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

by D. A. Roberts

  Getting the horses unpacked and settled in, we used some plastic coolers to bring in snow for them. It would melt once we got some heat going in here and they would at least have something to drink. Tomorrow, Bowman and Winston would take them and head back for the Facility while the rest of us continued on foot into Springfield. By tomorrow night, they would be back inside the Facility with fresh water and food.

  After we worked out a guard schedule, we decided that we should try to get some rest. I checked out the RV and found that the propane tanks were full, so I lit the stove inside and put on a pot of coffee. I had to dig out the old metal percolator that I carried, but fresh coffee was going to be completely worth the effort. It would be wonderful to have something warm to drink.

  The RV would easily sleep eight, so we picked out beds and decided to sleep in relative comfort instead of in a tent on the concrete floor of the bay. To me, it was a no-brainer. I would take a soft bed over hard concrete any day of the week. I wasn't surprised when Spec-4 joined me at the back of the RV.

  “Mind if I sleep with you?” she asked. “Two sleep warmer than one.”

  “Alright,” I said. “Will you check my stitches first?”

  “No problem,” she replied.

  After applying antibiotic ointment and a fresh bandage, we crawled beneath the covers and huddled up for warmth. It was always nice to have a warm body against you when you sleep, but my mind was on other things. Tomorrow, when we reached Springfield, would we find the dead or would the Eldjötnar be waiting?

  “Wylie,” she said, softly.

  “Yeah,” I replied, keeping my voice low.

  “I think I understand,” she said, cryptically.

  “Understand what?” I asked, craning my head so I could look her in the eye.

  “You,” she said, flatly. “And everything else.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “After seeing Marko fall,” she said, her voice taking on an odd quality. “I saw…”

  “What did you see?” I prompted.

  “Well, not exactly saw, more like felt,” she explained. “I felt the connection. Like I suddenly understood why there were Einherjar. Why you were all chosen. It's because of them. The Hrimthurssar and the Eldjötnar.”

  “Yeah, that's part of it,” I said. “But there's more to it than that.”

  “You don't have to explain,” she said. “I get it now. She explained it to me.”

  “Who explained it?” I asked, confused. “Did Bridgett tell you something?”

  “Not Bridgett,” she said. “The Lady in the flames. The one who came for Marko.”

  “I didn't see anyone,” I said. “I was watching to see if I could catch a glimpse of anything, but there was nothing.”

  “That's because she wasn't there for you,” explained Spec-4. “You won't see her until you've been chosen.”

  “Will she come for me?” I asked, not really expecting an answer.

  “She won't be coming for you,” she replied, confidently.

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do,” she replied. “I can't explain it. You'll understand when the time comes.”

  “So I won't be chosen,” I said, softly.

  “You were chosen a long time ago,” she explained. “Long before any of this even happened.”

  “How do you know all of this?” I asked, turning to face her.

  “She told me,” answered Spec-4, meeting my gaze. “I can't explain anything more than that.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “Now I think I'm more confused than ever.”

  “You won't be,” she whispered, nestling against my chest. “When the time comes.”

  With that, I felt her relax and her breathing grow steady and deep. She had fallen asleep. I lay there for a long while, pondering what she had meant and what was waiting for us in the coming days. She probably couldn't explain it any better than that. I think she'd had a vision back at Marko's pyre. Visions weren't easy to explain to yourself, let alone someone who hadn't experienced it. I knew better than to press her for more information. I doubted that she had it to give me.

  Still, sleep was a long way away. Not only did I have to worry about the coming battle, but now I was caught trying to figure out Spec-4's riddle. Somehow, I knew that the answers would probably only bring more questions. After all, that was the nature of things lately. I pondered it until sleep took me.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Familiar Streets

  “The best weapon against an enemy is another enemy.”

  - Friedrich Nietzsche

  I was awake well before dawn and slipped out of bed to put on the coffee pot. Soon, the smell of fresh coffee was filling the entire camper. The least I could do was send everyone off with something warm in their systems. It might well be the last time any of us were warm for quite some time. I was more than happy to grab the small comforts, where and when I could.

  I helped Bowman and Winston prepare the horses. We saddled all of them and tethered the ones who wouldn’t be carrying anyone for the return trip. We discussed their route back and decided that varying up the route back would be a good idea. That way, if anyone was following us, they would have a better shot at making it home without being seen. I warned them that they could no longer count on the truce between us and the Hrimthurssar.

  Bergelmir and I discussed why the Hrimthurssar would turn on us before we had defeated the Eldjötnar. The only conclusion that we had come to was that Thrym believed the story I told him about where to find Pensmore. Perhaps he felt that since he was close to reaching Loki, then he no longer needed our help. The only other thought that came to mind was that the Frostbiters were only supposed to soften us up and we were never meant to discover that the Hrimthurssar and John Banner were even there.

  Either possibility was moot, because by killing the three Hrimthurssar we had sent a loud and clear message to Thrym that we knew what he was up to. The kid gloves had just come off. Now it was open season on all of us. No more truce and no more hesitation. Once he discovered that I had sent him on a wild goose chase, he would be coming directly for me. If the Eldjötnar were in Springfield, then everything would come to a head where it had all begun for me. It was homecoming time.

