Ragnarok Rising

by D. A. Roberts

  By way of a reply, he just gestured to our left and nodded at me. With a sigh, I headed off to our left moving slowly to minimize the noise. Despite being a fighter pilot, Shura was surprisingly quiet in the woods. I know that our fighter pilots have to go to SERE[8] school, so it was safe to assume that the Russians do something similar. I would try to remember to ask him about that, later. He might know a few tricks that could help us all.

  As we moved farther in what I assumed was east, I realized that there were five buildings, not merely four. Fortunately for us, it seemed that the tree line extended around past the final building. We might be able to sneak past the entire complex and never leave the trees. At least, that was what I was hoping we would be able to do. It was going to take some luck.

  Staying low, we crept between the trees and tried to stay as silent as possible. As we began to creep around the building, I realized that this was a narrow strip of trees that ran between the apartment complex and some sort of warehouse. At least there wasn't anyone moving near the warehouse. I could see the occasional zombie moving around near the front side of the apartments, but not many. I breathed a silent prayer, hoping for luck to aid us in this dangerous journey.

  "Lady Freyja," I whispered. "I ask your favor this day for luck to guide our steps. We seek medicine for one of our own, who is injured. Grant us your blessing to see us through this task, but if we should fail I ask that you and your Valkyries find us worthy of Valhalla."

  "Who are you talking to?" whispered Shura.

  "Not talking," I said, softly. "Praying. To the Goddess Freyja."

  "I know little of any religion," said Shura, "but yours intrigues me. When we make it back, I would like to learn more. If you don't mind telling me."

  "I'd love to, my friend," I whispered. "Let's get through this first, though."

  He reached up and gently gripped my shoulder. Nodding at him, I headed off through the trees. If we could get clear of the apartment complex, we would be able to sneak through the woods and fields until we reached the edge of town. From there, things would really get difficult. Right now, getting back to the boat seemed like it was a crap-shoot, at best. It was a risk we had to take, if Irina had any chance at all.

  A tense half an hour passed, but we managed to creep past the parking lot and into the trees beyond. Once we were clear, it was easy to move out of the area. Soon, we were reaching a highway and pausing to get our bearings as well as catch our breath. Shura was sweating profusely, despite the coolness of the air. I knew it had to be tough on him, getting used to operating under gravity and suddenly being thrust into Hel on Earth. I would have to remember to try not to push him so hard. I couldn't risk him dropping and then having to try to carry him.

  As we checked both ways on the highway, I felt kind of silly. My first instinct was to watch for speeding traffic, but I would guess that it had been some time since this road had seen any kind of vehicle traffic, let alone fast moving ones. I was just getting ready to head across the road when something caught my eye. About a hundred yards away from us to our left was a vehicle crash.

  Under most circumstances that wouldn't have interested me in the slightest, but this one was different. This one involved two pick-up trucks and a Missouri State Highway Patrol car. It was a white Dodge Charger with the light bar on the roof. It looked like the MSHP cruiser had responded to the accident, not been involved in it. If the car was intact, then there might be something useful still in it. Who knows, the car might even start. That would be a great stroke of luck.

  "Shura," I whispered. "I want to check out that cruiser. Stick close and stay low."

  "Da," he replied, wheezing softly. "Give me moment to breathe."

  "Sorry, my friend," I replied. "Take a minute. There's no rush."

  "Spasiba, tovarich," he said, looking grateful. "I am sorry."

  "Don't be," I said. "You've been in space. I've been doing this for months."

  I sat back on my heels and kept watch while he recovered. He was being careful not to breathe too loudly. I would suspect he was trained in Escape and Evasion techniques and realized just how much danger we were in. Despite it all, I was surprised just how tough he was. I read somewhere once that American astronauts that return from an extended deployment in space took weeks to fully recover and get used to working under gravity, again. All things considered, Shura was doing better than he should honestly be expected to.

