Haven did everything Tucker told her with surprising efficiency given the fact that within minutes, they’d be rolling into D.C. and likely never leaving it again.
“Guys,” Mark squeaked, his voice sounding oddly high-pitched. “Guys,” he repeated more insistently when they ignored him.
Houston was the first to look up, tiredly lifting his head from his chest.
“God, no,” he murmured.
Haven turned to him questioningly, then rose to her feet so she could look out the front of the locomotive.
Tucker joined her and slowly took off his baseball cap, cradling it to his chest.
The setting sun shimmered over the cityscape of D.C. But it wasn’t the Washington Monument, a spindly skeleton of what it once was, or the charred dome of the Capitol still visible across the Potomac River, that made them catch their breaths.
Up ahead, the twisted, mangled wreckage of a downed Boeing 737 lay haphazardly across the tracks.
Tucker quickly grabbed Mark and Haven and ushered them to the entrance of the locomotive.
“Run,” he said simply.
Wordlessly, she and Mark reached for Houston and scrambled out of the locomotive.
They made it to the storage car, and Haven stopped, knowing they didn’t have time to go any further. She pressed Mark into a corner filled with blankets and clothing and padded it around him as much as she could.
Just as she went back to Houston, she heard the horrific sound of metal upon metal, felt the collision with the plane reverberate down each car.
She looked at Houston with desperation in her eyes, and he smiled at her one last time before pulling her toward him and protectively enveloping her in his embrace.
Colin and Kennedy leaned down, resting their hands on their knees as they struggled to catch their breaths.
The train had been out of sight for a while now, but they hadn’t stopped running since they left the truck.
And they would keep running until they found it, as long as it took.
Those people were all she had left. She couldn’t fail them like she failed her brother and his family. Like she failed Grady and Jackson and Johnny B.
She had a strong suspicion when she’d heard the train horn that something was terribly wrong. Tucker didn’t use the horn because it drew zombies in droves from miles around, making it almost impossible for Team Bravo to thin the hordes when they reached the train. And the moment she saw the train snake away from the Fredericksburg station, she knew it was a grave emergency. Tucker would never have abandoned them while they were on a supply run.
Someone had taken her train, and there was absolutely nothing that would stop her from getting it back.
Colin looked up and stared into the distance, lines of sweat trailing down his brow and over his jaw.
“What do you think happened?” he asked her.
She glowered. “My guess, people like the ones we met inside that tunnel, the ones who set the car on the tracks so we’d move it… people like that stole it.”
“You think they knew we were coming?”
She shook her head. “How could they have? This is the first time we’ve gone this far.”
He seemed troubled. “And they’re going closer to D.C. That’s…” His voice trailed off.
Kennedy followed his gaze, and even though she’d thought it impossible to feel any worse today, she was instantly flooded with disappointment, knowing Colin was worried about her.
“I’m sure Haven is okay and made it off the train,” she said finally.
He turned his head and looked at her in confusion. “I hope she’s okay, too. I hope all of them are.”
She nodded, and even though her cheeks were already burned from hours in the sun and from running and climbing and barely escaping, they reddened as he regarded her thoughtfully.
“She’s probably halfway to West Virginia by now,” she added, struggling to fill the uncomfortable silence. “She’s a tough girl.”
Geez, Ken. You sound like an idiot, she thought to herself. You commanded dozens of men and women in the Marines. Don’t act like a jealous schoolgirl.
He straightened, his breathing back to normal. “That she is.”
His green eyes studied her intensely, and she realized he was getting closer.
“Why are you talking about Haven?”
He was only inches from her now.
She looked at her boots. “I know you want her to be okay,” she stammered. “I know you still…” Fumbling, she stepped away. “I’m sorry, it’s just that everything I lost today… it reminds me of when I lost my family, and I…”
He caught her by the arm and pulled her close. “You don’t have to apologize. You’re not alone, Red.”
“My brother used to call me that,” she whispered, her body trembling and electric all at once. “I miss him so, so much.”
Colin embraced her tightly, the heat from his body melting with hers. “I know you do.”
