Ragnarok Rising

by D. A. Roberts

  "Let's go," I said, and headed off into the grass.

  We walked in silence across the field, not seeing any sign of movement. Just off to our right, I could see a house. I didn't want to get too close to it, just in case. I kept our course where it would take us well behind it and back into the trees. I kept my pace slow but steady, glancing back frequently to check on Shura. He looked tired, but never slowed down. I would occasionally hand him the canteen so he could rehydrate, then put it back into my pack without drinking any. It was more important to keep him hydrated. I would be fine.

  The stand of trees turned out to be only about twenty meters across and we emerged near a large pond. When I glanced around, I could see that it was actually three ponds. There was one large one in the center and a smaller one on either end. It had to be some type of reservoir system or something similar. On the far side of the ponds was a large field with three smaller ponds on the far side. I had no idea what this was, but I doubted that I'd be able to ask a local. I would just chalk it up to one of those things that make you wonder.

  We headed between the ponds and continued on. I was beginning to see signs of residences through the trees ahead of us. Things were going to get a lot more difficult, from here on out. I just hoped Shura could handle it. We might have to move very quickly if the dead came after us in large numbers. If we couldn't move fast, we were going to have to fight our way out. Either way, it wasn't going to be easy.

  As we picked our way slowly up to the first of the houses, I was careful to avoid getting close to any of the windows or doors. My entire plan hinged on using the structures for cover and staying concealed as much as humanly possible. I glanced back at Shura and was happy to see that he was following my lead. He was staying low and hugging the walls, just like I was. Unfortunately, I could see that the exertion was already taking its toll on him.

  When we cleared the first group of houses, there was a big section of wooded area between us and the rest of the town. Despite the hazy daylight, it was cool and dark beneath the canopy of trees. With the heavy leaf-litter and deadfalls, our footsteps were easy to mask. It seemed like as good of a place as any to let Shura get some rest. Once we reached the main part of town, there wouldn’t be anywhere that we would be able to hide.

  After a few moments of watching him breathe heavily, I decided to break my own cardinal rule. Fishing out my hip flask, I handed it to him with a smile.

  “Don’t drink too much,” I cautioned. “I just wanted to give you something to take the edge off of things.”

  “Spaciba, tovarich,” he replied, accepting the flask.

  He took a generous pull from it and sighed contentedly. Replacing the cap, he handed it back to me with a grateful look on his face.

  “It isn’t good Russian vodka,” he said, “but it is better than nothing.”

  “Bourbon,” I replied, nodding. “Not my favorite, either.”

  “Under circumstances we make do, da?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, tucking the flask back into my cargo pocket.

  Before I could say anymore, I heard the sound of a cracking branch not too far away. Instantly, Shura got down behind a log while I leaned back against a tree and brought up my M-4. I began scanning the area where I had heard the noise, holding my breath to keep from making too much sound of my own. I was hoping that some of the dead were just wandering through the area. The last thing we needed was a Tracker locking onto our scent.

  I waited for the span of several tense heartbeats before I began to see movement. There were four of them moving through the trees on a path that would take them well away from us. I briefly considered taking them out anyway just to be safe, but thought better of it. Until I found more ammo for the M-4, I was going to have to be sparing with it. My supply was dwindling quickly.

  I glanced at Shura and motioned for him to wait. He nodded understanding and peered cautiously over the log. Glancing back at me, he gave me a brief smile and turned back to watch them as they slowly made their way out of the area. It was a very tense five minutes before they were out of sight and far enough away that we could no longer hear them shuffling through the leaves. I decided to err on the side of caution and gave them a few more minutes before motioning for Shura to follow me.

  Getting slowly to my feet, I continued to watch the area where the dead had disappeared with a careful eye. As I began to pick my way through the trees, Shura fell in next to me and leaned close to my ear.

  “When we reach the town,” he whispered, “how many do you think there will be?”

  “Too many,” I whispered back. “Probably thousands.”

  “Boshze moi,” he gasped.

  “When we get to St. Louis, there will probably be millions of them,” I added, shaking my head.

  Shura grew even paler and looked at me with wide eyes. I gave him an apologetic smile and turned back to watching the woods around us. We were getting closer to the edge and I was beginning to see structures appearing through the trees. The glimpses that I could see of the street were shockingly clear. I couldn’t see any signs of movement.

  Creeping up to the very edge of the trees, I craned my head back and forth checking in both directions down the street. There was still no sign of movement. Not on the streets, not in the yards of the houses and not in the windows. If we hadn’t just seen the dead moving through the trees, I would almost believe that the place was empty. Well, almost.

  “Stay close and keep your eyes open,” I whispered. “We can’t afford to get separated.”

  “Agreed,” he replied. “I will do my best to, as you say, keep up.”

  I gave him a brief nod and headed across the street, staying in a crouch. Shura followed right behind me and kept glancing back behind us. When we reached the fence surrounding the yard of the nearest house, we both crouched down and leaned against it. Shura was holding up well, but I knew that this was only the beginning. If we were running from a crowd of the dead and he began giving out, I would have to choose between leaving him and dying beside him. Ultimately, the choice was already made for me. I wouldn’t leave him behind.

