Badlands Trilogy (Book 2): Beyond the Badlands (4 page)

The truck slowed as it neared the house, its engine growling as the driver downshifted through the gears. The carriers that weren’t interested in Dave’s yelling shifted their attention to the oncoming truck. When the truck came to a stop in front of their house, a man with blonde hair and a beard slid through the passenger window and sat upon the door, an automatic rifle in his hands.

He pointed the barrel at the crowd of carriers in Dave’s front yard and opened fire. The infected charged the truck in a rage, only to be decimated by the onslaught of bullets. They fell quickly, the bodies piling up in the yard and around the truck.

The blonde man spent the magazine taking down most of the walkers. Survivors wailed. After replacing the empty magazine, the man finished the job, leaving the front yard and the street littered with stinking corpses.

Drawn by the machine gun’s chatter, carriers from inside the house stormed back outside, piling over the dead, only to be greeted by a steady stream of bullets. It took only minutes to take down the rest of the infected.

“Need some help up there?” the blonde man called out.

“Boy, are we glad to see you,” Dave said, smiling.

“Hold tight,” the man yelled. “We’ll get you out.”

Leaving the truck running, the driver got out. Carrying a smaller machine gun, he accompanied the blonde man. Thick, dark hair covered his head, a dark beard covered his face. The two men jogged up to the picture window and peered inside. They fired off a few more shots, taking down the remaining carriers still inside the house.

Looking up from the yard, the dark-haired man called up to Dave. “Inside’s covered with bodies. We’re going to send a ladder up instead. Be ready.”

Dave replied with a thumbs up gesture.

A minute later the blonde man had a ladder against the house. Dave helped Annette out of the window and onto the ladder as the man steadied her on the way down. Dave followed. Moments later his feet touched the ground. He stood beside Annette, feeling relieved. “You don’t know how much we appreciate this,” he said. “We didn’t know how we were gonna get out of there alive.”

The dark-haired man smiled.

Then he seized Annette by the wrist, pulling her toward him and pinning her arm behind her back.

Before Dave could react, he had a gun pointed at his head.

He froze.

“I wouldn’t do that,” the blonde man said from behind him.

The dark-haired man wrapped a nylon zip tie around Annette’s wrists, binding them together in front of her. “I’m Calvin,” he told them, gripping Annette firmly by the arm. “We’re glad to have you two on board.”

As the train traveled along the tracks toward Kansas City, Ed sat holding Zach on his lap. Trish sat next to him, tightly pressed into his side with Jeremy on her lap. They sat in the first open seat they found, near an older woman staring out the window in an almost catatonic state.

Others sat around them, most silent. Around the passenger car, many seats still sat open. Too many, Ed thought. It reminded him of the lifeboats released partially filled as the Titanic began sinking, allowing so many to needlessly die in the frigid Atlantic ocean.

Shortly after their frantic departure from the station, a guardsman walked quickly through the aisle and past them, exiting through the back without a word. No news from the guard, then. Ed wondered if there simply wasn’t anything
to
say. They’d all watched the monsters overrun the city. And the explosions couldn’t have been accidental.

As the wastelands of the United States scrolled past their windows, Ed found himself thrust back into the world of the infected. After more than a year inside the temporary refuge behind the city’s fence, his memories of the death and destruction outside had begun to fade.

Now, gazing upon it again, their three years on the road without protection or peace of mind came flooding back.

But they were survivors. And this time they weren’t traveling out on the open road, exposed. Now they had passage on a train to another safe haven.

Ed glanced down at his two children. They stared out the window, watching the desolate scenery streak by. He wondered what they were thinking. Were they sad? No doubt they were disappointed. But his children possessed an unbreakable spirit, one that had kept Ed going far longer than he ever would have alone.

“Will we ever go back?” Zach asked, looking up.

“Maybe,” Ed said, but it felt untrue. St. Louis seemed destined to remain in their collective past.

Ed wrapped an arm around Trish’s shoulders, pulling her and Jeremy in closer. He kissed the top of Zach’s head. Trish looked at him and smiled, a forced and pained expression.

Ed felt as if he were reading his own mind on her face. “We’ll be okay,” he told her, smiling to hide his concern.

“I hope so.”

“We’ve survived worse. We’ll make it through this too.”

She touched his hand, nodding. “I believe you,” she said, smiling.

The blackened and charred husks of cars, overgrown yards and dilapidated houses whipped past as the train steamed toward the little outpost of Kansas City. Like a bullet, it cut through an overgrown land scourged with the corpses of civilization for as far as the eye could see.

The minutes passed. Exhausted, Trish and the boys fell asleep. Before long Ed’s eyelids grew heavy, the undeniable siren song of sleep calling to him. He closed his eyes and dozed as the miles ticked away.

* * *

Ed awoke to the sound of screaming.

The train car lurched violently forward, slamming him into the seat in front of them. Then he was weightless, tossed around inside the cabin of the passenger car. The world spun around him. He reached out for anyone, anything, but found nothing.

When gravity returned, Ed’s world went black.

When the train struck a rusting Toyota Corolla sitting on the track, it tore through it, tossing it effortlessly to the side.

When it met a Honda Civic, it treated the compact car in the same fashion.

Then the train struck a Chevrolet Suburban, the impact crushing the driver’s side door and crumpling the frame. Glass exploded. Tires popped. Metal groaned. The Suburban stayed with the train as the driver desperately tried to brake, incapable of quickly stopping so many tons of momentum.

Four years without maintenance had taken its toll. The Suburban’s front wheel caught a decrepit wooden tie, which acted as a temporary wedge.

