Trail of Tears (35 page)

The thrall pulled the trigger and Aidan
froze. He looked straight at the barrel and it seemed to fill his
entire world. And then he was falling and hitting his head on one
of the dials. He was groggy but saw a figure loom above him. He
tried to clear his vision but the darkness persisted. And then the
figure was staggering like a puppet and the noise of the heavy
weapon filled the tiny compartment.

* * *

Harris watched as Phil Regan crashed into
Aidan Flemming and drove him to the floor a moment before the
bullets raked the air above them. He was genuinely shocked. What
was Regan doing here? He would never have thought that Regan had it
in him to risk his safety for anyone. As he clambered over the fuel
compartment Harris tried to shout at Regan to stay down but the man
seemed groggy from the fall and he began to get to his feet. The
bullets caught him as soon as he got to his knees and he was sent
back into the engine like a discarded doll.

Harris fired at the jeep. He caught a
glimpse of Carter in the bed of the vehicle firing the .50 calibre
weapon and then the jeep was swerving around an approaching poll,
diving out onto wasted ground and bouncing madly on the uneven
surface. A human would have lost control of the wheel over that
surface but the thrall driver held solidly and brought the jeep
towards the engine again. Harris used the moment to slide down into
the compartment.

He took up a position beside the half-sized
metal shielding where the driver would normally stand and looked
down the track. Bullets slammed into the compartment again, pinking
off metal and crashing into glass and rubber causing spits of steam
to escape out of multiple places like a mechanical beast on its
last legs.

Harris went deaf with the noise and it took
a moment to realise that the firing had stopped. Taking the
opportunity, he rose quickly and brought his own XM8 to bear. He
had a moment of satisfaction when he saw Carter’s face drop as he
suddenly appeared only feet away from him. And then he fired.

Carter fell to the bed of the truck so
quickly that Harris almost missed him entirely. He did see at least
one bullet strike home, and then he pulled his weapon forward to
hit the driver. His weapon clicked empty but his last bullet struck
the thrall driving the jeep in the hand. It wouldn’t normally have
bothered the thrall that much but he had been in the process of
avoiding another pole at the time and he over compensated, pulling
the wheel too far with his good hand and sending the jeep into a
mad spin.

Harris watched, hoping the vehicle would
roll and tear Carter to pieces, but the vehicle remained on its
wheels as it spun, finally coming to a stop some distance behind.
Another day,
he thought grimly and pulled himself back into
the compartment to check on the others.

Aidan was already up and trying to maintain
the pressure that was fast escaping from the multiple damage points
in the controls. Danny Wilkins and his companion were already
shovelling coal and wood madly into the fire, keeping their eyes
purposely away from the bodies on the floor. The engine started to
pull to the side, sending him tottering backwards and Flemming
rushed towards the brake to compensate. He heard him say something
about the track bending and having to slow the train or they’d
derail but there was nothing Harris could do so he made his way
over to Regan.

The man was already dead, his eyes staring
sightlessly at him. There would be no happy ending for Phil Regan.
Did he even know that he had saved them all? If Flemming had been
killed they may as well have jumped off the train and surrendered.
They owed their escape to the very last man Harris would ever have
thought capable of such an act. He actually felt a tear drip onto
his cheek and a low laugh cracked his face. ”Jesus,” he thought.
“I’m actually crying over Phil Regan. The world has officially gone
mad.”

“Rest in peace, Phil,” he added as he
reached out and closed the man’s eyes. He rose stiffly to his feet,
wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

“How are we…” his question was interrupted
by a huge boom and then a louder explosion. “Ah Jesus, what now?”
he muttered as he ran to the edge of the compartment and looked
back down their trail.

The train was travelling the last distance
before it cleared the city but it had to follow a few hundred yards
perpendicular to the city before the track headed out of the city
limits and to safety. In the distance, Harris could see that the
tanks had finally gotten into a position and were at the very limit
of their range. Another flare spat in the darkness and a shell flew
over the train by a few feet and slammed into a building behind
them. Fire surged upwards and bricks flew in every direction, some
showering the battered train as it passed on.

