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?