Trail of Tears (30 page)

* * *

The train was a hive of activity. People
rushed to and fro as they packed away precious parcels of food and
supplies. The first of those who had arrived had recovered
sufficiently to go back out to help and had left their warm places
to those who needed them more. No one argued or complained and
Aidan Flemming was amazed at their resilience. The first of the
wounded were already being treated. Flemming had carried Amanda
Reitzig in himself and glared at anyone who had come close to
waking her.

He had heard Grier’s report of the constant
delays caused by Amanda and, to the soldier’s surprise, Flemming
had told him to leave before he did something he would later
regret.
Jesus,
he thought
. Have we come so far from where
we were that we have forgotten our own humanity?
He had ordered
the fire stoked and was preparing to leave to prepare for the next
part of their journey when Amanda opened her eyes and bolted
upwards.

He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and
she went to push him away.

“It’s okay. They’re all being well looked
after.”

“Your voice,” she looked at him intently and
he suddenly became very conscious of his scarring and looked away.
“It was you who carried me.” She raised a hand to turn his head
back towards her.

“I have to prepare the train,” he began and
went to rise but her hand brushed gently against his scarred
features.

“You have beautiful eyes, do you know that?”
she commented quietly and he was flummoxed for a moment. Most
people either looked away when they saw his scarring or lied to him
and told him it wasn’t that bad. He was used to their pity or
revulsion. He wasn’t used to anyone telling him anything about him
was beautiful.

“I...I have to get going,” he said lamely.
“I don’t want Harris arriving and shouting at me for not being
ready.” She smiled, rose with him, and looked around at her
patients.

“I better get to work myself,” she commented
and he headed towards the door. “Aidan.” She called after him and
he turned. “If you find yourself with a few minutes to spare, come
back and I’ll buy you a coffee.” He laughed and continued on to the
door. He turned back at the last moment and she was still there
smiling at him. He hadn’t seen a hint of revulsion in her eyes and
he hopped down into the snow with more of a spring than before. He
got all the way to the engine before a frown returned to his face.
Where was Harris?
He had been very clear in his
instructions. If he wasn’t there by the time everyone was loaded he
was to leave.

He looked into the distance, hoping to see
the splashes of white from their snow gear but the darkness was
absolute. He sighed as he pulled himself into the cab. He had
already taken longer than he should to allow Harris the time to get
here. But he couldn’t wait any longer. He reached out for the brake
and released it. He checked the gauges, nervously watching for any
spits of steam. He had suffered enough injury from this damn engine
already.

He pulled on his gloves and released the
pressure gently. The train jerked too fast and he eased the valve
forward to compensate. The heat in the small cab was intense with
the fire blasting its heat at his legs. The engine pulled ahead
again, this time more gently and the carriages behind pulled
against the forward momentum until their wheels moved. There was a
lot of screeching from couplings that had not been used in awhile,
but that would ease once they got going. He looked out one last
time but couldn’t see anything. He sighed and reluctantly played
out the valve, allowing the train to pick up speed.

“What’s that?” Carter motioned for the jeep
to stop. They had lost their way at the last junction. His driver
had followed the signs instead of the map. The signs had been
moved, either deliberately or had somehow become turned around.
Whatever had happened they now found themselves lost and Carter was
struggling to find their position on the map.

Behind him followed four jeeps and a
half-track, all he had been able to cobble together. He had left
the others with instructions to follow as soon as they were able.
The tanks had set off at the same time, but he had left them far
behind as he rushed towards the train station. He cursed. He would
have gotten there fifteen minutes ago if his driver had followed
the damn map. The screech he had heard sounded like metal scraping
on metal. The train was leaving.

“Quick,” he shouted. “That way!” He
indicated the direction where he had heard the sound. He moved to
the back of the jeep, pushing the guard away from the .50 calibre
machine gun and taking up position himself. The gun’s handles felt
cold, even though the gloves he wore, but he ignored the chill as
the jeep lurched forward. He still had time. The noise wasn’t that
far away and he had the advantage of speed and surprise.

* * *

“The bastard is leaving,” McAteer shouted as
they heard the engine bellow steam.

“That’s what I told him to do,” Harris
panted. He was exhausted. Even with McAteer’s forced march
technique they had been travelling all day without a rest and he
could barely stand. For once he wished that he had not been so
adamant in his orders to Aidan Flemming. They could see the train
begin to pull from the station but they were still over two hundred
yards away and coming from the rear. They had no chance of catching
the train.

He stopped and watched as the train slipped
into the darkness. So close. Suddenly he heard the screech of tyres
and the rattle of a heavy machine gun. Ahead he could see the twin
beams of headlights rush past them.

“Carter!” he hissed as he watched
helplessly. The jeep sped past them and he had a brief glimpse of
Carter leaning over the rear mounted gun. He brought his own weapon
to bear but McAteer gripped his shoulder and pointed in the other
direction. Harris was about to explode at McAteer when he heard the
other engines. More jeeps. He saw McAteer grin and he felt some
relief. If they could get control of one of those jeeps they might
just catch the train after all.

The second jeep rushed past them and then
the third before they were close enough and Harris felt impotent as
he watched the vehicles race. Suddenly another engine growled to
his left and he brought up his weapon and fired without conscious
thought. Bullets sparked in the darkness as they ricocheted off
metal. He kept his fire high to avoid hitting the tyres, but he
risked missing the smaller target. Beside him the others took up
their positions and fired at the jeep. Its lights exploded and he
felt something cut the air close to his cheek. He heard one of his
party grunt in pain, but he maintained his position and poured fire
at the oncoming vehicle.

