The water sprayed under him. Separated in twin curtains of white, like he was an angel of God paving the way for Moses and his people to cross over to safety.
But there was no safety on the other side of the hood. His feet crashed down on top of the zombie that had trapped Aaron against the side rail. Aaron’s wrench was in the thing’s mouth, but he was far from safe. Black acid was dripping around its mouth. Melting the wrench. Melting the thing’s own face. But a few drops had also landed on Aaron’s legs. And Ken had seen before how much even a drop of the concentrated solvent hurt on human skin.
The wrench was bending, about to break, when Ken came down on the thing’s back. His left hand went around the thing’s forehead, yanking it back, and his right jabbed the knife sideways through its neck. He levered it toward him and the knife slammed through flesh and blood, exploding out the back of the thing’s neck.
The knife blade broke, the metal embedded in the thing’s neck. Ken was left with nothing but the hilt. Useless.
The thing kept biting. Vomiting acid. Perhaps dying, but also seconds from killing Aaron.
Ken pulled at it. No use. The thing was too strong.
He looked around for something to use. Anything to serve as a weapon. Saw an open door leading to a small compartment: the area Aaron must have pulled the crowbar from. Inside hung several small tools and a few large pieces of metal.
Ken grabbed one of the metal pieces. About fifteen inches long, a jaw-like structure at one end. He realized it was a replacement coupler, a knuckle that could be used in case one of the ones between the cars broke in transit.
It looked like it weighed a ton. But to Ken’s adrenalized muscles it felt light as a feather.
He spun back to Aaron. Swung it as hard as he could. It hit the zombie in the back of the neck.
The thing’s head exploded. The force of the hit probably severed its spine as well, probably would have dropped it if the impact hadn’t simultaneously driven it right over the side.
“You okay?” he said to Aaron.
Aaron nodded, panting. Rain rolled in rills down his creased face, pearled in his beard. He looked at Ken strangely.
“What?” said Ken.
But there was no time to answer that. More of the things were coming.
51
The rain was falling sideways.
Sideways, and more of the things were coming.
The drops falling harder, bigger, faster.
Sideways, and now there were five on the end of the gangplank, clambering over each other in their effort to get to Ken and Aaron. Probably that many on Christopher’s side.
Sideways rain.
Five zombies. That was all. But it was enough. Enough to kill them. To Change them and then run to the locomotive and take the rest of the survivors; the rest of the people the Ken loved.
Sideways rain.
Ken realized that no more of the monsters were climbing aboard the train.
And the rain wasn’t flying sideways. The train had started moving. Was just going fast enough that they were racing into the drops. And in so doing it had also outpaced the rest of the zombies.
“Back up!” he screamed. Then, louder, “Chris, move back!”
“No argument here!” screamed the young man.
Ken turned and pushed Aaron. The cowboy stumbled back, looking confused. Ken didn’t give him a chance to argue, though. “Move!” he screamed.
The things that had made it aboard the train growled. The sound of feet slapping on wet metal.
“Jump!” shouted Ken when Aaron reached the end of the walkway that spanned the length of the second locomotive. He put a hand on the cowboy’s back and propelled him across the gap between this car and the first locomotive.
Aaron leaped, as much out of forced propulsion as by choice.
Ken looked over and saw another form flying through the air. Christopher.
Both men landed on the back of the lead engine, on the steps leading to the twin doors that allowed entry to the engine’s crew cab. Ken saw Buck standing in there, still holding Hope and Liz. Sally stood at his feet, the cat’s hair standing on end and its one remaining ear pricked forward, its teeth bared.
Ken leaped.
He didn’t make it to the steps.
Instead, he slammed to the coupler between the first and second locomotives. He heard a voice as he landed. His.
“Please, please, please.”
He hadn’t realized he was saying anything, but wasn’t surprised. He had known there was no way to hold what little remained of the train. They didn’t have enough weapons, didn’t have enough manpower.
All they could do was get rid of the back two locomotives.
He thought the front engine was an independent locomotive. Could keep going without any help from the back two. He was sure he remembered that from that long-ago date to the train station.