Shit, we’re like ducks in a
fairground,
he thought bitterly. The train still had another
few hundred yards to go before it would be shielded by a line of
buildings. If they could make it that far then they would be safe.
But it was a huge distance to travel and the tanks were already
finding their range.

* * *

Philip Warkowski pushed at the jeep and
finally managed to roll the vehicle enough to free his leg. He
tried to rise but his ankle wouldn’t support him so he looked
around instead for McAteer. He found him lying in the snow some
distance away. His breathing was ragged but his eyes were open as
Philip loomed over him.

“Did they get away?” McAteer asked and
Warkowski looked into the distance, squinting into the
darkness.

“Not yet…” Suddenly a loud bang seemed to
slam into them like a physical blow and Warkowski was sent
backwards into the snow.

“What the fuck?” McAteer muttered trying to
rise to see what was happening but he couldn’t move his arms.

“Tanks,” Warkowski spat angrily. “They
haven’t a hope.” Warkowski hobbled back towards the jeep, kicking
at lumps of metal, searching for anything he could use. The .50
calibre was mangled but still attached to the swivel arm, not that
it would have helped against a tank anyway. Might as well throw
stones at them.

He was about to give up when he saw a long
metal box lying some distance away. Another boom from the tanks
lent speed to his hobbling and he crossed quickly to the box. The
lock had been broken when it had fallen from the jeep and he lifted
the lid. Warkowski knew everything there was to know about
specialist sniper weapons but personal mortars were not his forte.
He had no idea what the model might be but he could recognise a
bazooka when he saw one. He lifted the weapon, pursing his lips at
its lack of weight. Surely this couldn’t take out a tank.

“Only one way to find out,” he lifted the
weapon to his shoulder and hobbled back towards McAteer.

“You’ll want to hit it from the rear,”
McAteer grinned when he saw the weapon. “Should punch right through
if you get close enough.”

Warkowski nodded and bent down to lift
McAteer onto his shoulder.

“Hey,” McAteer complained, “leave me. You’ll
be better on your own.”

“Leave no one behind.” Warkowski said simply
and began to hobble towards the tanks.

Three more shells had been fired by the time
they got close enough. He could see that one of the carriages in
the middle of the train had been torn apart and flames surged into
the air where a shell had hit it. Fortunately for the humans the
carriage was made of such light material that the shell had passed
through most of the carriage before exploding so the damage had
been less than expected. Warkowski could see that the thralls were
diverting their aim towards the front of the train where the heavy
metal of the engine offered a better target. The air was filled
with the whirring of the servos as the long guns were centred.

Warkowski brought the Bazooka up to his
shoulder and pressed the small button on the handle. The shell
whooshed out and crossed the short distance to the tank. There was
a huge explosion and the rear of the tank lifted slightly. The
shell ploughed through the lesser armour at the rear and exploded
inside the bowels.

The tanks had been lined up so close
together that the two tanks beside the one he had hit were buffeted
by the explosion and their aim was jarred. Only one of the tanks
got a clean shot away. Warkowski had thrown down the weapon and
raised his hands as angry thralls ran towards them. It took time
before unconsciousness overcame him. Meanwhile the thralls took out
their frustration on both him and McAteer.

* * *

Harris saw one of the tanks suddenly explode
in the distance.

“Warkowski or McAteer are still alive,” he
shouted to Flemming but the man’s attention was focused on the
train trying to coax everything he could from the engine to get
them to the safety of the building line. Harris looked back and saw
a final flare of light and knew they had at least one more shell to
worry about before they would be safe.

He strained his eyes, trying to gauge its
trajectory. Had Warkowski done enough? And then the shell slammed
into ground just in front of the train. Rock and dust showered the
compartment and the train shuddered as it trundled over the damaged
track. A screeching, tearing sound filled the air and Harris
brought both his hands to his ears as the wheels struggled to pass
over the damaged metal of the rails. Harris leaned out and saw the
wheels pass over the mangled rail. The shell had hit the ground
rather than the actual rails but the upheaval from the explosion
had shifted the metal, grinding it against itself and buckling the
rail on the left side.

