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Monthly Archives: December 2014

22 December

And so I now find myself in possession of thirteen woman and twenty three children, mostly girls, ranging in age from six to eighteen. We have a carriage not only full of the weapons Adam and I had found, but an entire arsenal of weapons, ammo, knives, swords, grenades, you name it. The food carriage has tons of MREs, those military rations, gallons of bottled water, and other non-perishables that should last us months, if not years.

We went through several towns that day after the rescue. I stopped a few times, much to the horror of the ex-prisoners, but it was for good reason. Each time I passed a junction point, I switched it in a different direction. In this way, if anybody survived on that “Meat Wagon” as they called it, they would have a very difficult time of finding us.

The only decision now is where to go from here. I’ve studied the train tracks of the UK and have mapped out a few potential paths. Once the woman and children are back up to health again, have mourned those that have died both before the rescue at the hands of those bastards, and during the rescue at the hands of the zoms, and have healed mentally from whatever traumas they went through in the clutches of the hostage takers, I’ll let them decide. For now, Adam and I just have some catching up to do, and to see where the tracks lead us.

The only recurring thought I have after that long and horrific night is: What happened to that kid I saw at the feet of the Boss guy? I wonder if he escaped in the panic, was eaten by the zees, or is still chained to the psycho with the ice cold eyes?

 
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Posted by on 22 December in Uncategorized

 

19th December

I shouted out to everyone that I was here to help them all. I said they needed to get off the train, run to the back and get on the other carriage that had the doors open. I told Adam to help the others do what I said. When he asked me where I was going I told him I had to help the others.

I moved through the panicking woman and children as they barged past me to get to the open door. One of the woman put her hand on my shoulder. I couldn’t see very clearly in the grey light, but her voice was sincere as it thanked me. I pushed through to the next door and opened it. From the doorway I repeated my speech to the masses on the next carriage. There was a general murmuring of concerned voices and as I ran forward. The shambling dead came up behind me, unlucky in catching the swift prey escaping out of the last carriage, they burst in. Then pandemonium broke out.

Woman screamed, children cried and, up the front of the carriage, a male voice bellowed in anger. Oh crap.

I ran forward and mashed the lit-up open button on the door. “Get to the last carriage, get to the last carriage.” I repeated as a mantra to the prisoners leaping past me out into the first tendrils of early dawn.

The stomping of boots in front of me rang out over the panicked breaths and barefooted running of the other passengers. A shot rang out and voices shrieked once more. I instinctively ducked, the zoms were pouring though this carriage, swiping at the woman, children and hostage takers alike. I pushed the last couple of prisoners out the door and leapt to the ground myself. I had to jump to reach the door close button on the outside of the carriage. I heard shouts inside, now muffled by the closed door and a couple more gun blasts rang out. I felt the need to savour the moment, but still had work to do.

I pushed and encouraged the poor wretches ahead of me and jumped up to close the next door I came to as well. I shoved the woman and children on, and told them to get on the carriage and that I would catch up.

At the end of the prisoner carriage, nearest my own train, I got to work unlocking the carriage hitches and unplugging the electric connections. I then ran to the passenger carriage of my own train where the last remaining passengers were struggling to climb on board. I unceremoniously shoved a couple of them on before clambering up myself and hitting the door close button.

Through the gloomy light I looked around. The carriage was jammed full of wild, staring eyes. The filth on their faces only making the whites of their fearful eyes glow brighter. I caught sight of Adam, threw him a wink and strode off towards my engine cab. I left the door open so the escapees could see there was more passenger room in the next carriage too, and leapt into my driver’s seat. I shoved the throttle forward and with a lurch and a jerking of carriages, we took of at a break-neck walking pace. Followed closely by a carriage of rescued woman, children, and my son. Tailing along behind us was a, hopefully, empty carriage of carnage, then weapons, then food and stores. We had left behind a bunch of evil bastards and a dozen or so starving slovs with a debt to repay.

 
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Posted by on 19 December in Zombie Philes

 

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16th December

Running the gauntlet of horror like that was nothing new to me. Over the years I have found myself in rooms full of the things, fighting my way out. But never in the pitch black like that. There is something about the darkness that amplifies terror. Perhaps the human mind can conjure up things more horrific than reality, and it is the terrors of the mind you are more afraid of and in need of escaping. At least in the light you know where to swing your fist, and where the next set of gnashing jaws are coming from. The unknown and unseeable is far more scary.

