Ragnarok Rising: Desolation: Book Five of the Ragnarok Rising Saga

by D. A. Roberts

  We continued on to the west, trying to stay on the road as much as possible. The snow was just as deep as it was off the road, but we could at least gauge the terrain by the placement of the abandoned cars. We were moving slowly, but making steady progress. By mid-afternoon, we were passing a small convenience store that had been burned out. I recognized it as one of my navigation points, reminding me that we were about half-way home.

  As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, I knew we’d better be looking for a place to spend the night. The horses were tired and it wasn’t safe to push them too hard in this cold. I started looking around for a place where we could get inside for the night. Off to my left, I saw a building I recognized. It was a bait shop. Just seeing it jogged my memory of where we were.

  “I know where we are,” I said, turning to Spec-4. “I think that’s where I used to get bait with my sons when we’d fish at Bennett Springs.”

  “Great,” she said, sarcastically. “Is there a good hotel anywhere nearby?”

  “Not one that allows horses,” I replied, chuckling. “I do know a place where we can go.”

  “Where?”

  “Right there,” I said, pointing to a building to our north. It was just across the street from the bait shop.

  “What is it?” asked Spec-4.

  “It’s a fire station,” I said, turning Ebon and headed towards it.

  “How does that help?”

  “The bays are big enough to get the horses inside, and there should be small living quarters inside for the firefighters. We can hole up there for the night in relative comfort.”

  “How far are we from the Facility?” she asked, following along behind me.

  “Too far to make it before dark,” I replied. “A few more hours, at this pace.”

  “Fine,” she said. “Let’s get inside and try to get warm.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  With that, we headed for the small fire station. The bay doors were closed and there looked to be one vehicle inside. The rest of the building appeared intact. I didn’t see any broken windows or signs of looting. That was great news for us, since it meant there might be provisions still inside. I just had to find a way in without causing too much damage.

  I walked Ebon right up to the bay doors and stopped. I glanced around before I climbed off of his back. Since there were no windows in the bay doors, I walked up to the window on the access door and shined my flashlight inside. There was one fire truck inside and it seemed to be in good shape. I gave Spec-4 a nod and pulled out my M-4.

  “I’m going to check around the building and try to find a way inside,” I said, releasing the safety. “Stay here with the horses.”

  “Got it,” she replied, readying her own weapon.

  I brought my weapon to my shoulder and headed off to my left around to the back of the building. Behind the building was a small parking lot with several snow covered vehicles in it. The bay doors at the back of the building were closed, as well. I moved toward the back entrance to the building, but they all were locked tight.

  At the very back of the building was a picnic table covered with snow. Near it were two doors that led into the main part of the building. Both doors were locked, but the window between the doors looked inviting. It was locked, but a sharp hit from the knife pommel shattered the lower part of the glass.

  “Knock, knock,” I muttered, shining my light inside.

  Not seeing any threats, I reached inside and unlocked the window. Then it was simple to crawl inside. Switching to the tactical light on my M-4, I started sweeping the interior of the building. The room I was in was a small bedroom with an unmade bed and open closet. It was empty, so I slipped out into the hallway and shut the door behind me.

  There were three other small bedrooms and an office. Only two of the beds had been used. When I reached the front common room, there were signs that the place had been cleared quickly. Fortunately for us, there was still a lot of gear left behind. We’d scrounge for supplies and equipment later. Right now, I wanted to finish clearing the rooms and let Spec-4 inside.

  Once I finished my sweep, I went into the bay and used the chain pulley to open the bay door. Spec-4 was waiting and immediately led the horses inside. I wasted no time in rolling the door back down. I turned to find Spec-4 already removing the gear from the horses.

  “Let me help you with that,” I said.

  Within in minutes, we’d removed the gear and taken the saddles off of both horses. I found a couple of buckets in the corner and poured feed into them. As the horses began munching enthusiastically, I turned to find Spec-4 was unpacking our camping gear.