  Once the horses were out of sight, the rest of us picked up our gear and started packing up. I double checked the loads on all of my weapons and then put them carefully beneath my cloak. Since we were going where it had already been reported that large numbers of the dead were still moving around, I couldn’t afford for any of them to be taken out of commission by ice. I was already carrying enough ammunition to start a war. I just hoped that I had enough to finish it, too.

  We slipped over the fence, well away from the gate. We did this for two reasons. One, to avoid going out the same way as the horses; and two, to try to disguise the fact that they had left without us. We stayed in the cover of the trees with the intention of skirting around Strafford and approaching Springfield from the northeast corner. By staying hidden as long as possible, we hoped to slip past the dead and into the city. At least that was the plan and we all know how my plans usually turn out.

  The closer we got to Springfield, the less snow we had to slog through. I also noticed that the air temperature seemed to be gradually increasing. We crossed Interstate 44 about halfway between Springfield and Strafford. There were less trees on the south side of the highway, but more buildings that we could use as cover. By the time we reached the intersection of Interstates 44 and 65, you could see the ground in places.

  Using my spyglass, I was able to get a better look at the edge of town. I could see the occasional zombie moving around, but there was nowhere near the numbers that I was expecting. That would change rapidly if there were any Shriekers in the bunch, or if the Hrimthurssar called them down on us. Stealth was still going to be our best strategy, at least until we found the Eldjötnar. After that, all bets were off.

  Turning south, we cut through the industrial park and staye
d behind concealment where we could. For whatever reason, the dead seemed to be staying clear of the areas where there was still snow on the ground. It was probably something similar to whatever made them hesitant about entering the water. Possibly, it was some vestigial survival instinct remaining in the brain, at least on some primitive level. Who knows, maybe they just didn’t want to get their feet wet.

  Keeping off the roads as much as possible, we made our way across what I think was Kearney Street and into the industrial area that housed the Springfield Underground. In the early days of the apocalypse, we had our base of operations there. At least until the damned Freemen detonated a massive explosion and caved part of it in on top of us. It was ironic but out of this group, only Spec-4 and I were actually there. We met everyone else after we found the Facility at Bennett Springs.

  As we approached the entrance to the Underground, it was plain to see that the place had collapsed far more than we had originally anticipated. Most of the place had fallen in on itself, and without the electricity to run the sump pumps, the rest had filled with water. It was frozen over now, but from where the ice began I could tell that there had been extensive flooding before the Fimbul Winter came.

  “Wow,” whispered Spec-4. “Look at this place.”

  “I know,” I replied. “Good thing we left when we did.”

  “No kidding,” she said, shaking her head. “It looks like most of it caved in.”

  “Was that your old base?” asked Snake.

  “Yeah,” I said, grimly. “We were in good shape down there until another group of survivors called the Freemen attacked us.”

  “What the fuck did they use?” replied Snake, wide-eyed. “A nuke?”

  “Not quite,” I said, shaking my head. “They detonated the massive propane tanks that we had. There was enough propane in them to run the generators for months.”

  Spec-4 and I remained solemn until we were well clear of the area. We couldn’t help but think of everyone that we’d lost, both in getting to the Underground and in defending it. By the time we had reached Division Street, the snow was completely gone. I was noticing that although the air temperature was still cold, the ground was warmer than it would normally be. I was beginning to think that there might be something to the theory that the Eldjötnar were trying to set off a volcano.

  At the off-ramp where Division Street crosses US 65, we paused to get a better look around. Taking out my spyglass, I began sweeping the area. I was looking for anything out of the ordinary or that might indicate where to begin looking for the Eldjötnar. I observed that the snow was visible to the south, but it was clear in town. That meant that we were going to have to go into Springfield.

  “Well, shit,” I muttered. “It looks like we’re going downtown.”

  “That’s not good,” replied Snake. “The dead are moving around in there.”

  “No, it’s not,” agreed Spec-4. “Wylie and I have done this before.”

  Reaching beneath my cloak, I took out my M-4 and attached the suppressor. As I was doing so, I noticed that everyone else was following suit. We all knew the risks in going into the city on foot. The less noise we made from this point on, the better. Without a vehicle to provide cover and speed, we were going to be in a very difficult spot. If we drew the attention of any Shriekers or Sprinters, there would be no where we would be able to run to that would be safe. Things were about to get extremely interesting.

  We moved out onto the bridge in a tactical formation. Spec-4 and I took the lead, since we were the only ones in the group who had any actual tactical training. Snake and Bridgett stayed behind us and did their best to imitate our movements. Bergelmir brought up the rear, making no attempt to move tactically. He just strode down the middle of the road, daring anything to come attack him. I wasn’t overly concerned with their overall tactical ability. I was just hoping Snake would stay quiet. He wasn’t the most subtle of individuals on a good day. Come to think of it, Bergelmir wasn’t exactly the poster child for subtle, either.

