The Reckoning - 02

by D. A. Roberts

  Ragnarok Rising:

  The Reckoning

  Book Two of

  The Ragnarok Rising Saga

  By

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One - Odin’s Call

  Chapter Two - Gone a Viking

  Chapter Three - Bifrost

  Chapter Four - One Stop Shopping

  Chapter Five - Into Hel

  Chapter Six - Touch of the Healer

  Chapter Seven - The Long Road Home

  Chapter Eight - Breaking Point

  Chapter Nine - The Damage is Done

  Chapter Ten - A Few Good Books

  Chapter Eleven - To The Rescue

  Chapter Twelve - Search and Rescue

  Chapter Thirteen - Phase Two

  Chapter Fourteen - Evacuation

  Chapter Fifteen - Convoy Duty

  Chapter Sixteen - The Enemy of My Enemy

  Chapter Seventeen - Red Sky at Dawn

  Chapter Eighteen - Reunion

  Chapter Nineteen - Questions and Answers

  Chapter Twenty - Recon

  Chapter Twenty One - Into Darkness

  Chapter Twenty Two - The Devil’s Due

  Chapter Twenty Three - Deadly Response

  Chapter Twenty Four -Bread and Circuses

  Chapter Twenty Five -Tender Mercies

  Chapter Twenty Six - Hearth and Home

  Chapter Twenty Seven -Flight of the Valkyries

  Author’s Bio: D.A. Roberts

  Coming Soon!

  Brother shall strike brother and both fall,

  Sisters' sons defiled with incest;

  Evil be on earth, an age of whoredom,

  Of sharp sword-play and shields clashing,

  A wind-age, a wolf-age till the world ruins:

  No man to another shall mercy show.

  The waters are troubled, the waves surge up:

  Announcing now the knell of Fate,

  Heimdal winds his horn aloft,

  On Hel's road all men tremble.

  - The Voluspa

  Ragnarok Rising: The Reckoning

  Book Two of the Ragnarok Rising Saga

  By D.A. Roberts

  Second Edition © 2013

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Please refer all pertinent questions to the publisher. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design and Interior Images by Phil Morrissey

  Typeset and Layout by D.A. Roberts

  Editing by D.A. Roberts

  Author Bio Photo by Annette M. Roberts

  Interactive Map by Kate Hughes

  Check out the interactive map for a new level of experience in reading. See the actual locations from the book, as you read it.

  Ragnarok Map

  Published by D.A. Roberts

  Springfield, MO

  Acknowledgements

  Once again, I would like to take a moment to say thank you to everyone who helped me bring this story to life.

  First, to my family. My wife Annette, who proof-read and edited late into the night helping me to finish the manuscript. To my three sons; Nathan, Nic and Noah. My sons read my first book and encouraged me to continue. My family is my support, my muse and my legacy. I want nothing more than to make them proud. They believed in my dream of becoming a writer, for all the long years it took me to finally make it there. Thank you all. I love you guys, more than anything.

  To all of the officers of the Greene County Sheriff’s Office. Not just the Corrections Officers, but to all of you. Thanks for the encouragement and support. You guys are amazing. You all do a thankless job and do it with pride and integrity. It has been my deepest honor to serve with all of you. Your courage and dedication continually show me the meaning of duty and honor.

  Special thanks to CO Brian Forrester, Sergeant Mike Mello, Deputy Cassandra Smith and Deputy Matt Roper. Thanks for taking the time to beta-read the manuscript and give me feedback. You helped me turn the ideas into words. Your encouragement and suggestions helped me to continue the Saga and take it to new heights.

  I’d also like to say a special thank you to all of the real heroes out there. The men and women in uniform. The Military Personnel, Police Officers, Deputies, Corrections Officers, Firefighters, EMT’s and Para-medics. You all are the heroes behind the scenes. Your daily sacrifices keep us safe and your dedication is a tribute to all that is best in the human spirit. Thank you for the job you all do and the part you play in making this world a little better. This book is dedicated to all of you. Thank you for all that you do.

