Rolling Thunder - 03

by Dirk Patton

  “What’s going on?” I asked, keeping my voice quiet so I didn’t wake the sleeping people around us.

  “We’ve passed the area the herd was transiting and the outskirts of Memphis are about 30 miles away. There’s a sharp curve ahead as we turn into the city and we have to slow to twenty and pretty much maintain that speed until we’re over the bridge.” He kept staring out the windows as he spoke.

  “How does Memphis look? Any reports?”

  “The Colonel has a couple of Black Hawks flying recon and it’s the damndest thing. There’s pea soup fog and they can’t see anything on the ground.”

  “They using FLIR – Forward Looking Infrared - ?”

  “Yep. And they’ve tried LWIR – Long Wave Infrared - too, but the fog is really messing with it. They keep thinking they see movement, but they reposition and whatever it was is gone. Don’t know if it’s real or the fog causing ghosts in the imagery equipment.” I knew now what he was watching for. Fog. Thick, blinding fog. Just fucking marvelous.

  The train kept slowing and the vibration finally ceased and we were back to the gentle swaying motion which continued to diminish as we slowed further. Eventually we seemed to settle into our new speed and soon I could feel the motion change as we rolled into the curve Jackson had mentioned. Out of the curve we suddenly entered the fog. One moment blank windows were staring back at us, the next we both blinked as the thick, white fog enveloped the train and reflected the light back at us.

  “Don’t know about you, Master Sergeant, but I don’t like this. Better get everybody up and let’s get some eyes up top.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jackson immediately turned and woke the National Guard soldiers, sending them through the car to wake the civilians. One of them got sent to the roof of the car while the others headed into other cars to rouse the occupants. Wanting to get some fresh air I joined the soldier on the roof of the car.

  The fog was so thick it almost seemed like it had substance to it, like I could scoop out a handful of it and a hole would remain. It was chilly and damp, quickly coating every inch of me with moisture which soaked right through to my skin and also muted the clacking sound made by the train as it rolled down the tracks, much like a heavy snowfall quietens the countryside. The only good thing was it fully woke me and with the wind of our passage it helped flush the last of the stench from below out of my sinuses.

  There were occasional gaps in the fog as we proceeded, but they were small and infrequent. When we passed through one I could only see flat terrain covered with thick bladed green grass. Once I caught sight of two abandoned vehicles as we crossed a street, but didn’t see them long enough to identify their make or model. Seeing those two cars made me think about the engineer driving the lead locomotive. He couldn’t see any farther than I could and if there was a vehicle, or something larger, that had been abandoned on the tracks we’d plow right into it.

  A check of my watch and it was now after 0500. We had to be in Memphis, but the fog was still so thick I couldn’t see a thing to prove it. I tried to remember how early the sun had come up in Atlanta, figuring Memphis couldn’t be that much different. 0530 I thought. Well, I’d know soon if I had remembered correctly. Pacing the roof of the car, I tried to peer through the fog but still was limited to the occasional break. I was getting glimpses of buildings, streets, cars and empty lots. I wasn’t seeing anything else and heard nothing other than the train.

  The fog around me was lightening and I knew that somewhere above it the eastern horizon was glowing. Correcting myself I remembered that the eastern horizon had been glowing all night. Jackson joined me, both of us looking up at the sound of a heavy rotor but unable to see the helicopter in the fog.

  “That’s the Colonel’s Black Hawk.” He said. “They’re trying to see if the track in front of us is still clear, but if there’s not something that’s glowing red hot they aren’t going to be able to see it in this shit.” He waved his hand through the fog in front of him.

  “How much farther to the river?”

  “We’re still east of the city. Probably another half an hour at this speed.” That meant the bulk of Memphis was still ahead of us.

