“Clear,” called Marko from behind me.
“Clear,” I echoed. “Which door is it?”
“The big doors at the end of the hall,” he replied, gesturing to a set of double doors with a sign that read “Private” on them.
I searched the body on the ground and found a set of keys. After a few tries, I managed to locate the correct one and unlocked the door. When I swung it open, I was shocked to find more women than I bargained for. There were close to thirty women and at least a dozen kids. They looked at me like they thought I was just another one of the animals come to abuse them. Although none of them looked hurt or malnourished, they all had that haunted look that only suffering can bring.
I turned my head and whispered to Marko, “I didn’t think that there would be this many.”
“Me, either,” he replied. “I’ve never been in here before. I guess they didn’t trust me that far.”
“What do you want?” asked one of the women, her voice quivering in fear.
“Sheriff’s department, ma’am,” I replied. “We’re here to get you out.”
“Really?” she asked, disbelief in her tone.
“Yes, ma’am,” I assured her. “Come with us and we’ll reunite you with the men they had locked up downstairs.”
Marko and I quickly stripped the two fallen men of weapons and ammo. Then I sent Marko down the stairs first, leading the procession of women and children. I kept everyone moving and covered our backs. One of the last women to come through the door was a young girl about the same age as my oldest son, Elliott. She looked me in the eye and smiled.
“Thank you,” she said, and hugged me tightly.
“No problem,” I replied. “You’re more than welcome.”
“Did you shoot all of them?” she asked, anger in her voice.
“Well, most of them,” I replied.
“Good,” she said. “They were mean to us. They made some of the women do things.”
“I know,” I replied. “That’s why we had to stop them.”
“Will you protect us, now?” she asked, her eyes pleading.
What could I say? Was there really any choice in the matter? I couldn’t say no anymore than I could have let what was happening to them continue. There simply was no other honorable thing to do. I would find a way to get them back to our facility at Bennett Springs. I’d get them there safely, or die trying.
“Yeah,” I replied. “I will. I know a safe place to take you all. Now, we have to get moving. Follow the others and I’ll be right behind you.”
“Alright,” she said and headed down the stairs.
“By the way,” she called back over her shoulder, “my name is Bridgett Ulrich. What’s yours?”
“Wylie,” I replied, glancing both ways down the corridor. “Wylie Grant.”
With that, I headed down the stairs after her and shut the door behind us. By the time I caught up with the group, they were assembled in front of the mesh gate that held the men. Marko tossed me a set of keys and I headed for the lock. I could feel the eyes on me as I fumbled for the right key. My instincts told me that Butcher and his men were planning on doing something. Maybe not the moment I opened the door, but soon.
I unlocked the gate and stepped back, letting the men inside raise it. I wanted to have my hands free incase I misjudged when Butcher was planning on making his move. Instead of coming after me, he headed straight for a woman in her mid-thirties wearing a beer logo t-shirt. He scooped her up into his arms like she didn’t weigh an ounce and spun her around through the air. She looked just as overjoyed to see him.
I took a few steps back and stood beside Marko. He seemed to be expecting trouble, just like I was. He was watching the crowd with careful scrutiny. Come to think of it, I was doing the exact same thing. I had to take my attention off of the reunions playing out in front of me when the man who had acted as a spokesman approached me, with an attractive middle-aged woman holding his hand. While he had been nondescript and hadn’t caught my attention, there was one striking feature about the woman that stood out. It was her eyes. I’d seen that particular shade of blue before.
“Sir, allow me to introduce my wife,” said the spokesman. “I’m Richard Wilder and this is my wife, Christina.”
“Wilder?” I asked, surprise in my voice.
I couldn’t help but stare into the same eyes that I had seen so many times before. They were eyes that had seen me at my best, and worst. They were the eyes of Spec-4.
“Do you have a daughter in the National Guard named Chrissy?” I asked, already fairly certain that I knew the answer.
“Yes,” said the woman, excitedly. “Have you seen her? Is she alive?”
“Yes, to both questions,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “I met her when all of this started, at a roadblock outside of Springfield.”
“She’s alive?!” exclaimed Richard.
“Yeah, I just spoke to her a couple of days ago,” I said. “She’s with another group of survivors that we helped set up with a base of operations. We’re building a safe community.”
“Can you take us to her?” asked Christina, already in tears.
“Yes, I will,” I replied. “We need to figure out just what’s going on here and get ourselves some transportation. As soon as we can, we’re heading back to my camp.”
“Oh thank you,” said Christina, throwing her arms around my neck.
I could feel her tears, warm and wet against my neck. This was clearly an emotional time for her. In fact, I was barely keeping myself from joining her. Spec-4 was going to be thrilled when I brought them back to her. The Gods truly had a reason for sending me here and I’m pretty certain that this was it. It was nothing short of miraculous that I found them after everything that had happened. The Gods were guiding me for sure.
