“That one,” Bill said, and pointed to the red engine car he’d spotted from the tower. Bretz pulled up right next to it.

  “Baker, Johnson, you’re with me,” Kersey instructed. “Bill, you stay in the car with Bretz while we sweep the area.”

  They dismounted the vehicle, guns at the ready, and checked around the train, listening hard for any moans or groans in the immediate vicinity. Kersey stepped up into the engine car, checking the driver’s area and the back engine room.

  “Clear,” he said from the doorway as the other two came back around from the front of the train.

  “Clear,” Baker replied.

  Kersey stepped down and opened the back passenger door, letting Bill out. “Okay, what’s next?” he asked.

  “I need to have a look inside, make sure everything is in working order,” Bill replied. “And check the fuel levels.”

  “Is it possible to do all of that quietly?” Kersey asked.

  “Yessir,” Bill said. “We’ll also need to check to make sure all of the cars are coupled. We don’t wanna drive away with half a train.”

  “Baker and Johnson can take care of that,” Kersey replied. “You’ll just need to show them what to look for.”

  “Okay, let’s do that first,” Bill agreed, and headed towards the back of the engine car. “If we have to back up to couple ‘em, that won’t be quiet.”

  “Then we’ll do that last, when we’re ready to go,” Kersey said.

  They reached the coupling between the engine and the first box car, and Bill knelt down. “These claws are gripping each other, this means it’s attached. There’s a pin that goes in the top here, and the cord underneath is plugged in. If any of these is disengaged, it’ll mean a fuckfest of trouble for us later on.”

  “Got it,” Johnson replied, and Baker nodded.

  “Okay, you two check all the cars, keep alert,” Kersey said. “Bretz, you stay out front of the engine car, keep an eye out. I’ll assist Bill where I can inside.”

  The burly soldier nodded and led Bill back to the door, where he clambered up the stairs into the engine car. Kersey followed him, finding the relieved smile on his face a bit endearing.

  “Happy to be back in action?” the Sergeant asked.

  “Yes and no,” Bill replied honestly. “I did really love my job, and it was shit to be let go over something so stupid. And I always planned on getting back into the game some day, when the dust settled. Then the fuckin’ apocalpse happened, and I figured I was just going to die in La Crosse. It’s nice to be back in here… but I definitely didn’t think that it would be under these circumstances.”

  “Fair enough,” Kersey replied.

  “I suppose I should be thankful,” Bill said with a shrug. “Now not only am I back doing my job, but I’m also not going to die in La Crosse. Maybe somewhere else, but definitely not in that shit hole.”

  They shared a chuckle as Bill wandered along the engine. He whistled low in his throat, and muttered some specs under his breath that Kersey wouldn’t have understood anyway.

  “Well, we’re definitely going to need fuel,” he said. “We won’t be able to get all the way back to Kansas on this. I don’t want to bank on the refueling stations along the way being in working order. If we’re lucky, there should be fueling trucks in one of the warehouses.”

  “If we’re lucky,” Kersey retorted. Had luck really been on their side all this time? He supposed a little bit, since they’d made it this far. But they’d lost a lot, too. And they weren’t in the clear yet. He walked to the doorway, peering at the nearest warehouse. “What are the chances there’d be one in that one?”

  Bill stepped beside him. “Your guess is as good as mine, I ‘spose. If this were my operation, I’d have them in every building so they were accessible to every set of tracks. There are so many fuckin’ trains all over the place you’d think they’d want to be able to refuel from every direction.”

  “Okay,” Kersey replied, and lifted his radio to his lips. “Kowalski, come in.”

  “Loud and clear up here, sir,” Kowalski replied.

  “We need to locate a fuel truck to fill up the train,” the Sergeant said. “They’re likely in one of the warehouses, but we’re hoping to make better time than combing every building. You see anything that might be useful?”

  “Give me a sec, Sarge,” came the reply, and then a click.

  Meanwhile, Johnson and Baker were checking the third car.

  “Lookin good, broski,” Johnson said, using his knife hand to get back to his feet.

