Precious Cargo

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Written by Robert Quintin Penn
Saturday, 01 September 2007

Last Updated ( Friday, 22 February 2008 )

It was a very bad idea, I had told him. “Nonsense, Smith. The train will be going one way, no stops, and the cargo hold will be securely locked and guarded. No one will go in there.” That is what the boss told me. To him, my decision didn't matter, and I was going on that train whether I wanted to or not.

We departed from the lab in November of 1996. The dark night and sky with it's few clouds made it an ambient scene. I'd of rather stayed and watch the stars, possibly pray to a God, if he were to exist up there. Still, my intuition taught me of one thing; always pack heat. I always prefer to have a pistol and never use it, then not have one and need it. I stepped aboard.

Elegant train, it was. Wallpaper of blood red with black lines criss-crossing, giving it a dim, almost Gothic look. Fixed lamps were above a couple of seats, every few feet on the wall. Two sliding doors were located in the front and rear of the car. As I found out, the simple layout would save my life. I walked towards the rear of the train.

The final passenger car opened up to a large walk in container, and along the edges were walkways. Two guards were posted outside the only door that led in and out, each were armed with Franchi SPAS-12 shotguns. “No personnel beyond this point, sir. Please return to the passenger car.” one of the grunts said when I stepped forward. I didn't argue. I returned to the front half of the train.

On board were those two guards, the captain, three other scientists, a “waitress” and myself. The train itself was designed for a much higher occupancy, obviously. “Dr. Pepper, please.” I asked the waitress as she passed by. 'This will be a boring night, hopefully uneventful' I thought. I was wrong; dead wrong. My beverage arrived a little later, and after consuming half of it, I fell asleep. And I dreamed an ominous dream.

Floating up through the atmosphere of Earth into space, past the Moon, then Mars, Jupiter, and all the other Roman God Planets flew by. Two clouds parted, and there stood God. “What is it that you fear?” He bellowed. “Many things.” I weakly replied. “A rational man fears what he cannot control and kill, a Christian man fears damnation, a child fears the dark, but what a wise man fears is not the dark, but what is in it.” God spoke. “Am I dead?” I asked, trying to figure out where I was. “No yo-”

An explosion jarred me awake, a scream emancipated from the rear of the train. The scientist across from me began shaking, “W-w-what was that!?” 'It was a bad idea. I should have explained it further to him.' I thought. “Go to the captain! The cargo is probably loose!” The scientist ran out of the car.

Working my way back, I came across the other two scientists. “Get to the front of the train!” I yelled out. One of them bolted past me, but his companion stayed. “I'm going to check it out.” He said rather calmly. “Suit yourself.” I said, pulling my gun out. “Stay behind me.” We exited together.

Upon opening the door to the rear of the train, we were greeted by the moans of zombies, the two guards dead, not by bites, but from the blast that allowed the zombies to escape. One of the shotguns lay by my foot. The scientist behind me picked it up, and he approached the crate. “Someone didn't want us to get the bio-weapons to the government.” He said. “Guess we'll have to test their effectiveness here, and our will to survive." “Don't go in there!” I yelled, but he had already entered. A few shots rang out before he screamed. While the zombies were preoccupied with him, I grabbed the other shotgun by the crate and ran to the front.

The doors didn't have a lock on them and could easily be opened, but the narrow confines of the car only allowed so many to get through. I waited for them to get through, and then I opened fire as they filed in, not thinking to back away, to retreat from the slaughter. The first zombie got a face full of buckshot, as did three others. With the shotgun empty, I opened up with my revolver. Six more zombies down, but I had to reload, and they were closing in. I ran to the next car, loading up on a moon clip. Same thing as before; I unloaded, ran and loaded, turned and shot. But my 18 rounds were up. I was good as dead.

Like an athlete, I ran to the front car where the waitress and two scientists were, along with the captain. All eyes were on me as I slammed the door shut behind me, with pistol in hand. “What happened to Peterson?” The scientist from the back asked, “He's gone. They got him.” I informed. The captain shouted, “I've radioed back to the lab, they haven't told us anything. They want us to keep the cargo safe.” That was when I lost it. “We've got a man down, and we are all going to die. Go full throttle; we're going to have to jump.”

We all survived, with the exception of Peterson, although the boss is out for us. The train crashed at the drop off, killing the zombies in the ensuing fire. At night I can still hear the moans as they come closer. It's terrible that the Government was going to use them as bio-weapons. Zombies; they don't eat, sleep, drink, tire, complain. Immune to pain, sickness, able to to survive in the vacuum of space and at the ocean floor. They will be mankind's downfall.

- Michael Smith, 1998