5 March

05 Mar

Sleep? What’s sleep? Not something you have a whole lot of experience of when there is a screaming child on a train with you and millions of undead that are attracted to sound. Half the time she slips into unconsciousness, where the silence is a brief relief, but at the same time there is the concern that she won’t wake up.

I’ve stopped the train in a remote area where there are eight foot tall fences either side of the tracks. There are already a number of zoms, attracted by the noise, lurking on the other side of the fence. Not much can be done about them at the moment, other than keeping a careful watch that they don’t find a way through, and their numbers don’t build up enough to knock the fence down.

After about a half hour of travel on the train to get away from the initial mob attracted by the shooting, I parked up and then took Adam for a walk to find out what had happened. One of the woman on board is an ex-veterinary assistant, and has assumed the role of our team doctor. I left her, and the other woman, looking after Jenny and took Adam away from the situation where he could calm down and tell me what had gone on.

It turned out that the thing had been hidden in the car, partially burnt, and so wasn’t discernible from the rest of the burnt out wreckage. It had lunged out at Jenny as they walked past it. Adam, being slightly ahead of her, didn’t even know what had happened until she squealed. The snottie had hold of Jenny’s leg and was reeling her in. In her panic, Jenny fired her gun at the zom’s hand or arm or something, but only managed to put the bullet into her own leg. After that Adam had fired a number of bullets into the car in his panic, none of which had hit the thing in the head, and so it just kept on going.

Adam was beside himself with concern for Jenny, his one and only friend, and upset that he had fired his gun and attracted unwanted attention on the team. I managed to calm him down and we went back to check on Jenny. Adam choosing to sit with her and hold her clammy hand through most of the night.

The vet lady didn’t think it looked too good. Without pain killers, or medicine of any kind, Jenny was in enormous pain and there was very little we could do about it. She was in shock, and that was likely to kill her. The bullet had hit her shin bone, whatever that one is called, and shattered it into a million pieces. The leg was going to have to come off, and all the little bits of bone removed to avoid infection. I stupidly asked how we go about chopping off a little girl’s leg, only for the doc to look down at the machete in my hand, then back up at me.

Chopping up the decaying flesh of a rotten zombie is one thing, but the fresh, pink skin of a child is another. This was not going to be one of the more pleasant experiences I have had in this whole crazy new world.

All of the kids, and woman of weak stomachs, were herded into the front carriage. I needed as much room as I could get to swing my machete. I wanted a clean cut, and not to have to swing more than once as I was not intending to hack away at the poor kid’s leg. Adam wanted to stay behind, but I couldn’t let him see this. I couldn’t allow him to see what I was going to do to his friend. If she didn’t make it, I would be to blame, and I didn’t need that to sour our relationship.

I’m just going to fast forward through this bit now. The blade whistling through the air. My eye, firmly fixed on the spot just below her knee where the good flesh stopped and the destroyed area started. The sickening combination crunch, slap, of the blade as it cut through the kid’s leg. Her body, already unconscious at the time, convulsed once and lay still. The blade hit the metal floor of the train and sent a jarring shudder up my arm.

I turned and left as the women quickly staunched the blood and wrapped up the stump with tons of clean rags. I felt sick. I was drained. Some light inside of me went out and never came back on again. It was horrific.

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