Before the Dead Walked, page 17
The train briefly stopped for a change in crew, before beginning the final leg of the journey to Vladivostok, which was another 64 hours of non-stop train travel.
The radiance of the rising moon cast the shadow of the train upon the ground. It moved along like a giant caterpillar. There was a slight jolt as the train’s wheels slipped, held and moved forward at the top of the incline.
About a mile to the east, the weaving beam of a headlight signaled the approach of another train. The stabbing light grew rapidly larger and more pronounced until they could distinguish the flat face of the diesel engine and blinking running lights.
Suddenly, it was upon them with an avalanche of noise and a rush of air which caused their own train to shake and quiver. Then it was gone, leaving behind only the rapidly fading clickety-clickety of its wheels.
“That was the eastbound Siberian,” Darby stated. “That was close.”
Chapter 16
Vladivostok or Die
The Siberian Express had crossed over 5,000 miles of central Russia, but there were still plenty of obstacles ahead. Darby was constantly on guard for Russian guards checking the rear cars. He was convinced that eventually somebody would stumble upon them and all hell would break loose.
However, because Lupita Alvarez acted as their translator, she was able to keep curious visitors at a minimum, while also providing food and refreshments for the stowaways. There had been little updated news since departing. The vastness of Mongolia stretched out before them and for a few days, the Americans forgot there was a world-wide cataclysm unfolding.
The Trans-Siberian adventure took them into Mongolia and a stop in its capital, Ulaan Baatar. Mongolia, once the very center of an enormous empire led by Genghis Khan, was a country of beautiful landscapes, nomadic people and rich in culture and history. Mongolia was famous for its endless green Steppes, grazing livestock and white, nomadic Gers or Yurts dotted all across the countryside.
Still wary of discovery, the Rangers had successfully changed into civilian clothes carefully stolen from baggage loaded on carts at each previous stop. Wisely, the pilferers had chosen luggage headed in the opposite direction. After stashing their weapons inside their purloined baggage, and with Lupita pretending to be their local guide, the men all acted as if they were from Italy. The ensign had given a crash course in common Italian expressions, so they could act impressed at the sights.
She started their tour at the Gandan Monastery, one of Mongolia’s most important Buddhist Monasteries housing a community of over 500 monks. The full name, Gandantegchinlen, translated as the great place of complete joy. At Sukhbaatar Square, Hatch could see the central monument to Genghis Khan; undoubtedly the most feared and revered Mongol in history. They purchased food from street vendors and made their way back to the station.
Returning after what should have been enough time for the Russian troops to check every car, the Rangers boarded in pairs, while Hatch, Lupita, and Maxwell Darby hung around on the platform a little longer. They hoped to overhear some tidbit that might help them know what was going on around the rest of the world. Since the ensign’s Russian was flawless, she was able to strike up a casual conversation with one of the station officials.
Unfortunately, the man was unaware of anything important happening outside of his little part of Mongolia. Frustrated by the lack of current Intel, the three Americans boarded the train at the last minute. Once again, the Siberian Express set off at a leisurely pace, as it traveled through the beautiful landscape of the Russian Far East.
While hiding in one of the luggage cars, it was the perfect opportunity for the group to practice their Russian, in case anyone got separated or the authorities began an extensive search. The Siberian Express followed the deep, fast flowing Shilka and Amur rivers, close to the Chinese border. This countryside was Russia at its most dramatic and remote, as the train ate up the miles on the way to Vladivostok.
Passing directly north of Seoul, Darwin and Osaka, the Americans spent their last full day hidden amongst the stacks of suitcases and crates. Lupita went to check on the train’s progress. She quickly discovered the long line of cars had finally reached the most easterly point of this mammoth journey, when the train passed through Khabarovsk. Soon the cars rumbled across the steel-girded bridge crossing the mighty River Amur. Alvarez purchased some delicious food from the chef working the dining car, where she bribed him with American dollars. He was friendly and taken with her good looks, but seemed trustworthy enough. He even slipped a bottle of vodka into the bag.