  Baker rolled his eyes. “Where’d you get broski from—Mason?”

  “Edwards, actually,” the redneck replied. “Sometimes when he was good and liquored up, he’d get all ‘bro’ with me.”

  “Odd, considering how often he gave you a hard time,” Baker replied, a note of regret in his voice. He and Edwards hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye, but it still stung to know he was gone, and in such a manner.

  “Yeah, well, booze brings people together,” Johnson said, pulling out his flask as they wandered down to the next car.

  Baker chuckled as they approached the coupling, and then squinted. “I think the cable is apart on this one,” he said, and knelt down. He grabbed one end and reached up under the metal of the other car to feel around for the other side.

  A snarl greeted him and he threw himself backwards, smacking his head off of the coupling itself.

  “Shit!” Johnson hissed, dragging his comrade backwards as a zombie flopped around from behind one of the wheels. It looked like it didn’t have legs anymore, and wiggled like a fish as it tried to grasp its meal.

  Johnson leapt forward, burying his knife in its head, silencing it. The two soldiers froze, listening, but there were no more moans or groans in the still air.

  “You okay?” Johnson asked finally.

  Baker nodded. “Yeah, thanks man,” he replied. “Fucker hiding down there.” He peered under the cars carefully before reaching up to grab the cables again. Once they were secured, he stood up and Johnson patted him on the shoulder, offering his flask.

  Baker laughed and took a swig.

  “Sarge, the warehouse behind the one closest to you has some open bay doors,” Kowalski reported. “It looks like there are a few trucks there. I think there are tanks on the back of them, but it’s hard to tell from my angle. That’s the best I got for you.”

  “Ten-four, Kowalski, thanks,” Kersey replied. “Seeing any movement from up there?”

  “Just a few stragglers here and there, nothing major,” the sniper said.

  Kersey nodded. “Copy that,” he replied, and clipped the radio back to his chest.

  Bretz appeared in the doorway. “You need me to go get one of those trucks, Sarge?” he asked.

  “I’d much rather everyone travel in pairs,” Kersey replied. He switched to Johnson’s frequency and clicked the button on his radio once to signal that he wanted to talk without making too much noise in case they had to be stealthy.

  “What’s up, Sarge?” Johnson replied.

  “We need to go get a fuel truck from the warehouse to fill up the train,” Kersey explained. “What’s your ETA?”

  There was a pause. “We’re about halfway down, probably fifteen or so to go?”

  “You know I’ll be fine in here if I just close the door,” Bill piped up. “I’m just doing checks in here, Bretz will need you as backup much more than I will.”

  Kersey pursed his lips in thought. Bill was right. And time was important. They had to be as quick as they could. Every second they wasted was one more second that Mason was in danger.

  Bretz shrugged. “It’s your call, Sarge,” he said.

  Kersey lifted the radio to his lips again. “Okay, be thorough but quick,” he instructed. “When you’re done get back here as fast as you can. I’m going to go with Bretz to retrieve the fuel, and Bill is going to close and bar the door. I’m leaving him with this radio, make sure to stay in contact.”

  “Ten-four, Sarge,” Johnson replied.

  Kersey turned to Bill, and unclipped the radio from his belt. “Keep that door barred, do not leave this train car, do you understand?”

  “Ten-four, Sarge,” Bill replied with a smirk and a little salute.

  Kersey shook his head and moved down the steps to join Bretz. They waited until Bill closed the door, and then got into the SUV. Bretz lifted his radio to his mouth.

  “Kowalski, Sarge and I are headed to the fuel trucks,” he said. “Johnson and Baker are checking the couplings and then returning to Bill in the engine car.”

  “Ten-four,” Kowalski replied.

  Kersey drove out of their section of trainyard back to one of the driveways, bustling around the multitude of tracks to circle around to the nearest warehouse. He swerved gently to the right to run over a staggering zombie, reveling in the crunch of its head beneath the tires.

