These Dead Lands: Immolation (73 page)

“Sir, you all right?” Ballantine asked. “You bit?”

Hastings glared at Ballantine. “No. Thanks for dropping by to ask. Get that fucking truck loaded up, now!”

Hastings raised his weapon and resumed firing. He fell back step by step, keeping the heat on. Overhead, Slater kept the .50 busy, slashing through the advancing dead.

Three minutes later, the truck was loaded, and by then, it was within only a few moments of being surrounded. Hastings lifted the heavy tailgate and held it up while the troops in the bed put the pins in to hold it in place. Hastings climbed up as quickly as he could, and he wasn’t even in the bed before the truck’s driver took off. Ballantine tried to help steady him against the vehicle’s sway, but Hastings jerked away and moved over to where Diana was sitting with Kenny. Kenny actually reached out for him as he approached, and Ballantine got the impression the Asian girl did the same, though he couldn’t see her hands. He was surprised to discover that Diana hadn’t been bitten; the ghoul that had attacked her had severely mangled her jacket, but the woman herself was unharmed.

Was I really going to let them die without doing anything?
He was shocked almost numb by the question. He looked at Kay and the boys, sitting farther up near the truck cab.
In front of my family, would I really have let them all die?

To his great shame, Ballantine already knew the answer.
Yeah. I would have.

*

The truck pulled
away from the barracks area and headed north, smashing its way through the zombie herds that were slowly taking over the entire post. The vehicle rocked and swayed as it rolled over the corpses, and the troops in back kept the sides clear, shooting any reeker that managed to find a handhold on the vehicle as it lumbered past. They headed for the rail yard where the trains waited. The truck was mostly alone. Occasionally, Everson saw another military vehicle, but none joined up with the lone five-ton as it pushed through the crowd of dead. Finally, the big truck left the majority of the ghouls behind, a path of crushed and struggling bodies lying in its wake.

Everson saw something outside, and he clambered to his feet. “Well, fuck me.”

Off to the side of the road was the van that Walker had stolen, its front end completely demolished and its windshield a spiderweb of cracks. As the five-ton approached, Walker emerged from the wreckage, waving wildly. A dark line of blood ran down the side of his head.

Everson pounded on the cab. “Stop the truck!”

Slater, still on the .50, swung the weapon around. “Yeah, let’s stop. I want to have a chat with this fucker. Everson, you want to take over for me?”

“Stay where you are,” Everson said as the truck ground to a halt.

“What’s that?” Slater said.

“I said stay the fuck where you are,” Everson snapped, every bit the Marine NCO, as he walked to the back of the truck bed.

Slater blinked. “Well. Okay.”

Walker hobbled over to the tailgate and hauled himself up onto the bumper, a frantic smile on his face. “Thank you for stopping! Listen, Everson, I’m sorry that I—”

Everson put one hand on Ballantine’s shoulder, raised his foot, and kicked Walker right in the face. Walker yelped as he fell. He crashed to the road on his back and lay there stunned as Everson laboriously climbed out of the rig.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Ballantine asked, rising to his feet.

“Sit down, Big Sarge,” Slater said. “Everson knows what he’s doing.”

A group of zombies shambled toward the truck, but they were still almost a hundred yards away. Everson regarded them for a moment then looked down at Walker. “So you decided to abandon women and children,” Everson said.

“I’m sorry!” Walker whined. He was bleeding heavily from his nose.

Everson held out his hand. “Give me your weapon and vest.”

Walker looked up at him. “Are you fucking kidding me? No way!”

“Okay, then. Enjoy the last thirty seconds of your life.” Everson shot Walker in the pelvis twice, and the big man screamed in agony. Everson kicked him in the face again, hard. “Shut up, and go out like a man!” His heart was hammering, and he could feel the blood coursing through his veins, driven by anger and hatred. He reached down and pulled Walker’s rifle out of his hands then yanked the vest over his head.

Walker began to sob like a baby. “Please! Please!” he cried.

Everson tossed the rifle and vest into the back of the truck, where everyone sat and stared. Slater met Everson’s eye and gave him a quick nod of approval. Everson didn’t return the gesture. He climbed up on the bumper, and Ballantine reached out, helping him negotiate the tailgate.

“Please!” Walker said again, struggling to get up despite his shattered pelvis. He spit out a bloody tooth as he looked at the approaching group of reekers only twenty-five yards away. “Please, you can’t leave me here!
Please
!”

“What? You don’t want us to do to you what you tried to do to us?” Everson asked. “Look at it this way, Walker. Maybe you’ll bleed out before they get to you… though I really hope you don’t.”

“Everson, you done?” Hastings asked.

Everson pushed his long hair out of his eyes and adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. “Ready to move out, Captain.”

Slater slapped the cab, and the truck began rolling again. Walker screamed and tried to drag himself after it, but he didn’t get far.

From the fading screams he heard, Everson was sure the man was still alive and conscious by the time the reekers caught up to him.

*

The rail yard
was full of activity as troops and civilians boarded the long train. Several flatbed cars were loaded with vehicles held in place by chains. More soldiers took fighting positions on those cars, sniping away at any zombies that managed to stagger into the area.

The corporal brought the truck to a halt next to the passenger cars. He immediately bailed out of the cab and vomited onto the ground beside the door. Slater shook his head with a snort as he opened the M2’s feed tray and removed the remaining belt of ammunition. Hastings got everyone out of the truck and directed Ballantine to get them loaded in the train.

