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    All Aboard, the Zombie Express
    All Aboard, the Zombie Express
    All Aboard, the Zombie Express
    Ebook259 pages3 hours

    All Aboard, the Zombie Express

    By Shantnu Tiwari

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    About this ebook

    The New Orient Express: The world's first nuclear powered train, moving non-stop from Moscow to Alaska, it carries one thousand passengers.

    Today, it carries a thousand and one.

    A medical experiment gone wrong, a creature so foul it shouldn't even exist.

    And then the train breaks down in the middle of Siberia.

    And someone sets the creature free...

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherShantnu Tiwari
    Release dateFeb 4, 2015
    ISBN9781507034309
    All Aboard, the Zombie Express

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      Book preview

      All Aboard, the Zombie Express - Shantnu Tiwari

      Prologue

      The snow bites into my skin.

      It is like a thousand tiny needles being stuck into you, all at the same time.

      My blood freezes as soon as it comes out of the cuts and injuries. I don’t know if that is a bad thing or a good thing.

      But hey, at least it stopped the bleeding. I wasn’t going to die from blood loss, that’s for sure.

      Is it possible for your blood to freeze while in the body, so that you become like a frozen chicken you see in the supermarkets?

      Don’t mind me. The snow is making me delirious.

      I slowly drag myself away from the train. Snow gets in my mouth. At first, I was thankful for it. The snow was fresh, tasted like pure water.

      Now, I don’t care. My tongue has frozen.

      I don’t know where I’m going. The snowstorm covers everything. All I can see is a few metres in front of me. All I can hear is the sound of the wind blowing.

      What am I expecting? Disneyland? The Eiffel tower? A burger joint? What wouldn’t I give for a burger joint.

      I don’t even know where I am. Did we cross the border; are we still in Russia? Don’t know, don’t care. I hope we are in Russia. I’ll turn myself over to the border guards.

      Comrades! One greedy capitalist Westerner who has entered your country illegally and now wishes to surrender. Comrades, take me in. And hurry up, comrades, we have a few undead behind us. No, nothing strong and fine Russian gentlemen like you can’t handle. But let’s get out of here anyway, shall we?

      Because if we aren’t in Russia, we are in America.

      Where they have orders to shoot us dead after they have bombed us from the air with napalm.

      I hear the ice behind me groan. It’s finally beginning to crack. But will it be fast enough?

      The train is still standing there, looking majestic, giving a huge middle finger to the weather gods. You can’t touch me, it’s saying, I’m the marvel of technology. Bah, I can’t even feel your little snow.

      The train would be warm, heated by the remains of the dying nuclear reactor. Compared to out here, it would have been a warm and sunny paradise.

      It would also have them.

      And no, before you ask. I have no doubts, no moral dilemmas, no questions if I’d rather be in there.

      If I am going to die, I want to die here.

      If you’re going to die, at least you can choose your moment and style of death. And I choose to die out here.

      There is one slight problem, though.

      One of them followed me.

      Must have been a rich fellow. He’s wearing an expensive blazer and a tie. Looks like he belonged to a gentleman’s club.

      And he is naked from the waist down.

      He has a full on erection.

      Remember how your mom told you not to visit back alley prostitutes?

      She didn’t?

      I’ll have a word with her. And your teachers. If they teach you one thing in sex ed class, it should be that you should never visit prostitutes. This guy didn’t get that lesson. I don’t know if he got a good time, but he sure got something else. A bite in the neck. The prostitute must have been infected.

      He died as he was. Hence the erection.

      Out of all the humiliating ways to die, being eaten alive by a rich, posh bastard who died with an erection is possibly the worst.

      Certainly in the top ten.

      Hence all the crawling in the snow.

      Unlike him, the snow does affect me. Plus, all that beating and punishment my body took is finally beginning to manifest. My body has gone on a strike. Give me a warm bed and warm food, possibly a warm woman, or I’m not going to work anymore, it is saying.

      Well, body, just a few more minutes. Just a few more.

      But I’ve been telling myself that for hours. I think my time has run out.

      Remember those video games you used to play? No, not your Nintendo. Before that. Big arcade machines which swallowed penny after penny because you were too stupid to realise the whole thing was a setup to steal the few pennies you had begged and borrowed from your mom?

      You don’t remember that? Get off my lawn, you damn kids.

      See, I told you I’m delirious. And before you ask, it’s not from age. It’s the snow, stupid. Like I told you five minutes ago.

      Why was I talking about pennies? Oh yeah. The arcade machines. My body is like that. It has run out of pennies, and no matter how many times I scream and bang the side, it won’t move.