  - DA Roberts

  Chapter One

  Odin’s Call

  “Ancestors, I ask you for your guidance. Blessed mother, come to me with the Gods' desire for my future. Blessed father, watch over my wife and son with a ready sword. Whisper to them that I live only to hold them again, for all else is dust and air. Ancestors, I honor you and will try to live with the dignity that you have taught me.”

  - Maximus Decimus Meridius

  - Gladiator

  10 April

  I awoke to pain. Not the slight ache you get from lying in one position for too long. No, this was more like a body-wide got your ass kicked pain with a hangover tossed in for good measure, while you have the flu. Right then I realized one thing with utmost clarity. I must be alive. because death couldn’t possibly hurt this bad. I really didn’t want to open my eyes, half from the pain that I knew would come and half out of fear of what I’d see when I did. My last thoughts before the blackness took me were of a warrior’s death and going to Valhalla. Before that though, my memory seemed to be a touch fuzzy.

  Cautiously I opened my eyes and just as I feared, the pain lanced into my skull like white-hot needles. With agonizing slowness, the pain began to ebb and my vision began to clear. I felt gentle movement beneath me and it was somehow soothing. As my eyesight came back into focus, I found myself nose to nose with a familiar face. The irony made me chuckle. It also sent spasms of pain throughout my body and waves of nausea through my stomach.

  I’d expected to die and hoped to find myself among the honored dead. I found myself looking into the face of Odin. Not Odin the One-Eyed God, but Odin the one-eyed dog. It was just my luck that fate was dyslexic. As fickle as fate had been, it did mean that I wasn’t the only one to survive the explosions. That was good news, because it meant I wouldn’t be alone out here in zombie infested territory. They say that misery loves company. I guess that they’re right.

  My memories came screaming back, unbidden and unwanted. In the span of a few heartbeats, I relived the past few weeks. From the first reports of the rioting to our struggle to survive against hordes of undead, it all rushed back with painful clarity. The last few moments were the worst. Especially the moment that I realized my family wouldn’t make it to the Humvees, and my decision to charge the undead to save them. It wasn’t exactly my best plan ever, but it worked.

  I remembered running at the crowd, firing as I went. I turned down the ramp onto the dock and saw Odin take a pair of Sprinters into the water to save me. That’s when something truly amazing happened. The crowd of zombies turned to follow me. I had bought my family the time that they needed to escape, and I would willingly pay for it with my life. I watched the grenade leave my hand and land among the propane tanks. The explosion was the worst. It sent me flying through the air, into pain and darkness. The pain was the worst part. I have no idea how something could
hurt that bad, but not kill you.

  I was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm and dry heaving when it was through, tasting the foul bile that rose from my empty stomach. Surviving that explosion was nothing short of miraculous. There had to be a reason why I survived. I realized that waking up and finding Odin there before me was a sign. I knew what it meant, too. It meant that I wasn’t finished here, yet. I still had work to do. Either that or I was already in Hel. Neither thought was particularly appealing.

  Slowly, I forced my way onto my side and reached for Odin. He eagerly accepted my touch and I scratched his ears. I gave him a quick once over, hoping I wouldn’t find a bite mark or a wound. I gave a sigh of relief when I didn’t find any. It seemed the bastard was mocking me with his pristine condition. He was fine. In fact, he’d fared far better than I had. At least one of us was in good shape.

  I glanced around and took in my surroundings. I was lying on a pontoon boat, and it seemed to be listing to starboard. I was completely surrounded by water and easily a hundred yards away from the smoking ruin that had once been the marina. The sun was still low in what I thought was the east, so I figured it was early morning. From the condition of the marina, I estimated that I’d been unconscious for at least twenty-four hours, possibly longer. It had been early morning when I’d blown the place to Hel. The majority of the fires had burned out, leaving the marina a twisted mass of scorched metal and charred wood.

