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As we came to a small side alley I looked down it to check for threats, a man was leaning over something. I gestured to the others and took a few steps down the alleyway with Holmes alongside me and the others keeping an eye on all other directions. A few more steps in the man looked up at us in anger, blood dripped from his jaw onto what we could now see was his victim. Raising both our guns, we fired simultaneously to the head. I know my shot was accurately placed, but it vanished in the destruction which Holmes’ shotgun had caused, blowing the top half of the zombi’s head off, blood and gore splattering across wall and causing the lifeless body to keel over. Without hesitation Holmes racked the action of his shotgun, took a further few steps to the monster’s victim and fired directly at his head.

“That poor man was dead, but he may soon have returned as a foul beast, we have both saved him from that fate and us from potential danger,” said Holmes.

It was cold hearted, but totally necessary, these were wicked days and we must rise to the task, weak stomachs would achieve nothing. We walked back to the others who were still a little shocked by Holmes’ actions.

“Move on!” shouted Holmes.

In such a time of need we were blessed to have such a fearless leader at our front, and yet, it was no easier to accept. We continued on our cautious move towards the station, in what was the longest and most uncomfortable way I had ever covered such a short distance.

Finally we reached the platform, it was empty. As we had found previously, trains and their stations were both a blessing and a curse. For having to wait was a daunting task, and likewise, the potential to be delivered into the jaws of the beast was always in the back of our minds, if only we still had the luxury of Mr. Fogg’s dirigible, I did indeed hope that the fine gentleman and his aide found safety.

As before, we posted men at each end of the platform whilst the others rested on the benches. This time is was mine and Holmes’ turn to post guard. I took the north end of the platform, twenty feet ahead of the seating, whilst Holmes did the same for the south side.

I stood on an empty platform, just under the shade of the roof, a small luxury. My suit was now clinging more uncomfortably than ever, with sweat infesting what felt like every thread of it. I looked down at myself, my shoes were caked in mud and grime, dried blood was splashed across the base of my trousers. My jacket was covered in powder residue, several holes were present on my right shoulder, probably from the Marlin’s misfire. I had never felt this dirty and grimy in all my life, not even in war. I truly hoped for a wash basin at the nearest opportunity, though a change of clothes was probably too much to ask for.

Having been stood for quite a while, my feet now ached, in fact most of my body did. Was there no end to this nightmare? Staring out into the distance at the snow capped mountains, my mind wandered on to more joyous things. Thinking of England, my wife, and a more relaxing time, I fell into a day dream. The death and destruction around us didn’t seem to matter any longer, only our ultimate goal, and perhaps survival, though that was perhaps overly ambitious.

I was startled from my standing dazed state by the hoot of a train, a pleasant sound right now. As I became fully awake I focused on the locomotive in the distance.

The sound of a train trundling towards the platform you awaited at was always a relief, but never quite as much as this one. As the sheer excitement of getting away from this place began to take me to a happier mood, movement flickered off to the side of the train, along the length of the platform as a man stumbled onto it. In the shade and at distance I could not make him out. Another followed and then another, the familiar stumble of the zombis became clear to us, damn, this was not good timing.

“Holmes!” I shouted.

The men leapt up from their relaxed and semi-sleeping state on the benches, Holmes coming to the front.

“We must hold them off long enough to get on board this train, or we are all done for,” said Holmes.

“Form up!” shouted Cyril.

The group quickly formed a line, we had efficiency, technology and proficiency in our arsenal, we only lacked numbers, a fact that was becoming ever more problematic.

“Aim for the heads only and take your shots carefully, shotguns, hold fire, rifleman, fire at will!” Cyril shouted.

We opened up, the first four rounds taking two creatures down. We were firing from a standing position at fifty yards, to hit a man was easy, to hit the head of a man under this pressure, less so. We continued firing, the other men needing to reload before me, with Cyril having his Mosin Nagant, the other two men using Mauser rifles.

The train was approaching at a steady speed, there was no doubt we would get onboard. It was only a question of would we get moving again and if so, how many enemies were on the train? We fired as fast as we could, by the time I had fired my twelve rounds and Matthey two stripper clips worth, the train was pulling up alongside us and the beasts were just twenty yards away.

Egerton ripped the nearest door open and we began piling into the carriage, it would at least provide a lot more defence than the open platform, just as we had done previously, we however faced a much larger enemy this time around. Holmes waited alongside the door for us to all be safely onboard. He then jumped on, just as the creatures were reaching the door, slamming the door behind him, hoping it would delay them by any degree, it didn’t. The door was immediately wrenched open and the first beast jumped aboard. Holmes put his shotgun firmly into his shoulder and fired into its face, destroying all recognisable features and making the body slump on to the oncoming horde.

“Don’t stop, keep going, we must reach the engine, get this thing moving, and then worry about what enemies we have onboard,” Holmes shouted.

The group kept on the move, we could fortunately move substantially quicker than the zombis. I reloaded my rifle as I moved, no easy feat with such a long rifle in a narrow corridor of the carriage. We ran through three whole carriages until we got to the front of the train, shocking the driver and crew.

“Get this thing moving immediately!” shouted Holmes.

The conductor who was talking to the driver tried to accost Holmes with the expected response, but Holmes smashed him across the jaw with the stock of his shotgun, knocking him down, he then aimed the weapon at the driver.

“Do it, now!” he cried.

The driver no longer took issue with Holmes and got immediately to work, no matter what he thought we were or our intentions, they were irrelevant. Any harm bestowed on these men to get the train moving they would likely thank us for later, when they saw the extent of the disaster the world now faced. A bruised jaw and ego was quite minor when the other option was death. The men were busy shovelling coal in when Holmes turned back to us.

“Egerton, stay here, make sure they get us moving in the shortest time possible, the rest of you come with me,” said Holmes.

We ran a carriage and a half back where we found the horde bearing down upon us. Spreading out across the benches the five of us took aim.

“Fire!” shouted Holmes.

An ear shattering volley rang out in the enclosed carriage. The first zombi was riddled with lead, with the second taking enough damage from the volley to drop also. We gave it our all, everything we had. Bullets struck the creatures in every area of their bodies. The shotguns at this range were delivering wicked damage, one took a head clean off, another blew an arm from its socket. The carnage was as much devastating as it was an amazing thing to behold.