The Arklay Outbreak

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“No, this is good news,” Billy said, staring out the window.

Rebecca shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

The relentless click-clack of the train wheels got louder and louder until Rebecca and Billy had to speak loudly just to be heard at all. “We don’t have to jump out,” Billy said. “We can just ride the train until it gets wherever its going, right? We’re safe in here.”

Rebecca stared at him, unsure if he was trying to trick her, or if he was just being ignorant. She decided the latter. “There’s zombies on this train. We can’t let it reach a populated area,” she said. “If these zombies get loose, who knows how many people they might kill?”

“If we get to a city we can get help,” he countered. “The train must have started for a reason. Maybe the engineer is still alive somehow. Maybe it’s some kind of automatic restart for emergencies,” he said, trying to come up with some kind of logical explanation, but the look on his face said otherwise.

“This train is still infected with whatever killed those people,” Rebecca said forcefully. “If it’s some kind of disease or something, we can’t let it get out of this area.” She pushed him out of her way and grabbed the cord for the emergency brake. Billy reached for her arm as if to stop her, but nothing happened when she pulled it. She yanked on it harder and still nothing.

“This is really bad,” she said, staring at the cord.

“What are you doing?” Billy asked. “What are you pulling the brake for?”

“To stop the train. Why else would I pull the brake?”

“Well, it looks like it didn’t work.”

“We have to stop the train,” she said again, pulling out her gun. “We can’t let the train make it to Raccoon City.”

“But, Rebecca, listen –”

“No!” she snapped.

Billy just stared helplessly at her. “There’s got to be a better way. We stop the train now, and we’re still stuck in the middle of the forest. Maybe we can … I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head and looking back at the window.

Rebecca held her arm out to balance herself against the compartment wall. Billy held his foot against the seats to keep from getting pushed over. The train was still picking up speed. The acceleration did not stop, if anything it increased even more.

“I don’t have time for this,” Rebecca said finally. “I’m going to stop the train. You can either sit here or you can help me.”

She left the room, letting the door bang shut behind her. As she headed down the hallway, she heard Billy call her name. She ignored him and went right to the door to the next train car, cradling her pistol in her hand. She had already fired two shots from this clip, so she had thirteen bullets left, plus one more extra clip, to get from here to the locomotive. She realized belatedly that she didn’t even know how long the train was. She might have to traverse fifty cars to get all the way to the front.

Billy’s stupidity infuriated her. His lame theories on why the train had started – the engineer, an emergency system – were too stupid to even consider. He was just coming up with excuses. He didn’t really care why the train had started, because he didn’t really care about anything but saving his own skin. If the train made it out of the woods and back to a populated area, it would be that much easier for him to escape successfully. Hot wiring a car in the train station parking lot probably sounded more appealing that walking fifty miles through the Arklay Mountains. In fact, Rebecca suspected his desire to get off the train was more about escaping justice than escaping the zombies.

For those few minutes that she was forced by circumstance to cooperate with him, she had almost forgotten that he was a convicted killer. She wished that she had taken a few more seconds to read the details of the report to find out exactly who he had killed and why. She guessed it would either ease her fears or strengthen her resolve. If the murder seemed accidental or justified, she might not worry about him so much, but if it was something exceptionally awful, she would be even more determined to bring him in to face the consequences.

It nagged at her that he was alone in the room, though. While tried to stop the train, he might risk jumping out while the train was still moving. Which was more important? Stopping the train, or keeping an eye on Coen?

The train was more important. Rebecca knew that she had to stop it, with or without his help. Whatever caused this atrocity needed to remain isolated here in the woods. Rebecca didn’t even want to think what would happen if these zombies got loose in the middle of a city. Whoever started the train certainly didn’t care, but Rebecca did. Stopping the train was surely her first priority.

She peeked through the window through the door to the next car and was dismayed to see that it was another private compartment car like this one. She could only see a few feet before the hallway curved around the corner. There might be a dozen zombies right around the corner and she wouldn’t know about it until she opened the door and put herself in harm’s way. She smacked the window with her palm, hoping to attract the attention of any zombies in the hall, but she still heard and saw nothing.

