasingly deteriorating situation and grabbed Jesse shouting, “Come on you stupid idiot! Get in the train!”

  Those workers still bound in the railcars shouted choruses of encouragement to the rebels. Though they were still bound, the spirit that burned in these individuals was quite a force to be reckoned with.

  The engineer didn’t need a second bidding as he struggled to remove the train from the warzone. He was thankful he had left the beast running, so as to avoid the lengthy start up procedures that would have surely meant death.

  Rather than continue forward to reach a turntable and place the train on the opposite track, he placed the behemoth locomotive in reverse and the train slowly began backing out of the blood soaked station.

  When the bullets stopped ricocheting off the rail cars and shattering windows in the cab, Adelaide and Jesse finally stood to their feet.

  “Congratulations,” Adelaide scorned. “You’ve managed to stir up a hornet’s nest, and you’re going to have to figure out how to fix this mess!”

  * * *

  A ceramic vase flew through the air and shattered against the wall, raining bits of plaster.

  “What the hell was that?” Adelaide exclaimed, her face flush with anger. “You turn a simple delivery mission into a flaming rebellion and create a martyr all in a matter of minutes! Are you even thinking?”

  Jesse sat silently on the bed, fuming as Adelaide ripped into him.

  “I just sunk time and resources into opening up this network with St. Louis and you blew it!”

  “I was being a hard-ass just like you wanted!” Jesse shot back.

  “You can still do that without destroying property, you moron!” Adelaide sighed. “You are young and energetic. That is a good thing, but you are too hot-headed and brash sometimes.” She stuck out her lip and pouted. “But still Jesse, what was your problem? You should have just ignored the taunts and completed our business.

  “I wanted them to listen to me.”

  “Jesse, you can’t control people by killing everyone… Sadly that doesn’t work. You’ve got to learn to use fear effectively.”

  “So what is our next move?”

  Adelaide brushed her sleek bangs from her eyes. “We have to assume that we’ve lost total control of St. Louis. I have a hard time believing our armory in the city will remain in our control. That means those rebels will have a large array of weaponry.”

  “Should we reorganize and go back to the city?”

  “No,” Adelaide pondered. “They could be sabotaging the rail lines, or laying ambushes. We buckle down and brace for an attack. No doubt they will eventually come here to Louisville. Once we thwart their coming attack we will pursue and crush this rebellion.”

  * * *

  Weapons from fallen mercenaries littered the St. Louis depot. They were quickly scavenged by the local populace and turned inward, towards a large brick building at the edge of the colony. A tattered sun-bleached Missouri state flag hung dejectedly from a rusty flagpole. Overgrown landscaping in dire need of a manicure had begun shrouding the lower reaches of the rustic building in an eerie mystique.

  Former US Marine Sergeant Jerry Fields studied the structure from across the street. No doubt the occupants were on high alert after the afternoon’s exchange of gunfire at the depot.

  Fields, like so many others, was grateful for The Company intervening and creating a safe haven. His valuable previous military skills had turned into a security job for the St. Louis colony. Over time, however, resentment grew as The Company’s methods became known. Rape, slavery, and playing God with human life, was pure evil as far as Fields was concerned. So when the tussle broke out it gave him the perfect opportunity to take out a few mercenaries himself.

  Fields silently pressed the butt of his Remington 700 .270 caliber rifle against his shoulder and peered through the scope. Periodically he could detect shadowy figures running past the darkened windows.

  They’re definitely expecting an attack he thought.

  He continued scanning the highest floors of the building. Just as he was about to whisper an order to one of his hastily assigned officers next to him, a fleeting twinkle of light caught his eye.

  Fields refocused on the spot he was sure was the source. A worn and peeling white trim framed a grimy window. A light breeze fluttered a sun-rotted curtain and temporarily obscured his field of view. Fields peered intently, watching the curtain’s every move, and struggled to make out any form hiding behind it.

  As the wind settled for a moment and the curtain went still, Fields detected a slight wrinkle forming in the bottom left of the sill. He studied the unfolding scene as a silent h
and guided the curtain away just enough to not obscure the line of site. Fields saw the scope appear, quickly followed by the dark outline of a man’s head.

  “We’ve got a boogey eleven o’clock, top left window,” he whispered. “He’s got a scoped rifle. I’m going to take the shot. Pass the word to hold fire until my command.”