  “We might as well set up the tent,” I said. “Without a place to build a fire, we’re going to need all the insulation we can get.”

  “How secure are we, here?” she asked.

  “I broke out a window in the back,” I replied, “but all the doors were still locked.”

  “We should secure the window,” she said, glancing at the door.

  “I don’t think the Frostbiters will crawl in through there.”

  “It’s not the Frostbiters that worry me,” she admitted.

  “Fair enough,” I said, shouldering my shotgun. “I’ll sweep the offices again, and see if I can secure it.”

  “I’ll get the gear ready,” she answered, turning back to the tent. “Yell, if you need me.”

  “Don’t worry,” I replied. “I will.”

  With that, I headed back into the main part of the firehouse. My tactical light lit up the room, but left deep shadows in the corners and down the hallway. The small kitchen area was littered with dirty dishes and leftover food. The firefighters must have been in the middle of eating when they were called out. Obviously, they never made it back.

  I turned and headed down the hallway towards the sleeping quarters. The door to the room where I had broken out the window stood open. I was certain that I had closed it when I left. I tightened my grip on the shotgun and headed towards the open door, trying my best to make no sound. My attention was so focused on the room ahead of me that I didn’t see the door to the little office was slightly ajar.

  If I hadn’t been wearing multiple layers of clothing, the blow would have taken me out of the fight. I was struck across the shoulders and driven to the ground. I lost my grip on the shotgun and it went clattering away from me. Before I could move, my attacker was on my back, trying to get their arms around my neck. Whether it was a zombie or a human didn’t matter, at this point. It was now a matter of survival.

  With a twist, I shifted my weight to the left and drove my right elbow back into my attacker. I heard the grunt of pain and knew I’d found my mark. I also knew that it wasn’t a zombie. I lashed out with my left foot and knocked whoever it was away from me, buying me enough time to get to my feet.

  I briefly considered going for the shotgun, but changed my mind when my opponent regained his footing and stood up. He was wrapped head to toe in layers of mismatched clothing and stocking caps. His appearance would have been comical, had he not been trying to kill me.

  Reaching into his belt, he pulled out a nasty looking fighting knife. It was anodized black with the back edge serrated. I knew that getting stuck with that was going to hurt like hell. I started to reach for my knife when he lunged forward with a vicious swipe at my midsection. I managed to jump back far enough to avoid getting cut, but not far enough to spare my coat from getting sliced open.

  Before he could recover, I yanked my sword free from the scabbard and brought it into fighting position. That was enough to make him think twice and take a couple steps back. We were in a small hallway and had no room to circle each other. Instead we both shifted our weight and gauged each other.

  “No fair, asshole,” he muttered, gesturing at my sword.

  “All’s fair in love and war,” I retorted, “and this ain’t going to be a lengthy relationship.”

  He began backing towards the common room. It was a much larger area a
nd would give us more room to maneuver. In a larger room, my advantage would be greater because of the length of the blade. With practiced ease, he flipped the combat knife around and put the length of the blade along his forearm. I had to give this guy credit. He certainly knew how to handle a blade.

  “Why are you trying to kill me?” I asked, stalling until we were in the clear.

  “It ain’t like you’re gonna just give me what I want,” he replied, watching me carefully.

  “What do you want?”

  “The usual,” he replied. “All your gear and the woman.”

  “I’m afraid that ain't gonna happen,” I said, starting to circle around him.

  With a lightning fast move, he sliced at my face. I ducked back and avoided the slash. Before he could leap back, I drove the hilt of the sword into his nose. I landed a solid blow and he staggered back, nearly falling over a chair. While he was off balance, I drove the point of the blade into his midsection. I expected it to be a disemboweling move, but I struck something solid. It felt like I’d hit armor.