Carefully, she eased the door open and poked her gun through the opening. She slid through and snuck around the corner, gun forward and finger on the trigger. Nothing was waiting for her, and she let out her breath, which she’d been holding.

She tip-toed down the hall and made it to the other side of the car without incident. The next car was another regular passenger car with two wide rows of open seats and a staircase at the other end heading up the second level. Rebecca’s breath caught in her throat when she saw a zombie at the other end of the car, its back to her. A man wearing a gray suit, swaying back and forth like a drunk on his feet.

Although she desperately wanted to wait, Rebecca knew that time was against her. She had to stop the train as soon as possible, before it got out of the mountains. She took a few deep breaths and opened the door.

The smell of decay was stronger in this room than the others. She counted four dead bodies other than the zombie, strewn in their seats like grotesque, discarded mannequins. Like all the others, they looked like they’d been shredded by wild animals.

Rebecca crept quietly behind the zombie without attracting its attention. When she was no more than a few feet away, she jumped at it, hitting it squarely in the back with her outstretched hands. The zombie crashed forward onto its stomach and Rebecca took the opportunity to jump on top of it, kneeling on its back as it writhed underneath her, moaning and gurgling incoherently, blood drooling from the corner of its ripped mouth.

The zombie flailed and struggled under her weight but could not get her off. Rebecca’s heart beat slowly returned to normal as she realized that the beast could not reach her. She was safe, the zombie pinned underneath her.

Thinking about the hideous monster under her legs still disgusted her, but she was no longer afraid. The zombies were slow and uncoordinated, and with some simple evasive maneuvers, she felt confident that she could keep away from them. And if she couldn’t get away, she could at least neutralize them. As long as they didn’t come at her more than one or two at a time, she would be able to make it.

She placed her gun against the back of the zombie’s head and put her finger on the trigger. She didn’t know who this man used to be or why he was on the train, but it made no difference now. Maybe he was going on a business trip. Maybe he was going to see family. Whatever the reason, he would never reach his destination now. As the zombie groaned and tried to shake her off, Rebecca realized that the best thing she could do was simply put it out of its misery. No one deserved this kind of tortured afterlife. She did not have to regret killing him if he was already dead.

The head jerked forward and cracked against the floor when the gun went off, splattering blood and gray matter in a splashed circle on the purple carpet. The hole in the back of the skull smoked and the zombie stopped moving. Rebecca’s arm relaxed.

And immediately, she jumped up when she heard the sound of something moving behind her. One of the dead bodies was up and moving. It was a woman that might have been beautiful a few hours ago. Now, her eyes were clouded and white, her silken blonde hair was coated with blood and gore and stuck to her face, and her blue dress was ripped open, exposing the ravaged flesh beneath.

Rebecca was on her feet the next moment, heading for the door. From the staircase to her left, a zombie suddenly appeared and reached out for her with bloody hands. She swung her hands up in defense and somehow grabbed the zombie’s neck. Turning on her heel, using the zombie’s own momentum to pull it forward, she tripped it with her other leg. She screamed when its hands brushed her face as it fell past her.

The zombie’s forehead hit the solid armrest of the nearest seat, the sound like a baseball bat striking a mossy, wet log. It went down, still moaning angrily, and Rebecca staggered backward into the door.

She opened it and hurried into the next room, not even bothering to close it behind her. Two more zombies faced her in the next passenger car, two men wearing bloodstained t-shirts and jeans. She ran full-force into the first one, pushing him backwards into the seats, and lifted her gun to shoot the second as it went for her. It grabbed her shoulders roughly and pulled her face towards its own. Rebecca jammed her gun under its chin and closed her eyes when she pulled the trigger.

The impact knocked the zombie back, but somehow did not kill it. It gurgled and lurched toward her again, so she stuck the gun right into its eye and fired once more, blowing the top of its head off, ejecting clumps of gore and brain into the air. She knocked the zombie to the floor and quickly stepped over it on her way to the next door. She heard more zombies in pursuit. Lots of them.

As she slammed through the door, she thought she heard gunshots behind her, but she didn’t slow down. The next room had three more waiting for her.