  Fields knew it was only a matter of time until the sniper picked one of his ragtag rebel comrades off. Most of them knew little about camouflage and were ill prepared to deal with an unseen enemy. This guy might not be a professional marksman; a given ever since he revealed his position in the window, but a threat nonetheless.

  A bead of sweat trickled down into Fields’s left eye. He didn’t even flinch as the salty liquid stung his eye. He squeezed it shut again and focused on his shot.

  Come on ole girl Fields thought, referring to his rifle. Make me proud. While Field’s had personally sighted in his rifle when it was first issued to him by The Company’s mercenaries, he had never achieved the high accuracy and precision required of a sniper. Even during his military career Fields had been a washout of the marine scout sniper training program three times, but he was all they had right now.

  Fields took one last shallow breath. Satisfied he had done everything in his power to align for the shot he exhaled slowly and gently squeezed the trigger. He maintained perfect posture and follow-through as the 150 grain bullet rocketed from the rifled barrel towards the enemy. The round landed near the top of the man’s hairline. A red mist behind the skull was soon whisked away as the breeze fluttered the curtain once again.

  None of the revolutionaries moved. Fields still surveyed the scene through his scope, not daring to look away. Angry shouts could be faintly heard from within the building but no one exchanged fire. The crack of the rifle still reverberated deeply in their ears.

  Then suddenly, just as Fields was about to give an order, a lone figure stood up from the roof. Before he was able to zero in on the location, the man hefted a rocket propelled grenade onto his shoulder. Without missing a beat the deadly weapon was fired towards Fields’ general location.

  “Incoming!” Fields cried, as he pressed his body deeper into the earth. The round slammed into a rocky berm, riddled with mangled tree roots, just feet away. It sent debris in all directions. The explosive concussion stunned Fields and a trickle of blood leaked from his left ear. But miraculously he was otherwise unscathed.

  “Give those mercenaries hell, boys!” Fields exclaimed as he regained his composure. “Let’s teach them they can’t play God!”

  The ragtag militia began laying down a withering barrage of covering fire as they slowly advanced towards the building. Every effort was made to suppress those inside until within close enough range to use their limited supply of gas grenades.

  “Ferguson!” Fields ordered as he pitched a grenade through a shattered window. “You take point! You’re familiar with house to house combat from your time in Iraq!”

  Ferguson paused for a moment to allow the gas inside a chance to dissipate before placing a breaching explosive on the door. He armed the device and crept back crying “Fire in the hole!”

  Seconds later the door blasted inwards, filling the air with wood, stone, and metal splinters. A nasty cloud of smoke billowed from the opening as Ferguson gripped his sawed off shotgun and plunged inside.

  “Left clear!” he called out, plastering himself against the wall. Fields was one step behind him as he covered the opposite direction. “Clear the rooms, boys!”

  Sporadic gunshots and cries broke out as the men moved from room to room. They systematically worked their way through the building refusing to take any prisoners. No mercy was shown to the enemy.

  After what seemed like an eternity Fields reached a staircase leading to the building’s basement. He detected the sound of movement below, so he withdrew a grenade he managed to scavenge and handed it to the man behind him.

  “Make it good,” he ordered.

  The man stepped forward, placed the grenade into the launcher built under his M-4, and fired it down the staircase. The high pressure gas propelled the explosive down the polished steps and it bounced around the corner before detonating.

  The squad padded down the steps in single file and fanned out to cover the basement. In his sudden excitement as he spotted a large crate of assault rifles piled in a corner, the man that launched the grenade cried out with excitement. Distracted, he forgot to cover his right corner, and failed to see a lone figure crouched in the shadows.

  “Stay focused!” Fields cried out. But it was too late for the man. His temporary distraction gave the figure the upper hand and was able to pop off three rounds before Ferguson pivoted and ended the assailant’s life.

  “Dammit man!” Fields yelled. “You guys know your duty!” Satisfied the basement was clear he approached the dying soldier and did his best to comfort him.

  The dying man struggled to speak as multiple bullet wounds protruded from his chest. The lack of emergency medical equipment guaranteed the man’s fate. “Just promise me… you’ll… get those bastards in Louisville!”

  “We will,” Fields answered. He cradled the man’s head in his arms until he had drawn his last breath.