  “Wrong move, asshole,” he snarled and slashed the knife across my left bicep. I felt the familiar sting of a blade scoring my arm, but I knew that my body armor had stopped the worst of it. I doubted that he knew the blow hadn't drawn blood. My coat covered the armor and plate carrier. Still, he’d scored a good hit. Whoever the heck he was, he wasn’t going down without a fight.

  When he came at me again, I was ready. I parried the knife with the flat of the blade and forced his weapon arm up. My sword was engaged, but my left hand was free. I used that to my advantage and drove my fist into his face. As I did, he brought his free hand down and struck my right elbow directly in the joint. My arm went numb to my shoulder and I felt the sword tumble from my lifeless fingers. He’d gotten me with a nerve strike. The armor didn't cover my elbows and wrists.

  I heard my sword clatter to the ground as he fell over backwards from the force of the blow to his face. I took a small amount of comfort in the sound of his knife skittering away into the darkness. At least I was still on my feet. That might just be enough of an advantage to give me the fight, if I was lucky.

  “Who the hell are you?” he demanded incredulously, rubbing his jaw.

  I chose not to answer him and shook my numb arm, trying to regain the feeling in it. I couldn’t risk him getting another weapon. I waited as he got partially to his feet and drove my shoulder into his midsection. He lost several layers of cloth off of his head and I could now see his face. He had long stringy hair that hadn’t been washed in the Gods knew how long and an unkempt beard that covered the majority of his face.

  As we crashed through the door into the vehicle bay, Spec-4 jumped to her feet and brought up her M-4. She couldn’t get a clear shot, since we were both grappling for position trying to gain the upper hand. I grabbed a handful of his greasy hair and drove my fist into his face. I felt the nose give way beneath my knuckles and felt the warm flow of blood on my hand.

  With a grunt of pain, he brought his hands up to his face. Before I could react, he drove a knee into my groin. White hot pain shot through my abdomen and I felt like I was going to throw up. I nearly fell to my knees, but I knew if I did that it would be all over. My adrenalin kept me on my feet. With a savage roar, I launched myself at him and we went down in a tangle.

  In a flurry of blows and kicks, we fought our way to our feet and across the room. I lost track of the number of times we struck each other. He landed a nasty kick to my stomach and drove me back against the fire truck. My head was swimming and my ears were ringing. I felt like I’d gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer. Everything hurt and throbbed. I could see Spec-4 behind him trying to get a clear shot, but we were still too close together. Any shot she took risked hitting me.

  As my head swam, he reached out and grabbed me by the collar. I reached back for anything I could use to defend myself. I felt my fingers wrap around something cold and metal. Whatever it was, it was heavy. I pulled it free from its mount and swung with all the force I could muster. I had no idea what I had in my hands or the reach of it. I struck him in the side of the head with the middle section of a tool I recognized instantly. He fell in a heap, not moving.

  I looked down in amazement to see I was holding a Halligan Bar. It was a tool used by firefighters to bash, pry or break their way into doors, windows, walls and anything else in their way. Firefighters had dozens of nicknames for the tool, but my personal favorite was the “Hoolie” or “Hooligan Bar.” The Hoolie was a combination pry-bar, pick axe and battering ram. It was the same tool that we had used to create the war-hammer that Snake now carried.

  I smiled as I held it in my hands and felt the weight. At my feet, my attacker lay unconscious. Had I struck him with the pick axe end, it would have torn his skull apart. I turned the bar over in my hands and was considering finishing him off when I saw something around his neck that was shining in the darkness. It was some type of jewelry and it caught my eye.

  Taking out my flashlight, I lit him up and checked the necklace. I was stunned to find a set of military dog-tags. It stayed my hand. I’d talk to the guy before I decided what to do with him. It was the least I could do for a former soldier. I'd give him the benefit of the doubt, but that would only buy him so much breathing room. He'd nearly sealed his fate when he said he was after not only our gear, but Spec-4. That wasn't something one of the “good guys” would say.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Spec-4, covering him with her rifle.

