Zombie Road | Book 8 | Crossroads of Chaos Simpson, A. (new books to read .txt) 📖

of line at the ocean to end of line at the containers. The train would be buried with no way of switching the tracks until they killed enough to clear the deck again.

Xavier didn’t know if they would leave him. He wasn’t one of them, he was an outsider and his rescue would be risky. They might keep going, not risk the lives of thousands to save just one. He hoped they would, he thought they would but he wasn’t sure until he saw the train switch over to the side track. He went from full sprint to full slide as he neared the end of the last six stack container. He grabbed on to the edge briefly to slow his drop as he fell to the next bright green box some twelve foot below in a five-stack row. Even in his near panic as he slammed into the metal and rolled to his feet, he thanked them under his breath. They weren’t going to abandon him. The undead were everywhere, thousands surrounded the train and thousands surrounded the containers screeching up at him. He ran for the gantry as the train screeched under it, bounced off the stop and the spinning wheels caught traction to send it back the other way. It was a long jump between the last container and the brightly painted crane, a good ten feet. Enough room for the giant tires to roll up and down the aisles. Xavier pumped his arms and ran faster. He knew this was his only way out, this was a one-shot deal. The crew from Lakota might risk everything once but they wouldn’t do it twice. Once was risky. Twice was suicide. If he didn’t make the jump, he would fall nearly forty feet into the horde. If he chickened out and didn’t try, they would leave him behind to get away before they were buried by the undead. He hit the edge and leaped, hands reaching for the railing on the stairs leading up to the control room. It came at him fast and he slammed hard, nearly fell and barely got an arm wrapped around a pole welded to the expanded steel steps.

The train below him was moving, picking up speed. He hooked a leg, pulled himself on to the stairs and bounded down them, his feet barely touching. He doubled back once and wished there was time for one more flight down but the engine was almost below him. It was now or never. He swung over the railing and jumped for the roof some six or eight feet away and fifteen feet below. He landed on the dining car, fell to his knees and threw out his hands. His breath was coming in huge, sucking gasps as pain shot though his legs. He didn’t trust himself to stand and crawled to the ladder. He dropped down to the catwalk, avoided the reaching hands and hungry mouths that screamed as they were ground down. He hobbled into the cab and hurried to the front door. The undead were pulling their way over and through the wire and the big guns were silent. Both were out of ammo and the crew were fighting the deaders off with blades. Xavier yelled his thanks at Gunny then burst through the front door and aimed a blast at the chomping faces. His grunts and curses were lost in the screaming, keening cries of the undead, the yells of Stabby and Scratch and the booming of Bridget’s pistols.

The train rocked around the curve, cleared the side track and Gunny slammed the brakes again. The wheels locked and slid along the gore covered rails as he pushed the throttle forward.

The crew formed a wall around Hollywood as he manipulated the controls and tried to get the switching arm locked in place. Xavier’s silent microwave gun dropped deaders everywhere he pointed it. Scratch stabbed his sharpened rebar fist into one head after another but every time one fell another took its place. Stabby swung with both arms, his long wolverine claws sinking deep with every blow. Bridget aimed for the ones dropping in from above, from the tall stack of undead tumbling over the top of the wire. The train lurched to a stop and the steel wheels spun until it found traction and started forward again. The zombies piled up on the arm, covered it and Hollywood couldn’t see if it was positioned right or not. He could only rely on the feel as it tore through the writhing bodies. The train picked up speed, Griz and Gunny both had their throttles maxed out. Hollywood ignored the mayhem happening all around him and concentrated on the job. He didn’t watch the endless stream of flyblown corpses still running in from the town. He didn’t think about how hard the train was struggling to get moving. He didn’t consider that they might be struck on a half mile long stretch of track with no way of getting off, trapped inside a giant metal coffin until they died of the godawful stench from the reeking bodies.

He felt it when the track slid over into place and jerked the controllers back to collapse the arm. The train picked up speed and a wave of undead began rolling away, pulling the climbers down with them. Concertina wire ripped open papery skin and more rotting guts slopped onto the already slick deck.

“Go!” He yelled “We’re good, get inside!”

The crew fought side by side and backed towards the door, shooting, stabbing and blasting the faces as they clawed their way past the wire and railing. Xavier was the last through, his silent killing wrist bands dropping body after body until he pulled the door closed behind him. Everyone was covered in gore, splattered with putrid blood and yellowing brain pieces. Even Xavier had been splashed by the mess left by the blades and point-blank gun shots and dripped slime on the floor.

The train was steadily gaining speed