by Ricky Fleet
CHAPTER TWO
The Foxhounds pulled up and stopped at the train station in Boxgrove. Jonesy climbed out and shouldered his rifle, aiming and firing at the small group of zombies that had left the gardens of the trackside homes. DB jumped down and covered the rear, picking off targets with quietened reports.
“All clear,” said Jonesy, scanning the area and seeing nothing more that posed an immediate danger.
The survivors stepped down from the vehicles and Jonesy and DB could only give them pats on the back, a hollow platitude that couldn’t assuage their pain. Kurt smiled weakly at the gesture and walked over to the others in the lead Foxhound. Braiden didn’t follow and, instead, walked off a short way and stood waiting for a zombie in the distance to arrive. The hatred and grief was unlike any he had felt before, greater even than the leaving of his mother. His feelings of abandonment were diminishing with each passing day as his environment matured him beyond his scant years. He had been with Debbie a matter of days and would now kill her if he had the chance. His poor mother had suffered at the hands of a similar individual for thirteen years before escaping.
In a way, by nurturing Paige through her mental break, he had gained an appreciation of the love that people can have in life. It had served to cement the bond with his new family and pull him back from the brink of self-destruction. Left unfettered, he would have likely experienced a mad descent into the pit of anger and spontaneous violence just like his true kin; Lennie Sullivan.
The corpse was reaching for Braiden, but he felt no fear. All he saw were the images of Mike and Debbie superimposed on the rotting face, fueling his anger. He swung a kick and swept the legs sideways from under the zombie. It hit the ground hard and Braiden gave it no chance to recover, stamping repeatedly and breaking all four limbs to incapacitate the monster. It squirmed on the ground, unable to right itself. Like a toppled beetle, it thrashed the flopping extremities and chomped on nothing. Standing over it, Braiden’s blazing heat receded a little and the zombie was just that again; a poor victim of the plague of dead. It wasn’t his enemy in the truest sense of the word; it felt no joy or victory in the conquests of the living. It was primal, an instinct that any remaining scientists the world over were trying to understand. Instead of attacking it in a frenzy, he calmly knelt and pushed its skull down by the forehead, stilling it. The screwdriver entered its right ear and pierced the brain. Its eyes rolled, now truly dead.
Braiden stood and turned back to the other survivors, jumping in shock when he saw John only a few paces away.
“You alright, lad?” John asked with genuine concern, “I was just making sure you didn’t get hurt.”
Braiden shrugged, struggling to find any words that would articulate the conflicting emotions that battled in his mind. John took another step forward and placed a hand on Braiden’s shoulder, trying to get him to meet his gaze.
“I know how much you loved her, Son. We all loved her,” John said, voice breaking with sorrow.
“Yeah,” Braiden whispered, looking directly at him with tears brimming.
“She will always live on in our hearts, her warmth and kindness made us better people, myself included,” John stated, his own tears threatening to break the dam of his inner will, “You too, I think.”
“She was my friend…” Braiden managed, before a heavy sob silenced his words.
“I know she was, nothing will ever change that,” John commiserated, squeezing the young boy’s shoulder in support.
“You don’t understand,” Braiden whispered, looking at his dirty shoes.
“I think I do. Do you think I didn’t notice how you cared for her, how you fed her while your food went cold? How you cleaned her and made sure she was warm and comfortable. Who was it that came out in darkest night, through the dead in the garden and woods to come and guide us in? You did. You saved her life just as surely as I did that night.” John was crying now, his strong façade dropping away and revealing a tenderness that Braiden didn’t realize existed.
“I’m really going to miss her,” Braiden said, wiping at the flowing tears.
“Me too, Son. She became like a daughter to me,” John explained.
“And a sister to me,” Braiden added, looking at John once more.
“She loved you especially, she told me that,” John said with sincerity.
“Really?” Braiden smiled through his tears.
“Absolutely. Not only because you are brave and loving, but because you saved that damned mutt too!” John pointed over to Honey, who was sat watching the others.
“Her name’s Honey,” Braiden laughed at John’s good natured jibe.