For the briefest moment, Kennedy forgot that her train was speeding further and further away from them, that they had lost everyone they’d ever loved, that they were trapped in a world of the undead, that everything was crumbling around them.
Their eyes met, and then his fingers tangled in her hair, wrapping around the back of her head, bringing her closer and closer.
BOOM!
A cataclysm of fire exploded ahead of them, a spire of flames and smoke billowing up to the sky.
Kennedy and Colin jumped apart, startled and bewildered.
They stared at one another with wide, fearful eyes, each of them knowing the same thing without having to say it.
The train.
Epilogue
Dirty, bloody hands, hands that orchestrated chaos and suffering and death...
Groping hands moved ever so slightly through the dirt and snow and rotting leaves. They strained toward the heavens, struggling to find purchase to set the body free.
The explosion had stirred him from his unconscious state, and now Cade gasped as he crawled over the train tracks. His legs were bleeding profusely, battered and broken from his fall, and a small portion of his intestines had popped through his stomach from where Haven had cut him open.
But he was alive.
He staggered to his feet, but immediately lost his footing, tumbling down the side of a hill until he flopped into a river with a loud splash.
He sucked in air as he rose to the surface, thrashing about in the frigid water, thinking each breath would be his last.
Not today.
She’d thought she had killed him, yet in the end he had been the one to emerge triumphant.
Cade grunted as he struggled to steady himself in the fast-moving water swirling about him. When his shoes were firmly planted in the sloshy river bottom, he glanced at the smoke-filled sky further down the tracks.
“You stupid bitch,” he chuckled. “Bet you didn’t see that coming.”
Cade swung his arms out in front of him, slicing through the churning water, his steps a bit more hurried and eager, until he reached the sloped sides of the riverbank. Standing on his tiptoes without losing his balance, Cade attempted to get a sense of his surroundings.
His eyes widened, and he craned his head slightly. The corners of his lips curved upward into a smile.
There was a town below.
Life.
He knew what he would do within seconds. He didn’t need to think it over or come up with some grandiose plan. He’d been doing shit like this his whole life, and it was second-nature to him. He would infiltrate this town, slowly gain support, and force the people to give him whatever he wanted from this God-forsaken wasteland. When he was done with them, he’d move on.
He was a warrior. A survivor. A king. A god.
And no matter what the situation, he was confident of one thing. He would always come out on top. He would always be victorious.
His fingertips dug into the steep, mushy edge of the riverbank, pleased with himself th
at he’d been able to accomplish something he had obsessed over for years. Haven and everyone she cared about were now dead. He would have preferred to have the train, but—
Excruciating pain tore through his calf.
He gasped and turned around.
No…
White, bony hands grabbed at his pants. The fabric on one pant leg was torn, and from that tear, a little crimson circle began to ripple out in the water. Rage coursed through him, and he slammed his fist down over and over again until the hands let go of him.
He screamed viciously, spittle frothing at his lips. He looked down at his leg as the icy water lapped against it.
Shit. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
Cade felt around for his knife.
Maybe he could cut it off below the knee.
Something bobbed ahead of him in the water, momentarily distracting him. Were those chunks of frozen ice floating his way?
He halted when he saw the dark blobs rise from the surface. The moonlight cut through the trees at the perfect moment to reveal two grotesque faces, stringy locks plastered wetly to their skulls, lips pulled back against pale, mushy flesh. They seemed to grin at him evilly, teeth black and jagged as they waded to him, their necks, chests, stomachs, and hips languidly rising out of the water.
Cade scrambled for the riverbank, stumbling in the mud as his legs refused to cooperate, his head rotating frantically to find the undead predators.
When his fingers touched grass at the side of the river, his heart surged with hope.
That hope was quickly dashed when he felt bony fingers grab at his calves and ankles, pulling him backward, sharp teeth and what could only be slimy, greedy tongues against his flesh.
He screamed, desperately trying to escape, but they continued dragging him deeper and deeper, his screams becoming garbled as he choked on the water that flooded his mouth and lungs.