  We stood there in silence, the dampness seeping into our clothing then deeper into my joints that weren’t as young as they used to be. Life as a SF operator is not easy on the body. Knees and shoulders seem to be what goes first, and my left shoulder was reminding me it had been dislocated twice when I was younger. Reaching up and rubbing it I froze when the feeling hit me. The same little sixth sense, whatever the hell it is, that had warned me there was an enemy behind a tree when I was south of Murfreesboro was screaming at me that something was wrong. Every hair on my body was standing on end and there was a creeping feeling all up and down the flesh on my back.

  I looked around, but the fog was still too thick to see anything. The sun was up now, but the fog diffused the light so there were no shadows and nothing was well lit. I looked around for the soldier who had been on the roof when I came up and didn’t see him. What the hell? I was standing in roughly the middle of the car which was close to a hundred feet long. Maybe he had moved to an end and I just couldn’t see him. Raising my rifle I took it off safe as I looked around. Jackson noticed and like an experienced operator didn’t bother to ask what was wrong, just raised his rifle as well.

  We stood there, silent and unmoving, for a couple of moments before I hand signed to Jackson that the soldier was missing and I was going forward to look for him. He nodded and followed me, each of us stepping sideways so we were facing opposite sides of the car as we moved. It didn’t take long to reach the front of the car and we hadn’t found the soldier. Reversing direction, Jackson led the way to the back. Again it didn’t take long to cover the short distance and we didn’t find the missing soldier. What the hell?

  The day was continuing to brighten as the sun climbed higher in the sky and a few moments later we came to another break in the fog. Jackson and I both cursed at the same time. Thousands of infected were right at the edge of the tracks, females leaping for any handhold on the train they could find. Then the fog swallowed us back up and we lost sight of our attackers.

  32

  I stepped to the edge of the car looking down on the platform leading to the door and saw two females looking back up at me. When they saw me they both screamed and one of them leapt onto the ladder, covering half the distance to the roof in one bound. I already had my rifle pointed into the gap and I shot her off the ladder, her body slamming into the other one and both of them tumbling through the opening and under the wheels of the following car. I started to step onto the ladder to head below but pulled my foot back when another female grabbed onto the railing and swung onto the platform.

  Behind me I could hear Jackson on the radio reporting our situation to Colonel Crawford. I shot the new arrival, slapped him on the shoulder to let him know it was time to go then stepped out and slid down the ladder to the platform. The instant my boots hit the metal I stepped out of the way so Jackson could come down, raising my rifle in the same motion. Another female grabbed the railing to my right, using the momentum of the train to whip herself up and around, but let go and fell away when I raised my foot and kicked her in the face.

  That kick almost cost me my life as the one right behind her was able to swing around the rail and grab onto my ankle with a frighteningly strong grip. Shoving the rifle into her face I pulled the trigger and she fell away, nearly dragging me off the narrow platform with her. Jackson thumped down next to me and I shouted for him to get the door open as I shot another female that was hanging on to the train with one hand and reaching for Jackson with the other. I snapped the rifle up at a scream from over my head, shooting a female that was about to leap at me from the roof of the car just behind us. Damn it. They were everywhere. I fired at another as she scrambled for footing on the platform, then Jackson grabbed my vest and yanked me backwards through the open door, slamming it shut as soon as I was clear.

&nbs
p; Everyone in the car was on their feet, frightened conversations dying out as they turned to look at me. Ignoring them I looked around to make sure Rachel and Dog were safe. They were still where I’d left them, Rachel now awake and Dog sitting in my seat, looking at me like he was daring me to make him move. Turning back to Jackson I asked him if there was any way to speak directly to the engineer driving the train. He pulled out his radio, adjusted the frequency, spoke briefly to the engineer then handed the unit to me.

  “We need to speed up.” I said. “At this speed the infected are able to grab on and climb aboard.”

  “I can’t go any faster.” It was hard to hear the man’s voice over the roar of machinery in the background, but I was able to understand what he was saying. “There’s a ninety coming up that lines us up for the bridge and I’m already at the max rated speed. I take that turn too fast and we go over.”