“She picked a lovely name,” John declared, his mind playing the first moments of her return from her catatonia. “It’s my fault.”
“What? Her choosing the name Honey?” Braiden asked, confused at the look of misery that was washing over Johns face.
“No… her dying,” John placed a hand over his eyes and shuddered with the force of his sobbing, “I should have come with you, protected you all from those fucking animals!”
“It’s ok, Grandad. You couldn’t have known, we were all just desperate to get away from there and they took their chance.” Braiden was now the one providing comfort. He waited for the rebuke for not calling him John, but it didn’t come.
John caught the wary look and said, “You call me Grandad as much as you like, lad, you are my grandson and I am as proud of you as anyone could ever be. I’m so sorry I have been so mean to you and the way I have spoken to you at times, I failed you…” The sobbing returned and Braiden was amazed to find himself taking John in his embrace. They wept for their shared loss, supporting each other through the grief.
“Never. You have saved our lives over and over. You hold us all together, like an elder,” Braiden said and then realized that he had just insulted John’s age, “I meant…”
John chuckled and pulled away, “I take it as a compliment, don’t worry.”
They wiped away the moisture from their damp cheeks and composed themselves. There would be more upset, they could be sure of that. But at least they had taken the first tentative steps towards acceptance.
“Grandad?” Braiden inquired.
“What’s up?” John replied as they made their way back to the rest of the survivors.
“If we ever find them, you won’t try and stop me will you?” Braiden asked, concerned about the response.
“Son, if we ever find them, I promise I will be first in line to help you!” John uttered with conviction. He had made a mistake in trying to maintain morality in the new world. Those ways were gone. Retribution would satisfy justice and, as had been proven with Phil and HB’s gang, protect the lives of the weak and innocent.
“Dad. Braiden. You guys ok?” Kurt asked them.
“We will be, not yet a while. Give us time,” John said quietly and Kurt gave them each a quick hug.
Honey was confused and bewildered. She wandered between Peter and Braiden, sniffing Paige’s scent, but unable to find her mistress. She jumped into the first Foxhound, nose smelling every corner and searched within, then jumped down and ran to the rear door of the second. She climbed aboard and repeated the search. She leapt down and ran a complete circle around both vehicles, her whines growing in intensity as her anxiety grew.
“Here, girl,” Braiden called and the yellow furred member of the group came over and started nuzzling at his outstretched hand, “Mummy’s gone, but I will look after you now. We all will, ok?”
Braiden stroked and talked to her, calming her down. Her eyes still searched the distance and her ears pricked at the slightest noise in case it was her lost friend returning.
“Where’s Peter?” asked Kurt, seeing that he was not with them.
“He’s still out. Christina is looking him over, but I think it’s just been too much for him,” Sarah sympathized. Kurt took her in his arms and pulled Sam in who was looking lost. They stood there for long seconds, enjoying the
contact and the warmth of the hug.
Gloria was talking to Jodi who longed to help the group.
“I wish there was something I could do,” Jodi said to the old teacher.
“There is, my dear. You have to be strong in their place while they come to terms with what has happened. They will not be thinking clearly and that can be dangerous. Would you do that for me?” Gloria offered, knowing that Jodi would feel guilty until the day she died because of the actions of her ex-partner.
“I will watch over them all, you can count on me,” Jodi proclaimed and Gloria smiled.
“Thank you,” Gloria took her hand and gave it a squeeze. Jodi’s mouth moved but nothing came out, she wanted to say something and Gloria waited patiently while she got the words straight in her mind.
“Why would he do something like this?” Jodi whispered, finally able to ask the question that was eating her up inside.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Gloria answered honestly, “This horror has given everyone the opportunity to become what they have always yearned to be. With no consequences, evil has taken hold in people hearts.”
“I can’t believe I never saw it. I am such a fool,” Jodi bowed her head in shame.
“Nonsense. People are adept at hiding their inner desires from those closest to them. You can’t blame yourself,” Gloria tried to placate Jodi, knowing it was probably hopeless.
