I Dream of Zombies (24 page)

“It’s dangerous,” Ellen pleaded. “There could be those things on there.”

“I have a gun,” Mark replied, “and you saw the driver – he looks fine. He’s probably come from a town that hasn’t been hit yet and this train can get us to safety fast.”

“But it takes time for them to change...”

“You’re wasting time...”

What about me? What are you going to do?”
she asked, scared out of her wits.

“Get on the train!
” he growled.

“Ellen!”

The girl spun round at the sound of Marla’s voice, but she could not see her. Mark turned the handle of the carriage door and pushed her inside. Ellen tried to cry out, but the sound stuck in her throat where panic was rising, swift and determined. As the door closed she caught sight of her sister, running on to the platform. She was too late, seconds too late. The train sailed out.

A chill ran up Ellen’s spine as she slowly turned around. The carriage was half full
of people. Some looked normal, healthy, like herself, while others sat slumped, staring at nothing without any discernible expression. One young girl sitting by the window was being sick on the floor while the man opposite gazed ahead, not appearing to register her actions. The eeriest thing of all was the silence. No one at all spoke or even moved, and Ellen knew what that meant. Glancing at the various faces around her, she could not see one that had changed fully, but it was only a matter of time, that much she knew. She had seen it too many times already.

Ellen looked at Mark with a pleading expression, but he just smirked.
“Go into the next carriage,” he instructed, keeping his voice low.

She glanced around again.
So far, none of the people had looked their way. “Why?” she whispered.

“Because there are too many in here.”

“They haven’t changed and you know it takes some time. There might be people in the other carriage who have.”

“And your point is?” hissed Mark. “Just do as I say. I’m the one with the gun.”

“Yeah, you’re the one with the gun,” muttered Ellen, walking slowly towards the right.

Taking a deep breath, she held it
in as she walked in semi-slow motion down the aisle of the carriage. Each face she passed on either side was downturned. They had it, she could tell, all of them, and they would transform; she saw nothing in their expressions that promised otherwise. She guessed they were pretty far gone as their eyes stared blankly at nothing. As she shuffled forwards, Ellen felt the blood pumping through her head, pressure coming down on all sides and pushing her shoulders. Her feet felt as though they were weighted down by lead as she stepped slowly, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, pushing down the nauseating fear that was fast rising.
Slow, just walk slow.

“Open it,” she heard Mark
say as they reached the door to the next carriage. She gazed through, thankful that the division was made of glass and there would be no surprises. More people sat beyond. It was much busier and the bodies were slumped, heads angled downward.
I will force myself to walk forward, into the fire.
No one looked remotely animated. She glanced around, searching for some semblance of humanity and normal behaviour, but she could not see it. Glazed eyes gazed at her from the nearest seats. She had been noticed. Feeling sick, Ellen peered back over her shoulder, only to find that some of the passengers were turning their heads, ever so slowly, as if they were underwater where silence reigned regardless.

“They’ve noticed us,”
Ellen whispered as she felt the butt of the gun ram into her back. Trembling, she reached out her finger towards the button on the door. It flashed and opened automatically. The creak of it broke the silence and her hands formed fists by her sides. Nausea crept into her throat as she trod forward. All around her, faces were turning; ill-looking with empty countenances. Whether they were confused or interested, she could not tell. They did not attack.
Why?
Ellen surmised the passengers had either only just changed or were on the verge of it. Her whole body began to tremble.

“Walk!”
Mark hissed.

“Where?” she whispered as her heart pounded.
Her head felt dizzy and she blinked, willing herself not to faint.

To the left by the window
she noticed a figure get up, the way it rose so agonisingly slow. Ellen stepped forward. All of the faces in the front of the carriage were turning her way. The nearest ones stared intently and began to twitch. Ellen smelt the rotten stench and then glanced down to see pools of sick, the colour of blood, between the seats.
Walk! Don’t look!
Trying to still her breathing, she continued down the aisle.

The man
by the window was now standing and his focus was glued on her. Ellen could not prevent herself from peering back. His bloodshot eyeballs protruded from skin drawn tightly like a sheet of grey paper across his face. Slowly, he raised his hand as Ellen walked and she noticed that several of his fingers were missing; a grisly white bone stuck out from the end. Her breath caught in her throat and the mounting pressure around her head squeezed like a vice. He was gawking straight at her while the passengers who were now behind her, blocking the route back, began to stand. Ellen ran.

“Stop... I’ll shoot!”

Ellen did not care. If he shot her it would be a release; better than becoming one of these hellish creatures. She sprinted down the seemingly ever-stretching aisle towards the next glass door and banged the button without pausing to see what was on the other side. Adrenalin shot through her like a rocket, propelling her body forward. Without a backward glance she charged through the doorway. Behind her came the sound of footsteps, followed by a gunshot and then the gruesome moans of the dead cut through the air. Ellen imagined the empty, gaping mouths that she had seen so many times – the stuff of her nightmares – as the horrific cries met her ears. But they were behind her, as was he.

She ran down the next carriage, blindly, not looking at the rows and rows of seated
figures. The gut-wrenching stench of vomit mixed with blood and rotting flesh greeted her, and the realisation that these passengers had changed was not lost on her. Fearful to look in case she screamed, Ellen sprinted on as the deathly shadows rose on every side. Behind her the footsteps were closing in. Hitting the next button in panic, she could not resist the temptation to turn around. Mark was there, but he could not run.  They held him. Hands pulled him towards the floor, teeth sinking into his arms and neck. His piercing screams of pain and anguish streamed through the carriage, filling it and consuming all else. “Help me!” he cried out, but Ellen let the door close.