  After about five minutes, he put his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. Holding it for a few seconds, he squared his shoulders and exhaled slowly. With a look of resignation on his face, he turned back to me and forced a smile. I could see the strain was weighing heavily on his face and in his eyes. There was fatigue there, but there was pride and resolve there, too. My respect for Shura grew by the minute. He might fall dead out here, but he wouldn't quit until he did. There was nothing more anyone could expect or ask of him.

  "I am ready, tovarich," he said, his voice stronger now.

  "Alright," I said, smiling. "Stick close and tell me if you have any problems. We can afford to let you rest once in a while."

  "Da," he said, returning the smile. "Thank you, my friend."

  I gave him a shrug and nodded my head towards the Highway Patrol cruiser.

  "Let's move," I whispered, and headed off at a slower pace.

  We kept to the ditch and stayed low as we headed towards the wreck. I wasn't seeing any signs of movement, but that didn't mean that there wasn't any danger in the area. In fact, the total lack of bird noises or insect sounds told me the exact opposite. There was something nearby that we needed to be cautious of. If we could avoid it entirely, that would suit me just fine.

  As we approached the back of the cruiser, I began to notice details that I hadn't seen before. There were smears of dried blood down the driver's side of the vehicle and covering the windows. I could see holes surrounded by cracks in the windshield that were obviously caused by bullets. I could also see that one of the front tires was flat. So much for driving the car, I thought.

  "Wait here and cover me," I whispered, holding up my hand. "I'm going to get a closer look."

  Shura nodded and I began to sneak closer to the vehicles. The two pick-ups were both badly damaged and wouldn't be going anywhere. There was no help for it, now. We were going to remain on foot. I was really wishing that I had Spec-4 with our Humvee along with us. I suddenly felt more vulnerable than I had felt in quite some time.

  Approaching the back of the cruiser, I could see a shape inside the vehicle that I hadn't seen before. It looked like a person was in the driver's seat and was slumped over the center console with their head in the passenger seat. I blew out a slow, silent breath and crouched down behind the bumper. Carefully, I peered around the corner of the passenger side. When I didn't find anything there, I leaned down and looked under the car. I could see two bodies on the ground in front of the car. They looked like they had been there a while.

  Transitioning from the M-4 to the silenced PMR-30, I checked the load and brought the weapon up in a two-handed grip. As I crept around the driver's side, I could see bullet holes in the fender above the flat tire. I glanced down on the ground in front of the cruiser and saw the two bodies. Both were weathered and had already begun to decompose. They also had bullet holes in their foreheads. One of them looked like part of his face had been torn away. The other had wounds on his arms and neck, but clutched a .45 caliber automatic handgun in his left hand.

  The pistol's slide was not locked back, so I could safely assume that it wasn't empty. I reached down slowly and pried the pistol free from the dead man's hand. It was stiff and cracked when I pulled the gun loose. It was a cinch that this one wasn't getting back up. Just to be safe, I nudged the other one with my boot and it was like kicking a tree limb. He was stiff and unmoving.

  Turning back to the car, I almost jumped out of my skin when the body in the front seat was now sitting up and staring at me. It began to frantically scratch at the window,
trying to get out. At least it wasn't screaming, although I doubted that anything could hear it from inside the vehicle. It had to have been locked inside the vehicle since the other two were killed, but it looked like it could have turned a few days ago. This was another great indication that once they are turned into a zombie, something kept them fresh and unchanged. Once they were put back down, decomposition sat in like normal.

  "Fuck me," I whispered. "You scared the shit out of me."

  The zombie didn't respond. I did notice that it was wearing the uniform of a Highway Patrolman. It merely continued to claw at the glass in a futile attempt to get to me. If the glass had been cracked, it might have gotten through. However, since it was merely scratching at the glass instead of hitting it, I doubted that it would have much success. I could only guess at what had happened here to cause all of this. I would probably never know.

  Aiming at the thing's forehead, I squeezed off two rounds and saw the window spider web where the bullets had gone through. Immediately, the zombie dropped back into the seat and didn't move again. I waited a few moments, listening for any sign that I had been heard. When nothing stirred, I moved back towards the car.