With the Suburban jammed against the tie, the rotten wood snapped, causing the track to bend under the immense weight of the train’s engine. The front wheels hopped the track, plunging the engine onto its side.

One by one the train cars followed their leader off the track, piling on top of each other, twisting into seemingly impossible shapes. They tumbled, carried forward by their own powerful momentum until the friction against the hard ground brought them to an abrupt stop. In a matter of seconds, dozens of train cars lay scattered haphazardly about, like the discarded toys of a disinterested child.

Then, before the dust could settle, the carriers descended.

* * *

Trish opened her eyes and saw seats on the ceiling.

Lying on her back, she blinked, slow to wrap her head around this complete upheaval of her senses. She sat up and looked around, locking eyes with a dead woman. The woman’s neck twisted in an unnatural angle, a trickle of fresh blood ran from the corner of her mouth.

Trish’s head throbbed as her vision blurred. She closed her eyes. It took only a few moments for awareness to return. The bombs, the train, the crash. Her head…she must have smacked it hard.

Opening her eyes, she stood. The world spun around her. She felt sick. She gripped one of the seats hoping it would pass. It didn’t.

She needed to find Ed and the boys. Focusing herself, she searched the car. Moments later she spotted a small body lying amongst the debris.

Jeremy.

Eyes closed and unmoving.

Fighting the dizziness, she walked to the boy. Fearing the worst, she placed a hand on his shoulder and gently shook him.

He didn’t respond.

Oh, God, no…

Then his eyes fluttered. He opened them and looked around. “What happened?”

Relief overwhelmed her. “We crashed, honey,” she said, smiling despite how bad she felt. “We need to find your brother and father now.”

Jeremy nodded, pulling himself up slowly. He sat for a moment before standing.

Around them, a few more survivors came around. Those on their feet clamored to get out of the car. A few of the injured passengers moaned from the floor.

As she glanced toward the back of the car she saw just how bad the destruction was. It looked as if the entire back end of the passenger car had been crumpled by a giant.

 
Her head pounded worse now, the pain threatening to overwhelm her. She lifted her head to look for Zach, but instead saw Jeremy standing halfway up the length of the train car.

“He’s here!” Jeremy cried, waving and pointing. “I found Zach!”

Trish took a step toward them, the dizziness seizing her. She looked down to see a dead man’s fingers beneath her foot. He stared back at her with empty eyes. She closed her eyes and waited for the dizziness to pass.

When she opened them again Zach was sitting up. She could see a small cut on his cheek, but he otherwise appeared unharmed. With his younger brother’s help he got to his feet and walked back to where Trish stood.

“Where’s Dad?” Zach asked.

Trish looked around. She saw lots of debris and more than a few bodies. Ed was nowhere to be seen. “I don’t know.”

“We have to find him,” Jeremy said, the concern obvious in his voice.

Trish nodded. “We will, baby. We just need to-”

The shrill cry of a carrier echoed inside the passenger car.

Zach audibly gasped. Another piercing screech ripped through the car, drawing their attention to the door. A carrier limped in through the opening and lunged at the nearest passenger, burying its teeth into her face. The few passengers still inside the car shrieked, racing away from the attack. Behind the carrier chewing on the woman another appeared, quickly pouncing on an injured man. Skin and blood few, coating the wall.

Trish felt a hand grip her arm. She turned to see a guardsman in black. Tall and dark, he towered above her.

“We need to leave,” Tall Guard said, tugging on her arm.

She pulled away. “I can’t. I have to find someone first,” she said. “The boys’ father...he’s...”

He shook his head. “There’s no time for that! Deadwalkers are all over the place.”

“I can’t leave him!”

“We have to find our dad!” Jeremy yelled.

Tall Guard glanced at Zach and Jeremy. “If you stay here those boys will die. Then finding their father won’t matter.”

Trish stood, confused but defiant.

“You need to come with me
right now
. Our guys will be behind us. They’ll find him.”

That helped convince her. No matter how much she didn’t want to leave Ed behind, Trish knew she couldn’t risk the boys’ lives. “Okay.”

“No!” Jeremy wailed.

Trish shook her head; splitting pain and nausea followed. “They’ll find your dad, sweetie, you have to trust him.”

A wild scream echoed throughout the car as the two carriers looked up from their meal. Tall Guard produced a pistol from a hip holster, dropping the carriers with two shots. “Now!” he yelled, gripping Trish’s arm and yanking her along with him. The boys followed reluctantly behind.

As they exited the train car, Trish got her first good look at the true devastation surrounding her. Train cars lay in pieces around the track. Dead bodies littered the ground, the infected gathered around them, feasting like a pride of lions. The few survivors remaining fled from the snarling infected.

Her nausea worsened as Tall Guard dragged her along. Before she knew it, she was vomiting on herself. Tall Guard didn’t wait on her to finish. “Come on!” he bellowed, firing two shots into a group of carriers headed their way.

Wiping her mouth on her sleeve, Trish fought to stay focused through the haze. They ran away from the train, across two-lane streets and through side lots beside small-town businesses. They fled into a city subdivision and across overgrown front yards.

Eventually the houses all ran together in a blur before Tall Guard decided to stop. “In here!” he yelled as they approached a small house. He dragged Trish up the front steps and onto the house’s dilapidated porch. The boys followed.

Using his elbow, Tall Guard shattered the glass on the front door of the house before reaching in and unlocking the door. He threw the door open, dragging Trish inside. “Get in,” he said, ushering both boys inside before closing the door behind them.

Tall Guard released his grip on Trish’s arm. She fell to the floor, dizziness overwhelming her. She vomited again, producing only a thin string of bile that clung stubbornly to her chin.

“The boys’ father…” she croaked, her throat like sandpaper.