“But I do, and always will,” Jodi said and started to cry. Gloria passed the gun to DB who was feeling awkward at the strong emotions that were on display. She gently held his massive hand and he felt a glow spread into his heart. His family was almost undoubtedly gone, but helping these strangers gave him a purpose. It was the only thing that would stop him putting a gun in his mouth and ending it all.
“Come here,” Gloria embraced her, “I think God has a plan for us all. I know that seems a bizarre thing to say, but the events I have witnessed and the trials we have overcome have given me hope.”
“If that’s the case, then I hope God gives me a chance at paying him back for the pain he has caused. My feelings blinded me to what he was, I see it now,” Jodi admitted. Her guilt and sense of responsibility convinced Gloria that she would prove to be a valuable member of the family.
“Your feelings and loyalty will be what gets us through this mess. We are lucky to have you with us,” Gloria said with heartfelt honesty.
“So lucky that one of you is dead,” Jodi said with self-derision, “I wish it could have been me out there. It would have been right that I was the one to fall for Mike’s betrayal.”
“Paige laid down her life to save Kurt, Braiden, and yourself. Her love gave us all strength. Now you have to honor that sacrifice by making sure this group survives, do you understand?” Gloria asked.
“Yes. Sorry for the self-pity,” Jodi apologized and wiped away her tears. She clenched her bat tight and laid it on her shoulder, ready to swing for the bleachers if anything came close to her new friends.
“You have a way with people,” DB said, smiling broadly.
“I try to make them see their true qualities. Like you, brave and selfless, risking your life for total strangers,” Gloria replied, stroking his cheek in a motherly gesture.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save your friend,” he said, unable to shake the sense of responsibility. His massive frame dwarfed the kindly teacher, but he felt small in her presence; like a child, wanting to hear her words of reassurance and love.
“You saved us, darling, don’t forget that. We will always be there for you, no matter what the future brings,” Gloria stated with conviction.
“Thank you, ma’am,” DB replied and handed the shotgun back to her.
Jonesy and Kurt had walked onto the train crossing, looking up and down the tracks. The station was deserted and the sign saying ‘Boxgrove’ swayed on the chains in the afternoon breeze. Scattered across the floor was hundreds of pounds in coins, spilled from the broken ticket machine, glinting in the hazy sunlight. Whoever had taken the chance to break into the machine would have quickly discovered that money was useless. They couldn’t bribe the zombies to spare them, only lament their worship of the altar of wealth as they were eaten.
“What do you think? The tracks are the most direct route to Ford, and then the castle,” Kurt asked the soldier who was analyzing as many angles as he could think of.
“I like the protection the fenced off railway line gives us, I admit. I just don’t like the fact we will be on a course with little chance to deviate,” Jonesy answered, scratching his chin; a gesture that Kurt thought only existed in fiction.
“What do you mean, deviate?” Kurt wondered.
“Those ditches by the side fences may be too much for the Foxhounds. If we come across a group of them on the track, we will have to backtrack for miles,” Jonesy replied.
Kurt gave it some thought. They would be unlikely to find a route to take any roads to where they were going that weren’t solid with cars and monsters. Overland would be safer for the group, but he would regret losing the mobility and firepower of the armored troop carriers.
“I think we should take the chance. Slow and steady is the way forward. If we encounter resistance, we head back and find a place to lay low while we plan another route,” Kurt suggested. “What do you think?”
“Ok, let’s do it. If you drive the lead vehicle, I will ride the gun in case we encounter resistance,” Jonesy said and they walked back to the others to explain the plan. They all felt relieved that, for now, they wouldn’t be on foot. Kurt started the engine and familiarized himself with the clunky controls; the machines were built for combat, not comfort.
“Everyone ready?” Kurt asked his passengers.
They all answered except Peter who was still stretched out in the back. Kurt reached out of the window and stuck his thumb up in a ‘ready to go’ gesture and Jodi flashed him, signaling she was ready. He accelerated and mounted the rail with a lurching jolt, straddling the metal runners. The tires crunched onwards, rolling over the ballast that supported the weight of the train carriages. The setting sun was in front of them, guiding them down the line like a spotlight. It stretched on for long miles, a strange road that could be their salvation, or their doom. Kurt knew that they needed a base that would be difficult to breach; it would buy them time to adjust and plan for the future. The one thought that worried him every second of the day was that the castle had been built to survive sieges by thousands of soldiers in bygone years. It was designed to be impenetrable, so how they would get inside with the dead on their heels was a huge obstacle to be overcome.