  He eased into the parking lot of the first warehouse, aiming for the maintenance road to the left. At the far corner, there was a cluster of bodies moving out from behind the back of the building, and Kersey slowed. They noticed the vehicle and groaned, tripping over themselves to run towards the vehicle.

  He waited until they were about twenty yards away and then gunned it forward, smacking into them hard. Bodies flew, disoriented, and the soldiers drew their knives and hopped out of the vehicle, taking advantage of the stunned corpses to dispatch them.

  As Kersey stabbed one in front of the car, another managed to get back to its feet and dove for him, shrieking. Bretz barreled into it, landing hard in the dirt, and stabbed it multiple times in the face. Both soldiers waited for a moment to make sure none of their friends were coming, and then got to their feet.

  “Thanks,” Kersey said as he wiped his knife on his pants.

  Bretz nodded. “No problem, Sarge.”

  They got back in the SUV and drove over the enemy around the warehouse. Kersey nosed around carefully so they could take a look at the parking lot. There were a few cars and trucks strewn about, but no zombies.

  They headed for the back warehouse, the bay doors open as Kowalski had reported. This one was smaller, with a maintenance area by the bay doors and the whole other side full of offices with glass walls. Bretz pointed as they got out of the SUV, jaw set.

  “Looks like they had an outbreak on a workday,” he said, noting the zombies slapping against the glass. They all wore business attire, button-down shirts stained with crimson. Kersey shook his head.

  “Keep on alert in case they manage to break through,” he said. “Let’s check these trucks.”

  They moved down the line of tanker trucks, sweeping behind them to make sure there weren’t any zombies lurking about. The first two were empty, much to their dismay.

  Kersey leaned over to check the fuel gauge on the third truck. “This one is almost full,” he declared, and Bretz came around the back to join him. The Sergeant opened the driver’s side door, and felt around for keys. “No keys.” He sighed.

  “Hey, Sarge,” Bretz said, motioning to the glass wall of zombies. Behind them, affixed to the far wall, was a big board full of keys.

  “Of course,” Kersey replied.

  They approached the offices, the zombies going even more crazy on the other side as their potential meals got closer to them. The soldiers surveyed the door on the far end, and then looked all the way down the row of cubicles to the other end.

  “Okay,” the Sergeant said, “you head to the other side and bang on the glass, see if you can get them all to follow you. I’ll crouch down on the other side of that door and when you’ve got them all occupied I’ll run in and grab the keys.”

  “Sure thing, Sarge,” Bretz replied, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Be safe.”

  “Will do,” Kersey replied, and jogged over to the door.

  Some of the zombies attempted to follow him, but as he crouched down and Bretz began to knock on the glass, they got distracted quickly. The burly soldier tapped on the glass, running along the wall and sneering at the corpses trying so hard to get to him.

  “Fuckin’ murdering shits,” he muttered, drumming out a beat on the last glass panel to keep them all occupied.

  Kersey crept to the door and pushed it open silently, closing it gently behind him. He stayed low as he ran to the back wall, an ran his hands over the keyrings. There were four that bore the same emblem as the fuel truck, so he stuffed those into his pockets, and ducked down to stay out of sight for the way back.

  As he passed one of the cubicles, a body fell out of it and smacked into him, knocking him clean over. He smashed into a water cooler and it fell over, causing an epic clatter on the tile floor. Kersey jumped to his feet and tore for the door as the zombies decided that he was more interesting than Bretz. He grasped the handle and pulled, throwing himself out and jerking the door shut behind him.

  He swung wildly with his knife, trying to dislodge the arms stuck in the door, and Bretz ran up to join him, kicking the limbs back inside as best he could. Finally, the door latched, and they backed up, breathing hard.

  “All good, Sarge?” Bretz asked.

  Kersey nodded jerkily, and reached into his pocket for the keys. “Yep.” They ran back over to the truck, and Kersey got in. The third set was the charm, and the vehicle roared to life. “So much for being quiet,” he said. “Okay, I’ll take this back to the train and get fueled up, you take the SUV and go pick up Kowalski.”