  A younger man, barely eighteen, was the first to break the silence. He hesitantly clung to his stolen M-16 rifle and sullen eyes stared at Fields. "Where do we go now?"

  “Where do we go?” Field’s echoed back. He slowly got to his feet and faced his disorganized militia. “I’ll tell you where we go. We’re taking these weapons and going to Louisville! We are going to take back our lives, our women, our children, and rid this already sick world of those who would capitalize on another’s misfortune! We’re going to start a new society that strives for human morals! The dignity and sanctity of life! A woman’s right to procreate with whom she pleases! Children not being forced into slave labor! From the ashes of our ruined country we will rise up with a new utopia for future generations to cling to! We will give humanity a fighting chance in this fiercely hostile land!” A tear leaked from his left eye. “Men, we fight for people like that young woman, Katelyn, who was senselessly murdered in cold blood! And we will not stop until we rid this blood soaked land of Adelaide, Jesse, and every last one of their twisted followers! Today we fight for humanity!”

  XVII

  The train lurched to a screeching halt and woke Franklin up with a start. His eyes shot open and he briefly forgot where he was as he looked at his unfamiliar surroundings. Faded light from a crack in the door illuminated the area around him, and it slowly came back to him. He rubbed his eyes and sat still hoping to hear if anyone was outside the train car before he planned his exit. He didn't have to wait long as he heard footsteps crunching on the track's gravel.

  "Hey! Hey! Lock everything up tight!" a man barked.

  "What's going on?" another voice replied from the top of a boxcar.

  "The spotter saw a herd way down the track! We don't want any rotter stowaways! Hurry up! We run into them full speed in twenty minutes!"

  Franklin heard footsteps scramble from on top of the car to the gravel below. Soon his small ray of light was extinguished as the door slammed shut and a latch was closed.

  "Crap," Franklin whispered to himself and sat up a little bit, his blanket still wrapped around him. He heard other distant sounds as more doors were shut. Soon, it was quiet again, except for the distant sound of the train and the light wind.

  The train began to move forward slowly and pick up speed, lurching Franklin back into his cozy corner. The rhythmic clickety-clack of the wheels on the rails became faster and faster. The boxcar swayed back and forth causing Franklin to become motion sick, and a precariously perched cardboard box fell onto other boxes below, spilling its cargo of garbage bags.

  A loud thump reached Franklin's ears as the train noticeably slowed. A couple more boxes fell and Franklin lurched forward about a foot. The train continued to move and the sound of the snarling of a multitude of rot
ters soon penetrated the steel walls of the boxcar. Franklin shivered a little at the thought of trying to make it through such a huge herd without the benefit of the iron horse. He shook his head as the train slowed even more. The train lurched again, and began picking up speed. Franklin leaned back with a sigh of relief as the diesel resumed its normal pace and continued onward.

  Soon thereafter, the train began to slow again, and Franklin assumed they were nearing their destination. He prepared himself for whatever might come. He heard doors being opened all up and down the line and shouts as orders were being made. Both doors opened wide and bright light poured in, blinding him for a few seconds. Boxes were being tossed out of the left hand side of the car, as Franklin moved carefully off to the right behind the other boxes.

  "I like that cool breeze through this car!" the worker said to no one in particular. Franklin watched him carefully as he inched his way towards the right side door. He got to the door and looked out. Workers were scurrying around like ants, but no one was paying attention, so he quickly leaped out and headed behind an unused forklift. Seeing a door to a building, he walked quickly to it and entered.

  No one was in the hallway as Franklin roamed around, exploring different rooms. He entered one room with a hospital bed with ropes tied to the sides. He looked around at the other items in the room. "So odd," he said quietly to himself. "Shelves, brooms, cleaning supplies. Then hospital bed?"

  He was still standing there puzzled when he heard a commotion coming down the hallway. Looking around frantically for a hiding place and finding none, he hid behind the door. Two men dragged a blonde haired woman about thirty years of age, kicking and screaming into the room and began to tie her down on the bed. Franklin's eyes widened as the realization of what was happening hit him. He quickly left the room through the open door as the men were preoccupied with tying her down. He walked about ten feet down the hallway before stopping. He hit his forehead with his fist several times and grimaced and shook his head wildly.