Ken faced the one that had made it to the top.
Raindrops plunked down on the top of the engine. The water darkened the metal in near-perfect circles the size of quarters. Then the water-darkened circles joined as the top of the engine drenched.
The zombie growled at Ken.
Ken screamed. Ran across dark water toward the hunter.
49
It happened faster than Ken could have expected. The storm brought no lightning, but the next moment seemed to happen in a series of flashes, as though cracks of brightness illuminated only every other instant in the next explosion of activity.
The zombie, jumping at him…
… Ken, juking…
… the train, jerking as it prepared to move…
… the thing sliding a bit, losing purchase on the slippery metal for a critical second…
… Ken’s foot kicking out…
… the thing’s snarl…
(GIVE UP! GIVE IN!) … his foot connecting…
… the thing’s knee bending sideways…
… it fell…
… crackles as its knee righted itself, impossibly straightened…
… the thing back on its feet…
… and Ken screamed and buried the knife in its throat.
The zombie didn’t seem to mind the knife. It grabbed Ken’s shoulders with piston-fingers. His shoulders groaned. The thing pulled toward him. Its teeth clicked.
Ken resisted. His hands still on the knife that was buried in the thing’s neck. He pushed away as hard as he could. Blood washed over his hands. Warm. Dark bits like it had started to clot in the thing’s veins. The rain carried some of the gore away, but not all of it, and not fast enough. Ken shivered in spite of himself.
The zombie’s teeth were a foot away. It could pull harder than Ken could push.
Ken kept pushing, but now he shifted part of his force to a sideways motion. Grinding the knife to the left. Digging. The knife was buried to the hilt in the thing’s neck. Which meant it had to be sticking out the back.
He twisted. Twisted.
The thing was inches away. He could smell its breath.
Twist.
The thing dropped.
Ken wasn’t fooled. He had managed to sever the spine, but he had seen this before. It wasn’t dead. In a moment the spine would heal, the thing would start twitching, then muscle control would return and it would be as deadly as ever.
He hoisted it to a shoulder.
It was already shuddering. Like it was willing itself to motion. Its head – above the level of the cut – still had a modicum of control. Its teeth still clicked together, and Ken was careful to avoid them as he carried it to the side of the engine.
Rain fell harder. Water bounced off the train, like even the elements had joined the enemy and were trying to wash the last vestiges of humanity away.
Below him, Christopher was swinging away with the crowbar, barely managing to keep one of the things at bay. He connected, shattering the thing’s jaw. The lower half of the zombie’s face shifted to the side. The sight gladdened Ken, since he figured a zombie with a jaw a good ten inches out of alignment would have serious trouble biting.
The jaw slid back into place.
The thing jumped at Christopher. And Christopher hadn’t recovered from his swing yet.
50
Ken tossed the twitching thing off his shoulder. He felt it scrape him on the way down. Prayed it wasn’t a bite.
Apparently not. No blood burst from his pores, no need to scream and devolve to pure predation. He felt a sudden jolt of pain through his torso, but that was all.
The zombie – spasming, almost epileptic – fell. It hit the one that was racing toward Christopher, and both tumbled to the walkway.
Ken had only bought Christopher a second or two, but Christopher used his time perfectly. He swung the crowbar down as hard as he could. Again. Two heads burst open. Pink sludge exploded outward. The zombie on the bottom – the one that had been attacking Christopher – now turned its attention to the thing on top of it. That zombie shuddered as control finally returned to its body and it began batting at its once-fellow.
Both had gone mad. Had lost that will that bound them in a common purpose. They no longer hated all humanity. Now they simply hated.
The two rolled off the side of the train. Spun down the gully in a flurry of teeth and arms and legs. Hands and feet kicking and tearing, blood flowing and bone breaking.
Two more zombies took their places at the rear of the engine. Christopher dropped to a crouch.
His grin was back. Not the same ain’t-life-a-kick grin he had worn before, though. This was an angry smile, the kind of expression Ken suspected a soldier with nothing to lose might wear.
He heard something on the other side. A shriek of pain. Aaron.
Ken ran back across the top of the engine. He slid the last feet, knowing instinctively that he had to come down to the walkway, and come down hard.