The men were all famished and shared the food equally. They enjoyed their final dinner onboard the train that had been their home for the last twelve days. Even First Sergeant Darby was surprised they had gotten away with this subterfuge, expecting to be discovered at any moment. His desperate plan seemed to be working, because they had almost reached their final destination on this unforgettable journey.
After travelling through eight time zones and covering a staggering 6,600 miles along this iconic railway, the Siberian Express began to slow down as it approached Vladivostok. The grade was downhill, so it was strange to hear the engines laboring.
Ensign Alvarez suddenly sat up straight, her head tilted to the left.
“What’s…?” Hatch started to ask.
Lupita’s hand shot up and she whispered harshly, “Shhh.”
The Rangers were all poised.
There were many voices outside the train, some of them speaking loudly.
The ensign leaned forward and whispered to them all. “Something is wrong.”
The train was still moving, but much slower now.
“We’re still outside Vladivostok?” Darby asked quietly.
Lupita nodded. She was trying to listen and translate all the shouting outside.
Without warning, the far door to the baggage car burst open. In stepped several people, wild-eyed and obviously frightened. They were startled to see other people ahead of them, but someone was pushing from the rear.
Blam, blam, blam.
Outside the train, gunfire suddenly erupted.
There were screams, both from pain and something else.
Perhaps it was horror?
The crowd of terrified people continued past the Americans. It was obvious they were fleeing from someone or something.
“It’s time to go, people!” Darby announced.
“Go where?” CWO Collins demanded.
“Anywhere but here, I imagine,” Colonel Hatch offered.
The men scrambled to get their guns, without colliding into the panicking travelers. None of the citizens paid much attention to the strangers, but just kept shoving themselves forward.
There was more shooting outside.
“I say we follow the crowd,” Specialist Thomas suggested.
“Go!” Darby commanded. “Stay sharp. They might lead us right into an ambush.”
Hatch pulled Lupita to her feet and positioned himself as rear guard. He brandished his .45. “Keep moving everybody.”
At that exact moment, the door at the far end caved in this time. The creatures that entered were once human, but no longer fir that definition. There was a collective snarl and the pack surged forward.
“Shoot them in the head, Colonel,” Darby shouted.
Hatch took a textbook combat stance, flicked off the safety with his thumb, chambered a round and took aim.
Bang!
The bullet went straight through one of the zombie’s eyes, spraying black ooze on the others. The colonel fired seven more times, each one a perfect headshot. He kept backing up.
Out slid the empty magazine and he inserted another.
There was no doubt he was cool under pressure.
The Rangers were hurrying along, peeling off to set up a collapsing bag defense.
“Move your ass, Colonel,” Sergeant Stillwell called out. “We’ve got you covered.”
Robert Hatch grabbed the ensign’s hand and hoisted her up into his arms, while running along the center aisle. He used her outstretched feet to knock suitcases and bags down behind him, hoping to create some kind of an obstacle course for the undead.
Just as the colonel passed Specialist Powers, he fired single shots from his AK-47. Each outgoing round blew heads apart.
“Reloading!” the Ranger announced.
As the empty magazine was ejected, Specialist Thomas took up the shooting gallery, carefully perforating zombies in the head every time. The piles of rotting corpses halted the remaining zombie procession.
“Let’s be going,” Sergeant Ramirez said, pulling his men back by their load-bearing rigs. “We have a boat to catch.”
The group hustled to the rear of the train. Some passengers were milling about, confused as to what course of action to take. Other people were running into the woods. There were Russian soldiers everywhere, but most of them were too busy shooting at zombies to pay much attention to the Americans.
The train’s whistle-horn began to sound off, four long blasts. It was the universal signal for danger. It continued for several minutes, before it went silent abruptly.