  I shrugged off my pack and removed my interceptor vest. I still had my pistols, but my M-16 and my AA-12 were both gone. They were probably at the bottom of the lake. My backpack had a large shard of metal stuck into it. If it hadn’t been for the pack, I’m sure it would have killed me. It was wedged into one of the drum magazines for the AA-12. It was a good thing it didn’t set off any of the ammo in it or it might have cut me in half.

  My legs were pierced with over a dozen smaller pieces of metal, scattered like buckshot across the back of them both. None of them were in too deep, so I pulled them out and tossed them into the lake. It hurt like hell, but I managed to keep from cursing too loudly. I could see the blood dissipate into the surrounding water as the pieces sank from view. Several fish darted around, attracted by the blood. They quickly vanished back into the gloomy water, following the blood trails.

  I grabbed my first aid kit and taped up the cuts as best I could. My arms were mercifully clear of shrapnel, but I had one piece about the size of a quarter stuck into the back of my head. I touched it gently and it hurt like hell, but it moved easily. That was the good news. At least it wasn’t buried in my skull. The bad news was that scalp wounds tend to bleed a lot. So, I rolled up a piece of gauze and got ready. I stuck the gauze to the wound the instant I pulled out the shard. I could feel blood begin to seep into the cloth, so I wrapped it a couple times to keep it in place and did my best to ignore it.

  I was in much better shape than I had any right to be, considering all that I’d been through in the last few days. I pulled my pants back on, what was left of them anyway, and looked around the boat. I wanted to try to figure out why we were listing. Pontoon boats don’t usually do that. It would take a considerable amount of weight to make one sit that low in the water, and I didn’t see anything that it could possibly be. The only other possibility was if the pontoon was punctured. Then I had a whole new set of problems to contend with.

  I made my way towards the front of the boat and saw the culprit. One of the mooring lines was pulled tightly down into the water. We were still attached to a large chunk of the dock. It had to weigh several hundred pounds to pull us down that far. Carefully, I leaned over the rail and looked into the water. It was murky, but I could just make out the shape of the slab. It was a sizeable piece of what used to be the walkway on the marina. I could also see movement in the darkness.

  It took me a second to realize what I was looking at. There were at least three zombies clinging to it, adding to the weight that was dragging us down. When they saw movement above them, they started thrashing about trying to climb up to get me. Their thrashing was causing the boat to rock and dip precariously towards the water. The last thing I needed was for them to destabilize the boat and make us capsize. Fortunately, they didn’t know how to climb a rope. I didn’t think that bit of luck would last forever, so I retrieved a knife from my pack and cut us free.

  Instantly, the debris sank into the gloom taking the zombies along with it on a rapid ride to the bottom. I knew the lake was deep in this area, but I wasn’t sure exactly how deep. It didn’t really matter, as long as they were gone and out of reach of the boat. The bottom was muddy enough that I doubted they would be able to walk out to the shore. With any luck, they’d be stuck fast. As soon as I cut the rope, the boat snapped back to level.

  “Well, that pretty much rules out swimming,” I mumbled, scratching Odin’s head.

  He just looked at me quizzically and cocked his head to one side. I had the strangest feeling that he actually understood me. I scratched his head again and received a big, wet slurp from him for it. One of the truly great things about dogs is the comfort they give you, even when things seam the bleakest. It was nice to have him with me, even if the circumstances weren’t the best.

  I was beginning to feel a little light-headed, but I forced myself to keep moving. I couldn’t sit here forever. I checked the fuel tank and was relieved to find it almost full. I had to bypass the ignition, since my luck didn’t extend to finding a key. It was really just a simple matter of yanking the wires off of the ignition switch and splicing them together. Then I engaged the starter button. Amazingly, the outboard motor growled and came to life on the second try.