The first zombie, an old man with a wrinkled face and half his balding head chewed away, came at her and went down with a bullet between its eyes. Its body tripped the second zombie, which Rebecca ran right past. The third zombie was another train conductor, who lurched towards her with its gory mouth open and hungry.

She shot it in the face, blowing its lower jaw to pieces, but instead of going down it still came after her. She squared her shoulder and knocked it aside, taking a quick glance behind her. How many were there now, coming after her? Five? Seven? More? She didn’t take the time to count, she had to keep going. When the conductor tried to get back up, she shot him right in the eye.

How many bullets had she used? Seven or eight? She had lost count. As she staggered to the door, she fumbled with her clip to check how many shots were left.

The door slid open and Rebecca felt a rush of cold water slap her in the face. The wind almost shoved her back into the car but she pushed through, sliding the door closed with one arm and holding the other in front of her face to block the rain. Squinting, she could see the locomotive directly ahead. To the left and right were walkways around the engine to the driver’s cabin in front. Small lights lined the metal railings, illuminating them in the wet darkness, as sheets of rain battered the front of the train. It only took moments for Rebecca to become completely soaked.

The zombies chasing her made it to the door and crowded around the doorway, moaning hungrily and banging into the plastic window. Rebecca backed away slowly, flinching each time they slammed into the door. The wind deafened her, and the stinging rain made her shiver.

Gradually, she realized what she had done. She had led the zombies – a whole mob of them – to a door that could lead them right off the train if they got through. Only a few inches of plastic prevented them from getting off the train. If she couldn’t stop the train, she might have to brace herself against the door to stop them from getting off.

She checked her clip and saw that she had seven rounds left. She glanced back at the zombies pounding on the door and stepped onto the narrow walkway to the engineer’s cabin. She had to hold her hand in front of her face to block the rain and wind. The surrounding wilderness was nothing but a shadowy blur as it zipped past. Rebecca was no judge, but she felt that the train must be going close to one hundred miles an hour. The wind was practically shoving her down.

She was so intent on not falling over and keeping the rain out of her eyes, that she didn’t notice the man standing in front of her until he was only a few feet away. When she saw him, she jumped back, almost losing her footing on the studded metal panels underneath her feet, and swung her gun up at him.

But the man was no zombie. He wore a long white coat that whipped madly around him like a cape and his long black hair flew around in the wind, obscuring his face. Even in the drenching rain, however, he appeared to be completely dry. Rebecca was so stunned, she could not speak or lower her weapon.

The man made no move towards her, but set one bare foot on the metal railing and hoisted himself up. He spared her one final glance before pushing off the railing and soaring off into the night, disappearing into the shadows.

Finally, Rebecca’s stupor ended and she called out for the man, grabbing the railing and leaning dangerously out, staring into the darkness. The wind absorbed her shout. The man was gone.

Suddenly, there was a crash and Rebecca’s head jerked back to the door, which hung by one hinge for a moment before crashing down, a zombie falling down on top of it. Two more stumbled over it and staggered unsteadily toward Rebecca, fighting the overpowering wind. She lifted her gun but did not fire, afraid of wasting the precious few bullets she had left. Instead, she ran forward and shoved the first zombie as hard as she could. The impact, combined with the wind, knocked it sideways and it tipped right over the railing, toppling down right along side the train, close enough to be dismembered by the wheels.

The other zombie reached for her, and Rebecca turned and ran. It was not far to the engineer’s cabin, and she slammed the door shut behind her, gasping for breath. Her hair was plastered against her forehead and water dripped down her face and into her eyes, momentarily blurring her vision. She wiped her face on the back of her hand and stepped toward the main control console.

It was a ruin. The front panel had been forcefully torn off and thrown into a corner, revealing a mess of tangled wires spilling from the console like a disemboweled robot’s entrails. It looked as if the entire control console had been smashed to pieces with a sledgehammer. Dials and gauges were shattered, digital read-outs were blacked out, and the throttle control was ripped from the console as if it was merely a cheap clay facsimile.

My God, she thought in despair. She couldn’t stop it after all.

