Shit, I can’t see a thing—
She rubbed the glass with her jacket sleeve and peered into the carriage below. Flynn was at the side door, reinforcing his makeshift barricade with a couple of large fire extinguishers. Mercy tapped the skylight three times with the butt of her knife. Flynn looked up and froze, then he smiled.
Good, at least he didn’t shoot me—
Mercy pointed at the skylight and jerked her hand up.
Come on Flynn, pop the hood—
Flynn climbed onto a chair and straddled the aisle. He reached up and pushed the skylight open with his rifle stock.
“Boy, am I glad to see you babe, what took you guys so long? These fuckers came from nowhere. It’s either me or Barnes that’s drawing them, my money’s on Barnes—” Flynn’s shoulders collapsed. “Sorry, I’m rambling. What do you wanna do?”
“How is Barnes? Do you think he could make it up through here?” Mercy said, handing a water bottle down to Flynn.
Flynn shrugged, “He’s tall. He could easily get up there using these chairs. Except that he’s sick.” Flynn pulled a face, “He’s had a rest and his colour’s improved. Hold on, I’ll try and rouse him and give him some water. If you could find something up there to tie under his arms then you could haul him up and I could push him from below—” Flynn dropped to the carriage floor and went over to Barnes in the corner.
Mercy turned to Tawny.
“I heard, I’m on it—” Tawny said, she started crawling back up the train.
Where’s she going?
Mercy looked around for anything useful.
Nothing—
Two minutes later Flynn appeared below the open skylight, supporting a pale looking Barnes.
Barnes looks wasted. Shit, how are we gonna do this?
The tropes had become more agitated along the side of the carriage, their screams and bangs intensifying.
They must be able to see movement through the windows. We’ve gotta get this thing done. Come on Barnes, it’s up to you—
Flynn passed up Barnes’s pack and rifle. Mercy lifted them through the skylight and placed them on the roof. She looked up, Tawny was on the next carriage. She was hanging over the left side.
Tawny, what the hell are you doing?
Flynn jumped down from the seat and gave Barnes another drink. Barnes splashed some of the water on his face, blinked, then looked up at the skylight.
He looks dazed, unfocused—
Mercy made eye contact with Barnes, “Barnes you hairy-arsed bastard, come on… you can do this shit. Remember the forty percent rule you told me about? Well, this is it… show time. Give me the sixty percent you’ve got left in the tank—”
Barnes straightened up, rubbed his face then shook his head.
He looks like shit. Hell knows what else he was taking on top of that methamphetamine—
Barnes stood on an aisle seat, swayed and reached out to steady himself. He climbed onto the top of the seat and straddled the aisle as Flynn had done.
Movement. Mercy looked up. Tawny was crawling towards her, a long length of rubber in her hand.
“Tawny, what’s that?” Mercy said.
“Rubber seal from the carriage window, you can tie it under his arms. It might stop him from falling,” Tawny replied, her breathing laboured.
“Nice work Tawny,” Mercy grabbed the rubber seal and passed a loop down to Barnes. “Barnes, wrap this around you… under your arms. This’ll be a combined effort, you pull up and we’ll pull up. When you’re ready—”
A smashing, rending sound filled the air. Sunlight streamed into the carriage below. Mercy’s eyes flicked to the carriage door behind Flynn. Undead hands were prying open the damaged door. Flynn turned and ran back to the door to try and shore up his barricade. Mercy swore.
Oh no. No, no, no. Flynn. This is where it all gets fucked up—
Chapter 20
Respite
Barnes reached up and grabbed the skylight frame. He tensed then pulled himself up. Mercy braced herself, keeping the rubber seal tight under Barnes’s arms. Tawny held onto Mercy’s waist, adding her weight to the effort.
Barnes grunted then yelled as he hoisted himself up, through the skylight. He pushed his elbows out on either side. Mercy tried to look past Barnes to see how Flynn was faring.
Shit, shit, shit. Flynn—
Barnes gasped, his head lolled to one side.
Christ, has he passed out—?
Mercy kept the tension on the rubber seal. “Barnes, come on big guy, get your ass in gear soldier—”
Barnes yelled again and hauled himself the rest of the way through the skylight. He rolled to one side, gasping for breath.
Tawny stepped forwards, “I’ve got this—”
Mercy returned to the skylight and looked down. The carriage was swarming with undead, their hands reaching up towards her. Mercy’s eyes widened in shock, a searing pain gripped her chest. She screamed, her fingers clawing at the skylight.
Flynn. No, no, noooo, you bastards… you bastards—
The heaving mass of undead ten feet below groaned and snapped their teeth in response. Mercy lay on her stomach and gripped the skylight frame. She stuck her head and shoulders through the opening and searched the sea of decayed faces below her. “Flynn? Flynn? Flynn—?”
More tropes were pushing through the carriage door from the outside. They surged forwards bringing a new set of ghoulish faces. Mercy screamed again, her voice hoarse, “Flynn? Flynn?”
A rifle jerked out of the crowd, two hands holding it aloft. Mercy stared, uncomprehending. The rifle inched closer to the seats below the skylight. Flynn’s face materialised out of the seething mass of tropes. He looked up at Mercy, her heart soared.
“Flynn. Oh god, Flynn—”
Mercy pulled the rubber seal from under Barnes and thrust it down through the skylight towards Flynn. The jostling around Flynn was intense, he tried to climb onto the nearest seat but was knocked back twice. He tried a third time and succeeded. After a heart stopping moment he managed to straddle the aisle under the skylight.
The tropes are
