Post

Oct 30, 2019, ZD8

Used to be a time when Wintony laid more rail than ninety-five percent of the rest of the world. The Dubya ‘ey confirmed it. Course, it’s been a toot or two since then and at some point we lifted the ban on cars but the rails are still there. They’re all over the country like roots under the leaves. I’ve been riding these rails since I was a boy; grew up listening for whistles and studying engine schematics. Time or two I even snuck down into the underground tunnels reserved for military freight.

I’ve been pointing them around from the Mefristi control terminal for ten years, now. It ain’t as satisfying as being in the engine, but at my age I don’t need to be climbing around boxcars or digging through electrical innards. I get along alright, and Mara – the ol’ witch – keeps me alert.

It was the night before Halloween, and all through the station not a creature was stirring. The zombies weren’t here yet, but it sure felt like it with mist washing over everything under sock-height and all the yard-hands disappeared to shelter. The control terminal was secure enough and the army didn’t bomb critical infrastructure if they could help it so I was stocking up stout for a cool, three-day vacation in a hammock beside the control tower window.

Mara’s engine – a bulky seventeener with military-issue skirts – pulled into the yard unexpectedly towing a passenger car fancier than she had any right to. Out steps an officer in a fine-looking jacket. I dunno what his shoes looked like, on account of the mist, but I bet they shined like stars before they touched the yard.

He strolled up to the tower and asked to speak with the control chief. I told him I was all there was and he said I’d do.

Every year, the zombies come shuffling from out of nowhere and wreck the place. The military steps up, as usual, and puts ‘em down but they make almost as much of a mess as the zombies do. This officer – A Colonel Percy – he tells me they’ve got an ambitious plan this year. They want to armor up a bunch of trains and send them running in circles around the whole country, blowing horns and shooting fireworks to herd all the undead toward the track. They’ll deck us out with guns and platoons and all the armor we want.

I mulled it over a moment and thought it sounded doable, although we’d need an army to outfit all the engines ‘fore dawn. But I made one request; I told him I wanted to run an engine.