A wet gurgle behind her caused her to spin around, just in time to avoid being wrapped in a bear hug from the undead train engineer, who leaned forward to bite her, blood oozing from his mouth, his cloudy white eyes staring directly into hers. She screamed and pushed the zombie back, but it lurched forward and pressed her against the ruined console, moaning horribly, leaning so close that blood and spit dripped from its mouth onto the front of her uniform.

Distantly, she heard more gunshots and recognized the sound of Billy’s Desert Eagle. He had followed her after all. She sucked in a deep breath and let out an ear-piercing scream, pushing against the zombie engineer with all her might.

Billy slammed through the door, gun raised, and fired. The booming report deafened her in the small cabin, but the zombie attacking her flew to the side with half its head now smeared across the opposite wall. Rebecca slipped off the console and fell to her knees.

“Are you alright? Did it hurt you?” Billy asked anxiously, rushing to her side and kneeling down to put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t come with you. I don’t know what I was thinking. I came after you as fast as I could.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rebecca gasped, shaking her head, her wet hair hanging limply across her face. “The console is totaled. I can’t stop the train.”

Billy looked up at the destruction in disbelief. “What in the world could have done something like that?”

“I don’t know,” Rebecca said, slowly trying to stand, holding onto Billy’s arm. He put one hand on her shoulder and one on her hip and eased her to her feet. “But there was a man in here. I saw him. He jumped over the railing just as I got here.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t a zombie?”

“Positive. He looked right at me and hopped right over the railing.”

“There’s no way he could have survived, not at the speed we’re going.”

“I don’t know who he was,” Rebecca said, looking sadly at the console, “but he must have done this.”

“But why? And how?”

Before Rebecca could respond, she felt the train begin to turn. She and Billy lurched sideways and braced themselves against the side of the cabin. The train continued to turn, and Rebecca felt the locomotive begin to tremble. She glanced at the broken throttle and then up at Billy, her eyes wide.

Billy stared out the front window, fear glinting in his cold blue eyes. The cabin continued to tremble as the train kept turning, and the tremble graduated to a shake.

“Billy ...”

The cabin was leaning now. Rebecca could feel the floor tilting ever so slightly, and a low grinding noise came from under the floor. Billy reached over her shoulder to hold onto a pipe that ran from the ceiling to the floor. Rebecca felt herself holding onto him, her hands beginning to shake like the room around her.

The grinding noise got louder and louder, and then burst into a deafening screech, the sound of metal tearing like paper. The locomotive screamed like someone being tortured, and Billy wrapped his other arm around Rebecca. They braced themselves against the wall, staring out the front window in stunned terror.

“Hold on,” Billy whispered.

Still in the middle of the long turn, the train’s wheels broke apart like glass. The locomotive slid off the tracks, dragging the rest of the train with it like a tail. Showers of sparks burst from the train’s undercarriage as it skipped the tracks, sliding across the wet, muddy ground and into the trees like a wild mustang running through the gates to escape its corral.

The train tipped sideways and fell onto its side as it crashed through the trees, knocking them down like a mower cutting grass. Billy and Rebecca fell onto the wall which now became their floor, and were showered in pieces of the broken console, shards of shattered glass, and clumps of dirt and smashed wood coming in the broken windows. The lights went down, drowning them in darkness.

The train slid through the woods, leaving a trail of destruction and downed trees in its wake. The passenger cars broke apart and scattered, heading off on their own trajectories. The dining car struck a huge boulder and broke cleanly in half, crumpling the tank for the kitchen’s gas stove. It exploded in a swirling fireball, illuminating the forest like a supernova.

The locomotive skidded through a grove of trees, knocking them down like bowling pins, and crashed head-on into the grassy ridge beyond. But instead of stopping, it went right through like ridge like a tunneling drill and blasted through a wall of dirt and cement to the storage warehouse built underneath the ridge

The locomotive finally came to a stop in the middle of the warehouse floor in a shower of crumbling rock and a wave of dirt and smoke. Fire smoldered along the edge of the engineer’s cabin and the lights in the warehouse flickered uncertainly. Dust floated down from the light fixtures and settled with the smoke from the train.

The room returned to silence.

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