After about half an hour of everyone reuniting with their significant others, Marko and I began to take an inventory of the gear that we had captured. We also had to begin a sweep to find the missing sentry. As bad as I hated to do it, I was going to have to arm the others, including Butcher and his men. Things were either going to work out well, or blow up in our faces. With a resigned shrug, I headed over to where Butcher and his men were sitting with their women.
When I got close, Butcher stood up and came towards me. From his body language, I could see that his temper was already up and he was tensing for a fight. If I didn’t diffuse this situation in a hurry, I was going to have to kill this big son-of-a-bitch and most-likely all of his men as well. That would be too bad, because I needed the extra firepower and muscle. I didn’t have to like it, but I needed them. I just hope they saw things my way.
“What the fuck do you want, cop?” he hissed, crossing his huge arms across his massive chest.
“I thought it was time that we had a little chat,” I replied, looking him in the eye and meeting his aggression with some of my own.
Just because I needed his help didn’t mean I was going to let him think I was afraid of him. Frankly, I’d rather kill the bastard than constantly have to look over my shoulder. I needed to reach an understanding with him or get the fighting over with. I had more pressing things on my plate than this.
“Let me guess,” he said. “You want us to take some gear and leave. Well, that’s fine by me.”
“That’s not what I had in mind,” I answered. “I was thinking that maybe there was a way that we could all work together. We have enough enemies outside these walls without fighting amongst ourselves.”
“I thought you cops tried to put guys like me away?” he said, anger rising in his tone.
“Those days are over,” I said. “There aren’t any more jails or prisons. There are no more cops and criminals. There’s only the living and the dead. We can either work together to try to survive or it just gets harder from here. The dead aren’t going anywhere.”
He stared at me for a long moment before he answered. I could see that he was thinking about his options and rapidly reaching the s
ame conclusions. Any of us going out there on our own were destined to fail. It was only united that we had any shot at living through this; of living through Ragnarok.
“What’s in it for us?” he asked, his tone growing wary.
“Survival,” I said. “You get to survive. We all do. I don’t give a shit what you did or didn’t do before all of this started. Now, we either learn to work together or die separately.”
“Fair enough,” he said, agreeing somewhat reluctantly. “What’s next?”
“Well,” I said, tossing him a bag of gear. “We get you and your men armed and equipped, and then we sweep this place for anymore of Westbrook’s men that we might have missed.”
He stared at the bag for a long moment before meeting my gaze. There was anger there, but resolve as well. For good or for ill, his next words would decide our future. We would either overcome our pasts, or we would kill each other. To be honest, I wasn’t really sure which way he was going to go.
“Alright,” he said, after a moment. “I think we can work together, for now anyway. Let’s do this.”
“Good,” I replied. “Let’s get coordinated and get searching.”
It only took a few minutes to equip everyone and I was not at all surprised to see that Butcher and his men knew how to use firearms. After that, we dragged all of the men that we had captured into the very same cage that they had held the men in and left them tied up. Then I gave Richard Wilder a shotgun and told him to keep an eye on them. From the look on his face after he had been talking to his wife, I doubt that he would have any problems shooting them if they tried anything funny.
The next step was to break into teams and go after any remaining men inside the perimeter. By my count, there had to be at least one more somewhere in the ballpark. I wasn’t worried about what he might do if he attacked. No, I was infinitely more worried that he would do something stupid like open one of the gates and let the dead inside the park. So long as he didn’t know that the park was now under new management, we still had time to find him and eliminate him.
My only issue was that I was the only one with a suppressed rifle. The noise was going to attract attention, most-likely in the form of hungry undead. I also couldn’t rule out the possibility that more of the Hrimthurssar were in the area. That was trouble that I really didn’t need at the moment. It would be best for all concerned if we could take him quietly.
“Alright,” I began, addressing the group, “we need to do this as quietly as possible. Noise is bad. Loud noises are like ringing the dinner bell for the dead.”
“What do you expect us to do, then?” demanded Butcher. “Throw rocks at him?”
“Not exactly,” I replied. “I have a suppressed weapon. If you locate him, keep an eye on him and send someone for me. I can take him out at a distance without anyone hearing it outside the park.”
“What if he sees us first?” asked Marko.
“If he fires first, then take his ass out,” I answered. “At that point, noise becomes a secondary problem.”
“What about arrows?” asked a female voice from behind me.
I turned around and found Bridgett Ulrich standing a few paces away. She had a fierce look of determination on her face that surprised me with its intensity.
“Bows would be great,” I said, “but we don’t have any.”
“I do,” she replied. “Well, I did when they captured me. It should be in their weapons storage room.”
“I know where that is,” said Marko.
“Good,” I said. “Take her with you and go see if you can find it. If we have a bow and she knows how to shoot it, then we have another ace in the hole.”
“Got it,” said Marko and headed off with Bridgett towards the stairs.
“Mackey, go with them,” said Butcher to one of his men.
A biker with a red beard and long red hair grabbed his rifle and took off after them. I wasn’t sure how much I liked that idea, but I didn’t like the idea of them going alone either. However, I was confident that if Mackey did make a move, then Marko was more than capable of handling himself. If I heard gunshots erupt from that stairwell, then things might get a bit tense between me and Butcher.