The jeep suddenly swerved to the side so
violently that two wheels left the ground and the vehicle ended up
on its side, careening across the surface. Sparks flew into the air
and the screech of metal was so like a human scream that Harris
couldn’t be sure it wasn’t. As abruptly as the jeeps appeared, they
were gone into the distance. The last one rocked gently from
side-to-side, making crinkling sounds as if someone were walking
over eggs shells.

One of the thralls lay still quite a few
yards back and two others lay limply in the main cab, both bodies
so bent that there was no doubt that they were dead. Harris stared
at the scene, lost for the moment. Blood thumped through his veins
like a jack-hammer.

“Come on,” McAteer shouted and Harris
suddenly shook himself from his reverie. Warkowski was already at
the damaged jeep and, with help from three others, they were able
to push the jeep back onto its wheels. Harris winced as he heard
the crunch of metal. It looked a wreck but two of the soldiers were
already prying the hood up and looking at the engine. Warkowski
pulled the bodies from the jeep and McAteer laid the wounded man,
Carey in the back. Harris lifted an eyebrow and McAteer shook his
head gently. Another man who would die under his command. Harris
began to say something when he heard a sharp slam and looked over
at the men studying the engine.

“It won’t last long,” one of the men said,
and Harris was ashamed to admit he didn’t know the man’s name. “But
it should get us a few miles if we don’t press too hard.”

“I’ll settle for a mile pressing really
hard,” McAteer said as he turned the wheel. The engine stuttered
and then growled into life. The noise was welcomed by all the men
and a small cheer rose from the team. Harris felt the ground
beneath his feet begin to shake and then heard a low rumble in the
distance, as though a storm was coming. He looked up in confusion
but Warkowski was already looking along their trail. Harris pulled
himself into the back of the jeep and used the added height to
confirm his suspicion.

“Tanks,” he stated simply. There were too
many of them to fit into the jeep but somehow they managed to
squeeze in. Eight heavily armed and bulkily clad soldiers. McAteer
slammed the jeep into gear and tore after the train.

For a moment Harris though the train had
already pulled too far away, but they soon heard the chatter of
machine guns and the deeper chugging of .50 calibres not too far
away. He strained his sight and saw flashes in the distance and
shouted to McAteer.

“About two hundred yards,” he pointed in the
direction but McAteer had already seen it and merely nodded. Harris
checked the load in his XM8, a much more difficult process with one
hand as he clung to the jeeps roll bar with the other. The ground
just ahead of them suddenly belched fire and smoke and pieces of
asphalt reined on them. McAteer wrenched the wheel to the side to
go around the hole that had appeared in the ground and soldiers
shouted in surprise and fear as they scrambled to remain in the
speeding vehicle.

“Fucking tanks,” McAteer shouted as he tried
to bring the jeep under control. Men grabbed desperately for
support and for each other as bodies tumbled across the interior of
the jeep. Harris only heard the explosion after the shell hit the
road and he looked back now and saw another flash of flame erupt
from one of the tanks.

“Brace yourselves,” he shouted as the shell
slammed into the road a few feet to their left. Their jeep was
travelling so fast that they missed the majority of the shrapnel
but one or two of the men shouted in pain. They couldn’t stop to
check on them. If they did, they would all die. He checked the two
men closest to him, one of them had a cut across his forehead and
the other held his arm but both seemed able to hang on.

“Check the others,” he shouted over the
noise of the jeep’s engine and the wind. He could see Warkowski
standing with his feet apart using the .50 calibre to maintain his
balance. Blood dripped down his face from a cut above his hairline
and he looked maniacal as he stared ahead with the total
concentration only a trained sniper could achieve. The sudden
eruption of fire from the .50 calibre made Harris jump and he
snapped his head back to the front of the jeep.

Tony Grier watched as the twin beams sped
after them.

“We’ve got company,” he shouted back to the
others.

“Friendlies?” Peterson asked hopefully and
sighed as Grier looked at him and laughed.

“What do you think?” They had planned for
this eventuality when they had loaded the train. They had packed
the train keeping the wounded and food supplies up towards the
front and filling the carriages at the back with the heavier
equipment. Grier had taken up position in the last two carriages
with those who were fit enough and capable enough to protect their
rear. Most of the carriage was filled with equipment and his
soldiers sat or leaned against anything they could in the cramped
quarters.

“Take positions.”

A number of men and women nodded and made
their way to the roof of the carriages while others smashed out the
windows and waited. A blast of cold air suddenly filled the car and
Grier shivered. If he was honest, it wasn’t just the cold that made
him shiver. He walked out to the rear of the carriage and stood on
the narrow step above the coupling. He braced himself in position
by locking his knee against the waist high barrier and looked out
behind them. The train maintained a fairly straight route out of
the station but a road ran directly beside it for quite a distance.
Obviously used to ferry maintenance crews in times gone by, it gave
their pursuers a perfectly straight road parallel to them for
another half mile or so. Plenty of distance to catch the train and
kill or maim many of the people packed into the carriages
ahead.

He could see two fast moving vehicles, jeeps
he thought, eating up the distance. There might be more behind them
but it was hard to tell for certain. He brought his weapon up but a
sudden barrage of fire made him drop to the ground before he could
fire. He lost his balance and almost fell from the narrow ledge.
Bullets sparked as they struck the metal around him. The noise was
deafening as the heavy calibre fire continued. He thought he could
hear answering fire in the carriage behind him but he couldn’t be
certain. Everything seemed to revolve around this small ledge and
the bullets that struck chaotically. He could hear screaming and
only realised that it came from him when his throat burned with
pain.

He finally managed to bring his weapon up
and began to fire back. Despite his precarious position, his
life-long training took over and he laid down three round bursts at
the fast approaching lead vehicle. One of the lights shattered and
the jeep moved violently to the side but then a sustained barrage
replied to his and he was forced to roll back into the carriage for
cover.