His fingers were still clawing for the riverbank when his head dipped below the surface, never to emerge again.
The zombies munched on his water-logged body for hours until finally allowing his white, gleaming skeleton to sink below to its watery grave.
Branches snapped nearby.
His eyelids fluttered, and through the slits in his eyes, he saw twinkling silver stars sprinkled across a deep indigo-blue sky.
His nostrils flared, and he frowned with distaste, the acrid smell of smoke filling his lungs.
There was something else though.
Heavy, dragging footsteps shuffled through the mess of dried leaves and twigs and mud.
They were getting closer.
His fingers twitched ever so slightly from where he lay in the ditch along the tracks. His body felt broken, but he somehow managed to turn his head.
The two corpses beside him had cushioned his fall, and they now lay in unnatural positions, their faces blankly staring up at the night sky with eyes that had clouded over.
He looked past them and saw several silhouettes cresting the gentle slope near the tracks. Their gaits were sloppy as they staggered down the ditch toward him.
His mind told him to reach for his pistol, but his arm was broken and refused to budge.
Maybe he could hide beneath the corpses of the two men next to him, disguise himself, hope the newcomers wouldn’t sense his presence.
But it was too late. They knew he was there. They’d seen him writhing in pain; they smelled him, his sweat, the fact that his heart still pumped fresh blood to every organ in his body, keeping his skin from rotting like theirs.
One of them slipped and tumbled down the ravine, landing dangerously close.
He tried to crawl away from it, but his arms were useless, and he was forced to scramble backward, inch by inch.
It wouldn’t be fast enough by the time this one dragged itself to him, before the other ones scurried over to join their undead friend. And even though the zombie was badly decomposing, its appendages were still working better than his at the moment, driven toward him by a burning desire to feed.
Just as it reached him, clawed fingers grasping his boots, a shot rang out, and the creature’s head drooped against the mud, face half-concealed as it sank further into the soft earth.
Muzzle flash lit up the darkness.
He heard footsteps rushing toward him, and he wondered if it was more of the zombies.
If so, he was doomed.
He closed his eyes and leaned back, exhausted.
“Brett?”
“Brett!”
This couldn’t be real.
He had to be dead.
Struggling to open his eyes again, he saw flickers of red hair. He heard a familiar, booming accent.
“Brett! Can you hear me?” a woman shouted at him. He felt fingers and hands prodding his body.
“Hey, buddy. It’s me. Do you know who I am?” a man with a thick Scottish accent asked him.
Brett nodded, so overjoyed that he smiled and cried at the same time, the gashes on his face stinging as his salty tears ran over them.
“Colin,” he whispered.
He heard excited exclamations between them.
Then Kennedy’s voice, strong and resolute and determined as always.
“There will be other survivors. We have to find them.”
A Note from the Author
If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review on Amazon and Goodreads!
Stay tuned for the exciting final chapter of this apocalyptic adventure!
About the Author
Angelique Archer lives in the Washington, D.C. area and works in law enforcement. She started writing at the tender age of eleven, fascinated by the alternate universe in the original Star Wars trilogy. By the time she was thirteen, she had already written three full-length books. After studying and working abroad for several years and obtaining her Master’s degree, she decided
to set a bucket list goal and publish a book before she turned thirty. Mission accomplished! Since her first novel, The Undoing, Angelique has also published The Hell That Follows, as well as The Town in the Mountain and The Valley of Ash and Shadows, novellas within larger anthologies.
When she isn’t working or writing, Angelique enjoys traveling the world and learning new languages to add to the four in her repertoire. She is always up for an adventure and loves spending time with family and friends, exploring the outdoors, browsing antiques, reading by a cozy fire with a cup of tea, collecting unique survival tools (including a machete, crossbow, handgun, and various knives)... and of course, losing herself in her writing.
Keep in touch with the author at [email protected] and follow her on Facebook and Amazon Author Central:
bit.ly/AngeliqueArcher-Author
Amazon.com/author/angeliquearcher
The Good, The Dead & The Lawless (Book 2): The Hell That Follows Page 37