  As we approached the far side of the bridge, I could see movement near the old grocery store warehouse. Signaling for everyone to stop, I brought my M-4 to my eye and zeroed in on the movement. There were three of the dead shambling along. It would be easy to assume that they were all Shamblers, but I have been fooled before. Shriekers and Sprinters were pretty much indistinguishable from Shamblers, until they either started screaming or accelerated towards you. By then, it was usually too late.

  Taking aim at the last one in line, I planned to eliminate them from the back. It would be unlikely that the two in the front would even notice that the third one had been shot until I was already taking out the next one.

  “I’ve got the middle one,” said Spec-4.

  “Got it,” I replied. “I’ll take tail-end Charlie and the leader.”

  “On three,” she said.

  “One,” I said, beginning to take up the slack on the trigger.

  “Two,” she added.

  I could feel the familiar rush of excitement as I prepared to squeeze the last remaining bit of trigger slack.

  “Three,” I muttered.

  I felt the slight buck of the weapon and heard the muted pop as the lethal projectile sped on its way towards the unsuspecting dead. I saw the impact of the round striking the back of the thing’s skull, right in the center. I didn’t wait for it to fall before moving my sights onto the leader.

  The sound of the two bodies hitting the ground must have caught the creature’s attention, because it began turning around. I looked it right in the face as my hands performed the task of ending the thing’s undead life. I watched as the forehead came apart and saw the dead eyes roll back into the creature’s head. It was then that I realized that I knew him. Or more specifically, knew who it had once been. I’d been looking into the face of an officer that I had worked with before all of this had happened.

  “I think that was Corporal Gary Haggard,” I said, glancing up at Spec-4.

  “Who?” she asked, lowering her weapon.

  “I worked with him at the jail,” I answered. “He was a friend of mine. We lost him the same day we rescued everyone that was trapped in the drug store.”

  I could see recollection flash in her eyes.

  “I remember hearing his name before,” she said, nodding. “Didn’t Alex Parker mention him before we lost him, too?”

  “Yeah,” I said, sadly. “The question is, how the Hel did he get this far across town. I mean, it’s not like these things to wander this far without them chasing something.”

  “Who knows,” replied Spec-4. “No sense worrying about it. I doubt we’ll ever know for sure.”

  “Probably not,” I agreed. “Let’s keep moving.”

  Dropping the magazine from my weapon, I replaced the two expended rounds and popped the magazine back in. No sense having to keep track of how many rounds I had expended. Spec-4 followed suit and soon we were heading west down Division Street. Fortunately for us, there didn’t seem to be many of the dead in the area. That would change as we got farther into town.

  Staying behind buildings and abandoned vehicles, it took us almost an hour to reach the intersection at Division and Glenstone. This was the spot where our convoy had been ambushed by the Freemen using RPG’s and automatic weapons. We lost several good people in that fight. To our left was the pawn shop where Spec-4 and I spent the night, after we had escaped the ambush. Although the memory was still fresh in my mind, it felt like a lifetime ago.

  “Whoa,” said Snake, gesturing at the wreckage of a burned-out Humvee. “Look at that. I feel sorry for the poor bastards who were in that.”

  “That would be me and Wylie,” said Spec-4. “We took an RPG hit to the front end. I would have died there, if it hadn’t been for Wylie.”

  “It’s not like you haven’t done the same for me,” I replied without looking at the wreckage. “More than once, if I recall correctly.”

  Just as I was about to turn to say something els
e, I felt that familiar feeling of danger in the back of my head. Something was wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “We’ve got to get off of the street,” I hissed. “Now!”

  Without hesitation, Spec-4 led us towards the back of the pawn shop. The back door was still open and we slipped inside, shutting it securely behind us. Activating our tactical lights, we did a quick sweep of the interior and found nothing moving, living or dead. After we had made certain that it was clear, we headed upstairs to the small office. I knew that it would be the best vantage point to observe the area, because it had the only windows.

  Crouching down beside the window, I peered out into the street. I didn’t see any movement, but something was nagging at me. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. I motioned for everyone else to stay quiet and very slowly raised the window about an inch. Straining to listen, I put my ear next to the opening and waited. At first there was nothing, but the faint sound of the wind through the dead city. Then faintly on the breeze, I heard the unmistakable sound of a vehicle.

  “I hear an engine,” I said quietly.

  “Where?” asked Snake.

  “It’s faint, but it sounds like its west of here,” I replied.

  “Does it sound like its moving?” asked Spec-4.

  “That’s the odd part,” I said, shaking my head. “It sounds stationary.”

  “Generator?” asked Snake, frowning.

  “Maybe,” I said, shrugging. “But I don’t think that’s what felt out of place.”

  “Then what was it?” asked Spec-4.

  “Contact,” hissed Snake. “There!”

  He was pointing out the window to the north of us. I turned my head and saw three of the Hrimthurssar coming down the street on their Vargr. They were moving slowly, looking between buildings and behind vehicles.

  “Do you think they know that we’re here?” asked Bridgett.

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “It almost looks like they’re searching for something.”