      I turn to my back and look up at the zombie. He is following me at a slow but steady pace. Like the tortoise in that story.

      The slow and steady zombie gets his flesh.

      I reach into my pocket, but all I have is the broken pen knife. It wouldn’t cut paper. If he had still been alive, I could at least have cut his skin, made him realise I can still hurt him. But I don’t think this guy cares much about skin cuts.

      My body has given up. I am still lying on the ground. I should at least push myself to sitting so I have some chance. But the body just won’t respond.

      Right you, bastard. Come and get me.

      The zombie smiles. Was it a smile, or had I just imagined it? It looked like a self-satisfied and smug grin of a cat that was about to eat its prey.

      Maybe I was just imagining it.

      It was no time to be thinking, but my thoughts went back to that day. When they had tricked me into boarding the train.

      1

      1week ago

      The place didn’t look like a hospital at all.

      It looked more like a hi-tech lab, which it really was.

      Instead of nurses running around, I saw graduate students.

      Instead of the smell of antiseptic, I smelled overheated electrical wires. They said it was safe, they were fixing the air conditioning even as we spoke. But it gave me a strange metallic taste in the mouth.

      But all the lab workers, all the scientists tapping away on their computers, all the cheery motivational posters, they couldn’t hide one thing.

      This was a place of death.

      I saw my little baby lying in the sealed-off room. Two robotic arms were working on her. I pressed my nose to the window and fogged up the window. Elsie wasn’t moving. She just lay passively while the machines worked on her. Elsie didn’t move much nowadays.

      Mr Bridges? I heard someone say behind me.

      She hadn’t moved much to begin with. They had discovered the disease when she was two, when she had barely started walking. It was the only joyful time she had in her small life. She had spent the last four years lying on that bed.

      I felt tears run down the glass and realised they were mine.

      Mr Bridges? Max.

      The voice was getting insistent. It was Dr Scheinder, the head of the institute. Max. Sorry to disturb you. Can we have a word?

      I followed her mutely to her office. On the way, I saw another motivational poster.

      Cheer up! Tomorrow is another day.

      Oh yeah? What if you don’t have tomorrow? What if today is all you have?

      I realised she was taking me to the administrator’s office. He was the real boss, the one who controlled the budget. Gerrin had been a scientist till he had been asked to take over this facility.

      Max, would you like some coffee? asked Dr Scheinder.

      I just shook my head.

      No problem. I called you here to discuss the results of your daughter. She is making good progress. Responding to the treatment.

      You said she’d be walking by now.

      Ah. Slight problems. Her body is rejecting the treatment we are giving her. Not completely, but most of it. We have had to increase the dosage, as she only accepts ten percent of what we give her. But there is a limit to how far we can go.

      Give it to me straight. Will she make it?

      We are hopeful that she will respond eventually. We are trying a new technique we haven’t tried before…

      Doctor, will she make it? I said. It came out louder and harsher than I had wanted. After all, these people were just trying to help me. It’s not like they owed me anything.

      Gerrin, the administrator, spoke. Max, I have to be honest with you. There is a chance she won’t.

      I see.

      We will keep trying, but even our resources are limited. You know the foundation that supports us agreed to pay your costs, but they aren’t really a charitable organisation. They want results, and if it isn’t working with your daughter, we have more people who need help. I don’t want to be harsh, but at the end of the day, we have to help those we can help. Your daughter isn’t one of them. I’m sorry.

      I’m sorry too.

      If Elsie doesn’t start responding soon, in a few weeks, we’ll have to discharge her. Again, this isn’t about cost. There isn’t much we can do for her when her own body is rejecting all our methods to heal it. And we do have other people who could be helped. People who have been waiting for years.

      I understand. How much would it cost me if I wanted to do this privately?

      A million dollars a day. That doesn’t include the salary of the doctors and nurses. I’m sorry Max, but even if you found the money, that won’t help. Elsie’s condition is very bad. You could try a few quacks and new age type healers, but all they will do is take your money and give you false hope. I am very sorry to say this; I hope there is another way. But you should consider taking Elsie home and spending her last few days with her. Make her feel loved and happy. Make her last days on Earth one of peace. Prepare her for the next life.

      But not now, interrupted Dr Scheinder. I need a few more weeks. I’m sure I can help her. Give me two more weeks, okay?

      She was very optimistic, but I looked at Gerrin’s old eyes and realised he was right.

      Thanks, doctor. Thanks for trying.

      I had barely left the research facility, my eyes blinded by tears, when my phone rang. Only two people had this number, and they knew not to contact me unless it was a dire emergency.