So I legged it through the next carriage. It was still too dark to make out anything, which was a shame as I knew that this car contained an arsenal of weapons and things I could protect myself and the others using. I left the doors open behind me as I barged into the next carriage. Silence was no longer required, which was good because it wasn’t an option either.

The wet, lurching sounds behind me were not that far away as I hit the end of the food carriage and burst into the first carriage of prisoners. Somewhere in here was Adam. I cried out his name, and there was a shriek of fear from my right. I called again and heard a wavering, uncertain “Dad?” coming from the other end. I ran through the carriage, noticing the orange lit-up ring around the door open button. I hit it on the way past, calling out his name again.

“Dad? Dad!” he shouted, barrelling into my legs in the darkness. I bent over and squeezed him and hugged him, never wanting to let him go. Repeating his name over and over again. There was a squeal from behind me and I realised why I had to be quick. The undead were back there and had found the other prisoners. The feasting had begun.

 
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Posted by on 16 December in Zombie Philes

 

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14th December

I’m not going to say I was brave or reckless. I was just hollow inside. If this failed, then at least I had attempted to help Adam. If I went down with a mob of undead piling on top of me to sink blackened teeth into my soft flesh, then so be it. The outcome for Adam would still be the same – whatever that was to be, whether I had done this or not. At least in doing it there was some semblance of hope. Some shining glimmer like that of a star on a dark night that you can only see when you look to one side of it and use your peripheral vision.

When I opened that door I couldn’t believe the stench. I mean, I’ve lived with the smell of decaying rot for seven years now, but this made me physically gag. It was pitch black, but I knew the vague direction – straight ahead. I just didn’t know what was between me and that door at the far end, but knew for a fact, and due to the squelching shuffles around the space that there were a number of things lurking in wait for me.

I took a step forward and closed the door behind me with an audible thunk. This resulted in a shifting of bodies somewhere nearby. Between me and the windows down the side of the carriage, I could see black shapes against the lightening sky. It was still not dawn yet, but there was a hint of grey outside compared to the total black inside. I took an inching step forward and my foot squelched into something. I didn’t let my mind consider what it might be, but brought my other foot up to the heel of my first. I shuffled once more. The stench was unbearable and I swallowed the huge lump in my throat for fear of retching and brining attention to myself.

My hip hit the back of the first seat. I was not heading straight, so I re-aligned the map in my brain and pressed on. Nothing had grabbed me yet. Nothing had tried to lick my face or taste my brains. There was a shuffling of feet in front of me and I froze. This was madness. What seemed like several lifetimes roughly sewn together, but in reality was probably mere seconds later, I started moving again. I got a few more feet into the carriage.

There was a wet, sucking sound over my left shoulder. Like somebody peeling a slice of toast with honey that had landed jam-side-down from the floor. I staggered forward. My foot hit an object. A wet, soft, pliable object – my minds eye immediately conjured up the image of a skinless body.

Something cold, wet and slimy then dripped down the back of my neck. That was it! My last nerve shattered and I charged forward, stumbling over whatever that object was in front of me. A hand grasped at the back of my shirt and I freaked. I thrashed my way forward swinging my rebar wildly in front of me. A moaning sound in my ears started down low and rose up to a scream – shouting incoherently. It was my own voice. My arms flailed out in front of me and swiped aside upright bodies that felt like leather covered in wet treacle. I slammed face first into the door at the end. I didn’t realise what it was at first. It was just an object in my way as I tried to escape the carnage and horrors behind me.

My hand slid down and found the handle. I jerked it open and the fresh air of the next carriage hit me like a bouquet of summer flowers.

I had made it through without a scratch, so far. The horrors lying ahead were equally terrifying, but at least I had incentive. There was now a horde of hungry flesh eaters behind me looking to sup on my wobbly bits, and if not, simply infect me with their hideous diseases – and not in a pleasant way either.

 
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Posted by on 14 December in Uncategorized

 

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12th December

Sitting in safety now and thinking back to that night, my butt cheeks pucker thinking about what I did next and how stupidly risky it was. There was no other way that I can think of, even now in the light of day, other than what I did, but it had to be done.

Before opening that door to the cabin full of zoms, I trotted back to the cab of my train. I looked at the panel and saw the lights that had lit up denoting the carriages of the extended train. I counted back: 1. the car my engine was a part of, 2. the passenger carriage I brought with me, 3. a car full of undead, 4. guns and supplies, 5. food, 6. woman, children and Adam, 7. more woman and children, 8. morons and murderers. The 9th cab didn’t show on the dashboard readout, presumably on different electrics, and nor did the two locos at the other end.