  Reaching for the door handle, I discovered that it was locked. Inside the vehicle, I could see the patrolman's duty weapon and shotgun. If the weapons were still there, then it was safe to assume that I could find ammunition, too. I had to risk a little noise in order to get them. I just hoped that it wouldn't attract any unwanted attention.

  Turning my back to the car, I leaned against the driver's door and glanced around the area. Not seeing anything, I took a deep breath and sighed nasally. I cringed at the noise I knew was about to follow and drove my elbow into the already cracked window. It imploded with sudden rush that didn't sound all that different from splashing water. The smell that erupted from the car was nauseating.

  Holding my hand over my nose, I stepped away from the door and turned in a complete circle looking in every direction. I had no way to know how far the sound had traveled, but I knew that in this stillness it would have gone pretty far. I needed to get what I came for and get the Hel out of here.

  Reaching in through the now empty window, I unlocked the door and yanked it open. The Highway Patrol zombie was still sprawled across the seat and unmoving. I grabbed it by the equipment belt and yanked it out of the car. It hit the ground with a soft thud and landed on its face. I deftly removed the leather equipment belt and unclipped the radio. The battery might be dead, but we had chargers back at Bennett Springs. I could recharge it once we made it back. The radio would be useful.

  In the magazine pouches on the belt, there were two full magazines. The patrolman hadn't gotten off many rounds before he turned. I checked his pockets and found the keys to the car along with a tactical folding knife. I tossed the keys into the seat and stuck the knife in my pocket. More out of habit than anything else, I rolled the body over and removed the badge. His nameplate read "S. Klingerman."

  "Sorry, trooper," I whispered and ripped open his shirt.

  Beneath the uniform he wore a set of level three ballistic armor. It was attached with Velcro and I quickly yanked it off of him. It stunk, but it was better than nothing. I would have to wash it off before I would be willing to wear it, but it was going to be good to have the armor. Grabbing the keys, I unlocked the shotgun from the rack and pulled it out. It was a police issue Remington 870 with a breaching barrel. It was also fully loaded.

  In the glove box, I found a box of ammo for the shotgun and one for the pistol. I found the pistol lying in the passenger side floorboard. It was a Sig P220 in .45 caliber with the integrated laser sight. The slide was not locked back, either. A quick check revealed that it still held five rounds, including the one in the chamber. That went into my waistband.

  The only other thing of interest in the car was the trooper's laptop, but I had no use for that. It would be interesting to have, but I really didn't need the additional weight. I would have tossed it into the back of the Humvee, but I was on foot. Oh well, it was probably password locked anyway. Maybe some other time.

  Heading around to the trunk, I unlocked it and lifted the lid. I smiled when I saw what was inside. Trooper Klingerman must have been on the State SWAT team, because I had just hit the jackpot. There was a full set of tactical gear, complete with vest and assault weapon. His weapon of choice had been the H&K UMP 45. He probably chose it because it fired the same caliber round as his Sig pistol. It was a smart choice.

  There were two large range bags full of gear and equipment, including flash-bang grenades and a ton of extra ammo for his weapons. It was like my Yule presents had come early this year. Not only did I need the armor, but the ammunition was a gift from the Gods. I wasted no time in putting on the armor, elbow and knee pads, and helmet. It was heavy armor with "State Police" emblazoned across the back in large yellow letters, but I wasn't complaining.

  Grabbing the now empty range bag, I started stuffing in weapons and gear. When I was finished, I replaced all of my gear and attached the two range bags to my pack. Their combined weight wouldn't weigh me down too much. I could have handed one off to Shura, but I knew he was already pushing as hard as he could. The extra weight would probably put him down.

  Confident that I had grabbed everything useful that I could find I headed back to Shura, loaded down with my treasures. It had definitely been worth the side-trip to check out the vehicles. The extra weight would slow me down, but it would help to keep me at a better pace for Shura. Besides that, we needed the gear.