      I picked up the phone. Hello?

      Hello, old pal! It’s your guardian angel. I have some good news for you.

      It was a voice I had never heard before. Who are you?

      Nedry. Your saviour.

      Never heard of you.

      But I have heard of you. Elsie is dying, isn’t she? Have those idiot doctors stopped giving you false hope?

      What do you want?

      What do I want? What do you want? I can save Elsie.

      How?

      He laughed. Well, there is a price. There’s always a price, isn’t there?

      What’s the price?

      You have to do something for me. It involves an itsy bitsy teeney weeney, polka dot bikini risk. But I’m sure someone of your background is up to it. Listen, meet me at this address in two hours. We’ll talk then.

      He gave me an address and hung up. I looked at the phone. It seemed the call was coming from Russia, but the address he had given me was local. Who was this guy?

      2

      Nedry had asked me to meet him at a strip club.

      I doubted his judgement in choosing this place, and not because I had any moral qualms about visiting a strip joint. Well, I had, but that wasn’t the reason this place bothered me.

      I could hear loud music banging on, even out here on the street. The whole neighbourhood was run down, like the council had forgotten about this place. Forty years ago, this must have been a very fashionable place. The problem was, it hadn’t changed at all in the last forty years. Like a person who had partied too hard and lost their youth, the place had the worn out look of someone who no longer bothered.

      And that was the problem. A place like that attracted the wrong clientele.

      Sure, the strip club itself looked new. Too new. Bright neon lights, a disco ball hung outside the main door, like someone had forgotten what this place was. Two sour-looking bouncers at the door. A back alley piled high with garbage. Actually, garbage was everywhere, which had led me to wonder if the council had forgotten this place. I could smell it from all the way over here.

      I hated evil builders as much as the next guy, but I really hoped some builder would forcefully take over this place and build a mall here. The place was crying out for renovation.

      But you knew it was never going to happen. That evil builder was going to rip up some children’s park instead.

      The loud music was playing non-stop. Clearly these people hadn’t heard of council rules on noise pollution.

      I sighed. I so did not want to go into that place, and it had nothing to do with moral reasons. The place made my skin crawl.

      Back in my youth, I had visited many such places. I knew what would be inside without even looking. Two tired-looking strippers, one from the Bible belt who had wanted to become an actress but had been forced to strip to support herself. She may or may not have gotten pregnant and was taking care of a baby at home. She would be skinny, not because of any dieting but because the manager took half her money and she had barely any left over for food and rent. The second one would be younger and smarter. She would hide her earnings from her manager and use it to get a boob job. This would get her more customers and more money to hide from her manager.

      The only thing more tired than their mechanical hip thrusting would be the customers. Bored lower class men, here to get a little excitement in their otherwise empty lives. The problem was the strippers were the same type of women they lived with, as sickly and depressed as they were.

      I guess I hated places like these, in case I haven’t been subtle enough.

      And this is where the guy wanted to meet me? I couldn’t even remember his name. Ned something.

      I was in half a mind to just walk away. Half-heartedly, I walked to the door. As expected, the bouncers blocked my way.

      Sorry sir, place is full.

      It was six in the evening. I could bet the place had like two customers. At most.

      Shaking my head, I just walked away. What was I doing here anyway? It’s clear someone had played a practical joke on me.

      The phone rang.

      Hi. It’s Nedry.

      Who?

      The guy who called you earlier. You were supposed to meet me at this cool strip club.

      I did. The place is closed.

      Ah, yes. Tell the bouncer you are a guest of Mr Nedry. They will let you in.

      I looked at the phone. I was tired. Listen, pal. What is this about?

      It’s about something beneficial to the both of us.

      I’m a bit busy. How about I call you later? Okay? See you.

      I was about to hang up when Nedry interrupted me. Don’t you want to save your daughter?

      The guy was clearly being an asshole now, so I saw no reason to be polite. I do, actually. But I doubt you are the person to help me. So stop wasting my time. Do not call me again, okay?

      Nedry just laughed. Just give me five minutes, pal. Five minutes. If you don’t like what I’m saying, you can break my neck. Someone like you could easily break me in half.

      I sighed. The evening was wasted anyway, so I went back. The bouncers let me in this time without me saying anything. They must have been warned I was coming.

      The place inside was just as I had expected. Low lights, loud music, a single skinny girl twisting around, really excited for some reason, even though the place was empty.

      And then I saw him. One person sitting at a table in front of the stage, another skinny stripper with big boobs on his thigh. She was feeding him grapes.

      I understood what he had meant when he had said someone like me could twist him in half.

      Nedry was fat. Really

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