“Got it?” Cahz asked.
Cannons nostrils flared like an enraged bull.
“I mean it, Cannon!” Cahz barked.
The forlorn pine of the undead interrupted them. All three men looked round to see a zombie pressed up against the railing, trying fruitlessly to barge its way forward. Further down the line a second zombie answered its call. Within moments it too was pressed against the fence, groaning.
“Move!” Cahz shouted and renewed his jog.
The thick lumps of gravel crunched as the three men ran down the railway line.
“We need a distraction,” Cahz said.
“Why?” Ryan asked. “They’re not keeping pace with us and they’re not getting on the line.”
“That’ll do,” Cahz said and he sped up.
Ahead of them, sitting on the track, was an abandoned train. The elements had not been kind to the aging rolling stock. Its rear window was smashed open, the protruding buffers were rusted, the green paintwork was flaking, and a handful of small shrubs were erupting from its battered frame.
Ryan and Cannon caught up as Cahz was tugging open the carriage door.
“What you doing?” Cannon asked.
Cahz grunted and the door started to give. “Give me a hand here.”
Cannon lent forward and wedged the fingers of one hand into the crack between the door and the frame. He licked his lips and counted, “One, two, three.”
With a disapproving rumble the door shuddered open.
“You still haven’t said what you’re doing,” Cannon said as Cahz disappeared into the abandoned railway carriage.
When Ryan and Cannon followed they found their leader dumping the contents of a litterbin onto a seat.
“Rip out some of those seat cushions,” Cahz said as he rifled through the garbage.
“What the fuck for?” Ryan huffed.
“I saw this documentary once about wolves,” Cahz explained. “Wolves aren’t fast enough to catch deer, but they do.” He started screwing up balls of paper and laying them out on the seat. “They lie in wait along a valley. The first wolf jumps up and chases the deer. When the first wolf tires, the second jumps up. And when it gets tired the third wolf takes over. By now the deer’s exhausted and the fourth wolf can make easy meat of it.”
Cahz stood up and looked around. He spotted an abandoned coat lying in the aisle. He grabbed it and ripped off a strip of material. He hurriedly continued ripping off strips of material until the entire garment was shredded. He then piled the ripped fabric neatly over the wads of paper on the seat.
“We’re the deer,” Cannon said softly.
“We can outpace those dead fucks, but there’s hundreds of them up ahead. The ones following us will keep moaning their dead heads off, alerting W.D.s for miles around.”
“No matter how fast we run, the ones behind will keep drawing them in,” Cannon said.
“So how do we stop that?” Ryan asked.
“We set fire to the train,” Cahz said, book of matches in hand.
“They’re not on the line,” Ryan said. “You’re not going to torch any of them doing this.”
“Use the fire to distract the ones following,” Cannon said. “The noise of the fire might well draw them in.”
“Ah-ha! I get you,” Ryan clicked. “When we Molotov’ed them sometimes the sound of them cooking would draw more in. Curiosity killed the Zed.”
“At the very least the smoke and the noise will disorient them,” Cannon added.
Cahz struck a match and let it take. “And the noise of the fire will drown out their moans so the W.D.s ahead of us won’t get worked into a frenzy from a distance. It means they won’t be converging on us.” With his hand cupped around the flame, Cahz eased it up to the kindling. “If they’re not calling their buddies in, hopefully we’ll have less to contend with.”
Ryan slipped his backpack off and set it on the table. He rubbed at his sore shoulders and made a cooing noise to his distraught daughter. The palms of his hands stung. He turned them over to examine them. They were dirty and scuffed from his fall on the track. He untucked his shirt and brought the end up to his face. He gently dabbed it to his raw cheeks. The cloth came away mottled in fresh blood. Using the soiled fabric, he wiped the worst of the detritus from his hands.
“Since we’re stopping, can you get out that first aid kit?” he asked.
“I’m lighting this and we’re moving out,” Cahz said.
He slipped the match into the kindling. The small flame fizzed and puckered as it was held against the tinder. He gave a gentle blow to encourage the fire.
“What do we do about her?” Cannon asked.
The baby was still crying.
“We’ll need to stop and feed her if we want her to calm down,” Ryan said.
“She’ll call them in for miles, boss,” Cannon warned.
“I know, but we’ll just have to deal with that the best we can.” Cahz gave one more nurturing puff of breath to the burgeoning fire.
“You’re just defeating the purpose if we can’t stop and give her something to eat,” Ryan argued.
“He’s right, boss,” Cannon added.
“We’ll find somewhere quiet we can hold up for a few minutes, but we need to get this distraction going so we can afford the time.”
They watched the embers grow. Satisfied the licking flames had caught, Cahz stood up.
“Let’s move.”
And with that Cahz ran down the narrow gangway.
Ryan went to shoulder the papoose when Cannon grasped the pack.
The big man lent in close. Ryan could see the faint growth of stubble framing his curled lips. Ryan’s eyes narrowed as he waited, senses peaked. Ryan was a muscular man; he could hold his own in a fight with most. But Cannon was a hulk with a torrent of seething aggression just beneath his veneer of military decorum. His pupils narrowed as the soldier started to speak.
“If you can avoid falling flat on your face again, wear the pack on your chest,” he offered. “That way she can see her dad’s face. It might help keep her calm.”
Ryan’s tense expression dropped. He was taken aback.
“Um, yeah, sure,” he stuttered. “Good idea.”
Ryan had expected a confrontation, so he was somewhat embarrassed now at misreading the situation. He slipped on the pack, taking the parental advice, so that his daughter was looking at him. The child’s wide blue eyes met his. Her stare held a searing intensity.
From behind Ryan came the crackle of flames. As he turned, Cannon squeezed by him.
“Fire’s set. Let’s get a move on.”
Ryan watched the flames take hold of the fabric on the seat and start to lick up to the luggage rack. Cannon placed a firm hand on his shoulder and said, “Let’s go.”
Cahz grabbed hold of the handle to the door at the other end of the aisle and stepped into the connecting space between the carriages. “Come on,” he called, looking back at the stragglers as he pulled open the door to the adjacent carriage.
“Grrrrrr!”
He turned round to see a black dog growling at him. The beast’s fur was matted and damp and from its mouth dripped white frothy drool.
Cahz reached for his gun. “Easy,” he said softly, trying not to agitate the creature further.
Still snarling, the dog’s lips drew back to display its yellowed canines.
“Easy boy,” Cahz said in the most assuring voice he could command. His fingers found the flap to his holster and he tugged at the Velcro. The rip of the hooks and eyes pricked up the dog’s ears and it pounced. The sound of snarling and screams filled the train.
Cannon sprinted to the end of the carriage to see Cahz tussling on the ground with the dog. The animal snarled and whined as it shook Cahz in its teeth.
Cannon pulled out his pistol but the black shape bobbed and twisted half on, half off of Cahz.