  “He’s wearing dog-tags,” I replied.

  “And?”

  “I won’t kill him.”

  “So what do we do with him?” she asked.

  “We’ll tie him up,” I said, reaching into my cargo pocket for the nylon rope I kept there. “We’ll see what he has to say in the morning, if he wakes up.”

  With that, we tied him up and dragged him over by where we’d set up the tent. I went back inside the fire station and grabbled all of the blankets off of the beds. I even dragged out three of the mattresses. Sure, we could have slept inside on the beds, but I wanted to stay close to the horses.

  Once we had him on a mattress and wrapped with enough blankets to keep him from freezing, we decided to call it a night. I recovered my lost weapons and the knife our prisoner had, and secured the door into the firehouse with a heavy equipment box. Then I sat down on my own mattress and reached for the Hoolie Bar. Ideas began to form in my head as I turned it over in my hands.

  “I think I just found the replacement for my hammer,” I said, smiling like a kid in a candy store.

  Chapter Three

  Unexpected Allies

  “The only reason a warrior is alive is to fight,

  and the only reason a warrior fights is to win”

  - Miyamoto Musashi

  - Book of Five Rings

  I awoke in semi-darkness. The sun wasn’t quite up yet, but there was enough light to see by. I stood and stretched away the cramps in my limbs, then reached for my boots. Spec-4 was still asleep and I didn’t want to disturb her. Zipping up my boots, I felt the fabric give a little. The zipper slipped, and then came off in my hand.

  “Shit,” I whispered. “So much for my favorite pair of boots.”

  Then I remembered seeing gear inside the fire station. Grabbing my M-4 and turning on the tactical light, I headed over to the door. Glancing over at our prisoner, I could see that he was still out cold. I moved the equipment box and opened the door into the main part of the station.

  Seeing no movement inside, I stepped in and swept the area. Other than the signs of the fight from the night before, nothing seemed out of place. Sweeping the hallway, I checked each door as I passed it. I wasn’t going to be surprised this time. After clearing all of the rooms, I checked the closets.

  On my third try, I found three sets of firefighter’s boots. They were the knee high kind with the straps on the sides for pulling them on in a hurry. Luckily, they were close enough to my size that they would
fit. Removing my battered tactical boots, I slipped my feet into the replacements.

  “Holy shit,” I muttered. “Those bastards never told me how comfortable these things are. The bucket-heads were holding out on us.”

  I took all of the boots and headed back out to the bay. Spec-4 was sitting up and blinking the sleep out of her eyes when I walked back in.

  “Good morning, sleepy-head,” I said, tossing the boots next to my pack.

  “I need coffee,” she groaned, scratching her head, “and a hot shower.”

  “Well,” I said, trying to sound comforting, “we’re fresh out of both at the moment.”

  She glared at me and started to say something, when our prisoner groaned and started moving. We both turned to see if he was going to get up or begin struggling against his bonds. He opened his eyes and looked around, taking in his surroundings. When he saw me, he froze and locked gaze onto mine.

  “You’re the guy I fought with,” he said, his voice deep and gruff.

  “That was me,” I agreed.

  “Why didn’t you kill me?” he asked, confused. “I would have killed you.”

  “Your dog-tags,” I replied. “I was a soldier once and I still remember what that means. We took the same oath, once upon a time.”

  He took a deep breath and looked away. I could tell that my words had affected him. Whether or not he was still “one of the good guys” was yet to be determined, but it was a start. If he felt remorse for his actions, then there was hope. In this world, hope was all we had left. That didn't mean that I was going to trust him. He had to earn that.

  After a long moment, he looked up and met my gaze. I could see he was carefully considering his words before he spoke. There was a lot riding on what he said next. It could mean the difference between life and death. For him, that is. If his next words were threats or if he had no idea what I had meant about the oath, I would most likely kill him. I couldn’t afford to let him follow us back home. The Freemen had pounded that lesson into my head.