“Kurt, we need to think about stopping soon. The sun will be down and we need to organize a watch during the night,” Jonesy called down from the gunnery turret.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Kurt called back. The sun was dropping slowly but surely into the horizon, and the darkness was nowhere to be cruising around in. They had made good progress of several miles unencumbered, which would mean they would arrive at Ford in less than an hour at their carefully slow pace.
“Are we going to sleep in here tonight, Dad?” Sam asked. It would be cramped but safe, so he wasn’t concerned.
Kurt was about to answer, until rounding a bend, he saw the first train on the tracks. Across the country there would be thousands of unmoving carriages, stranded with the lack of electricity. Kurt stopped the vehicle and let the engine idle, looking around for any signs of life.
“What’s up, Kurt?” Jonesy asked, looking for a threat that would cause the pause.
“I’m thinking we might be better off spending the night inside the train. The seats would make passable beds and we are high enough from the ground to be safe,” he replied over his shoulder.
“Why have we stopped?” DB shouted over the engine noise from the second Foxhound.
“Bedding down in there! Thoughts?” Jonesy yelled back, pointing at the train.
“Sounds good to me, high ground advantage if anything comes for us
,” DB called back, seeing the same tactical benefits as Kurt had done.
“Ok, Kurt, roll up alongside and we will see what’s inside,” Jonesy banged on the top of the vehicle for him to advance.
Kurt moved slowly, guided the Foxhound over onto the other tracks to skirt the waiting carriages. The darkened windows captured the reflected light of the sun, blinding them to the danger. The noise was their confirmation, the hammering on the glass a dead giveaway to what lurked within.
“I didn’t expect to see anyone,” Jonesy mused to himself, “Why would they stay inside?”
Kurt had heard him talking and assumed he was asking him, “We didn’t lose electricity for a couple of days, maybe the driver saw the shit that was going down and backed it out here between stations to wait it out?”
“Maybe… but why would you just stay in there and die of dehydration rather than climbing down and trying to escape?” Jonesy asked.
Kurt squinted and managed to see past the reflected glare. The stones of the track had been disturbed and there were slimy smears up and down the carriages, like green snail trails. The dead had been here, hoping to feed on the trapped commuters, until they succumbed and the food went bad.
“Look, blood on the side. We had walkers here,” Kurt explained and Jonesy nodded to himself without answering.
Jonesy was weighing their options and Kurt waited patiently for the plan. The standard carriages were now filled with mobile corpses and there would be no telling if there would be anywhere clean enough to sleep.
“Right, we will clear the first class section if they haven’t worked out how to use door handles. Most of the time it’s empty because it was so damned expensive. DB!” Jonesy called to his friend.
“Whassup?”
“Jump down and uncouple the front carriage. Pull the pin and we will pull that carriage forward a few feet. Kurt get to the front and back it up,” Jonesy instructed and the Foxhound grumbled forward.
DB ran down the side of the train, cautious of the blood stains. The underside of the train was totally exposed and nothing could be seen underneath or on the other side. They were alone, except the ones trapped inside. Jonesy was securing a chain to the front end of the driver’s carriage that also housed the three first class cabins, comprising eight seats in each with a privacy curtain to keep out unwanted attention. DB wrestled the steel pin from the train coupling and climbed back into the second vehicle, covering Jonesy where he was exposed. Jonesy whistled and Kurt slowly crept forward until the chain pulled taut. The wheels juddered and the rubber spun on the loose stone of the track. With a grinding protest from rusting axles, the train was separated and DB was the center of attention from those inside, eager for fresh meat. Some of the undead causing a commotion were unharmed, but others had been horrifically mauled. They must have fallen prey to the first to die, running around in horror. Trapped with monsters pursuing them and prevented from escape by more of the wailing dead. DB crossed himself in sympathy at the poor people.
