We piled all the bodies by the side of the road. We were at a crossroads in the middle of nowhere. A single train track stretched out of sight in either direction. There was also a double track for about a half a mile to let two trains pass each other. Our captors had chosen a very desolate place to get rid of the last car.
One look around told me we weren’t the first group they’d unloaded there. The ground was littered with sun-bleached bones and scraps of clothing and shoes. A mountain of mummified bodies watched us with grinning skulls. I felt their empty eyes follow me, accusing me of being a coward, of wanting to stay alive.
Bones were scattered a long way across the plains. I suspected that, when the train left, coyotes and other scavengers would feast on the new corpses, dragging the bones in all directions. The TSJ virus didn’t affect them. It provided them with food in abundance.
After we’d dragged off the last body, we collapsed against the charred remains of a van. One of the Greens Guards tossed us a few boxes of army rations.
“There’s fifteen gallons of water in that drum,” he said, pointing his rifle at a metal barrel some other guards were rolling off the train. “And here’re some army rations. After that, you’re on your own. Don’t ever come near Gulfport again. Is that clear?”
“This is murder,” murmured one of the three surviving women. “We’re in the middle of a fucking desert. In a few hours, TSJ will transform us into Undead, and all you can do is give us a few gallons of water and some snacks to tide us over till then. How can you live with yourself? I hope you burn in hell!”
“Shut up!” shouted the guard. “Be glad I don’t put a bullet in your head. You’ve been exiled. If it were up to me, I’d kill every one of ya. I’m just following orders.”
“How kind of you,” I muttered. I was starting to sweat again. I didn’t know if it was from the stress or the virus attacking me, but I didn’t want anyone to see my stash of Cladoxpan. I’d have to wait to take a drink.
“Let’s get ’em,” the Latino guy next to me said under his breath. “On my signal.”
“What’d you say?” I asked, barely moving my mouth. I didn’t know what he was planning.
The man at the end of the row, closest to a Green Guard, sprang to his feet and ran at the guard, who barely had time to raise his gun. The guy plowed into the guard, and they fell to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. The guard’s gun went off and one of them was hit, but I couldn’t tell which. Then all hell broke loose.
Half of the deportees threw themselves on the guards, trying to grab their weapons. The surviving Latin Kings must’ve hatched some plan in the dark train car, and they were trying to carry it out. But they hadn’t shared their plans with the rest of the survivors. Like me, half a dozen other deportees were confused and frightened. Some hid behind the wrecked van while others joined the surprise attack. Some just stood there, not knowing how to react. When the first burst of fire from an M4 cut one of that group in half, the rest scattered. I had to think fast.
The guys’ plan was brave, but stupid. Instead of focusing on the train engines, they’d gotten in an unequal fight with the Green Guards, who’d had time to bolt the engine doors and take their positions. On the roofs of the locomotive, a Green Guard was quickly setting up a massive machine gun. I could guess what would happen in a matter of seconds.
“Take cover!” I yelled and threw myself into a ditch full of rotting corpses.
The machine gun opened fire, filling the air with heavy lead hornets. The helots out in the open twisted around in a dance of death as the bullets ripped through them. A Green Guard was also hit by friendly fire. After a minute, the failed revolt ended as quickly as it had begun.
“Damn! Those motherfuckers gave us a scare!” said a voice from behind a gas mask.
“You alright?” someone called down from the train.
“McCurry and Wyatt are screwed! Carlyle, you asshole. You shot Wyatt!”
“He stepped into my line of fire!” replied the guy on the roof of the locomotive. “It wasn’t my fucking fault!
“We’ll discuss that later,” the first voice said with authority. He must’ve been the boss. “Make sure they’re dead, then let’s get out of here. This place gives me willies.”
From where I lay at the bottom of the ditch, I heard the Greens checking the bodies one by one. A couple of times they fired their rifles at close range to finish off the wounded. I grabbed a corpse and dragged it on top of me, then buried my legs in a pile of bodies. All I could do was lie still and pray.
The gravel alongside the ditch crunched under someone’s feet. I held my breath, overcome by the stench of those corpses. After a few long seconds, the guy walked away. I exhaled in relief. Then I realized I’d left Lucullus’s basket next to the shot-up van. My heart stopped. If they found it, they’d kill my cat and take my medicine.
The minutes passed slowly, very slowly, as the men climbed back on the train. Finally the engines roared to life, then the train lurched forward and chugged away at a snail’s pace.
I lay among the bodies for another five minutes, until the sound of the train faded in the distance. When I didn’t hear anything, I pushed the bodies off me in disgust and crawled out of the ditch.
The train was just a black spot receding on the horizon. The sun was setting, casting a spectral, bloodred light across the landscape. There was no one in sight. If anyone else had survived the massacre, they didn’t want to be seen.
I stumbled up the path, stepping over still-warm bleeding bodies. A couple of the dead didn’t have any serious head injuries and were starting to shake in spasms. I’d have company soon. I had to get out of there.
Lucullus’s basket was right where I’d left it. I picked it up, said a silent prayer, and opened it. At the bottom, Lucullus was still curled up; under him was all my stuff. I took a small sip of Cladoxpan and dug around for the compass. I knew which direction to head in, but could I last long enough to get where I needed to go?
I fashioned a backpack out of a dead guy’s coat and packed it full of rations and the contents of the basket, all but Lucullus. The water drum was too heavy to carry. I searched the bodies and collected half a dozen bottles and canteens. One of the bottles even had a little Cladoxpan left in it, which I poured into my thermos. I filled the other bottles and canteens with all the water I could carry.
I drank my fill of water and washed up. I was still wearing the elegant Italian suit I’d worn to work two days before, but now it was torn and covered in blood, dirt, and all kinds of bodily fluids. I threw off the ripped sports coat and grabbed the army jacket off a corpse to ward off the cold night air.
As night fell, I headed southeast, following the railroad tracks. I was weak and wrung out with a long road ahead of me. On top of that, I was racing against the clock.
38
I woke up with the afternoon sun hitting me squarely in the face. Every muscle in my body ached. I knew I had to keep moving, so I walked all night, until exhaustion and the cold finally got the better of me. With no moon to light the way, I nearly broke my leg.
After that, I decided to sleep through the hottest hours of the day and climbed into the skeleton of a bus. I hesitated at first. What if rattlesnakes, scorpions, or a dozen other critters, real or imagined, were hiding in that bus? Common sense prevailed when I heard coyotes howling close by—they were the real threat. I didn’t know if coyotes attacked humans, but I didn’t want to chance it.