We waited for them to return by checking the load on our weapons and making sure magazines were full. I noticed how mournfully low I was getting on 5.56mm ammo and frowned when I loaded my last full magazine. It wasn’t going to be long before I was going to be reduced to using harsh language and charm on my targets. Well, harsh language anyway. I’m not so certain about the other one.
I was just beginning to worry about Bridgett and Marko when I saw them exit the stairwell and head towards us. Mackey was with them, too. I guess that was alright, as well. I should probably quit thinking that way if we’re going to be working together, but old habits die hard. Besides that, I still wasn’t one hundred percent convinced that they were actually on our side. To quote one of my favorite TV shows, “Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal.” I was prepared for the worst, but trying to remain optimistic.
When I saw what Bridgett was carrying, I couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t just some bow that she had picked up along the way. No, this was a very nice compound bow. It was the kind that hunters used to take down everything from deer to fish to buffalo. This bow was lethal at anything less than a hundred yards, and possibly even beyond that depending on how good of a shot she was. I’ve known people who hunted grizzly bear with a compound bow. Granted, they were insane for doing so, but they did it.
“Nice bow,” I said, smiling. “You any good with that?”
“I grew up hunting with my father,” she said proudly. “I got my first buck with this when I was twelve. I’m a much better shot now.”
“Good enough for me,” I replied. “Will you have any problems with shooting at people?”
“Well, maybe some people,” she said, frowning, “but not this guy. These scumbags took us captive and did all kinds of horrible things to us.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing what else to say and knowing it was a small consolation.
“You didn’t do it,” she said. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I’m just glad you came along and got us out.”
“Don’t thank me, yet,” I replied. “We’re not out of the woods until we’re safely inside our base back at camp. Until then, we’re still in a lot of danger.”
With that, I lined out our search parties. I would lead one made up of Butcher and three of his men. Marko would take Bridgett and the other two of Butcher’s men. We would work our way in opposite directions until we met on the far side of the park. If we saw anyone other than ourselves, either Bridgett or I would make the shot and take them down. If they saw us first, then all bets were off. We were clear to engage the target, noise be damned.
As we headed up the ramp towards the open seating section of the ballpark, I decided to have everyone stick to the edge of the ramp and in the shadows. Ultimately, it was a good decision. As we were approaching the top of the ramp, I signaled for everyone to stop and get down. I had seen movement. Not at the top of the ramp, but on the other side of the ballpark. It was up in the upper deck area named for a famous power hitter.
Everyone crouched down and stayed low, mercifully without complaint. The bikers were not used to advancing tactically. I would guess they weren’t used to much in the way of tactics or plans. Luckily, they didn’t argue about it. Once everyone was down, I dropped my pack and lay on my stomach. Then I slowly crawled the remaining distance to the top of the ramp. There I would be able to rest my rifle on the bottom railing of the seating section directly ahead of us.
Once I was in place, I started scanning the area with my ACOG. He was easy to find. It didn’t exactly require much effort to see a guy wearing green against a sea of red seating. When I placed my crosshairs on him, I found him leaning back in a seat and smoking, with his weapon propped up against the seat next to him. He didn’t seem to have a care in the world, nor did he seem to b
e taking his duties as sentry seriously. He looked relaxed, as if he was there watching a game. It would be a costly mistake.
I quickly estimated the range to target. I knew the distance from home plate to the upper deck was well over 450 feet, having watched a few homeruns knocked into that very section. I was above and behind home plate, probably another hundred feet. That meant my shot was going to be right around 550 feet or roughly 170 meters. Not an impossible distance with the M-4, but I would have been more comfortable with a scoped rifle. Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose.
I gauged the wind to be crossing from left to right, but not much of a factor. Still, it was worth taking into account. My ACOG was zeroed for 100 meters, so I aimed just a little high, centering the crosshairs at about the top of his forehead and slightly to the left. Then, with my sights where I wanted them to be, I began to control my breathing. Although I never trained as a sniper, I’ve made some fairly impressive shots going deer hunting. This time, the game was far deadlier than any deer or elk that I had ever stalked. If I missed, he would undoubtedly jump up and return fire.
Taking up the slack on the trigger ever so gently, I exhaled and let myself go still. When the weapon bucked in my hands, I watched through the ACOG to see if I had scored a hit. It takes almost no time at all for a 5.56mm round to travel 170 meters, so I had barely enough time to blink before the right side of his face exploded in crimson gore. His head snapped back and his body went limp. Then remarkably, he began to move.
Before he could get far, I squeezed two more shots off and watched them strike first in the neck then the right shoulder. When he slumped over in the chair, I knew it was over. Although my initial round hadn’t finished the job, he was still dead and that’s all that mattered. The Ranger, Sergeant McDonald, would cringe if he knew how many rounds I took to finish him off. He was more of a “one shot, one dead target” kind of shooter. Then again, he was a couple hundred miles away back at our camp. The important thing was that the target was down.
Ragnarok Rising Page 29