  “Ten-four,” Bretz said, and headed off to the SUV, lifting his radio to his mouth to instruct Kowalski to be ready.

  Just as he put his foot inside to get into the driver’s seat, gunshots echoed through the still air.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Kersey pulled up next to Bretz as he raised his radio.

  “What’s going on over there?” he asked.

  “Looks like a bunch of them just came out of nowhere!” Kowalski replied. “They’re just popping out between the trains, Johnson and Baker are backing up towards the engine car.”

  “Can he hit any?” Kersey asked.

  Bretz nodded. “Can you shoot any from where you are?” he asked.

  “A few, but it’s tight and I’d be worried about ricochets,” Kowalski replied.

  “Negative,” Kersey said immediately, and Bretz nodded again.

  “Sarge says hold your fire,” he instructed. “I’m coming to pick you up now, meet me outside.”

  “Ten-four,” Kowalski replied.

  Kersey nodded to Bretz. “See you over there,” he said, and revved up to bustle up the maintenance road. Bretz quickly hopped in the SUV and tore after him, kicking up dust as he turned to the right to go and pick up their sniper.

  Bill clutched the radio as he heard gunshots from outside, and looked through the windows. He couldn’t see anything on the front side.

  “What’s happening out there?” he asked.

  “Stay inside,” Johnson came back, and then clicked off at the sound of more gunshots.

  “Shouldn’t you guys come in here?” Bill asked, but there was no answer. Kersey had told him not to open the door or go outside, but if it would save his men, then shouldn’t he do it?

  “Don’t even think about openin’ that fuckin’ door,” Johnson came back, as if he could read his mind.

  Bill clenched his jaw. His eyes widened at the sight of a pack of zombies coming into view around the left side of the train, and leaned over the console to stare, openmouthed, at the heads of the dead.

  “They’re coming around the other side!” he cried into the radio, but there was no reply.

  Kersey screamed around the line of trains, pulling up just at the corner of the last train before theirs. He wanted to be close enough to fire, but not so close that an errant bullet could hit the tank on the back.

  He opened the driver’s side window and snaked out of it, sitting on the sill and flipping his rifle off of his back. Zombies swarmed the engine car, smacking the sides, and he drew his eyes up to see Johnson and Baker standing up top, the redneck hooting as he fired down at the hungry horde.

  “We got this, Sarge!” Johnson cried, and fired down, dropping bodies left and right. Baker stood over the other side, taking care of the zombies over there, and Kersey shook his head, lifting his rifle to take out the ones at the front, careful not to hit the train itself.

  Bill gripped his gun tightly, unable to see any action outside. He could see Sergeant Kersey hanging out of a fuel truck off to the side, but couldn’t see what his shots were producing out front.

  “Fuck it.” He shook his head. He had to finish his checks. That was his mission. It wasn’t his job to protect the soldiers, it was the other way around. And if by some horrible fate, they all died out there, at least he could get the train out of the city and try to get in touch with somebody.

  He turned away from the front window and moved back to the engine, pulling a clipboard from the wall and running through the last few gauges.

  A few minutes later, the gunfire stopped. Bill paused, and then hung the clipboard back up, walking slowly to the front of the train. He couldn’t see much through the front window, and he paused by the door.

  His radio crackled. “You can open the door now, Bill,” Johnson’s voice came through, and the conductor’s heart began to beat again.

  He unbarred the door and opened it, nearly gagging on the stench of rotten flesh that hit him in the face. There was a sea of bodies around the train, a few feet deep, and the soldiers stood on the other side, guns in hand.

  “You assholes are badass,” he breathed, and Johnson smirked.

  Kersey nodded. “How’s it going in there?” he asked.

  “Ready to go when we’re fueled up,” Bill replied, trying to stifle the shaking of his hands.

  “Just show us where it goes,” Baker prompted, and he and Johnson wandered off to grab the hose from the fuel truck. Bill walked down the steps, adrenaline leaving a heavy exhaustion on his joints, and gingerly stepped on the pile of corpses at the bottom.

 

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