I pressed the door unlock button for carriages two, six and seven. I dropped everything I had in the cab and grabbed my rebar. That was all I had to complete the next hair raising part of the mission.

Walking with purpose, I strode through the carriages, pausing to hit the door open button on the side of my passenger car. They opened with a whoosh to the cool night air. The sound of crickets and the purr of my engine coming in with a tang of diesel fumes. I marched to the back door of the carriage and opened the door to the dead.

 
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Posted by on 12 December in Uncategorized

 

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9th December

I’ll need to get all of this re-written into my proper diary when I get it back again. In the meantime I hope I don’t loose any of these scraps of paper I’ve been writing on.

So, here I was, sitting in the musty cab of a choo choo I had commandeered from a local railway station, heading into the jaws of a gang of cut-throat barbarians, on a mission to rescue my adoptive son, and possibly a number of other children in distress, from the clutches of a mad county clerk.

I knew the timing had to be right. There was no going back now. Leaving it for another night was just going to make me more nervous and let me talk myself out of it further. I pulled the leaver back towards myself. The whine of the engine increased and my train lurched backwards. I got it up to a slow jogging pace and then threw it into neutral. The engine noise died away, but the train continued rolling along at a steady pace. As I saw the stationary train ahead (or was it behind) through the gloomy night, I started applying the brakes softly, hoping the squealing of the metal on metal brakes wouldn’t be too bad over the sounds of the night life.

My eyes flicked around the train in front, desperate to not see anybody patrolling the perimeter. I’m sure they were too lazy to do this, but I needed to be sure I had as much time as possible before all hell broke loose.

With the length of the engine carriage, and a second passenger carriage between me and the stationary train in front, this was going to be extremely difficult to judge. I kept applying the brake pressure as it loomed nearer. It must have been about 4am, and it was pitch black, but I flicked the red lights on from time to time on the back of the carriage to dimly show up the remaining distance from my train to the one in front. I had to risk being seen. It was this or slam into the back of the other train and be certain to wake everyone up.

When I was a couple of metres away I clamped down hard on the brakes so my train now only travelled at a crawl. At the last possible minute I locked them on, hoping against hope I was close enough.

Running through the engine cab to the back door, I swung it open and ran the length of the next passenger car. I stopped inside the last car and took a deep breath, both to catch my breath and calm the frantic hoof beats inside my chest. I cranked open the last door between myself and the other train. The gap between us was close enough and I exhaled through pursed lips. Crouching down I hooked up the connectors between the carriages, and, although I didn’t think I would have time, I even spent a couple of precious minutes linking the electrics. A move that would prove invaluable later on I was to find.

The carriage in front of me could now be accessed through the door which was once the end of their train, but was now just another door between carriages of our extended push-me-pull-you train. This was the carriage the nutcase had called Third Class. This was the carriage full of undead creatures with a blood lust and wanting to rip my throat out and suck the juices from my eyeballs. This was the carriage I needed to get through if my mission was to be a success.

 
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Posted by on 9 December in Zombie Philes

 

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4th December

So how do trains link their carriages together? Well, those automatic connecting ones are not the ones they use here in the UK it turns out. To link and unlink carriages, it’s a manual process that requires the connecting carriages to be touching, then a person getting down on the ground and hooking them together. This is just one of several major flaws in my plan that I can think of – and that’s just the major ones.

I’m spending the night stationary, so as not to make any noise. Not only am I doing this because I don’t want zombies attracted, but as the gang are stopping their train at night, they too will hear me sneaking up on them.

So the other flaws? Well, one is that the doors are electronic. The train generates its own electricity to power them, but the doors are locked and unlocked by the driver. In order to get the people off the train, I’m going to have to wait for their doors to be unlocked, or somehow unlock them myself.

Next, the plan requires me to get through the carriage inhabited by undead without being bitten, scratched, or simply eaten. This is the carriage the leader of the gang called Third Class.

The final concern is going to be keeping the gang on-board the train for as long as possible. If they get off the train, I’m screwed.

So, other than a series of miracles, all falling into place in the right sequence, everything is peachy and the plan can’t fail. We used to say that a plan like this was as likely to succeed as winning the lottery. I still think that’s true, even though there’s not likely to be a lottery draw ever again, I’m still more likely to receive a letter stating I’ve just got a millions pounds than pulling this off.

 
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Posted by on 4 December in Zombie Philes

 

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