  "You look like child in candy store," said Shura as I walked back to him.

  "I feel like it," I replied, softly. "I hit the jackpot."

  "I see that," he said, grinning. "You have another set of armor, maybe?"

  "Da," I replied smiling broadly. "Unfortunately, it doesn't smell so good."

  "I am not caring," he said. "It is better than bullet."

  "Fair enough," I answered, shrugging.

  I opened the pack and took out the body armor. It smelled pretty rank, but he took it without hesitation. He began putting it on over his jumpsuit and I helped him to Velcro it into place. Once it was secure, he wrinkled his nose and nodded.

  "This will work," he said. "Maybe the smell will keep the dead away."

  I couldn't help but chuckle. Just as I was about to reply with something sarcastic, I heard a tree branch snap. We exchanged worried glances, so I knew that he had heard it too. It was coming from the direction that we had come from. Something was either following us or had been attracted by the sound of the shattering window. Either way, we needed to be somewhere else.

  "Let's move," I hissed and pushed him towards the other side of the road.

  Shura didn't waste any time and headed into the trees on the far side of the road. I stayed right on his heels and kept glancing back over my shoulder. Once we were safely inside the trees, I pointed towards some bushes and we both got down. Shura was already breathing heavily and sweat was pouring profusely down his face. I hoped that he could keep going, because we had a long way to go before we where through.

  Transitioning back to the M-4, I brought it up to my shoulder and began scanning the trees on the far side of the road with the ACOG. I didn't have to wait for very long. A few moments later, six zombies emerged from the trees. Five of them were just stumbling along, but the sixth one was crouching and sniffing the air. I wasn't sure about the others, but that one was a Tracker. That explained how they had followed us here.

  "No you don't," I whispered and sighted in on the Tracker's head.

  The M-4's suppressor coughed once and the thing's head exploded, emptying the blackish contents onto the ground behind it. It wobbled for a second before collapsing to the ground. The other five zombies began looking around, as if trying to find what had killed their comrade. Since none of them seemed to spot where we were, I decided that it would be better to just distract them instead of take them out. I'd prefer to save as much ammo as I could. M
y supply of ammo for the M-4 was dwindling rapidly.

  Inspiration struck and I turned towards the wrecked vehicles. I took careful aim at one of the intact side windows on the cruiser and squeezed the trigger. The window erupted in a shower of glass and a loud crash. The dead quickly keyed in on the loud noise and headed for it. We waited until they were well past us and slipped off into the woods, leaving the dead behind us.

  We moved slowly, but steadily, and put as much distance between us and the dead as we could without alerting them. Soon we emerged from the trees and arrived at the edge of a big field. It was mostly overgrown with tall green vegetation. I reached down and pulled a long strand loose from a stalk and put it in my mouth. I could taste the sweetness of the grass and smelled the freshly picked aroma. I knew it well.

  "Fescue," I said, spitting out the piece of grass.

  "What?" asked Shura, clearly confused.

  "The grass," I said, gesturing. "It's called fescue. This is a hay field."

  "Food for livestock, da?"

  "Da," I replied.

  It was waist high, so we would be able to conceal ourselves in it easily. The problem was that we wouldn't see anything lying in the grass until we were practically on top of it. I would have to be very careful.

  "Stay right behind me and stay low," I said.

  Shura nodded by way of reply and took a deep breath. I reached into the pouch on the side of my rucksack and took out a canteen of water. Handing it to Shura, he accepted it gratefully and began removing the lid. I waited until he had drunk all he wanted and handed it back. I took a long pull off of the tepid water and replaced the cap. Then I slid it back into the pouch.

  "Ready?" I asked.

  "Da," he replied, looking a little better.

  Bringing the ACOG to my eye, I began scanning the far side of the field and the horizon beyond. I knew we had to be almost due east of the town. If we continued moving west, we would run right into it. It couldn't be more than a half mile, as the crow flies. The sun was getting high in the sky, but the day remained very hazy. We would need to keep moving if we expected to get back to the boat before dark.