“I’m figuring the port is up ahead,” Darby said as the group gathered around him.
“Do you think the zombies have taken over Vladivostok?” CWO Collins asked.
Darby shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. We’re obligated to get to the ocean and find something you can steer, Chief. We’ll just have to kill zombies that get in our way.”
“Hey Top, ammunition is quickly going to be a problem,” Sergeant Stillwell pointed out.
“Well, we’ll have to strip the dead, won’t we?” Darby said.
Vladivostok was a gigantic military port, located on the western shores of the Sea of Japan and was home to the Russian Navy’s Pacific Fleet. Due to its military importance, the city had been closed to foreigners between 1930 and 1992. Vladivostok, which literally translated means Ruler of the East, would present something of a nightmare to these American soldiers, if the Russians got wind they were there. First Sergeant Darby knew that the only way to get close enough to the harbor facilities would require being stealthy and silent.
It also was a big help that just about anyone in a Russian uniform was busy fighting zombies. As long as the eight of them could avoid being spotted, they had a good chance of escaping arrest, detention, or possible execution. Darby took the lead, with Ensign Alvarez at his side, so she could translate. After that proceeded Colonel Hatch and CWO Collins. The other Rangers spread out, bringing up the rear.
The going was slow at first, because they had to avoid running into people scurrying away for their lives, or military personnel pushing forward towards the repeated sounds of gunfire. Vladivostok was beset with total chaos. While lawlessness reigned supreme, Russian troops tried in vain to bring order. More often than not, the fleeing citizens ignored the warnings and sometimes ran smack dab into packs of zombies, which only increased their swelling numbers.
“This looks promising,” Darby beckoned, pointing towards a dark alley.
They headed down a narrow street that appeared to lead all the way to the waterfront. They could see masts and conning towers in the distance.
“We don’t want to run into Russian troops,” Hatch stated. “We might get pressganged into their navy.” He ended his statement with a chuckle, but nobody else thought it was exceptionally funny.
At the leader’s signal, everyone pulled up and hid in the shadows.
The harbor front appeared to still be in the hands of the living. Several large warships, cruisers judging by their size and armament, had raised anchor and were steaming to safer waters. However, there were also a lot of smaller craft setting sail, filled to capacity with refugees and military personnel.
“If we don’t act fast, there won’t be any ship left for us to shanghai,” CWO Collins said desperately.
“Keep your shit together, Chief,” Hatch snarled a little. “It looks like most of the fishing trawlers are still tied up at the docks. Let’s hustle to our left, away from all this activity.”
Darby agreed and said, “Come on, I think the colonel has the right idea.”
So off they went again, ducking in-and-out of the shadows, listening carefully for sounds of movement, scavenging cast-aside weapons, and avoiding packs of ambling zombies. It was a tense game of cat-and-mouse.
“Use only your sidearms, guys,” Sergeant Ramirez suggested. “That way you won’t waste bullets.”
Rifles were slung and automatics were freed from chest holsters. Darby handed his 9mm to the ensign. “I figure you know how to use that?”
Lupita smiled, chambered a round and nodded.
“I thought so,” the First Sergeant said. He had switched to a shotgun.
They were getting closer. There were literally hundreds of fishing trawlers secured to the docks. However, it became immediately apparent why so few of those ships had departed safely.
The boats were swarming with zombies feasting on unfortunate fishermen. It was a gruesome slaughter. Many of the craft had power, but just drifted about, since all the crew was dead, dying, or rising up as undead.
It was a ghastly scene, punctuated by the silvery moonshine.
“Well now, isn’t that a pretty sight,” Specialist Thomas whispered. “It makes me want to puke.”
“How are we going to get through that?” Sergeant Stillwell asked.
“We’re going to light them up,” First Sergeant Darby replied.
“What exactly are we supposed to do, Sarge?” Stillwell asked. “We only have a few grenades.”