  “Can’t you speed up then slow back down?”

  “This ain’t a fuckin’ car. It takes miles to speed up and more miles to slow down. There’s nothing I can do. We’re committed and we can’t go faster.” I didn’t bother to answer, just ripped the earpiece out and handed the unit back to Jackson.

  “We can’t go faster. There’s a sharp turn coming to get us onto the bridge and if he goes faster we roll.” Rachel had come back and stood listening.

  “Wait a minute,” she said. “How far to the turn? And which way are we turning?”

  I didn’t know and looked at Jackson. He quickly called the engineer back. “Twenty minutes and to the right.” All of us jumped at a loud thump on the door, infected screams following moments later, then we spun and raised our weapons when a pistol fired inside the car. A female had been crawling in one of the windows that had been blown out earlier when the Apaches were firing next to the train. One of the men standing nearby had shot her before she made it all the way into the car. Before we could resume our conversation a window shattered as another infected started battering her way inside. She was shot down by one of the National Guard soldiers but not before reaching through the broken glass and slashing open the face of a child sitting on his mother’s lap.

  “What’s your idea?” I asked Rachel.

  “How many people on the train?” We both looked at Jackson.

  “Not sure, but around 8,000 I think.”

  “OK, 8,000 people, and if we say an average body weight of even just 150 pounds per person that’s,” Rachel paused and looked off into space while she did the math. “One point two million pounds.” She finally said with an excited smile that faded as Jackson and I just stood there looking at her.

  “You Army guys aren’t too imaginative, are you?” She looked back and forth at us. “We’ve got well over a million pounds of ballast. Get everyone to move to the inside edge of the curve and we can counter the force that would tip us over and can speed up.” Rachel was excited, talking fast and using her hands to help make her point.

  “Will that work?” Jackson looked at me.

  “Hell if I know. I’m just a dumb grunt, but it makes sense. Call the engineer and ask him.”

  Jackson had a brief yet intense conversation with the engineer. While they were talking another infected broke through a window but was quickly shot down before she could do any damage to the evacuees.

  “He says it should work. He’s pushing us up by fifteen miles an hour which will be fast enough to stop these damn things from climbing on…”

  “Great!” I interrupted. “We need to spread the word…”

  “One more thing.” It was Jackson’s turn to cut me off. “He says if it’s not enough of a counterbalance we will definitely turn over at that speed.”

  “It’s gotta work.” I said. “Get on that radio and start spreading the word.”

  While Jackson started issuing orders to all the military personnel spread throughout the train I felt the sway and vibration increase as the engineer bumped our speed. That was good, stopping any more infected from boarding the train, but I was worried about how many had already climbed on and even now were breaking through windows and attacking defenseless people.

  “The Colonel is briefed and wishes us luck,” Jackson said, turning back to face me. “What now?”

  I didn’t know what now. The plan was in motion, the curve was fast approaching and I couldn’t think of another damn thing that needed doing. Ideally I would have liked to go outside with Jackson and clear the infected off the skin of the train, but between our higher speed and the dense fog I didn’t think that was the wisest thing to do. They were a threat, but they were easier to deal with from inside as they tried to come through windows than they would be from the outside.

  “We make sure everyone is on the right side of the train and we sit tight.” I answered, demonstrating by squeezing into half a seat next to Rachel and Dog. Two other people were crammed between them and the windows as all the passengers got shifted as far to the right as possible. Jackson settled onto the edge of the seat in front of me.

  “Hey, Master Sergeant. Have you gotten any word about the bridge or the tracks on the far side of the river?” Jackson turned in the seat to look at me and got back on the radio.

  “The fog is heaviest at the river. Thermal’s not seeing anything on the bridge, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing. The fog is thick for another ten miles on west of the river then starts thinning out. They’re seeing movement a few miles out, but can’t tell what the tracks are like for the first few miles west of the bridge.”