“If we are carrying enough speed we might
just pass over the damage.” Flemming was leaning over him, looking
at the damage with a worried frown. Flemming shrugged as the train
shuddered, threatening to shake their teeth from their mouths. And
then they were passed the damage. But how would the carriages
fare?

* * *

Robert Seager felt the rumble run through
the train. It was as if the train were shaking itself apart. He
felt April’s hand in his as she squeezed so tightly the bones
grated against each other. He wanted to pull away but it must be
terrifying for her. For hours now she had been in the middle of
mayhem. Bullets had flown through the carriages, people had flown
at them, threatening to crush them beneath their stampede, and now
the carriage was shaking so hard that it might break apart. And all
of this had happened in silence for her.

They had come aboard the train with Harris
and had remained in the last carriage when they had seen the amount
of wounded. He was armed but wasn’t really that good with a machine
gun.

He had wanted to follow Harris, however—had
wanted to with all his heart. He still felt he had to prove himself
to the adults. They saw him as a child and he needed to show them
that he wasn’t afraid. But April needed him and he wasn’t about to
leave her on her own. So he had stayed.

The noise stopped suddenly. They were passed
whatever had caused the rumbling and he looked up from his patient
to see April looking at him. She smiled. Even in such surroundings
her smile brought a smile to his face. They were in the second to
last carriage now, having moved from person to person administering
whatever aid they could. A lot of the soldiers in the carriages had
died, but they managed to dress the wounds of at least twenty who
would have bled out otherwise. Surely Harris would see the worth in
that.

The carriage seemed to be slowing. His smile
faltered as he looked towards the front. He rose slowly. They were
definitely slowing down. April was beside him as they moved to the
door. He reached out and opened the door. The train was pulling
away, leaving them behind. Somehow they had become separated. Had
the damaged track caused the coupling to unhinge? He looked up at
the main body of the train and saw a figure in the shadows turn
quickly and disappear into the carriage.

Someone had uncoupled them deliberately. His
face went white with shock. Why would anyone do that? He looked at
April and he could see that she had seen the figure also. He
mouthed the word ‘who’. Her fingers blurred briefly and his eyes
were drawn back to her face. Her eyes were hard and cold. They knew
who the traitor was. The one who had caused the death of Steele and
Jack and so many others.

“Jesus,” he muttered. They had to warn the
others.

* * *

“Some carriages have come loose,” Harris
shouted back to Aidan Flemming.

“Impossible,” Flemming yelled over the noise
of the engine. “There’s a lock in place that can only be released
manually. The vibrations wouldn’t have done that.”

Harris looked at the slowing carriages. It
was too far to see clearly but he was certain he could see two
figures on the ledge.

“There were over a hundred people in those
carriages,” Harris cursed. “Shit, those carriages had all our heavy
equipment as well. There’s no way we can survive without them.”

He looked over at Flemming but the man had
no answer to give so he shrugged and went back to guiding the train
onward. Harris knew they couldn’t stop either. The tanks would
destroy them if they stopped, let alone tried to reverse to
re-couple the carriages again. They would have to leave them. For
now. Harris smashed his hand against the metal siding. He looked
back again and saw the dark shapes of the tanks approach the two
carriages. Thralls swarmed towards the lighted boxcars like bees to
nectar and then his view was blocked and they were gone.

“We’ll come back,” he muttered so low it
came out more like a growl.

* * *

The figure closed the door and mingled with
the rest of the people in the carriage. No-one had noticed him
coming in from the other carriage. They would travel faster now but
the main point of the risk they had taken was to remove the heavy
equipment from the communities use. It had all worked out
perfectly. Only one thing nagged though. Just as he had opened the
door the light from this carriage had illuminated him briefly. He
couldn’t be certain, but had that mute bitch seen enough to make an
identification?