Colonel Hatch provided the answer. “There are plenty of fuel drums stacked around here. The Ruskies must not have any safety protocols regarding the safe storage of reserve fuel supplies. The Sergeant plans on making a few gigantic Molotov cocktails, right?”
Darby grinned, but then he produced a block of C4 from his pack. “Never travel without one. This will get things going in a hurry.”
His men all smiled with appreciation regarding Darby’s planning ahead.
“Now let’s get some of these drums closer to the piers,” Sergeant Ramirez commanded. “We’ll let Sarge and the Colonel choose which ship will be the main target.”
Just then, a heavy hand fell on Powers’ shoulder.
The specialist heard a growl.
So he spun around and fired pointblank into the creature’s face.
Blam!
The zombie’s head was blown clear away.
There was no doubt that the gunshot was probably heard clear across the harbor.
“Shit!”
The rest of the Rangers looked at Powers, and then looked at Darby.
The First Sergeant shrugged and sighed. “Oh well, so much for the element of surprise.”
“Sorry, Top,” Powers said.
“Never mind,” Darby waved him off. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Dividing into two groups of four each, the Americans headed off towards the wharves loaded with zombies. Team #1, which consisted of Specialists Powers and Thomas, with Sergeants Ramirez and Stillwell, opened fire on the zombies, drawing them out. Team #2, which was manned by 1st Sergeant Darby, Colonel Hatch, Ensign Alvarez, and CWO Collins, headed straight for the rows and rows of fishing trawlers.
They needed to find a ship fast, without expending too much energy or time.
Such an opportunity presented itself quickly.
“Look over there,” Chief Warrant Officer Collins said, while pointing.
It was exactly what they were looking for. The ocean-going trawler looked like it was built to withstand anything the North Pacific Ocean might have to offer.
However, the secondary group was soon discovered by scores of zombies.
“Move your ass, people,” Darby shouted.
Eight people ran along the docks, firing as they went. It was vitally important to gain distance from the chasing pack of zombies. The two specialists dropped back, using their AKs to slow the creatures down. While rapid fire might have been more satisfying, headshots were the only tactic capable of stopping the monsters. Once the brain was destroyed or the spinal column severed, the zombie ceased to function.
Keeping up a consistent rate of fire was the key. As each Ranger fell back to slip in a fresh magazine, there was another ready to take his place. This was an impressive display of fire discipline, marksmanship, and guts. The zombies kept closing, but both specialists retreated for just enough distance to be out of their reach.
“I’m getting low on ammo!” Thomas shouted.
“Me too!” Powers agreed.
“Time to be leaving,” they both said simultaneously.
Sprinting along the length of piers, they could see Sergeant Ramirez waving from the deck of a huge trawler. The ship was obviously getting underway, the pier ropes withdrawn and a cloud of smoke billowing from the twin stacks.
“Come on!” Thomas cried out.
The chasing pack of zombies was gaining, only several yards to their rear.
At that exact moment, the C4 charge exploded.
A huge fireball lifted into the night sky, illuminating everything around. Zombies were incinerated, blown to pieces, and tossed through the air like sickening versions of Raggedy Ann and Andy.
Powers and Thomas were knocked off their feet by the blast, but were unharmed. They got up and sprinted towards the departing trawler. Then the specialists pulled the pins from grenades and tossed them over their shoulders.
Kaboom!
Kablam!
The explosions cleared a huge section of zombies, but the gap was quickly filled with many more. Still, the grenade blasts had given the fleeing Rangers just enough space to outdistance their pursuers. Both specialists jumped.
Over the gangway they vaulted, as the metal plank slipped into the water, and the pair landed heavily on the deck. To prevent any surviving zombies from attempting the same leap, Sergeants Ramirez and Stillwell opened fire, carefully sighting for headshots.
The trawler’s wake was impressive, as the ship headed away from the docks. It was still a long stretch to open sea, but the ocean-going craft gained speed rapidly.