  Just great. All this amazing technology that let the US fight just as effectively at night as in the daytime and it was rendered nearly useless by something as simple as fog. I understood that FLIR or thermal imaging worked by detecting heat sources and the dense fog which was comprised of billions of fine droplets of water did an excellent job of masking heat signatures, but you’d think with the trillions of dollars we poured into the military that someone would have found a solution. Of course, we’d been wrapped up in a war in the desert for over a decade and fog wasn’t a big issue where we’d been fighting. Shit.

  33

  The time to reach the curve passed slowly. If there’s one thing the Army teaches you it is patience. Not the kind of patience a kindly grandparent might have, more like the forced patience you learn from spending time waiting for something to happen even though you’re primed and ready to go. Kind of like the interminable time spent in an Emergency Room waiting area, or dealing with a delayed flight at the airport. It’s not fun but it’s been an integral part of my life. I’ve frequently had the day dream fantasy of being filthy rich, not so I could buy whatever bauble caught my eye, but so I could have enough money to never have to wait again. This and other ridiculous thoughts swirled through my head as I sat, waiting for us to reach the curve.

  Rachel was nervous, the pressure of our lives depending on her idea was getting to her. She had a firm grip on my arm with both hands and a worried expression on her face. I patted her hand and gave her a reassuring smile. We either made it or we didn’t and the more you dwelled on it the more energy you wasted that might be needed if things didn’t go according to plan. If you’ve been in combat you learn to accept that fact very quickly or you wind up bouncing off the walls in a rubber room somewhere while the Army processes your Section 8 discharge paperwork. I’ve seen plenty of guys that were beasts in training turn into puddles of jelly when the bullets started flying and bombs were going off. Not their fault. There’s just some people that aren’t built for the battlefield.

  “The locomotive is just entering the curve.” Jackson turned and informed me. “Our engineer is nervous as hell. He says there’s thousands of infected on the tracks, but so far we’re blasting through them without any issues.”

  I nodded and Rachel squeezed my arm tighter. I could feel a new vibration start up in the train as more cars entered the curve and I couldn’t shake the mental image of the entire train slowly rising up onto the outside set of wheels as it rolled through the curve, th
en in exaggerated slow motion we kept tipping until we were beyond the point of no return and crashed into a sea of waiting infected arms. Shaking the image out of my head I focused back on the inside of the car, looking at Jackson’s sweaty face. The man was nervous, and after a moment I realized I was too.

  The vibration continued, worsening by the moment until I thought the train was going to shake itself into pieces. Then our car entered the curve. The change in motion was more sudden and sharper than I expected, a sudden push to my left as the car was drug through the turn. Several people let out gasps and cries of fear as they were jolted out of their seats to sprawl into the aisle. Seemingly forever we rocked back and forth through the curve then I felt the car tip up slightly. The vibrations changed dramatically as the wheels along the right side of the car came off the track and for a moment there was that semi-weightless feeling you get on a plane when it starts descending, then a hard impact as the wheels crashed back down. There was a brief scream of protesting metal then we were rolling again.

  A collective sigh of relief and a few muted cheers sounded throughout the car, but the celebration was cut short as everyone was suddenly and violently thrown forward. There was a horrendous screeching of metal pushed beyond the point of failure quickly followed by a sharp jerk to the left that snapped necks harder than any roller coaster I’ve ever ridden. The car started to tip, slowly gaining momentum, then I could feel the wheels leave the track and crash to the ground. All around me people were screaming and crying out as we seemed to be moving forward but with the car at a forty-five degree angle to the direction of the tracks. The sounds of metal being violently ripped apart and the bass rumble of the steel wheels dragging on the bare earth grew in intensity for a moment then quickly faded as we came to a full stop. The car was tipped up at a dizzying angle with a lean to the left and I had almost all of the weight of the three people and the dog to my right pushing me out of my seat and into the aisle.