  I leaned up and glanced over the short wooden fence and peered into the yard. It needed a good mowing, but there was no sign of the dead. The front door to the house stood wide-open, but there was nothing moving anywhere. I could see up onto the covered porch and saw nothing out of the ordinary. It looked like it could have been abandoned this morning. I was considering moving around the house and through the back yard, but curiosity was getting the best of me. I wanted a look inside that house.

  “I’m going inside,” I whispered as I began to head for the front gate.

  “Not without me,” replied Shura.

  I opened the gate easily, but the rusty hinges squeaked and complained as I opened it. I cringed at the noise it made, but the damage had already been done. I would either attract the attention of any dead that were within earshot or nothing would happen. I wasn’t giving odds on which it would be.

  We slipped inside and I pushed the gate shut, latching it securely. It might not stop the dead from following us, but it would damn sure make it more difficult for them. If they were going to try to get us, I was going to do everything in my power to make it as difficult as possible. Why make it easy on the dead, right?

  As I moved up the steps and onto the porch, I could see that leaves had blown up onto the porch and were inside the doorway. That was the only outward sign that this place wasn’t occupied. Everything looked normal. Even the brightly colored curtains in the windows were intact. Just inside the doorway, I could see a board with hooks in it that still held several key-rings. I froze when I noticed that one of them had a round brass chit on it. It was the exact same type of key chit that I had on my key-ring.

  Most law enforcement agencies use some type of key chit to keep track of who signs out keys from their lockbox. In a law enforcement environment all keys had to be tracked just in case one was misplaced, they would know where to start looking. W
hoever had lived here, it was obvious that they were in some branch of law enforcement. My suspicions were confirmed when I looked more closely at the keys and noticed that one of them was a handcuff key. I also noticed that the name on the chit was Klingerman. As luck would have it, we were in the Highway Patrolman’s house. It was ironic that of all the houses, we would find his.

  Pulling the M-4 tight against my shoulder, I started moving into the house tactically. I was going to have to clear it by myself, since Shura had no training in this type of work and his weapon was not silenced. One shot from that AK-47 and the report would carry for miles. Despite how empty the streets appeared that kind of noise was going to attract attention.

  I swept the dining room to my right and then spun back around to check the living room. There were footprints that appeared to be made from dried blood. I could see that it was at least four different sets of boots. I could tell by the different sizes and tread designs. One of them was small enough that it was either a young man or a woman. Neither was a pleasant thought.

  After I finished clearing the bottom floor, I headed up the stairs. I motioned for Shura to watch the door and wait for me. The old wooden stairs creaked softly as I began my ascent, but nothing stirred upstairs. Once I reached the top landing, I could see that there were three bedrooms and a bathroom. The first bedroom looked unused, like possibly a guest room. It was clear.

  The second bedroom was filled with toys and had bunk beds. I could tell that two children shared this room. It was clear that something had happened here. The beds had been flipped over and the closet door hung at an odd angle. A dark image was beginning to form in my head. The growing feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach was beginning to turn sour.

  As I opened the door to what I assumed was the Master Bedroom, I froze when I saw the carnage that awaited me. Inside were three people; a woman and two children. The children couldn’t have been more than ten years old. From the common size and similarity of dress, I would guess that they were twins. I could only assume that this was Klingerman’s wife and kids.

  The children had been bound with zip-cuffs, with their hands behind their backs and placed on their knees. They were facing a large gun cabinet in the corner. After that, they had been shot in the back of the head. Executed was a better term. The woman was lying on the bed with her dress in tatters and a single bullet wound to the side of the head. Someone had come into this house, bound the family and killed them. This was not the work of the dead. I had no way to know who had done this, but there wasn’t a fire in Hel hot enough for them.

  “What the fuck happened here,” I whispered, my voice barely audible even to me.

  Despite the fact that it had been quite some time since they had all been shot, it was still apparent how it had happened. They had died for the contents of that gun cabinet. The blood pool from the children had run into one big stain on the hardwood floor. I would estimate that they had all been dead at least a couple of months, probably from the very beginning of the apocalypse. I quietly raged about the blatant waste of life. It brought the memory of the dead from the evacuation center. This wasn’t just someone stealing supplies. This was blatant fucking murder. I could only assume that the woman had been sexually assaulted, as well.

  “Why would someone do this?” I mumbled.

  As I was getting ready to move off, I noticed the brass lying on the floor. Kneeling down, I picked up a piece and examined it. I was fully expecting it to be military 5.56mm rounds like the ones in my M-4. I was shocked to find that they were anything but. These were .308 caliber Winchester magnums. They weren’t military weapons. This had been done with a hunting rifle. Suddenly, it made even less sense than it had before.

  When I returned to the bottom of the stairs, I found Shura sitting in one of the chairs with the front door shut. He was peering out from behind a curtain in the living room window, watching the street. I was hoping that he hadn’t seen anything moving. I didn’t want to be trapped in this house with no where to run.

  “I closed door to hide,” he said, softly. “Just in case.”