There were only a handful of seats
around her and they were empty for some reason. Ellen found herself questioning it in the midst of her panic and then she noticed the circular, red compartment in front of her: a toilet. Stumbling around the door, she glanced down the carriage – shadows… everywhere. Sensing her presence immediately, the faces lurched upward, almost at once, as though one thought was shared by all of them, and then their bodies began to drift up like a wave. From the opposite direction, behind her, she heard pounding on the glass door. They did not have the intelligence to press a button, but their combined strength would smash right through. Swallowing, Ellen looked at the red door beside her.
What if something was inside?

Ahead of her
the shadows rose and she knew she had no choice. As the rising tide of panic threatened to engulf her completely, Ellen pressed the ‘open’ button and waited, trembling. Automatically, the door began to revolve. Shivering, she took a step back and glanced helplessly at the dead things staggering towards her, their mouths resembling open, gaping chasms of darkness; their movements slow as they dragged their lifeless bodies forward, relentless. Feeling as though her eyes were about to pop from their sockets as an intense cold seemed to swallow her whole, Ellen gazed at the door as it continued to open. It was taking too long.
Please, just this one thing.

“Nothing
there,” she gasped in relief. “Oh God,” she cried as the bodies staggered towards her. A crash screamed out from the other side as an arm splintered the glass. Ellen flew into the toilet cubicle and hit the ‘close’ button at the back of it. Standing with her back rigid against the wall, she watched as the circular door moved slowly back. “Faster,” she whispered beneath her breath, “please, just move!” The milliseconds resembled hours as she watched and buzzing filled her ears; panic struggled to reduce her to a wreck.

The unearthly cries of the
dead filled the empty void where silence once ruled and Ellen coughed with fright. They were coming. Their footsteps brushed the floor of the train just outside. “Move,” she urged the creeping door. Then human screams washed over the top of everything and she imagined the creatures dragging Devan’s body down to the ground, ripping the still living flesh from his bones with their teeth. A face twisted and defiled, scabbed over with one working eye, stared back at her as its grimace dripped with fresh blood.

The door closed, concealing him. “Ah, ah,” Ellen gasped, her hand shaking as she hit the ‘lock’ button beside her. A click sounded, loud
and clear. Her back slid down the cold wall until she was sitting on the floor of the cubicle. Raising her hands above her head, Ellen crossed them and buried her face against her knees. Wails flickered through from outside and the terrified screams she heard were seared on her memory. She hoped and prayed the creatures would not work out how to open the door, because there was no way out. The cubicle did not even have a window. She was trapped.

***

“She’s gone,”
cried Marla, turning to face Tommy who had abandoned the jeep to rush after her.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find her,” he said, giving her a half hug.

“How?! How will we find her?”

Tommy waved her forwards. “Come on. Let’s get back to the car. It isn’t safe
here.”

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Marla nodded and
hurried behind him. On the way through the station, he grabbed a couple of leaflets. Once inside the jeep, Tommy opened the timetable and glanced through it. “Kings Langley… right, okay, the train is going to Apsley. That’s the next station up.”

“But we can’t outrace a train,” Marla grumbled in despair.

Tommy started the engine. “We can try and it will terminate there. Fasten your seatbelt.”

She did as she was told as the jeep reversed and they sped off down the road.

“Know the way?” asked Marla after spending a few minutes lost in her thoughts.

“Yeah, like the back of my hand,” he replied, laughing. “Joy of having been a long-distance lorry driver.”

“Ah, I forgot you did that for a while.”

“The wife didn’t – too many days away and all that. Trouble and strife indeed, and then some,” he added with a
wink.

Marla managed a smile, before
sinking back in her chair and turning to stare out the side window. Bob whined in the back, as though he knew something was up and someone was missing, she thought. The roads were eerily quiet, which only meant one thing: the healthy had either been evacuated or were hiding. Glancing up at any windows with drawn curtains, she wondered if there was anyone left inside. Now and then they would pass a building with boarded-up glass; a clue that someone had chosen to stay, just like Leonie had.

“How many people do you think are left here?”

“Who knows,” Tommy replied. “Hard to guess.”

“
There must be a hell of a lot of people in the rescue centres.”

“I sure hope so
,” he said with a shrug. “This area is damn quiet though. I reckon most were evacuated. Maybe you should get some sleep. I’ll wake you when we get near the next station.

Marla sniffed. “There’s no way I can sleep.”

***

“Look!” yelled Tommy, slowing down to a stop on the side of the motorway. “The train has stopped.”

Marla unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned
over Tommy to glance out of his window. He glanced down, feeling unsettled by the close proximity of her body. Trying to ignore it, he brushed his hair off his face and backed into his seat.

As if aware of his thoughts, she edged away from him slightly.
“I can see it,” she said. “Sure it’s the same one?”

Tommy nodded. “It’s
on the right route and that’s the type of train.”

“Okay, so we go down and check it out?”

He blew out a breath. “Could be tricky. These banks are steep and down there we’ll be sitting ducks for anything...”

“
She’s my sister.”

“But then
she’s your sister,” mumbled Tommy, shaking his head. “Let’s get powered up then and I’m taking a grenade. Just warning you.”

“Okay,” Marla
answered, crawling into the back of the jeep. Straight away, the dog jumped up and tried to lick her face. “No, Bob, down boy.” She sorted some guns and extra ammo, which she slung in her drawstring bag. Slinging it over her shoulders, she crawled back again. “Thanks for this,” she added. “I know it’s asking a lot.”