  I did a quick scan of the shoreline, but didn’t see any zombies in the immediate area. That was good. With no other base of operations in the area, I throttled up and headed back to my boat. I knew that I could get supplies and shelter on the Caitríona while I tried to figure out how to make my way back to the jail. If I had any chance at all of finding my family, I knew that was where to start. I knew Elliott had grabbed the guns and ammo, but food and water were still a big priority. I wasn’t going anywhere if I didn’t find the essentials.

  Right about then I realized how hungry I was. It had to have been close to thirty-six hours since I’d last eaten. Odin looked like he could use a good meal, too. It was settled, then. We needed food, shelter and supplies and I could get all three on Caitríona. After everything that had happened to me, I really needed to eat, bandage my wounds and get some rest. I had to regain my strength if I had a shot at making it back to the jail.

  I didn’t see a single zombie as I rounded the peninsula and she came into view. I throttled back as we came astern and I nosed the pontoon boat right against her. Caitríona’s engines were inboard, so I wasn’t concerned about hitting them and the pontoon boat sat too high to hit the prop. I tied off to the stern and opened the little door in the front rail. The decks weren’t completely level, but it was close enough to make it across without too much difficulty.

  Odin leapt across without any effort, but I nearly fell into the water trying to make it. My head was spinning and I felt weak. I had to grab the rail to steady myself. My vision swam and I held on for dear life. I knew that if I fell into the water in this condition, I’d drown for sure. As much as I love irony, I didn’t want to be killed by it. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, I would have laughed.

  After a few moments, I steadied myself and shuffled off towards the main cabin. I slid down onto one of the couches and looked around. I didn’t see any weapons, at all. Elliot, my oldest son, had been thorough. There were boxes of food and water, but no weapons of any kind. That was fine, though. What I really needed was something to eat and drink. Bandages and a bed were on the agenda, too.

  I grabbed two cans of beef stew with pull-tab openings. I opened the first one and dumped it into a bowl for Odin. Then I opened the other one for myself. Odin started devouring his with the enthusiasm that only 130 pounds of hungry bullmastiff can m
uster. I snagged a plastic spoon from the drawer and started shoveling mine into my mouth, barely slowing down to chew. I’m sure it would have been better if I’d warmed it up, but I was too hungry to wait. I was only a few bites into mine when Odin finished his and looked at me expectantly, licking his chops.

  “Slow down, boy,” I said, grinning through a mouthful of stew. “You’ll enjoy it more.”

  I opened another can for him and poured it into his bowl. Then I grabbed a few bottles of water, poured them into another bowl and sat it beside Odin. He looked up long enough to give my hand a wet slurp and resumed eating. I scratched his ears before opening my own bottle of water and drinking it in one long pull. Odin ate four cans to my two before we were both content. Then I opened the first aid kit and washed down a handful of ibuprofen with another bottle of water.

  Next came the part I’d been dreading, I stripped naked and did a wound check. First, I cleaned all of them with alcohol. I couldn’t help myself and let out a string of obscenities that would make a deep-water sailor blush with shame. Alcohol on fresh wounds hurts like hell. Then I cleaned them all again with hydrogen peroxide. Once I recovered, I slathered the wounds with antibiotic ointment and put on fresh bandages.

  Afterwards, I did my best to get the gunk off of my clothes with water and hand-soap from the galley. Digging out my sewing kit, I stitched up the worst of the tears. It wasn’t a pretty job, but it would work for now. After all, they were the only clothes I had. I hung them on the railing to dry and turned to the next task.

  My shotgun and rifle were gone, but I still had four pistols. I had two Berretta 9mm’s, one Smith and Wesson .357 revolver and the old Army Colt. The ammo count was disappointingly low. I had two boxes of 9mm ammo and eight full magazines for the pistols. That totaled about 220 rounds. The S&W revolver held 8 rounds and that’s all I had for it. The rest of the .357 ammo had been in the Humvee. The Long Colt had six in the cylinder and another thirty eight rounds in the box. That gave me 44 rounds for the Colt.