Ballantine passed the mission off to Guerra then turned to Hastings. “Captain, listen—”

Hastings spun and rolled up on the bigger man, slamming his chest into him. “Ballantine, I get that you want to keep your family alive. I really do. But they were on the truck, being protected by your fellow soldiers. The next time one of our people is in trouble and you do nothing to help, I’m going to personally fuck you up so badly the only thing that’ll be on your mind is finding a nice, quiet place to die. Questions?”

“No, sir,” Ballantine said sheepishly.

“Then
do
your fucking job!” Hastings pushed off, leaving Ballantine to his own devices. He spotted Colonel Victor and the rest of the command group on one of the nearby flatbeds, where their vehicles were chained down.

Victor separated from the clutch of officers and moved over to kneel at the edge of the platform. “Hastings! I heard you were dead!” The colonel was in full battle rattle, and despite his diminutive stature, he did look kind of impressive.

“How’s that, sir?” Hastings asked.

“The troops I sent to round up your people said the barracks was fully involved, totally surrounded by the enemy. You weren’t there?” As he spoke, Victor looked up at the truck, watching the civilians being taken off and led to the passenger coaches.

“We were there, sir. Apparently, your troops didn’t want to stop and help.” Hastings turned and pointed at the truck. “Thankfully, Sergeants Slater and Ballantine were able to fight their way to us and pull us out.”

“Wait. You
saw
our troops, and they didn’t assist?” Victor asked as Command Sergeant Major Parker walked up and took a knee next to him.

“I saw vehicles, sir, but no one stopped,” Hastings said.

Victor turned to Parker. “I want some blood over this.”

“My pleasure, sir,” Parker said, and the big senior NCO got to his feet and walked toward the front of the flatbed.

“Sir, what’s the plan?” Hastings asked.

Victor motioned for him to climb up. “You’re with us, Hastings. We’ll unload the vehicles at the Navy yard and convoy down to Bragg while the train continues to the west.”

A Stryker began raking one of the fields with .50-caliber fire.

Hastings looked over and saw several zombies being torn apart, disappearing into the tall grass as they went down. “Sir, give me just a second to make sure my people are squared away. That okay with you?”

Victor nodded. “Sure. Join us up here when you can, but try to make it quick. I hope we’ll be rolling soon.” The diesel engines at the front of the train consist were already powered up and idling.

“Roger that,” Hastings said.

He hurried back to the passenger coaches. He climbed into the first one and found it full of people and their possessions. Almost all were civilians, but there were a few soldiers interspersed here and there. He saw Captain Chan, the CO of the MP company, standing near the back of the car, and he pushed his way toward the Asian man.

“Hey, Chan.”

“Hastings. Still with us, huh?” Chan asked. He kept the barrel of his M4 pointed toward the floor of the coach.

“Can’t seem to get out of this place. You know where my people are?”

“Ballantine’s getting them set up in the next car,” Chan said. He stepped aside as much as he could, and Hastings pushed past him. It was no small feat given the size of his ruck, but Hastings was able to open the door at the end of the coach and step through to the next one.

He saw Ballantine and Guerra getting everyone squared away while Reader, Tharinger, Stilley, and Hartman stood security at the car’s rear. Hastings looked around the coach until he found Diana and Kenny. The boy was sitting against the window, looking outside as he chewed on a cracker loaded with cheese spread. Diana sat in the aisle seat, across from Kay and Curtis Ballantine. Joshua was behind them, with Everson sitting on the aisle. The old man was reclined in his seat, eyes closed behind his glasses.

“Hey, guys, how’re you doing?” Hastings asked as he stopped beside Diana.

Kenny looked up at him and gave him a small smile, appearing completely content to be in the train and chewing on a jalapeño-cheese-covered cracker. It was as if the horror he had just gone through had never happened, and Hastings found he admired the autistic boy’s ability to switch himself off like that.

“We’re still kickin’ it, General,” Diana said. “Kenny’s got himself a fresh diaper and some crackers, and I just freebased five grams of coke. Like they say: no pain, no pain.”

Hastings frowned. “You did?”

Diana rolled her eyes. “Dude, you’re so gullible.”

Hastings sighed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“So what now? We go to Colorado or someplace?”

“That’s the plan. I’ll be heading south with Colonel Victor. Ballantine and the rest of the guys will be staying with you until the train reaches its final destination. I’ve been told that Fort Carson is still operational, so you’ll have an entire infantry division providing protection, along with full aviation and armored brigades. Much more secure than here, I’m told.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, General. So you’re not coming with us, huh?”

“No. Like I said, I’m headed south with the rest of the active duty soldiers. You’ll go with the National Guard, but Ballantine and the rest of the guys will be on hand. You don’t need to worry. You guys will be looked after.”

“Yeah, I saw how Ballantine was jumping in there to help out back at the barracks,” Diana said. “Big thumbs-up from me.”

“That was a freak occurrence,” Hastings said. It was a lame response but all he could come up with on the fly.

Diana reached over and brushed the boy’s hair out of his eyes. “Kenny’s gonna miss you.”

“Well. I don’t know if Kenny will ever miss anyone, but I’ll sure miss him.”

Diana looked up at Hastings for a moment then got to her feet. Hastings started to step back to give her room, but she put her arms around his neck and pulled him in close, brushing his lips with hers. “I’ll miss you, too,” she said. “But unless you’re totally dumb, you probably already knew that.”