  “Good plan,” I replied. “Did you see anything out there?

  “No,” he said. “Just the wind, but I was nervous. How is it you Americans say? Better safe than sorry, da?”

  “Exactly,” I replied.

  We moved towards the back of the house and into the kitchen. The cabinets were full of canned goods, but I decided I couldn’t risk any more weight. It was too bad. I hated to leave behind supplies, but I didn’t have the luxury of a vehicle with cargo space, either. If I picked up too much more weight, I wouldn’t be able to move. I was already pushing things as it was.

  In one cabinet, I found two boxes of Pop Tarts. One was chocolate and the other was blueberry. I held them up towards Shura and he reached for the chocolates. That was fine with me. I love the blueberry ones, anyway. Too bad we didn’t have any milk to go with them. I tore open one package and began munching, then stuffed the remaining packages in my cargo pocket.

  In another cabinet, I found four cans of coffee. Not the small cans, but the large canisters that my wife usually bought at the Mega center. As heavy as my load was, I wasn’t going to pass up grabbing some coffee. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. It wasn’t a significant increase in weight, but it was a weight I was only happy to carry.

  After we finished our quick meal, we headed out the back door. I peered out through the curtains, but found the yard and the one behind it were both empty. Stepping out onto the back porch, I adjusted my pack straps and headed for the fence. If we were careful, we should be able to move from yard to yard without being seen and without exposing ourselves on the streets, except when we had to cross one.

  We spent the next hour moving through yards, taking our time moving through the neighborhoods. It wasn’t difficult going, but we kept our pace deliberately slow to avoid noise and walking up on anything unexpectedly. Things were going well until I realized that we were moving into a business section. We crouched down behind a parked Volkswagen to plan our next move.

  “Do you know where is hospital?” asked Shura.

  “No,” I replied. “I was hoping we would get lucky.”

  “We need better plan,” he said, shaking his head.

  I couldn’t argue with him. It wasn’t exactly the best plan I had ever come up with. We could wander around this town for hours looking for a hospital without a map. The problem was I didn’t have one that showed the streets of this town. Hel, I wasn’t even sure what the town was called. It didn’t look familiar to me, so I was reasonably certain that I’d never been here before.

  I was considering my options and glancing up and down the street when inspiration struck. Down the street from us was a veterinarian’s office. Many of the same medicines that were used on animals were used on people as well, especially the pain killers and antibiotics. We needed both of those things. If we were lucky and fast, we could be finished gathering supplies in less than half an hour, assuming they had the things we needed. Since no other options were presenting themselves, I decided it was worth a try.

  “See that building down there?” I asked, pointing.

  “Da,” replied Shura. “Isn’t that animal hospital?”

  “Yes,” I answered, “but most, if not all, of the medicine we need should be in there.”

  “Is worth try, da?” said Shura.

  “Yeah,” I said. “If it works out, we can be back on our way to the boat in no time.”

  “Then let us get moving,” he said, grinning.

  I glanced back and forth down the street, making sure it was still clear. When I didn’t see any signs of movement, I headed across the street. Shura followed right behind me and we began leap-frogging towards the Vet’s office, staying behind cars and buildings for cover. Our only close call was when we had to cross a side street and there were several of the dead wandering around about a hundred yards away. Fortunately, they never saw us.

  When we reached t
he front of the Vet’s office, I found that the door was locked. That was good for us, because it meant that no one had been inside and the drugs would most likely still be there. The only drawback was that I was going to have to force my way inside, and that would make noise. It was unfortunate, but it was going to be necessary.

  While I fiddled with the lock and tried to pry it open with my knife, Shura kept watch. After several unsuccessful attempts, I was beginning to get desperate. We couldn’t remain exposed in the open like this for much longer. Eventually, something would wander this way and we’d be seen. We had to get inside quickly.

  “I have idea,” said Shura.

  “I’m open to suggestions,” I replied, slipping my knife back into its sheath.

  “You may not like it,” he assured me.

  “At this point, I am willing to try almost anything,” I said, shaking my head.

  “As you say,” said Shura. “Here goes something.”

  “Here goes nothing,” I corrected.

  “That does not make sense,” he said, looking confused.

  “Sorry,” I replied. “It’s just how the saying goes. Whatever you’re planning, go for it.”

  He shrugged and gave me an apologetic look. Then he glanced in both directions and sighed. Before I could say anything, he stepped quickly to the door and drove the butt of the AK-47 into the window glass with tremendous force. The window cracked and then exploded inwards in a shower of glass. The sudden crash of wood on glass thundered out in all directions, shattering the stillness of the street as effectively as it had the glass. I wanted to say something, but the proverbial dye had been cast. We were committed.

  “Let’s move,” I hissed, “before every fucking zombie in this city comes after us.”

  I activated my tactical light and ducked in through the now shattered glass door. Illuminating the interior, I headed past the receptionist’s desk and into the back where the drugs were stored. My boots crunched loudly on the glass and I could smell decay in the air. The thought struck me that there were probably animals trapped in the cages when the Vet didn’t make it back to open the office.